Category Archives: Rants

Summer

I mean this as a genuine complaint and in no way a troll towards people who suffer like this in reverse, but summer is dreadful, I hate it! Even on a rainy day it sucks.

Give me a lack of light, cold weather, opportunities to wear warm clothes. Warming up is much easier than cooling down, making things bright is much easier than making things dark.

I can’t cope with 17 hours of daylight. It’s too hot all the time, I’m uncomfortable, sunburned, constantly pouring sweat! My skin turns to shit, I am dehydrated and irritable.

Fuck this! My eyes can’t cope with light. It hurts my overheating brain. Everything and everyone seems to have loads of extra energy and are super active. It’s the opposite for me. I can’t function, at all.

Everything seems more aggressive and oppressive in summer. I am a sensitive person mentally and physically and I don’t like it. I wish I could fly north to escape. Birds have the right idea. At least I feel better for having a good moan.

/rant

Persuasive writing

Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Subjective opinion. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Unanswerable question? Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Subjective opinion. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact. Objective fact.

A not very well thought out, ugly theory about the goodness of art and nature

Beauty is a moments escape. To leave oneself and still exist. A marriage of our experience of consciousness with another’s.

Our temporary senses can be unlocked and used for assessing the world around us. To see or hear something and realise that life is not limited to our experiences is freeing. This is virtuous interpretation.

Skillful artists can replicate nature in a way that connects us with this wider concept. We forget ourselves and find beauty. We feel goodness.

I will stop writing now, my food smells ready, and I am hungry

Monotony

I really really enjoy the feeling of living the same day over and over. It reinforces feelings of happiness, comfort, safety, needs being met, no nasty surprises, etc. but when I have an exciting dream that’s surreal and weird or actually do something different, I am like “wow! I really am not living at all”

the procedure

i’m alone, i need some social interaction, but wait, here comes a thought:

”humans are the worst. i hope nukes rain down from the skies”

john! what the fuck was that!?

ok, whatever, use the procedure

what emotion was it?
was it appropriate?
was it real?
can you rationalise it?
does it have bias? if so, can you balance it?
why did you think that?
how you resolve it and prevent it happening again?
how do you feel now?
are you sure?
do you need some food/water?
do you feel safe? if not, tell someone.

you’ve done your best. accept it and move on

awhhh shit. here comes another thought, this is going to be a long day and i’m already exhausted

”people are ashamed of me for thinking such nonsense”

FUCK SAKE!

ok, whatever, use the procedure

(Afterthought, one week later: Do bad thoughts promote and encourage more bad thoughts? Or do good thoughts come from bad thoughts and bad thoughts come from good thoughts – the same way there is company to be had in solitude and solitude to be had with company)

First Love

I need to drown in your smile again
Your beauty untouched by cynicism
Don’t let me grind you down

My guilt and anxiety
Cleaves at me
Silently
Unwanted thievery
As I learned your ways

You taught me hope
And hope lifts me up
For that day tomorrow
That day that never comes

Stunned into inaction
A feeble attempt at living
You’d call it genuine
When I’d ruin the party

A horse walks past my kitchen
After the apples on my trees
You might’ve cooked for me
If I were a boy again
There’d be no problem
Upsetting at the table

Your undying heart never left me
I sank into myself
With those fragments I stole
Your sparkle and spirit
Saves me from myself
Always indebted
Always yours

Scissored Words

Lightning is lightening, briefly

Getting wet is a good start if you want to dry off

This vacuum only has one gear, MAX

Seven cynical succubi seduced me into having an evening cup of tea. No sleep. Shit.

She gives me that kitchen sinking feeling

The most effective steering mechanism of a boat is a Potentilla

With you in the kitchen of primary colours

All of a sudden I collapsed
Fairies around my head
Blue birds in my beard
A fleshy bag on the floor

Leaking fluid a silhouette
In the sun rays upon the tiles
I’m sure one day you’ll be there
To pick me up and sit me down

My red number one fan
Far away in the sub tropics
Eat your favourite food
That will make me happy

United by cats and sadness
We are twins separated
By six thousand green miles
And only our waking lives

Thank you for all your love
Thank you for your patience

Day 13704 (written a while ago)

Day 13704 on planet Earth.

Yet again I find myself sat alone in a room listening to structured melodic sounds watching a moving image of people hitting spherical objects around a very large green table with sticks whilst I drink tea and wonder what is happening in my life.

The Alarms That Ring True (Pithy Aphorism #1337)

Hey why is your voice getting louder and louder?
Are you ok? Do you want some help?
Silence will not change the world but please don’t deafen me.
I know this is not a quiet time for internal reflection,
So I will listen and I will be your mirror.

Truth will eventually win but the difficult part is lies are often louder.

So let the change come with a reasonable volume
Made of a great number of gentle voices, mirror upon mirror.
Let’s make it happen like it was done by nature itself
Like it was destined all along

Sound is born of silence
Brilliant light is born in the dark

My Far Away Saviour

Lower me a hook to save me from the uncertainty
Give me the ultimate happy ending to believe in
Bribe me with charity and sell me your dreams guarantee
Scare me with torture if I don’t follow your rules therein

I’ve got much closer to heaven with each day that passes
But dreams of heaven will be for nought the day that I die
My part will end but life goes on for the countless masses
What are the lies you tell yourself to get to sleep and why?

We have the threats, the hypocrisy, the narcissism
The generational authority passed down with glee
Black and white sins of a greyscale world lest criticism
Violence and bloodshed in Gods name that stains history

So what now can save me? Hope from family or a friend
The virtue of doing my best even if that’s not a lot
Radical acceptance for my existence till the end
Emptying the mind and being grateful for what I’ve got

What are you up to?

What is everyone doing at any given time?
I want to ask the whole wide world what they are thinking,
And how they feel?
It’s not about me.

What do you want from your life and how can I help you?
Can I feel the way you feel and would that share the load?
Put it like this,
It’s not about me.

Do you want some time to yourself and space to relax?
I know you don’t need me but know that I’m here for you.
Feel better soon,
It’s not about me.

