…fish, chips, cup ‘o tea, bad food, worse weather, Mary fucking Poppins… ENGLAND!
“I don’t like leaving my own country, Doug, and I especially don’t like leaving it for anything less than warm sandy beaches, and cocktails with little straw hats.”
“We’ve got sandy beaches…”
So, who the fuck wants to see ’em? I hope you appreciate the concern I have for my friend Franky, Doug. I’m gonna find him, and you’re gonna help me find him, and we’re gonna start at that fight…”
I love Snatch. It’s one of my favourite movies (Besides Pulp Fiction, where I’ve written a whole copywriting framework around the way Tarantino writes dialogue and stories, but that’ll be saved for another day)
Anyways…
I’m heading my way up North again. Things are all good in London. Friend is recovering and balance is being restored to the natural order of things.
In between him nearly dying and me spending time in the overly romanticised London.
I’ve been doing a lot of sitting on my hands and just deep thinking regarding all the bullshit that February has flung at me, while making sure my friend doesn’t die before me because I’m the captain of that ship.
Generally I write off January for any form of productivity, interaction and anything along the lines being a human.
I’m an awkward slab of meat and electronic impulses that is just trying to make it another 365 days on this big, beautiful and chaotic ball of soil spinning around galaxy at whoever knows what speed.
And so the deep rabbit hole of thinking has led me down a lot of pathways of what I want to do and be for people, family etc.
Was it very dark and nihilistic due to the circumstances? Yes.
Was it needed? Also, yes.
I’ve done a lot of sacrificing over the years. From being social and falling in love, to even picking up old hobbies that kept my soul burning.
I basically rolled ’em all up into a little ball and shoved them up a metaphorical asshole. (Gross? Yes. Was it a necessary metaphor/analogy? Absolutely)
So when people go down the woo woo route of self love and all that stuff…
I’m picking self love. Especially after being hit in the face with a bunch of other small series of unfortunate events.
I’m taking weekends off fully. No emails. No nothing. Dead to the world. (Well more dead to the world than I already am)
“BuT YoU cAn AuToMaTe YoUr EmAiLs!!”
I’m not about that life.
More time outside.
More time away from the internet.
More time in nature.
More good vibes.
I mean if I don’t do it. I’ll end up going insane and also, how will I come up with stupid and entertaining stories for you to read?
Wish me luck. Drunk people on the train and I’ll be fully back in Manchester by Midnight, unless I get thrown off at Wolverhampton.
Stephen Walker.