A lot of our problems in life are seen through the prism of our own eyes. So how can we solve certain issues when we can't get away from ourselves? Can a person who's depressed cure themselves?
Here's a little video I put together calledBroken Brain based on a not very good time. I do hope you'll watch. It's short.
Drop me a line or leave a comment on the post. Sharing the video really helps me too. I totally rely on you. People aren't flocking to my channel, much to their own chagrin, so we have to lead them there.
Have a good week and if it's shitty, ask yourself if it's your broken brain in motion and if not, can you really alter things anyway? Many things are out of our control.
One thing we can rely on though, is that change is a-comin.
Two months until the release of a great new book with a rich mix of content.
Us & Them and the things in-between - an upcoming collection of stories and poems on connection and our ongoing search to find it.
This poem was selected to be in the final book, but it wasn't until I was compiling the running order that I realised that it could be construed that it was about my ex-partner Sally, or any other ex. It isn't. It's a hypothetical.
But many, if not all, of the poems in it are based on real people and situations, so I eliminated it to avoid confusion. The book is dedicated to Sally after all.
I like the poem. Sadly, it had to go.You may be able to relate to it however. I'm sure plenty can.
Something very different this week. If not for you, perhaps someone you know. Even a student.
Are you struck with insecurity?
Are you a writer who doesn't know where to begin?
Who struggles to find the confidence?
Hits roadblocks and can't get around them?
Writing Doubts
Here is some simple advice based on significant personal experience to help you overcome insecurity, not just in writing but hopefully in other areas of life too.
I still have those very intrusive doubts. Every time.
*This article has been endorsed by the NRA. (Numbskulls with Regressive Attitudes).
Hey man. If you're one of them offended types then piss off or just suck it up. This post ain't for pussies. It's for proper leg owners.
The
Second (Point Five) Amendment
1.All
citizens shall have the right to bear legs. A citizen can bear legs to protect
the home and family, in case of intruders, burglars, rapists, serial killers,
body part collectors, Democrats, homosexuals or an invading army.
2.Stockpiling
of legs is allowed. Especially around schools. Every school needs a ton of legs. You never know when you may need to defend yourself against another leg.
3.Assault
legs are allowed, though it is important to remember that legs don’t kill
people, people kill people. It is not the leg’s fault. Poor legs. Sad face.
4.The
bearing of legs is also crucial to the protection of the family in case of marauding
mutants or ninjas. (They will not help against zombies, as they don’t exist,
don’t be silly. And in case they do, zombies prefer brains).
5.Attractive
legs, especially on females, are known to be as deadly as hideous ones. It has
been documented that a hot pair of legs can stop a tank, ala Tiananmen Square
style. (To all leg obsessed citizens unaware of the outside world, ie let alone
its history; please scroll through a little thing called the internet).
6.There
is no issue regarding the use of athletes, so high-powered legs are acceptable.
7.All
legs are a potential threat, especially from a stranger. And never EVER trust
the legs of a foreigner.
8.Fat
legs are also known to deter intruders, though the reflex response is generally
slower. Best to use them as heavy artillery against a foreign force.
9.Legs
come in many forms, though legs of aliens should be hunted down and destroyed. Only pure legs are accepted.
10.We
will bear legs until Hell freezes over (though if very cold, purchase leg-ins).
God help anyone who tries to stop us. Remember, the family that slays together, lies together. Uh, dies together... Amen.
On her 4th birthday, an Aussie girl entertains Madrid locals
We spent 6 weeks in Europe as her mother was there for work, so Tilly and I came along for a subsided holiday. When in Spain, she turned 4. We went out for dinner and this is what happened.
(3mins)
If watching on a phone and can't see the video above, then watch HERE
She was the cutest. And still is pretty great at 11 (not biased at all)
I made 6 edited videos of our trip, totalling 3 hours. I found this little segment in Part 2 and thought it was worth sharing.
Almost
everyone in this court has some sort of say as to my future, although I don’t
get to tender a word. And yet, I’m the only one in the world who actually knows
what happened. How does that make any type of sense?
My defence attorney wrapped up his
closing arguments yesterday. This morning the Judge gave her instructions to
the jury. That alone was an hour. It was all boring legalise but since then, the
jury have been deliberating. I’m on edge. More than that, I’m scared. Truly.
Perhaps for the first time. Not scared of what I’ve become. I always knew who I
was. Well, from early teens anyway. Hell, most of us are aware of some sort of
sexual feelings in childhood. Perhaps before we know what they actually are. We
don’t suddenly emerge into knowledge. It’s a scattered, chaotic, struggle to
understanding. Much like the coalescing cells that create life. Or the
traumatic emergence from the womb itself. Do we ever recover from that
shock?
I knew I had strong desires. And I
somehow knew that I should keep them private. People rarely spoke about sex in
those days. Not in public. Not in front of kids. I didn't know that adults
talked about it all the time. Or actually did it. And masturbated. Indulged in
pornography. Went to strip bars, sex clubs and did it with strangers in
fluorescent bathed black corridors. I knew nothing. I thought I was the only one.
That I was somehow indecent. That wanking made me a freak. A perve.
Be careful what you wish for. It’s
what got me into this nightmare. Now I'm facing the strong possibility of no sex.
Or even worse. Prison sex. I’m not opposed to man sex per se. I've done it occasionally.
Usually as a last resort, when there's been no access to females. Especially
when I was younger. And especially when I was drunk. I imagine that being
inside Cell Block H isn't exactly a pool of potential quality partners. Oh
Jesus. Why am I even joking about this? This is exactly why I'm freaking out. And
for very good reason. My arse could soon be on a carousal.
I look to the empty chairs where the jury normally resides. I can picture all of their faces. I’ve guessed their ages and given them names. I've even created histories for them. I bet I'm close to the mark. You can tell an awful lot about a person from the way they dress. The way they hold themselves. The little interactions with others, even if it's just a hand movement or glance. The way some of them have looked at the public gallery. The relatives. That alone has told me how they're going to swing. The way they've looked at me. Or not looked at me, as the case may be. That's almost as obvious as those who have given me the holistic, evil eye. Especially when you collate all this information over three weeks. They’re an open book. I am ninety five percent sure who has voted which way.
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