Can I share some hope just by listening to you talk?
Hearing you help yourself is sweet music to my ears.
Turn on the light.
It’s not about me.

Does existence realise we’re on a rock in space?
Shared with animals, plants, and lots of little atoms,
Each doing things.
It’s not about me.

FAQ

Q. How do I feel consistently content and mentally well?
A. Don’t think sad thoughts.

Q. How do I feel more active and enthusiastic?
A. Do more fun stuff.

Q. How do I lose weight and feel better about the way I look?
A. Eat less food.

Q. How do I put on weight and feel better about the way I look?
A. Eat more food.

Q. How do I make friends and influence people?
A. Don’t be a dick.

Q. How do I save up for a rainy day and make myself more financially secure?
A. Spend less money.

Q. How do I become more attractive to possible romantic partners?
A. Smile.

Q. How do I stop the existential dread that haunts my brain whenever I am alone or in silence?
A. Don’t worry about things.

Sleep paralysis in wet weather

Laying in bed a forsaken fleeting feeling lingers
A heavy humid dread sitting on my chest
The weight of an extinguished wheeze
Pain from a thousand unwanted thoughts
The tick of a clockwork existential death threat
A days worth of bottled rage bubbling up from my gut

Parallels with processes of wrong uns
An unwanted empathy for the worst of the worst
Alone at night in the dark with nothing but a million voices
Carrying all kinds of criticism and conflicting neurosis
Nothing to calm the nerves but the falling rain
But even the most burdensome troubles can get washed away

The Roots of Growth

Living in the soil is a little worm
Breaking up the earth for roots to grip

The sun beats down on all the leaves
The rain helps give the plants life

Growing plants is therapeutic
Sometimes you get nice crisp apples

It is useful to get support to grow
As a plant and as a person

That is why Kelsey is helping me write
To catalogue and process mental growth

I am grateful for all the help I’ve received
To become who I want to be

I am not a worm I feel like a plant in the soil
I just need help sending down my roots

Easy Writing

Talking to you, is nice, and calms me down, and fills me up, so I empty. Like the noise of recycle bin or trash or bin emptying, I give myself notice of little changes. My dopamine boost of the day could be a visual cue: Rapid batting eyelids, or the colour of the tea being poured from my teapot; just something to make me feel like everything is alright, even if it isn’t. That feeling that it is, is important. I know it’s temporary. Things will change. But I like to give myself a moments peace when I can. That’s important to me. I have learned to live better by going through pain. I can adjust. However much I tell myself I can’t when I’m stressed. I can. It’s easy if I talk to you.

The Squirl (US Version)

I watched a squirrel try and cross the road before I got too close. It got all the way across the road but then it turned around and crossed back across the road as I approached. You were almost there my guy. You had this. You were so close.

Fixing a 12 Year Old Laptop Is Therapeutic

Fixing a 12 year old laptop is therapeutic
I hope the octogenarian owner will enjoy using Linux
A new lease of life for a dying machine
And for it’s owner’s technological twilight

I like shapes
Circle circle circle circle circle
Oblong oblong oblong oblong
Triangle triangle triangle
Octohedron octohedron
Wiggly bezier polygon

Boing!

The Sink The Sink The Sink The Sink The Sink

Clear water flows down my sink
if it’s not blocked
or the bowl’s in

Patterned dishes pile up on the side
if I’ve tidied up
or I am lazy

Chrome tap drips very slightly all day
if the hosepipe adapter
or other is on

Silent clock doesn’t tick in this house
if I’m staying here
or I go crazy

The air feels clear today
Mackerel skies patterned
Chrome feels laggy
My laptop is silent

Tick tock goes the clock
In my parent’s house
Or in at my Grandparent’s
I am suffering here

A slow walk down the lane.
One foot in front of the other.
A steady plod to escape your mind.
See less, hear less, think less.
Let yourself disappear.

The Long Awaited Visitor

It was summer when we first met and she asked me. “Where do you go for fun in this town?”

I shrugged and answered. “Home.”

She made me feel like a teenager. Excited; all new and powerful. An antidote to routine and familiar comforts. A sharer of her energy and overflowing spirit; she could see around corners. She was open and honest; endlessly forgiving. She was feeling everything, for everyone, all of the time.

But I couldn’t cope. My brain would explode if I attempted to play along. Long ago; burnt out and severely melted. I don’t want to go. Unless it’s staying here or alone out to the moors.

I left that night through the window. Yes, I could use the door, but it didn’t feel as exciting. As I got outside I smelled the petrichor and damp pollen. A freshness hard to find in my house. I knew instantly things could change. It was dark and all the people were asleep. I made my way through the woods just me and a torch, disturbing a twig with a clumsy step, hearing surprised pigeons take off, breaking the silence of the night.

Two hours of walking later I arrived. Surrounded by heather, by the chirruping of the ground nesting birds, by the rare concerned bolve of a stag, and by the burgeoning light from the spectacular sunrise. This location gave everything to me and I took nothing. A pure feeling of lack of people, lack of judgment, a lack of anger. Nothing in the best possible sense, here it meant the endless space between me and the stars, the emptiness between me and my surroundings. Full of potential. Maybe the universe could be my place. A place I could feel like myself. A place where I belonged. A place I felt closest to her. I shed a tear for her love and all of existence.

I had come home.

Hey! Look in the mirror, boy wizard

Hey! What’s going on?
Sometimes I walk and think
What is that bird doing
So I watch in the rain

Sometimes it’s mouth is full
Not of food
But moss and vegetation
Lining for a nest

Where’s it going?
Bobbing up and down
As it flies along
As light as a feather

So where’s it’s mate?
I look around
There’s a lizard
What if it’s mate is a lizard?

