A Natural History

The seduction journals of James Marshall

Bonus Chapters

1. Introduction

2. The story so far

3. Chapter 1. Jimmy Taranto back stage

Introduction
This book is a collection of journal entries written from 2006 to 2008. Initially
many of them were published on a now shut down mens seduction forum. Also
included are entries from my private journals, travel stories and spiritual
adventures.
This period was formative for me as a seducer, and indeed as a young man trying
to prove his worth, his abilities and to work out who the fuck he was.
Being a man in your early 20s is a very confusing time. Most likely, you have no
money, no vocation, you havent made your mark on the world and you dont
know what youre supposed to do with your life. Youre also bombarded with
competitive pressure, told you must run to catch up to impossible ideals of
success before you will be worth anything as a man.
Likely youll have an insidious family or cultural pressure to conform to values
and sacrifices your parents endured. Unlikely youll have any meaningful or
effective tuition on how to understand and communicate with women.
Most men at this age have no idea how to relate to women or any real idea how
they might think, act or feel, which cruelly coincides with a peak in their
(ongoing) desire to have sex with them.
Women seem to work out about men, sex, and relationships much earlier in life,
and soon realize that men their own age are reactive near morons a feathers
stroke from explosive ejaculation, and so often seek and are sought out by older
guys. Or theyre after the few high status bartenders, surfers, musicians, djs, and
players their own age whove wondrously monopolized all the sexiest females
(and seem oblivious to damned inequity of it all!).
For the average looking, the shy, the nice and the lower status men, the
prospects are frustratingly bleak.
The average man in his 20s, unless he is unusually good looking, confident or
well connected, tends to float between extended periods of frustratingly

involuntary celibacy into unsatisfactory relationships with the first girl in the
longest while that has let him fuck her. He cycles through that a few times over
the decade, perhaps drunkenly stumbling into the odd one night stand along the
way (however on earth did he pull that one off?), and then marries someone
somewhere in the range from pretty ok to soul-shittingly awful.
His life pretty much ends there, buried under child rearing, mindless, soulless,
artless work and an increasingly fat and nagging wife who eventually leaves him
taking the house, perhaps the kids, and never the mortgage.
Of course there are many exceptions to this bleak prophecy. You may luck upon
the perfect girl at work drinks during your first internship and have a soul
satisfying life together although chances are an apathetic approach of waiting
and hoping is almost guaranteed to ruin your life.
My situation wasnt quite that dire back when I started, although I had an early
sense that this destiny might await me if I didnt do something extraordinary to
prevent it.
I was a real dork growing up: big nosed, skinny, played the flute and read
medieval history. I was beaten by bullies, teased by the cool girls and had no
male role model or concept of what a man was supposed to be. I was raised in a
poor household, with just my mother and brother. From a pretty shit childhood
and adolescence I had some lucky breaks mixed with a stubborn refusal to be
anything other than quirky and outspoken.
I went on student exchange to America when I was 16, where because I had an
Australian accent I was by default cool and so lost my virginity.
I got into theatre and music and made a lot of female friends. I became a hippy
muso and bumbled along having pretty and sometimes really sexy girlfriends by
being awkwardly charming and going to lots of plays and starting a band.
I built the foundations for being really good with girls through my lifestyle learning how to express myself, stand out, be creative, and speak to womens
emotions.

Later, on my journeys to ashrams in India and whilst training Kung Fu at the

Shaolin temple, through meditation and martial arts I learned how to have
presence, fierceness of intent, decisiveness, grace and internal control. Id always
wanted to be good with women and in my own way I was becoming good at
grabbing the opportunities that drifted into my social scene.
I knew however that I was severely limited: to a certain social clique, to using my
band to meet girls and this feeling that I was never going to have anything
other than a pretty hippy girlfriend gnawed at me relentlessly.
So it was that when I was 26, coming out of a long-term relationship and on a
conflicted zig-zag path back to Shaolin temple, I got embroiled in a full-blown
obsession with seduction!
Note that I say here seduction rather than women. Transitioning from the
austerity and discipline of years as a proto-monk towards a not so distant time of
full-blown, rampant hedonism, I entered the Seduction Community. This was
an online mens support network for self-confessed beta males who shared tips
and theories on getting laid and trumping the status quo of alpha dominance.
The Melbourne Lair members met at a community center over pizza and
swapped tales, bickered over competing theories and commiserated over
failures. After sifting briefly through the pseudo-science bullshit that constituted
most of the early formalized seduction methods, I settled into daily trial and
error, going out almost every day and most nights to bowl up to women who
were clearly out of my league. I eventually joined forces with three of the best
and most eccentric pick up artists I have met to this day: Flowz, Wolf and Z. The
Rasta, the club king and the introspective DJ.
These three lone wolf smooth operators exemplified most of the many sides of
those who would became known as Naturals - men who instinctually get it. I
became the 4th missing link and together we shirked all other responsibilities
and pursuits, blending our styles and knowledge and becoming a rat pack for the
new millennium that cut a swath of sexual mayhem through naughties
Melbourne and then on through the world

