Sunday, 8 January 2017

Lost for a day

I'm sorry I've not been here for a while.

Those who know me will know that I recently started a videogaming channel on Youtube and it's taken up quite a bit of time. In a good way though you understand.

It's not like I don't get the thoughts to write anymore, it's just getting the process right to let them tumble out of my head in good order.

Yesterday was one of the best Saturdays I've had in forever. All I did was play Mario and drink tea. It was a dark, cold afternoon and I stayed warm indoors and played videogames.

I'm working on a Super Mario World 96 exit clear so I needed to practice a little bit before I sat down to record, which I think will happen next week. It's frightening how lost I became in the whole process. It's literally like nothing else existed.  I took this photo before I started and I've been unable to get away from looking at it ever since.

It's just perfect.

It's dark but the lights seem warm.
It's comforting and full of amazing memories.
It's the beginning of a fantastic journey and I've got everything I need.

I'll never stop doing the things that make me happy.
That's the key people, that's truly the key.

Take care
Speak soon

Wednesday, 23 November 2016


There's places I've been that I've started to wonder how people have ended up at.

A million and one sparkling lights and colours through the night as we pass silently, miles above nests of clouds. These places tell stories that we'll never fully understand or experience but intrigue us inevitably.

They're people just like me and you but living lives in other spheres. They're linked to each other without ever realising it.  They could be me and you but they're not.

We're the special ones because even when I'm stored safely in the great blue beyond, I'm still thinking about all the things we'll do.

We don't need to do anything that's the joy of it all, but as long as there's you and there's me, then there's everything I'll ever need.

It's always been you.

Take care
Speak soon

Friday, 7 October 2016


I'm writing to put handles on thoughts that don't have purposes, so I can file them in boxes and in cupboards and forget about them.

I'm writing to reach people I'll never meet, stuck behind the confines of a desk that retains an almost sarcastic shine, whatever the weather.

I'm writing to look back on how I got to where I sit, and what comes next if I don't steer the ship.

I'm writing so you'll understand that you're the alpha and the omega of this whole process, without you even realising it or doing anything about it.

I'm writing so the time goes quicker, is that wrong? I think it's wrong but it's all I have at the moment.

I'm writing to reach back to that simpler time, when the world spun slower and days didn't retreat too fast into the solitude of order and model.

I'm writing because I don't want to forget what I was feeling when I hit the keys, even if it's there as a stern reminder.

I'm writing because it's the only thing I can do without thinking.

I'm thinking because it's the only thing that makes me write.

Take care
Speak soon

Thursday, 25 August 2016


It stirs again.

The lighthouse that shines unfaltering into the night comes full circle, and seems to shudder at the sight of a ship. It's stranded and full of gleaming curiosities but there seems no way to help. There has to be something I can do. I run, down countless stairs and find sight of the door which opens quickly into the seemingly endless night. My feet hurt. I'm running as fast as I can but with little idea of what I'm going to do when I get to where I'm going, or even really where I'm going. The first crystal splashes of icy salt water take my breath away but I can't stop, I don't know why, I just know I can't stop. Everything I try to do isn't working and the tide pulls me further away from my quarry, and in turn pulls it further away from me. This was a bad idea. I battle through the cold night and somehow manage to get within touching distance of the ship; it's smaller than it seemed at first but as I clamber onto the deck I'm immediately aware of a sense of overwhelming vastness. There's too much to do. There's too much to see and I can't carry it all back. I need to pick the best things, the things that'll help the most. Is that two different things? Why should I have to pick between what I need and what I want? Why should any of us? I quickly become aware of the fact that nothing on here would survive the unforgiving brine and unless I dive back and seek the solitude of my lighthouse, neither will I. I need to try and remember everything that's here, absorbing anything that I can make a mental note of and quickly retreat. As quickly as it started, it ends. My breath is taken away by the cold night air and I swim with everything I have left to make the shore. It takes longer and I become aware of my frailties, it takes an effort I didn't know I possessed. I somehow manage to make it back to the sand but this voyage of misadventure has taken a toll on me. I stagger, hunched over and breathing heavily, up the beach and make it back to the bottom of the lighthouse and open the door. The stairs seem more vast than I ever remembered but I somehow am able to drag myself up them to the top and the sanctity of my domain. Warmth and light greet me as I open the door and quickly find a blanket to drape around myself. I make myself a tea and stare out into the night to see the ship has fully submerged and all that I sought to take from it is lost forever. I feel my hands growing warmer and the physical toll of my impulsive adventure seems slightly less now. I wish I could remember what I saw, it could have changed things, could have made me a better person. Foolhardiness or old age will inevitably win the war, but for now it seems I'm safe.