What if I were a lizard?
Everyone could be replaced
By a lizard
If we are lucky

There’s a lizard
Inside us all
What is the universe?
It’s a lizard

My home is not a rock
But is a lizard’s scale
Darting across the moor
On lightning legs

I’m hungry and tired
I’d talk to my friend
But she’s a lizard
And cannot speak

Under the weather
I have a cold
The bird is gone
So has the moss

So what is left?
Hope and relativity
Simple truths
And a lizard

Ice Cap Suicide

April showers and unseasonal snow have turned last autumn’s leaves to stems and mud.
Droplets in my beard and the spray of salt whet my appetite for a seaside treat.
Black sand under my nails is like a manifestation of yesterday’s social media chatter.
Irritating like the effect the bobbing of the boats on the violent spring tide.

The door bangs from a through draft.
The sound of drums for my next song.
A woosh of smoke comes from an open window
Leaving an aroma I can’t describe.

The breakwater serves its purpose but one day will be breached.
The gas bubbling up from a leak of international importance.
The sand turns to glass in the heat.
The glass melts like the ice that I didn’t ask for in my drink.

I feel cold and it is getting dark.
Less hair under my cap each day
No consequences for me but we will all face what is coming.
More rain and a swell wall of water washing away our past and all of our misdemeanours.

Not cleansed but destroyed.
A hollow shell of our former selves.
I pick up a stone from the beach to keep
But that thievery will kill the hardy trees that line the cliff here.

I feel empty at night.
For all the soft power
Only the brittle and broken remain.
Gone are my dreams tonight.

Gone are my dreams tomorrow.

What Faith is to me

Faith is about experiencing a force or power external to me. What defines faith, for me, is never knowing what this power is.

This power does not provide meaning, nor does it provide understanding, but it is there, always pulling. Undefinable, any effort to give it a name or characteristics is to stray from it’s awesomeness.

I feel it most when I am somewhere remote, just me and the elements, feeling small amongst the wider environment. Being still in all things helps it appear, a true reflection of existence, of what is beyond consciousness.

It is what is left in the absence of things. Yet it gives life to everything. With no knowable intent or prophecy, it can reach all, giving them a glimmer of the peace behind all the shit that has come after it. Changes are happening all around you. Along with uncertainty and death, change is certain. It is are one of the few certainties.

It reminds me to do good for those around me and the places I inhabit. It teaches sometimes things just happen because they happen and that we are the ones providing extra context or meaning. Detached from involvement in our awareness, we can choose to be the observer when it suits us, when it feels good. It reminds me I am part of something bigger which is at the same time something small. That I must separate my thoughts and actions from the wider environment and make them improve that environment sustainably and without much effort.

It is the small things that make the world big. A friendly gesture or an open heart. Being honest and real can make your heart grow bigger than the world. Always listen because you never know when you might hear something beautiful. To be awake is to be aware and to be aware is to feel the faith.

So whether you believe this or not. Regardless of whether you find this unrealistic or too idyllic. I have one request… Please take care on your journey through life, take care of yourself, take care of your surroundings, take care of others. Be open and real and honest, with love and hope and empathy, we can feel together even when we are alone.

That is partly how I apply my meaning to the things I experience. How do you do?

A bit of nonsense

Holding neon leopard antlers you zipline across the valley. A calm sky and high cloud watch with the sound of a buzzing aircraft above. A conduit lemon wire around my wrist assesses my conduct. Dark holes in the ground. Holes all around out of which the sound of rain caresses your ears. With the heavy weave of my jute trousers chafing my legs. And the large ostrich egg organ keys in my mind. And the seven godly wounds in the sky. The shining, the bright convex reflection, a grim frown of a bleeding mouth, and an obstacle course designed for a much more fit version of myself. A friend with good hair with a bouncing rubber mallet attack the wooden dowels into their rain filled orifices. A gloomy look from a dice that rolled two. A tall towering tree housing piano keys unlock a sordid door in the ground. A cold fox shivering. A poor construction of a model robot by an amateur hand. Several eyes surprised on the trunk of the tree as the robot walks. The aircraft falls from the sky narrowly missing the mouth below my floating corpse. Awareness returns. Reanimated we see a golden glow enveloping the hills. And the covers of your bed provide sanctuary for you and the fox. A point of light and newly summoned silence. Hovering above the holes the fliers fly and my mind loses it’s goblin teeth keyboard. Discordant jazz threatens my friends. Disordered thoughts and a carrion crow sing to them. A wall of sound. The zipline’s searing string snaps and falls. As the holes open up. And the tree is felled. And all the lights fade to black. Too many songs madden the mind as she she thinks a new world into life. A easel and a brush. Just water and earth to use as paint. The fox goes swimming in search of fish. The endless becomes a finish line split into two. One for me and one for you. A spirit seeking shelter occupies your desire. A vacant messenger agog from seeing too much. As twelve pigeons land out of the night sky each carried a rough piece of bark. New lights appear as the air splits in two. The bed crumbles and we both wake up. A sun is born in the sky as the day starts anew. And frequencies of energy connect us with the great fissure. Two wildcats chase the pigeons and then flee our gaze. The robot beeps and flickers white hot sparks. Keeping the earth a glow. With seasons coming and going. And all around us in the know. There’s nothing to know here. Where all the dark contains light and all brightness is blunted. A greyscale jelly. A jelly and a tube. Including apparatus for detection. I cannot fathom aeons of authority, a whole lot of passed down belief, manifest as excuses not to ask questions. Sat here the world collapses and sings a last goodbye. Water in a cup ripples at the end. Seventy percent of the sky burns away. Leaving us stuck in a weak atmosphere. A lunge towards the switches out of reach. Cliffs cave in. The seas engulf the land. The sickness spreads. Dissipating a decay from the godly synth in the ever diminishing sky. We renew our pacts and promises amongst this chaos. Compartmentalising and comparing without meaning to. As we go to books on the shelf we start a resistance to lonely ignorance and isolating power. A colossal store of information connects everything until we animals seek retreat. Earthly paintings drip down our skin. Markings of meaning. The mouth begins to talk. As we sit around feeding each other and settle down for the continuation of our stagnant journey on the wet rock we call home amongst the stars and the huge planet sized aliens that outnumber us all quietly and secretly enjoying themselves in the abyss.

Ecstatic empathy explodes and exudes; entering everything.