Picking up women become an endless addiction, with each new level of difficulty
spurring me to work harder, smarter or dirtier. I wanted the best, hottest,
proudest, most coveted women around, although not essentially for the sex,
which was the sick part. I liked getting laid but there was certainly more than
one occasion when I found myself cock deep in a club siren, thinking about the
text strategy I would use on the next girl I was working on.
I also remember popping my latest conquest in a cab and rushing inside to type
out the episode, hurriedly laying down the quotes and crafting my Field
Reports, and publishing them within the hour.
The approval of a largely anonymous online group of lonely men, was somehow
of more importance than basking in the personal afterglow of a night with most
mens fantasy woman. This obsession with pick up at the expense of all else was
by no means healthy but it was necessary for me at the time. It was about women
and sex but it was much more than that alone.
It was about proving myself, breaking the limits of what I was supposed to be
happy with. I wanted to exist in the realm of the rock star! A super rich, kingpin,
playboy, player, with barely a dollar and no fame.
I wanted endless choice, variety and adventure. I wanted to be the best and have
everybody know it. I wanted not just to get inside the pants of the uber hotties
but to crawl inside their minds and hearts as well, to make them obsessed with
me. To haunt them throughout their lives, as something exceptional. A lover of a
lifetime.
All this was about confronting fears and self doubt. Gratifying while at the same
time attacking my ego. It was about understanding my actual potential as a man,
and eventually, about letting go of it all and falling stupidly in love.
For guys who get into this world, it would be hypocritical of me to suggest you
should temper your enthusiasm and not go as far as I did. But I would say that
once youve saturated yourself in this for as long as you need, get out and do
other things again.

When Betty dumped me, she said:

When we got together, you were this crazy interesting guy, playing music, doing
kung fu, had so much depth... Since you got into pick up - and you know I dont
judge it - youve become boring. Its all you do, all you talk about, so... Im out.
It was the slap in the face I needed and around that time I started to try to find
some balance and to reconnect with the things that had made me attractive in
the first place. This led me on the path to meet Olya, get serious about my career,
get back into Kung Fu and curb all the late nights, and (most of) the drugs.
Although Ive had many far wilder, careering and monumentally impressive
seductions since these years, Ive not written a story about any of them since the
last one in this book. I probably should, but the desire to record and gloat has
passed as waking next to a model or a couple of ballet dancers has long since
become a standard fixture in my life.
These days Im a successful entrepreneur who travels 9 months a year to
wherever I feel like, having affairs with all your top tens, and often grappling
(only a little smugly) with questions like:
What country should I go to and what should I do there and should I stop by St
Petersburg to see Nastya on the way.
Im living the international playboy lifestyle these days and so, have much less to
prove. That insatiable questing to nail the next girl and then the next insists a
little less strenuously. These days I'm more interested in long erotic mornings
with the one that I'm with.
Although I teach seduction for a living now, I spend the rest of my time traveling,
learning tango, still rocking Kung Fu, studying psychedelic shamanism in the
Amazon, reading dense literature, going on absurd adventures with my friends
and fully appreciating the relationships in my life.
Seduction is in my opinion a skill that a man must learn, or he will be alone a lot
and end up spending miserable years or decades with the wrong woman.

