Angels in America

You and I have shared a lot together, over the years. In all of that, honestly, I was never as whole as I am right now. It’s an odd thing to realise, especially with the journey that’s taken place, but this is the new start point. Here is where everything looks, feels and becomes normal. Sure, there will be backwards days, and often sideways shifts, but inevitably we’re now doing the right stuff.

What is required however, is still up for discussion.

I’m gonna take a break now, for ten days. All public writing via blogs is going to be put on hold. Normally I’d post stuff over holidays but instead, as it’s a week away at a forest leisure park, it is time to stop contemplating and start enjoying. Yes, it’s possible to do that and write, but that doesn’t allow the private side of me to heal properly, which is what’s been happening over the last few weeks.

This is the road, now taken to a new and exciting place. I’ll be back on the 27th and can pretty much guarantee a lot of things will change for good. It’s wonderful to have a plan this time which means there’s no need to hide myself or pretend that this is something I’m not. The world is not going to save itself, after all, and that is definitely a task I need to be involved in.

I’ll see you when I get back.

Streets of London

Yeah, and I didn’t post yesterday either because LONDON AGAIN.

Honestly, it’s gonna be a bit mad until the weekend, BECAUSE HOLIDAY. It doesn’t help either that I’m undoubtedly sleep deprived and was dumb enough to accept a 7.15am PT session this morning. Head will have to go down shortly, or else nothing worthwhile is getting done for the rest of the day. I’ve tried thinking, but all brain really wants now is heads down and a bit of rest…

Proper words tomorrow, I promise.


I didn’t post at all for two whole days. Here’s why.

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#365daychallenge Sunday, Tate Modern

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There’s been some quite robust discussion in the house over what should happen at weekends. As a result, on Saturday and Sunday nothing was written as part of a plan. I’ve stated in other places that now writing is my job, there is requirement for alternate means to relax when that doesn’t happen. Saturday was gaming, Sunday was the Tate Modern. Both had their surprises.

I’ll write at length about Olafur Eliasson in the week, as his exhibition caused an unexpected anxiety attack. It’s a measure of my progress that didn’t utterly ruin the day. It also provided a surprising amount of material that I now wish to write about, so in that regard I’m very happy with the entire weekend’s exercise. If there was worry previously over being unable to be creative, this has greatly assuaged it.

I’ll be in a forest in a week, which is the holiday I’ve been looking forward to for a lot longer than was previously believed. There’ll be a lot of writing there, but all the real work will happen when I come back. Many things will be pulled from their spaces on hard drives to be re-written. I’m ready to do that now, and instead of using new stuff as contest entries, it’s going to be old things, re-imagined.

I’m surprisingly determined at what will be achieved.

Everything Must Go

Yesterday was BRILLIANT. Today’s started just as well. Sure, there are issues, but they’re manageable, I got this. Strategies are being planned. It helps that I’ve got a Thing to look forward to next week and a Thing in September and holiday is not far away. All of this is useful to remind that yup, it’s a year since we went away and inevitably, before this happens I get tired.

Also, not sharing everything is great.


Once upon a time, sharing was the way I could feel part of the whole when there appeared to be nothing else in common with anyone else. That’s no longer required. You lot know me well enough by now. We don’t have to be in each others’ pockets daily. So, now I get to just do the normal things and you don’t have to know. This is, of course, how the rest of the World works, but to me the concept is pretty shiny and new.

If you really want a window into my life, follow me on Instagram. The daily picture now has considerable meaning, because of the shift around everything else that exists as part of the bigger plan. You should be following me not only there but @InternetofWords too on Twitter because THINGS ARE HAPPENING and I should be able to say I’ll have read poetry in public three times this year come the end of September.

They all count, in the end.


I thought about a very different blog post today, then realised that actually, this is what needs to be said. Defining your boundaries matters. Telling people ‘no’ is a big deal. I get those who use their sexuality, their bodies and their interests to sell a lifestyle choice. This is something which has zero interest to me, and always has. The irony, of course, is that so many people claimed to ‘love my work’ when so few ever bothered to read it.

It still happens, but the majority of those around me do read, and it makes them think, and then maybe the worldview is expanded or shifted. That’s the point: not that I’m attractive, or sound good, or allow you to be distracted from other stuff. Take your surface constructs, ideas that looks or sex are what drives interests, and thrown them in the sea. Educate the brain first. Then things might really change.

Share the right things, not the superfluous ones.


I cleared house yesterday, not yet totally done. They’ll be some poking at my Twitter feed over the next week. I’ve only forced unfollowed one person, primarily due to the amount of content in their timeline that bothered me. I can’t convince other people that overt porn is ewww when you’re on a public feed. The assumption is that they don’t realise everybody can see what they do. So, instead of complaining, curate then hit the button.

What wasn’t expected yesterday was how lovely everybody else would be when I was actually honest for the first time in years.

I’m an equal opportunities Drama Starter. The issues with women is fairly represented in blog posts, over the years. Oddly, none of those incidents really matter any more, because most never lasted past the implosion that began them. It becomes progressively simpler to forget those pieces of past, making sure principles are held in memory as cracking examples of How Not to be an Adult on Social Media. 

These creepy guys though, many of whom I know are married…

I don’t think any women are stalking me: maybe it is already happening, they’re so good at it their plan isn’t abundantly apparent. You only get to react to stimulus that’s obvious. It’s remains a constant source of amazement how many men, when you strike up a conversation with them in a civil, but friendly fashion, automatically assume you could be a potential partner. That’s not how this should ever work. Twitter is NOT A BLOODY PUB.