If the quality of our differences outweighs the quantity of them we can make a good team.

Since watching the world together we can see the same scenes from our different views.

The set will be constructed by us for us. Outward looking at the illusions we perceive within.

Two is greater than one over time. Encounters may come and go. Together with time on our side. We build foundations.

The only enemy we have is selfishness.

I like to read books slowly. Digesting what I’ve seen. Yours is a book with no end which I can never put down.

Middle Ear Infection

Being deaf on one side doesn’t quieten the dialogue in my head.

I must do this but I can’t. Why? I don’t know I can’t do it. I don’t want to anyway. Although, I really need to. I need to so I want to. That’s how I work. Except, I don’t work do I?

It’s annoying because I can only hear half the music. Half the euphoria. All the disquiet.

Reminder

I love you. You are worthwhile and your feelings are valid. You are on a wet rock floating around in outer space hurtling around a ball of burning gas that is in turn flying around billions of others in a mysterious dark matter powered galaxy. That time Donald called you an arsewipe doesn’t matter.
Take responsibility for your thoughts and actions. Nothing else is your responsibility. Nothing.
And with that syntax ‘nothing’ will always look after itself.*
Access the unlimited potential of the darkest void on a bad a day. Leave your mark and create something because the darkness can’t hide the light. And you are, after all, made of energy vibrating at different frequencies experiencing itself subjectively.
Make love to yourself if you have no one else. I know it helps me sleep.
You are going to be ok doing your thing. So do it now.
Or if in doubt drink tea.

John

*syntax error. “Sense” not found/n

Have I reached my quota yet?

5000 words? What can I say? How many times can I continue to contradict myself? I’m running out of insight on this particular topic so I’ll talk about some things I like about it. At length.

Oh, now I’ll talk about what I don’t like. That should be another 2000 words. But honestly, who cares? I know I don’t. I’m almost shitting these words out at this point. Meaningless descriptions that don’t describe. Opinions that don’t make sense or have a point. I can do it all. Your modern day “freelance writer”. Eat me up for breakfast. Read me just before bed. I’ll write today. I’ll write tomorrow. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll write about you.

I’m only relevant talking about relevant people. Hiding behind my keyboard. I am the king of smugness. The king of criticism. My court mustn’t have brains I’m that vapid. Give me work. Give me money. I will write you your quota and don’t you worry.

A meal

I keep my limitations on the surface but I have learned to draw upon the unlimited in times of crisis.

That time is now.

I must feed.

Shower Thoughts

Maybe the universe is an infinitely fractal brain cell.

Influence, manipulate, then control. I mustn’t tread this maternal path. A pattern of the her life. Repeated and repeated. Until it is herself.

I have low to medium amounts of gorm.

Self hatred is fake believe.

Drop the ego and vanity. You are the universe’s bitch. Start behaving like it.

You can’t see me because I’m not looking.

I spend my day looking after my none existent children. It is exhausting.

Q. Which Ancient Greek invented a means of transporting large African animals?

A. Hippocrates

English lesson

The cat sat on the mat.

I like cats. They sometimes purr when they are happy.

Cats are my friends because they sometimes sit on me and fall asleep.

Cats like to play and eat treats. Some cats like going outside. They are very clean and wash themselves often.

I love cuddles with cats.

Stuff

A floor made of bleeding mouths sewn shut by heartstrings. Each footstep a kick in the face. He gets stabbed in a dark alley. ‘Oh my spleen!’ He cries out as his attacker opens his wings and flies off into the night. A curtain a creek open lets a blade of light shine on to the wall, sending the cats crackers as a car drives past outside. I’ve had my hole sealed with super glue and I’m desperate to go. Yesterdays cooking is the smell in the air. An hourglass on its side rolls off a table and smashes in to pieces on the ground. A gently sleeping mouse is toyed with and brutally killed by my cat for my benefit.

A letter to my future self.

Dear Future John,

You have been living in a fleshy husk with some unreliable grey jelly in your head on a wet rock in outer space somewhere in a potentially endless undiscovered universe. More important than that, if you are reading this, you have survived for more than 34 years!

Well done. That’s a good achievement. I don’t know who you are, or where you are now, but I hope you are doing ok. Whether or not they still label you with Schizoaffective Disorder is beside the point. Life is tough and you’re a good way through yours. It’s time for a pat on the back.

Writing to you today, I will begin to steer a course towards you, to put in place the groundwork to become you, the person I will talk about below.

You have helped yourself by letting life flow through you like water down a waterfall. Yes, this sounds like impractical, poetic nonsense, so look at it this way. Water stays to the lowest possible path, a bit like a depressed person seemingly unable to climb to a higher mood, but it feeds plants and replenishes the soil around it, like the empathy and experience of a depressed person. It is completely yielding and weak, yet it lifts up rocks and carries branches down stream. This is you, still achieving survival and self care, even helping those around you. So, put in a more straightforward manner, with an open mind you can adapt to changes. You have learned this. You have conquered episodes of depression with acceptance and flexibility. By letting yourself be low, you can draw upon empathy for others, then help others to improve your self esteem. You have proved this by enjoying being there for your closest friends again and again. By staying to the lowest places you have met people like the heroin addict on the psychiatric ward who taught you about resilience. She taught you against all odds the worst situations are not permanent and can improve. She demonstrated the most immense strength and power to recover and become a loving mother to her child and a dear friend to you and many more. By treating her as an inspiration instead of a lowlife, you have learned from her, you nurtured her and helped her recover. You are the flowing water, John. Continue this practice and you will only grow more comfortable and content.

Learning to listen, to really listen, to focus on only what I can hear at any given time, is a skill I’m working on now. Hopefully if I keep doing it enough you’ll be a master by the time you read this. Sensory experiences are often overwhelming. So let’s try and make it a skill! A rare gift, even. By simplifying experiences into component chunks and being aware of what they are, you can control your responses to them, and tame the irritation caused. First we do noise, sounds, nature’s song, music, and everything the ear likes. Then we can do smells, the residual sweetness of this morning’s aftershave, a slightly damp cat, and the musty warmth of the blankets on my settee. By processing and analysing them one by one we can make these skills transferable. First you must finish off with senses with tastes and physical sensations. Then move on to thought, feelings, and behaviours. I believe if I can control my reaction to one thing; I can improve all of them.