I wish I could write all the time and put down tales that would make people forget everything else. I'm inspired in passing by fleeting instances but I'm too aware that I can't take it all with me. I can't take it all in and I can't change the way I seem to find flashes of what might be something special, only to realise I have no way of transporting them from one place to another.

Take Care
Speak Soon

Tuesday, 2 August 2016


The difference between winning and losing at so many things in life is infinitesimal, but the effects are often far greater than most of us could ever comprehend.

I don't really write about mixed martial arts too much these days, there's way too many conflicts of interest. It's not to say that I'm not moved enough to write about these things but it's easier to have these conversations with close friends without the potential headaches.

Saturday night however, made me want to write something down, at the very least so there's a tangible and permanent link to the magic that unfolded.

Every fight I judge is the most important fight I've judged up until that point and it always will be. My focus is complete and absolute when the action starts. It's hard to describe the serenity that overcomes me when I'm judging fights. It's addictive. It's a state where there's nothing else but the kinesia that I'm trying to compartmentalize. Every thing that happens in those minutes is processed, evaluated and understood.

It's only afterwards however, does the magnitude of what I've just witnessed often catch up with me and it's not till I'm generally on my own that the reflections replay themselves. I'll stare endlessly into the sky as every single detail is digested and discussed internally; a million monologues and what ifs that swim around my subconsciousness.

The good people that we see compete in this great sport are the same as us but different. They're different because they're prepared to roll that dice and stare down the barrel of the unknown. They understand the risks, the rewards and the consequences of diving headfirst into a maelstrom of danger and uncertainty. The gap between winning and losing for these unique people may be slight but the repercussions of falling either side of the line are vast beyond comprehension.

It's only when the lights come on, the intensity fades and normality resumes are we left with the realizations that we can never undo what has just taken place. More importantly though, we can never forget the magnitude of supreme sacrifices that were made on every level; to create something so beautifully chaotic that will surely last forever.

Take Care
Speak Soon

Sunday, 3 July 2016


I do this all the time.

I obsess about things for very short periods.

None of them are related, none of them are from the present day and none of them are really helpful to me in any way.

I'll read pages and pages of old interviews and news articles, watch documentaries and videos online and basically try and fit as much knowledge as my head will let me store. I'll wonder and wish that I could experience everything that happened to him/her/them and what effect that massive change would have had on me.

It's all what ifs, but then so much of life is; even if we know that really doesn't solve anything.

It moves from one thing to another with almost regimented certainty.

It'll be a band one day, a video game the next but it really can be anything including various historical and cultural events from years gone by.

I don't know why I do this but it's probably one of the most consistent mental happenings in all of my years on this planet.

Until next time
Take care
Speak soon


Tuesday, 10 May 2016

For a moment here, this storm had no consqeuence

All I ever want to be is warm.

Every time I've got a feeling in my head about putting words down; the first image I get is one like this.

I love standing by a window watching the world go by, but it's made so much more special when that world is uninviting.

It fills me with the same sense that I used to get when I was younger and living at my mum's house.

I'd sit for hours playing videogames with various hot beverages, but I'd forever find myself lost in thought, gazing out of my window whenever it rained or snowed.

I'd see people hurrying along to try and find the shelter that we're all programmed to need from my spot, huddled next to the radiator. It's never rather him/her than me, it's a million miles away from gloating.

It's just a feeling that surrounds me like a bubble and for those seconds, there really isn't anything else that I need to do. There's nothing else to worry about because there's nothing else. Irrespective of where and how and who, the process remains drifting away in a sea of gentle neon lights and warmth; the sound of harsh winds seem a million miles away.

I always say the same things but then, these words make my arms tingle as they leave my head and appear in front of my eyes.

Until next time
Speak soon
Take care