To try to sit one’s self down to work, sensibly, with drugs ingested is surely an unworthy endeavour. And I guess then, if we take away that word ‘sensible,’ well, what are we left with? I think we are left with a blank page bereft of expectations, rules, or limitations, which is freeing, most freeing, yes; but of course we need some sort of structure upon which to hang our ideas. This scrambling free-for-all can be only that. A brainstorm. Fire around a few ideas. But surely this is better than forcing oneself down to sit sensibly when what would be the opposite inclination of the drug addled mind is this. That, indeed, would be counter intuitive. And so we go crazy, enjoying our phrasing, as we go, playing with our new toys, as we go, trying not to waste all that creative juice. As we go. And be sure that, whatever we do, we take something away. We learn, we build, we work our craft. Ha! To be a writer. Yes it’s all coming together now. A different deal altogether from what you first dreamt up. There is work involved after all, a strange kind of work. Not always unenjoyable. Just get on with it, I guess. Roll with the punches, adjust to the changes – try not to slip. Endure the glare of the unruly bandleader. Enjoy faint praise when you have earned it, and even then, stoop not to celebrate too often.

-What the fuck is this man on about?
-I dunno, mate, but he’s meltin’ my head. Here, let’s take the hand out of him

. There are men out there who are so well-versed, in a range of subjects, and I admire these men, where once perhaps I might’ve been dismissive, or bitter. I now respect the fact that they know more than me, most naturally nowadays I do. They have gone further, they have been in the game for longer, they have paid heavier dues, they have gained more experience. Play the game, don’t play yourself. Don’t be bitter. I mean it’s hopeless at times, we’re all human. But enjoy what’s local, let it spur you on. Now! Now you have purpose! Beyond your own fickle fancies. Now you have pride, you have spine. You have humour, you have wit. You have many deficiencies and failings and you know it. Good boy. Yes, the ego will waggle, and all that will peruse and parade and pathetically peacock.

But at times like this, you know fully what all of this means. This particular part of it anyway. Who knows it all? Nobody, ever. But get on with it, keep to your work. Dream, yes. Temper with humour, mmmn hmmn. Laugh at yourself, heartily. Dance like a fuckin’ eejit, and enjoy! Help others when you can and be a good man. Keep yourself together. You’re doing this for more than just yourself now. But remember your priorities: family first? No longer are we trying to be ‘the best,’ though sometimes that does come in. Healthy competition…wait, fuck. Yes. Rather we are trying to be ‘effective.’ To produce something that others can draw from, lean on, reflect upon, enjoy unabashedly…grow with? But, dear boy! Hold the fuck up! Who do ye think ye are now? Have ye much done? Have ye even written a book yet? No. But you’re on your way, just keep ‘er lit, and all will be well. God bless xo.