Allowing yourself to be caught up in the moment can make you feel like a monster. It’s ok to feel things. Let life happen! Your best friend and her Emotional Instability Personality Disorder has taught you how to laugh when you want to cry and cry when you want to laugh, and that that is valid and makes for an attractive personality! You have got the gift of an extraordinary imagination and an extreme emotional bandwidth; use these things, enjoy them while they’re there.

Self forgiveness is like taking a shower after a run. It is self care for the mind. I already use what you could pretentiously call ‘a dialectical diplomacy with myself’. I argue and debate ideas, thoughts, and therefore feelings and behaviour with myself to process and accept then return a base of unknowing unexpectation. A happy ignorance of letting things be. I would like to expand these practices to my interactions with others. I hope I’ll be able to feel more comfortable with the things I do and say. One could argue that will happen naturally with ageing and gaining experience. I don’t really know but I hope so. Nevertheless, continue doing your thing.

Only worry about your own thoughts and actions. Everything else is out of your control. Resilience is every bad thing that has happened to me can be flipped to show the other side of the coin. It isn’t just pain, vulnerability, uncomfortable experiences. It is strength, sensitivity, and flexibility. If you are reading this aged 50, remember how I already have this and how much I am growing through all the ups and downs, hour by hour, day by day.

The further back or forward you look the more uncertain life gets. Try to remember this before beating yourself up for something bad you did once twenty years ago or worrying you’ll die alone, decrepit and lonely. It is not possible to see things from every angle when you only have two eyes in your head.

Put others first. As much as your dreams might crave it at times, you are not the most important thing in the world. Practise compassion, love, and kindness. Forgive mistakes by yourself and others who show remorse and love. Practise simplicity in living, prioritise what is essential to you, live with these concepts, ideas, and things and don’t replace them unnecessarily. Humility is important, accept you don’t know it all, you will never know it all, and the biggest delights are in the smallest things. Moving forward try to learn how others see me, but ask for feedback from your most trusted friends and family only, there is no need to entertain bitter jealousy from those who don’t care about you.

Don’t take yourself seriously. You are one of over seven billion humans on this planet, and one of countless more living things, keep that in mind. Don’t let your ego want all the things that aren’t there. There is no point chasing perfection when you could chase something easy and achieve whatever that is. You can achieve more by lacking ambition and finding value in the things you can already do. That said, achievements aren’t everything, if you are happy then surely you have won where others fail every day.

Tomorrow will probably be the same as today so don’t put things off. You might feel unable to get things done but jumping to unhelpful conclusions about everyday problems will just slow you down. Try to make a small start on things right now even though conditions might not be ideal. Encourage yourself to get things done and don’t stall or criticise your motives. You’ve got this, John. Dismiss the excuses. You can do things when you need to and that is worth remembering. Yes, you can feel great anxiety before trying to do something but once you’re doing it, it doesn’t seem as hard. Tolerate discomfort, life is hard and this is a reality, even if you just do a little bit, you are doing well. When you’ve got something done, don’t stop there, do some more and promise yourself a reward for later.

Value yourself and your self care. Please. This is something you find difficult but if you apply value to the things you find difficult you can use truth as a reason for getting it done.

Never stop running. The high you get is great. Getting out of breath, and I mean really out of breath, it’s uncomfortable at first, but it really gets the endorphins flowing and makes you feel unstoppable.

Keep doing things you enjoy. You love making music, painting, walking in nature, writing, reading, cooking, and eating. Use these things to your advantage. There is so much pleasure to be had creating. Don’t focus on the end goal, that is of no significance as long as you enjoy the process, just keep putting that paint on the canvas and express all that pent up emotion. You do these things because they are essential to maintaining your mental health. Think of new ways to do things. Don’t just draw the same old things, make something different every time, be curious enough to experiment without fear. If you get stuck creatively, call a friend, tell some jokes, have a laugh, forget where you are, listen to the sound of someone’s voice and let them inspire you.

Let yourself trust people and trust yourself. Grab the opportunities you have so often missed in the past. Take more risks. Gain confidence, accept compliments, yes, it IS possible for people to see you differently to how you see yourself. Do it all. Live for love. Live for heartbreak. Live for life.

Get a job when you feel ready, maybe be a postman, walking, mostly by yourself, it’d be perfect. Consider getting experience as a support worker, you have been in the mental health system for years, you know the system inside out and have more than enough empathy and love to help others start the journey you are on.

Education is a lifelong pursuit. Until free tuition fees are a thing and you feel like university, don’t forget you can follow your desire for learning right now, read, listen, and learn. Be brave enough to read opinions of people you don’t agree with. Understanding different perspectives is vital for gaining wisdom and creativity.

You might not have achieved all your goals or even shared many of them here but that’s ok. I hope future me looks back and feels ok with the guy writing this letter and myself throughout the past. Whoever you are. Whoever I become. I wish you all the best, lots of hope, much love, and the ability to cope.

If you can, do all of these things. You are well on your way. Stay on that way and I’ll be proud of you. Of me. My future self.

She would be a bad idea

Do you believe in the things you can’t see, feel, touch, taste, or hear?
Have you ever had a conversation with the wind only for your words to be blown back in your face?
Confusion and disillusion. Is this from my mood or my past?
You don’t understand anything about me. You’re in for a shock.
How can I speak sentences when you acknowledge my every word?
I get it you are listening. So why is taking an interest so one sided?
When I sleep you seem more interesting but you’re so anonymous I miss you even when you are there.

North Wind

Lets blow our North wind on those in the capital enjoying the fruits of our labour.
We can defeat corruption with solidarity, unity, and fairness.
Educate the masses to the hypocrisy of the ruling class.
Channel this anger into kindness and causes that cease suffering.

