Crow Talk: “Manifesting doesn’t pay the damn light bill.”

✨ Content is free—but crows like snacks.

Dear Loui,
 My card got declined at the gas station this morning. I played it off like fraud, but let’s be real—it was me, broke again. Third time this month.

I’m tired. Tired of juggling bills like a magician with carpal tunnel. Tired of being told “abundance is a mindset” while counting quarters at self-checkout.

I’ve read the books. I’ve tried “feeling rich.” But how am I supposed to vibrate higher when I’m vibrating from caffeine, shame, and a negative balance?

How do I think better thoughts when my life keeps proving me right?

—Broke, Bitter, and Spiritually Overdrawn

🪶 Loui Crow Responds:
 “You’re not broke. You’re in energetic overdraft.”

Oh, sweetheart. You didn’t just get declined at the pump. You got spiritually bounced like a bad check, and your higher self is standing there in a gas station hoodie wondering what happened to all that “I’m manifesting” energy.

Let’s call this what it is:
 You’re not broke.
 You’re just exhausted from auditioning for abundance like it’s a talent show and money is a distracted judge with commitment issues.

You’ve been treating belief like a Tinder fling: swipe in for one candle and an affirmation, swipe out the second your account goes red.

Here’s the roast:
 🩸 You are not your bank app.
 🩸 You are not a walking overdraft fee.
 🩸 You are not the caution tape around your potential.

You are the damn channel, but right now you’re clogged with shame, scarcity, and exactly zero Wi-Fi bars of faith. You’re trying to manifest abundance with the energetic equivalent of dial-up.

Let’s reboot.

✨ Your Resolution (Pay Attention, Babe):

1. Stop treating panic like a plan.
 You’re not “problem-solving”—you’re catastrophizing with receipts and calling it budgeting.

2. Pick one daily action that feels rich.
 Not “expensive”—rich in energy. Man-flavored examples? Got you.

• Pour your gas station coffee into a heavy-ass mug and sip it like you own a record label.

• Use the good beard oil—even if no one’s gonna smell you but the cat.

• Wipe your boots like you’re about to be interviewed by GQ in the parking lot of a Wendy’s.

• Pay a bill on purpose and say, “Here’s a sacred offering to the gods of utilities.” Do it. I dare you.

3. Talk like someone with receipts from the future.
 No more “I’m always broke.” Try:
 “I’m re-learning money like it’s a muscle.”
 Or: “Cash and I are working on our trust issues.”
 Hell, even: “My bank account is a late bloomer—but it’s got big plans.”

4. Get into right relationship with your money.
 From Money: A Love Story, Loui-fied:

• Track your spending—not to punish yourself, but to stop gaslighting yourself.

• Write a letter to money like it’s your ex you want back—but this time, you’re setting boundaries.

• Ask: Would I date me, based on how I treat my money? If not—adjust, king.
  

5. Make one bold, weird, symbolic shift.
 Return the thing. Cancel the thing. Start the fund.
 Name it something insane like:
 “The I Deserve More Stash.”
 “Emergency Jetpack Fund.”
 “For My Future House + Studio + Pet Crow That Judges My Enemies.”

This isn’t about pretending you’re fine.
 It’s about quitting the cult of “just getting by.”
 You are not stuck. You’re just really convincing at playing small.

Now go do something unhingedly confident.
 Brush your beard like you’re filming a documentary about your comeback.
 Stare at your bank account like it owes you an explanation.
 Say thank you when money leaves—because it’s coming back with friends.

The bounce is coming.
 Be louder than the decline.

— Loui Crow