Hopefully, by poking the feed from time to time a different perspective emerges. Over the years people have taught me many things. I know all about hentai and wish I didn’t. I didn’t know you could have an item named after you in a computer game. I didn’t realise that friendship overlooked people acting like fucking monsters, abusers being painted as victims. That’s a special kind of person I’d never, EVER want in my life again.

However fabulous your life might look up close, EVERYBODY will benefit from an occasionally unscheduled wake-up call. Nobody’s perfect, and taking stock of situations and environment from time to time… trust me, it’s really helpful. If your feed’s contents is enough to make someone decide that it’s time to leave, and it keeps happening, that might be a message worth heeding.

Listening is becoming a lost art, and it makes me sad.

Love Hurts

Something I’ve been stressing over for about a fortnight is now done. The relief, especially in my shoulders, is palpable. I’m also beyond tired all of a sudden and yesterday’s lifts/squats are manifesting in hips and knees. It’s amazing how these things become physical issues when enough time elapses. Stress kills, kids, don’t let anybody convince you otherwise. Try and find ways to relax.

This morning, my mind is full of the lies I tell myself to keep focused.


Like it or not, I’m part of a problem that manifests all over social media. Success is the goal, key to changing existence, icing on your metaphorical Life Cake (TM) and only through a tortuous, painful journey of exploration and discovery will we all find a particular flavour of Nirvana that is so desperately sought. To allow this to happen, an awful lot gets compromised along the way, including integrity.

It means, like it or not, everything that isn’t abject failure gets celebrated. This includes such moments as ‘hey I made the Longlist of Award X let’s stick that in my Bio’ and ‘you can utterly tweet about how I almost won this thing because there were 600 entries and to make it to the final 25 is progress…’ and the list goes on… and on. I may laugh at the nerd yesterday inventing his own hype to justify existence, but he’s no different than me.

Like it or not, we’re both fooling ourselves to a point.


Sometimes, I wish there were a magic button to press allowing me to move forward the writing part of my journey. If only everything were like exercise, where amount of effort inserted becomes directly equal to progress made in fitness. Yes, padewan, you have laboured for ten years on the Plains of Blogging, passed the Trial of Being Paid for Content, and now are eligible to One Minor Literary Achievement Per Year.

Why is this not enough for you?

That’s a really good question: can there not be enough satisfaction gained from just having a published book in your hands? Apparently not, according to the woman who managed this at the writing event I attended last month and pretty much complained non-stop that because she wasn’t with a major publisher, it wasn’t enough. I realise, that if the positions were reversed, I’d be unhappy too. Making something out of thin air once sets a benchmark you’re then forced to better.


My PT asked me yesterday morning whether I need a goal to work towards in terms of training: maybe doing Ride London again, perhaps a marathon, maybe working towards the Nuclear races so many Gym attendees seem to love so much. I asked for notice of the question, and sitting here now, there is real understanding that if you gave me a goal to work at in my hobby, I’d stop exercising tomorrow. I lift weights and run now as relaxation as writing’s now the job, and goals only exist here now, not anywhere else.

It’s why the news of my favourite video game going back to it’s original iteration this month is enough to tempt me back to the fold, until I remember the kind of people who would be playing, and the real possibility I’d want to be really good at it like I was before. It would stop being a hobby and become something else. It was others that finally ruined that for me, plus the realisation those who bankroll said game are here to turn a profit, and won’t ever share my world views as a result.

Winning isn’t everything.


Some days, it’s tough to know what matters most. Right now, all that’s really important is being aware that lots of things are changing. Let them happen, digest consequences, make informed decisions based on what you know. If you can learn to trust yourself, answers will eventually become clear, as they have in the last few months. Most importantly of all, success will not define you. How you deal with change will.

What matters most is to be true to your soul.

These Foolish Things

The weekend was notable for one more thing.


I know it wasn’t deleted, she blocked me on the personal account: that’s why the work one’s really useful. I’ve done this a few times, but never had the stars align. It wasn’t done for the views, by the way, let’s make that perfectly clear. It was done because white people are the problem right now just about everywhere: supremacists in the US, antagonists in Europe, the ‘upper classes’ in the UK.

It’s time to do my bit and point out hypocrisy wherever it springs forth.

A lot of life right now is people shouting at each other for no discernible reason. You’ll be handed a starting point (Brexit, mass shootings, Global warming) and then it’s up to you to go and make up the rest. Occasionally something crops up with ‘utterly ridiculous’ written through it like seaside rock, and everybody gets to be indignant together. The rest of the time, there’s no idea what frame of the zoetrope you’ll see.

With Twitter, you might see one frame of the same animation whilst the person in your thread’s upset about the picture that proceeds it, or that follows. It is fairly rare that everybody sees a white woman dissing a princess for her own choices, then feels the need to express their annoyance and exasperation together. What does happen however, is an unexpected moment of shared empathy, which in the current climate, is much needed.

Most importantly of all, there’s a disturbing trend of late for people to try and make a name for themselves on the back of collective animation. Let’s attack the women who are standing up for others, diss the sensitive guy for making a stand, find ways of making mental illness a stigma. The fact that the man who is President would rather blame ANYTHING ELSE except the truth behind two mass shootings may finally, crucially, come back to haunt him.

When the most rational and calm people snap, we should ALL be afraid.


Who doesn’t like a good bit of drama? It’s all fun and games until you ask someone to back up their comments, and when they don’t and you go look at their feed laughing at how great it is to create some drama, you realise the twat’s not worth your time. Most of this shit’s never going to be worth anything than just a passing effort. Knowing who to ignore’s always useful.

It means there’s more time to do the shit that really matters.