Who am I?

In the past I have been described as all these things by friends, lovers, relatives etc.

Pure evil
A gift to womankind
Creepy and weird
A god amongst men
Pathetic loser
Really strange
The most genuine man alive
Cunt
Prick
Dickhead

It’s a mixed bag

Reflective rant

When noisy adoration turns to quiet respect, what can I do except try not to repeat old bad habits, accept what I have and make the best of it. I’m in a good place despite feeling loss and melancholy.

There is something to be said for being alone and happy, even if have the company of my cat, I should appreciate what I have achieved to feel this contentment. It is a great standpoint to fight any unwanted thoughts.

Emotions that were nurtured by a significant other can easily unravel when they have left. There is an argument that God has left us at the big bang or whatever happened back then. Is she dead? Is she bitter and ignorant ? It is of no consequence. Look after what we still have left of that creation and create for ourselves.

Love is from nowhere and if any potential higher power can use it so can we. Plucked from the abyss like a hair from my never ending eyebrows. What is it that smells so good. Something that satiates our satisfaction for life. Petrichor after a summer shower. Or rotting leaf mold in the crispy autumn calm. It’s all worth appreciating.

What the fuck am I talking about? I may be uttering pretentious high powered nonsense but I’m just clearing my throat.

A Lonely Creep

I can form ideas but cannot express them.
Conceptual secrets I want to share.
I invite you to my lair.
Absorb all my creativity.
Feed from me. Feed from me.

Small Hope

Amid pandemics, corrupt governments, mass inequality, mass poverty, mass fear, unprecedented climate change and ecological damage. There is still hope and there is still love…

That’s what I’m living for

Ex musings

Does the sun make a noise?
I can only but wonder as her silence speaks volumes.
Broken promises and a broken mind.
There is no fixing but we continue living.

Hush. I hear rain. I hear the onset of autumnal hope.
A cool breeze makes a warm hum on the window pane.
Traffic planing on lying water on the road.
A whoosh of joy as memories warm my heart.

The same horizon; the same place.
Things are somehow different.
A catalogue of comfort is no help.
Too different. Too unknown.

A carrot can be a treat for a hungry deer.
What I’d give to hear from the trees.
Living a slow life, perfectly still.
I can only be ponder what life has in store.

Living young is full of strength and unknowns.
Maturity brings adventure and misplaced confidence.
Old age brings acceptance and certainty.
I feel old before my time.

Sleeping aged 15 in a room full of heroin addicts.
I can appreciate the kindness of the inn keeper.
The night before in the cells did me no good.
A life of deserved mistrust for those in authority.

Fast forward eighteen years and I walk past the shops.
Police racially profile black children for a stop and search.
I walk slowly so they know I’ll be their witness.
We cannot let our friends live with this injustice.

Gathering bilberries on the moors is therapeutic.
A small handful may take five minutes to pick.
A five second chew, an explosion of juice and flavour, they are gone.
Time well spent.

My Disabled Heart

Why did her words mean so much to me?
– Were they empty?
How do I fall out of love?
– Do I really want to?
When will I feel like this about someone again?
– How will I trust them?

When will this pain ease?

Is she in any pain?

Let’s forgive each other and forgive ourselves and live our best lives.

Unnoticed Potential

I feel like a Nissan Micra with a Ferrari engine stuck on a 20mph road.

If I start I’ll be stopped and if I stop no one will notice.

Playing with the constraints of my mind.

I can keep hope but it seems only of use to spread.

A Damaged Cord

I hold on to cords of my dream.

Fraying fabric felt through my fingers.

I’m holding tight but gently to the memories.

As to not to sever the bonds.

But they cannot compete with reality.

A dream is a dream. Nothing more.

Yes, dreams can be real, and it was.

I need to repair and make new cords.

Healing my connections to the outside.

Lovelost poet

I will fly my kite atop the heather filled heath. The wind will blow my fear across continents. And turn it to love. The thrill of suspending reality in the sky.

My home is where I am happiest but I get lost here. I know the moors like the lines on my hand, yet the wilderness is no home for love.

Transformation exists in every element. Change in every concept. Doubt cannot trap truths that might tear us apart but it keeps us safe. Safe in our homes where nothing can be permanently wrong.

Adjustments

I need to adjust how I see you.

You came to me with love.

I’ve never been loved like that.

Now it’s gone, or on hold, or changing.

I hope this is just act two.

There are things I haven’t said.

Things I haven’t done.

Maybe I should look for someone else too. It will not be the same. That scares me.

This is my life

I’m powered by tea.

Fallen dreams and new realities.

Corruption and lies is not exclusive to governments.

I hold my head high.

A new caffeine start.

Self care is my priority now.

This fleshy husk on a rock in space needs a shower and a walk.

I will always take a new leaf over the ending of the book.

In her shoes

The slow burn of a heartbreak injection

Injected first thing this morning

Fight or flight was truly tested

A heavy weight of pain hangs around my chest

I must let myself love again

Rebel against the fear and doubt

I’ll choke up getting ready for bed

Using help to shut my eyes

Closed doors in an empty house

A fresh breeze awakens my face

A few days sleep needed for self care

I may have administered it myself in her shoes

Alas, a healthy dose of pain may just be what I needed

F in the chat to pay respects

I looked down at his cold dead face. It was tilted slightly to one side; up against a lumpy plain white pillow. It was not the first time I had seen him in make up but this blushing powder pink was not his style. I didn’t want to stop looking at him knowing this would be the last time I could see him with my eyes. Thinking about the last time I saw him alive I felt a prolonged pang settling in my gut. Tears welled up in the corners of my eyes causing me to blink. A long, slow, heavy blink. For a moment he was gone. It hadn’t dawned on at that point that this would be the norm. As darkness set in with clouds blocking the little light that was seeping into the room; my consciousness returned to the moment, hearing a sudden muffled shriek from a relative, I turned quickly, not really knowing what to do, I looked back me at the queue of mourners waiting behind me and uttered a gentle “F” under my breath and walked onwards towards my seat.