The idea that The One will appear, driven by fair and romantic fate, to make
everything alright is an apathetic excuse to have no balls and to not look
critically at the areas of your personality and lifestyle that need to change.
Or you can just give up and get together with that girl in your office - who is
pretty bloody certainly not The One but just the one that you could get! Learning
to walk up to a stranger and make a good impression is a skill that means you
will not shackle up with Enid from accounts at the water cooler, but will only end
up with the woman of your dreams.
This book is the story of how I did just that.
In this book you find a pretty comprehensive record of my journey from
insecurity-clad hippy opportunist to consistently successful ladies man. For the
prospective Casanova you should find this more than useful, to watch the arc of
learning I went through.
Most of my clients find it hard to believe I was ever shit with girls, or had
spectacular failures and even when I tell them otherwise I can see that they
harbour ongoing suspicions that I was born cool and popular, with my silver
spoon in their mouths...
Over the course of these journals youll see that not only did I make constant
blunders in between my hard-won successes, fucking up cake walk seductions
with newbie errors but that I was also subject to hounding self doubts,
existential crises and bouts of dangerous jealousy and sentimentality. Men get
into seduction to fuck hot girls and avoid feeling bad about themselves.
The truth is that when you delve into this deep enough, you inevitably have to
face all your fears, your ego, the limits of your knowledge and abilities, and above
all, you have to reveal yourself to women.
If youre not more than brutally honest with yourself this can lead to some kind
of breakdown into neurotic almost schizophrenia as your Pick Up Artist faade
crumbles before the reality of an actual woman. Ive seen it, and maybe been
there But its not much of a risk compared to the chance to break through, to
evolve and to become a mature man worthy of the women he wants.

What starts out as fairly clinical set of soulless field notes on the science of
seduction gradually becomes a reflection on my internal growth, my
understanding of womens true desires and nature, and eventually on the
complexities and beautiful madness of being in love.
I start with the arrogance of conquest and find my ego, machismo and beliefs
shattered over and over until I truly come to a point of respecting and adoring
women rather than just wanting to capture them. At the same time I come to
peace with who I am and finally start to really love myself.
Reading back on these entries, particularly the early ones, Im wryly amused by
how nave I was and how much effort I put into getting some often very average
girls into bed (then writing in excruciating detail about how I managed to or
not). You'll notice that as I get better and the results start piling up, I go into less
detail about exactly what I said to open and talk more about the vibe, my intent,
the meta-behavioural patterns.
These days there are countless more eloquent and daring pickups and
interactions I could quote from but the value of these early writings is in seeing
how my skills exponentially improve, along with my mindset. From conquering
fear, verbal efficacy, harem management, physical escalation, to handling fuck
ups and flaky girls, its all in here.
Youll see how I go from fumbling dates with plain Janes to eventually, getting a
new beauty into bed every week and then dating 5 exquisite women at the same
time before finding someone very unusual that smashed me back to square one.
Theres a standard Hollywood storyline which always pissed me off. Free
wheeling bad boy, lives by his own rules, seductive, charismatic and sleeps
around without a care. Then in the end sees the error of his boyish ways and gets
married to the one. Ironically thats exactly what I do. On acid of course. Youll
see, its a fun ride
James Marshall. Amazon jungle, Peru. April 2015.

The story so far

The year was 2006. and I was about to become really really good at getting the
women that most men wanted to want me. This would eventually lead me to a
bizarre career that involved flying around the world, dating models & top shelf
bombshells of all types and getting paid silly amounts of money to teach men to
do the same.
Leading up to this was a series of events that would in no way hint at this
direction to come.
My life up till that point revolved around Kung Fu, Buddhism and my flute.
Since the age of 19 when Id taken my first 10 day meditation retreat in India and
quit pot, I became a fiercely disciplined (and pretty rigid and humourless)
Buddhist. No meat, alcohol, drugs. I meditated hours a day and became obsessed
with Shaolin martial arts which I studied with several masters in Australia. I
started university, quit, studied Oriental massage and then worked as a massage
therapist for some years. I also started a highly unmarketable, technically
brilliant funk band called Baron Samadhi, playing blistering flute solos and
singing about esoteric ramblings to a tiny but dedicated fan base.
I went to China in 2002. and 2004. to further my studies at Shaolin temple in
China with the last of the true Shaolin monks - hitting rocks, spinning large
weapons around and meditating in painful positions. I loved it there, and the idea
gradually formed in my dharma bum mind: I was gunning for enlightenment and
I felt increasingly, that I was destined to move to China permanently, to
disappear into Song Shan mountains mist and to become a true ascetic warrior
monk.
Only problem was, I was a very horny young man. I had a really sexy Persian
girlfriend who I fucked 5 times a day (All that Qi gong, organic food and tantra
paid off) and yet I was haunted by outlandish erotic desires and a fear of leaving
the sensual pleasures of the world behind. I desperately wanted to have sex with
100 women. Really hot ones, the ones I could never get; models, blonde surfer