Good for you

How much food can you eat while someone else is starving?

How much can you sleep at night while someone else has no home?

How much can you cope with your friends while someone else is being beaten?

How much can you do in a day when a supercomputer could do it in a second?

How far can you run while someone drives on past?

How do you breathe with all the pollution in the air?

Why do you do these things?

Do you enjoy them?

Spears and needles

Nettle tea.

Give me iron.

Steam my engine.

Rocket to the moon.

Riding my cognition cycle.

Beetroot and sour cream.

Warm and wet.

I fall off my bike and tear up my knee.

A door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway to a door and a walkway.

Put down the book. Get back on.

How’d you like them clichés?

I’m tired of all this sunny weather. Give me perpetual autumn. Cozy nights wrapped up in thick jumpers next to warm fires. The movement of falling leaves. The cold breeze against my face. The washing up a treat for my hands after eating some comforts.

A fallen star is just some grit to harden my chicken’s egg shell.

A positive move. Just smile more.

Just smile more. It’ll make you happier.

Smile more. It’ll please them.

Smile or forget.

Brain fog.

Nothing is forgotten because it was never remembered. Not truly.

…give me strength.

Five one nine

They let their intelligence detach from their sense of helping others and helping themselves. Their needs and reactions.

If you lose yourself in knowledge you must first build yourself up without knowing anything.

I sink lower into my chair. Both slouched and hunched. Uncomfortable but listless. Aggrieved, I listen.

It sounds correct in their example context. Yet I apply this to things unexpected and I cannot react. It would seem like wisdom to seek the truth but how can they see it with eyes closed. I cannot react. I am lost.

Washed ashore with the driftwood I look for patterns. Repetition. Things to get used to. Things I can cope with. Trust in virtue. Trust in self. Be disobedient. Disregard all you know in the moments it gets too much. In the moments you need to.

The war of semantics in my thoughts can be tamed with acceptance. Temporary as it may be. It is a machine. It needs maintenance.

Putting square bricks in round holes, no longer. I can fly. I am abreeze the clouds. Lifted.

We seem to pick up those still afloat. Let’s do this.

Ignore it now and eat some chocolate.

There are bellies to fill. A tiger on a wall. Fire risen from the wood. A roar of thunder. A torrential downpour. Feeling shaped from thought. Not from knowledge. Survival.

The centre and the periphery

The periphery is the container where I keep all my knowledge, my memories, and my habits. Everything I can conceptualise lives here. Who I think I am, who I think you are, and my cat.

The centre is where my waking state lives. My feelings, my senses, and everyone else’s. It is nicer in the centre than the periphery.

Avangard

We will all die.

Money will become meaningless.

We will regret not doing nice things more often.

Nothing is more valuable than a smile on a loved one’s face.

Prioritise.

Stably crazy

I listen to the whispers from the rocks. “Don’t step on me. Step on the soil; it is silent.” The soil cannot speak but would it complain if it could?

The grass here grows long. Thick and dense. Stems snap and screams; more screams fill my head.

Should your voice be different? Of course, but it isn’t, at least, not always. You say “hi”. I can’t hear myself think which is just as well. I’m scared of what I might be saying.

The cars go past my window far too fast. “Honk honk honk” someone toots. I cannot see out but it has been raining. I can hear the tyres slice up the water with a harsh crescendo that diminishes into the distance.

Leaves are falling. That’s nice.

I am writing nonsense again. Good. What to say? What to do?

Why I am breathing so loud? I sleep still. All but for the bellows squeezing back and forth. Until I turn and turn and turn.

Autumnal Peacetime

The air is cool. No wind to speak of. Feeling my heart beating away in my chest.

Bright blue skies and fluffy white clouds. Every tree, every leaf, perfectly still.

My mind is buzzing with everything I’ve ever learnt. Not all at once but it’s all in there somewhere.

My cat is mellow today. Affection is going a long way. Thinking about last week’s confusion seems a long way off.

My flat is a mess but the speakers are singing to me and I have a cup of tea in my hand.

Looking in the mirror

(This is a very negative rant. Feel free to skip this. It’s triggering and best avoided unless you are doing some psychological investigation into self hatred or something. For the record I don’t feel like this very often and was written with misdirected anger which produced a false reflection of my state of mind even for that moment. This rant is my worst possible way to see my reflection. My worst thoughts aired.)

Fuuuuuck! Just melt away like I know you will. Droop low enough to touch the floor. Or fatten up to fill the cracks. Time will age you before you hear a tick because you are a stupid fucking idiot prick.

Don’t worry, nothing will wipe away that vapid stare. Your face aloof because no one’s there, the lights aren’t on because no one’s home, you’re slow and dumb, why do you think you’re forever alone?

You’ve never succeeded, you’ve never won, you lose on purpose because your life’s a pun.

You’re starting to love yourself. You fool. No one loves you. Why would they? You fool. Obviously they must be idiots too.

So why do you hate yourself after so much progress? You don’t achieve anything; you just have process. All you do is try to cope, everybody thinks you are a dope.

You’re not so bad, you try your best, yes you’re getting good at lying, next!
You’ve still got brains, you’re pretty smart, then why don’t you use them you boring fart.

Go to sleep. You look tired. You have never been someone I have admired.
Wake up soon. Don’t look at me. Forget everything about yourself in your dreams you’re free.

Diary

An enormous furnace of radioactive burning gas just pitched up on the horizon and blasted my bedroom full of luminous energy. Fuming! It’s almost everyday at this point…

I’m a dummy

I’m not sure you will like me once you have met me.
You will see I am a featureless dummy holding up a mirror to the world.
I hope you realise you are not so bad after all when you look at me.
You might forgive me for having little substance of my own.

Brain stem clip (loop)

I find myself on the floor again. I kick myself one more time.
Brittle and unkind. No intent towards others just to my own expectations and desires.
I need to want the things I already have.

I’ve got to draw a line between things out of my control and my own thoughts and actions.

I’ve got part of my brain exposed to the world. It’s a strand. A cord. Red raw. Sensitive doesn’t go far enough.
There’s a clip on it. I’m feeling the pressure, hearing external noise amplified.
I need to make distinction between incoming sounds and outgoing frequencies.
Without this filter there is just unsynchronised resonant discord.

Detach the clasp. Ease the pain. It’s not my fault. I can handle this now.

Untitled #0039481.857142

Time makes the highs low and the lows high.

The esteemed are just the flavour of the month. Change occupies all.

Ambition at an all time low but I feel bliss sat next to a cat.

Adapt to the situation don’t try to change it to fit you.

Water dips and flows into every crevice of the rocky sea shore but is slowly shaping the hard, strong cliff wall.

If you are like that, you are life sustaining, the lowest of low, making all those around you feel high.

Feed your friends and treat them well and they will return the favour. A painted glass teardrop can mean a thousand things. It can be treasure. It can be crap. The value is not in the pieces you hold; it is inside of you.

A tic is an sudden, repetitive, voluntary response to an unwanted urge. It is our way of measuring time.

My best friend

What is this chaos?
I didn’t choose to be born.
What is happening?
I see patterns that are destined to go awry.

My brain is not clear and calm.
Driven by a predetermined tick.
Pushing through the things I do and am going to do.
An addiction is holding on: Don’t stop me yet.

These stories start with a moment of intense change.
Curves flatten out and plateau.
You can be the catalyst for me to refresh.
A starting point in every moment lived.

To feel loved is to forgive yourself.
The guilt the blame the shame.
Start again and learn.
A wobbling cycle where the circles slowly get more unstable.

What is this chaos?
A dream. Nothing more.
What is happening?
Something worth experiencing.

A pleasant rant

I want to share my feelings with someone. My cat isn’t the most receptive… He was lovely this morning though. Laying next to him at night is nicer than laying next to no one. He follows me around and looks after me. He’s a good boy. Sorry this has already gone off at a tangent.

I miss holding someone. Just feeling another person’s warmth. If you were here I’d hug you as much as I could.

Life here is not idyllic. It’s grim… but the noise of burglar alarms and police cars, smashing glass and drunken kids is sporadic against the constant chirping chatter of the sparrows and the starlings. The regular sound of the passing buses is synced with my internal clock. The sound of the gears shifting down, the rumble of the engine, the hissing brakes and doors opening is like a regular tick of a clock in my head.

Not far away are rugged hills home to lizards, bees, butterflies, herds of deer and endless moorland. Once hallowed ground built upon by bronze age people, it has evolved through attempts at farming, transport, water management but now rests as wild land.

I’d love to take you on a walk around here. To have you see what I see. Smell what I smell. Feel what I feel. I hope to one day soon when we are both well and happy.

Religious Clout

Bend the Angel’s will. Corrupt her pure heart. Steal her divinity for your creation. Oh my dear old thing; unholy perfection is at your fingertips.

Protect your processes. Nurture your weakness. Curb your strength. For once life is not absolute truth; subtlety is awakening.

God is infinite. Your lifetime is not. Nor are all words ever written. Unlearn everything you know; virtue shall lead you further than knowledge.

Everything came from nothing. The nameless empty. The unperishing void. Not bleak nor sad; for nothing is in everything.

Create something beautiful. Crude but complex. Naive but fully layered. Give your all; save the world. Go forth.

No one

Unapologetically eccentric.
Regretfully chaotic.
Tries to see good in the negative.
Whilst experiencing difficulty in the positive.

Music, painting, drawing, writing, reading.
Sport, running, walking, playing, taking part.

Often anxious. Rarely judgemental.
Sometimes happy. Sometimes sad.
Tries my best. Likes a rest.

This is me. Down to a T.
Sitting down. Drinking tea.

Breath

Grief is the bite of the wind on your cheek. Life is the brace of air against your face and your hair standing on end.

Intertwined like two strands, they stood at the bus stop hand in hand. A familiar memory stood next to you is still there years after you saw them last. Look after your mind. Reign in fear and hate because you might be alone at the bus stop one day.

The breath goes in and out. Your breath becomes someone else’s whether you are on your own or not. Keep breathing, that’s what living is.

Bus

Sorry yes. That’s ok. I just walked in a tree because I was looking away. Sorry. Errrr. Where was I? Oh yes I’ve got to walk around the tree. Errr yes. Ok. Oh no sorry I got a text, one moment. Oh sorry tree again, I was looking at my phone. Oh the bus is here. Oh sorry driver I don’t have change will a note be ok. Oh wait.. errr. A £20 is my lowest. Sorry. Oh blimey it’s a busy bus isn’t it. I’ll have to stand up. Maybe I should just squeeeeeeeze past some of these people. Sorry. Oh I’m not getting off for a while and these people might be getting off sooner. I’ll squeeeze past another oh sorry. Errr ever so sorry are you getting off now? Sorry I’ll move out of the way so you can get out. Ah. At least there’s a free chair to sit on. Oh sorry my knee just touched your knee I’ll try and close my legs so I take up less room and sit on the outside of the seat. Sorry. Oh sorry you want to get past. I’ll swing my legs back around. Oh sorry you’re getting up, is it your stop? I better let you out. Ah at least I’ve got a window seat. Oh you’re sitting down next to me sorry I’ll tuck my legs in. Sorry, your bag is touching my legs. Ah it is my stop, can you press the bell for me please? Sorry. Ah excuse me you’re still standing, can I squeeeze past? Uh. Sorry. Right. Sorry driver, I mean thank you. Sorry.

Note to someone else (and to self)

Try to remember even the cleverest people are just advanced apes trying to conform to an ideal that is in their head.

The mind is a big place to get lost. The world is bigger. Space is unmeasurably bigger. The unknowns beyond are infinitely bigger.

You can paint tomorrow, today.

Looking for the lost sock…

Sometimes our emotions are like when we look everyday for that sock we lost 15 years ago.

Stop looking. Something else is in front of our eyes now. Do that instead, even if it’s new or scary…

At least learning will come from trying new things.

We will grow, improve, and get better.