chicks, those ones with nice dresses and heels at those clubs that have infinity
pools in them, corporate hotties with black stockings and white blouses, Russian
girls like in Bond movies, oh and some threesomes to, I wanted some of those
And so I cheated on my girlfriend with a plain Chinese secretary in Beijing. I told
her. She fucked three guys in revenge. I went on a jealous rampage and smashed
up our house. She left of course and suddenly I was alone, a total wreck
wondering how I could possibly straddle these two extreme poles of my desiring.
So I made a deal with myself. I would take a year to dedicate solely to becoming
ludicrously good with women, would get those 100 notches of all the right
specifications, bury myself in every depraved unlikely pornographic combination
I could imagine to get it out of my system. And then I would move to China and
be a monk.
Thats how I ended up on an internet forum for guys who sucked with chicks and
on the adventures youre about to read.
Oh, you may ask, what happened to becoming a monk after number 100?
A young man known as Wolf came into my life and changed things for ever. Im
still going back to the temple you know, right after number

Chapter 1- Jimmy Taranto back stage

OK James, we need you hard now.

These were the words Id been dreading and anticipating for weeks. Standing in
the womens toilets of a dirty rocker bar, wearing black vinyl pants and a purple
velvet shirt, this was finally real. I was playing Jimmy Taranto, narcissistic rock
star, banging a groupie back stage in the opening shot of the Band, Australias
first ever major feminist erotica feature film.
Id rocked up to work early Monday morning where I was immediately
accosted by a reporter from the Age newspaper, asking me
How do you feel, knowing that you will be having sex with that girl (pointing to
Phoenix Knight in the make up chair) today?
I feel pretty good about it actually, I replied. And I did. I was in the best shape of
my life, solarium tan, waxed eyebrows, shaved nuts and ready to fuck. Still, with
the moment finally upon me my bravado was faltering.
We squashed into the grotty bathroom and I exhaled deeply.
Are you nervous Phoenix?
No silly. Is this your first hardcore scene for the movie?
Its my first hardcore scene ever.
Oh sweety, Ill look after you.
Supporting Phoenix with one hand propped up on a bench, I took a deep breath
and willed the blood to rush to my pants. The camera crew where squeezed into
a toilet cubicle waiting expectantly, with Anna the busty director smiling
encouragingly with her matronly deviance.
I looked down at my cock which was not cooperating as directed.
Umm, its not really working.
So what do you need to do?
The problem is I dont have any contact with Phoenix at the hips

Wasnt there supposed to be fluffers for this kind of things? This is why they
should keep porn out of the hands of the feminists and back with the misogynists
where it belongs, I thought with irritation.
I said to Phoenix
Ahh, do you mind if I feel you up?
Sure, no problem, she said without hesitation.
While she chatted to the make up girl, getting a last brush of blusher, I fingered
her and squeezed her tight butt until I was hard.
Ok, Im ready.
Whilst trying to keep Jimmy Taranto in mind, my arrogant shallow rocker
character, slamming an anonymous groupie with no regard, I tried to curl a slight
snarl of indifferent contempt and go at it.
I lift Phoenix who is tiny with a perfect petite figure, trashy make up and big
blonde mane looking like a suburban school girl tart, kiss her, and touch her up.
Ok James ve need you to move ze labia aside a little furzer, says Sanna the
German cinematographer.
I put her down spin her around and bend her over the sink, whack on a condom,
pull her g string aside and start pounding her.
CUT!, Anna yells.
Phoenix: *giggle* That was fun.
We go through the same thing again, from different angles. I grab her hair and
yank her head back getting a little creative as I relax, with the stress of actually
getting an erection gone.
On the third and final take in another misguided girl power move they had
planned on faking my cumshot with a syringe full of mayonnaise and vinegar.
Look Anna, do you really want this faked, or would you like me to do a real one
Oh, well that would be great. Phoenix, is that ok?
Sure, its only come, so long as you clean me up after *giggle*

Now James ven you are ready to come, I need you to blow air on my face several
strokes before, so I can adjust the shot as I vill not be able to see you srough ze
viewfinder.
Banging the shit out of Phoenix about to bust, I turn and puff gently at Sannas
cheek, then pull out, frantically trying to get the condom off, yanking it off just in
time to deliver a theatrically brilliant money shot all over Phoenixs tiny bronze
butt.
I stumbled off shot, panting for breath into an empty cubicle and looked back at
her bent over covered in my jizz with the camera still rolling as she pulls a
Polaroid camera out of her bag and takes a photo of her sticky cheeks to put in
her groupie scrapbook. In the mirror I can see the crew crammed into the
adjacent cubicle, with the boom mike and lights poking out at silly angles and
myself slumped spent against the door.
I smiled in bemusement and thought, How did it come to this?

The complete book will be released 8th April 2016.