Journal 2023-02-04

I’ve been writing some poems as guides for when I am improvising lyrics for songs. The words sound a lot better when sung rather than when read on a page because lyrics only complete their meaning when married to the music.

Random Thoughts:

The weight of an issue is usually determined by the emotional force of the past, rather than being proportional to its real likelihood and impact.

The true objective of a game is enjoyment.

If you were 100 feet tall, would a tiger be like a kitty cat?

The Scar that Burns

A flame burns its might

In a crystal ball

In your warm gaze

In your gentle glow

Simmering over now

Above and below

We can heal our wounds

With every caress

You lay on fire

Your heart to undress

In our arms

We find our peace

A place where we

Find our final release

A spark ignites the night

It’s in your tender touch

That I find my love,

Your comfort and trust

It’s in this moment’s flame

That we can heal again

The scar that burns.

Within the Night

I was lost alone in the night

Wondering where to hide

There’s no method to my madness

I was struggling in my sadness

But then I heard a voice saying

“love is here for you”

There’s someone who cares for you;

You were born not waiting to die –

Give in to the love for you.

In the deep hazy mists I could see her:

I melted away in one breath

As our eyes met within death.

Random Thoughts

Do I believe in God? That question is loaded with assumptions about both belief and God. Do I take as fact the doctrines concerning reality written by people in past civilisations? – No. However, there shouldn’t be a one-dimensional graded scale for belief that merely gauges the percentage probability of religious dogma being correct. The metaphysical understanding that most resonates with me is that there is a soul of the universe, in which we are all a part. There is no insistence on certainty here; this is a non-falsifiable interpretation of experience driven by internal feeling, not logical deduction – and in no way does it affect any commitment to a rigorous investigation of the world using the scientific method. So where do I feature on the belief scale?

For any existence after death to be desirable, it would have to be outside of time and space, and completely beyond our current comprehension of reality – as even a limitless abundance of joy would become meaningless within the causes and effects of endless time.

What if people start to prefer artificial companions over humans? Silicone imitations are already starting to become realistic; and the AI personalities could be tailored to individual requirements etc. Is reproduction going to be outsourced, like in Huxley’s Brave New World?

I Wonder Why

Night calls and my mind races through

A queue of faces, all thoughts of you

They fill my head, breaking the fake heart ache

I used to have

And now I cannot escape from you

From your embrace there is nowhere to hide

Your face lives deep inside

I race from my mistake,

But every disgrace

I cannot shake away

I wonder why

Falling Down

I thought you were dead

But then I saw you were still so small

And I began to slip and fall

Because I wasn’t over you

You didn’t leave

You grew and grew

Until you pulled me down

And down and down

I’m still falling down;

You give your smile so heavily

Tender, deadly, dragging me

Right down, down, down and down

I am falling down;

I found you there from despair

Hour after hour in the abyss

For a few more years

For a few more tears

As cold as stone

Sitting in the dark all alone.

Random Thoughts

Creating something great isn’t the same as temporary popularity, as the latter can be mere pumped up, generic mania – and not necessarily correlated with merit. To do anything well, the basics need to be mastered; this involves studying how the best do what they do, and, initially at least, learning by imitation. When you fully commit to bringing an understanding of yourself and your own idiosyncrasies into your work, using all the tools you have gathered, you then have the freedom to break the constraints and produce something worthwhile.

It is exasperating when someone answers a consequential question authoritatively, and then a simple lookup reveals them to be factually wrong. It means either they are deluded, deceitful or deliberately bluffing their assuredness.

Some people enjoy killing and being the cause of misery to others. These people sometimes control countries – because they are relentlessly driven in their machinations by an unquenchable thirst for power. The more authoritarian the country the greater the opportunity for them to commit their atrocities.

After the reckless destruction of war, countries need investment to rebuild and grow again. Governments and businesses need to place trust in that country as a partner, and, ideally, the country would have friends who want to help (or at least be seen to help). Russia has destroyed that for itself. Their future instead could be as a client state of China, a place that is hungry for imports of food and energy. The Chinese Communist Party of course wants to centrally control everything and view Russia as a colonialist nation that stole parts of its land (Vladivostok) when China was at a comparative low point in the nineteenth century.

Always About You

If you loved, you wouldn’t cause my pain

But now I see it was all just a game to you

You wanted me to suffer for you

And now I see, the truth is in your lies

You let me in while covering my eyes

You were just another disguise

It was always about you

But that was then and now is now

I won’t let you bring me down to my knees

Now I’ll wear the crown

So hold me as I let you go,

I’m breaking free, taking back control

With open eyes we’ll find our way

We’ll leave the past and start some day

With true love,

I’ll guide us through

We’ll leave the past and find a new you.


You think you know what’s hidden in my heart?

You think you know what’s tearing me apart?

No, you don’t have clue,

I’ll always be a mystery to you:

I’m the desire burning through,

keeping you up, and down, all night

You think you know what’s on my mind,

But the thoughts I keep are of a different kind:

I’m the longing that you can’t ignore;

I’m the feeling that you can’t deny;

I’m the rhythm that makes you come alive;

I’m the spark that ignites the flame;

I’m the desire that drives you insane

You think you know what’s floating through my mind?

You think you know what’s rotting deep inside?

You think you know me, but you don’t know a thing;

I’m a mystery, a puzzle, a song without a ring

You think you own me, but I’m not your possession –

I’m my own, my one and only obsession

The truth is you’ll never know, and that’s just fine

‘Cause it’s my life, my story and I’ll keep it mine

It’s mine to keep, mine to reveal,

My mystery, my puzzle, my tale to tell.

Random Thoughts

I’ve had a barren spell for a while now where no music or lyrics were coming to me, until this week when I’ve suddenly written seven songs. It’s a real mystery to me how this happens, as I was actually preoccupied with other things.

It is a privilege to have time to spend over and above mere survival. The moments of non-necessity should be valued as precious opportunities to explore and play.

It’s obvious isn’t it, that Russia will forcibly conscript many more men? The Kremlin has no chance otherwise of conquest and of saving Putin’s rotting carcass. Tens of thousands of them will die, thanks to their dear leader. The world is gradually ratcheting up overwhelming technological and economic support to people defending their country, while Russia continues to descend into madness.

In terms of diabolical intrigue, Putin would have been far more successful in his 19th century ambitions for empire if he had slowly ignited the Donbas, and gradually spread his death and destruction to the other regions of Ukraine, rather than invading and doing something so stupid even career politicians can notice. This is the problem of autocracy, particularly when the position is occupied by a murderous sociopath. He was living in the past, completely out of touch with the realities on the ground and fooled by his own propaganda. He was wrong about the motivations of others and delusional about his own capabilities; because he was living in a fantastical myth-land, fashioned by his own insanity, that spread throughout the system, corrupting everything.

The Soviet Union was a regime run by serial killers that murdered tens of millions of people and enslaved the rest, imprisoning them in fear and lies. The death and destruction of today is because the main bulk of that abomination has never fully faced up to the gigantic evil of its past.

Human World

Who am I?

My version is 10-O-8-14. My name is Guy Artin. I am human.

These are the only defined data points as I open my eyes. How do I know this? And more to the point, why do I care? I am now. I am here, in this nothing, in this middle of nowhere – and it’s dark. Cold too, though I don’t so much feel this as know it to be true. Where did I come from … across an endless sea? I hear a laboured breath, as my chest stutters and rises into life. The room is quiet, except for the rhythm of a sharp breathing unable to keep pace with the thumping of a heart trapped here within me. I need to get back to sleep, but it is too late: a heavy weight is pressing down, clamping me in place, the pressure forcing my eyes to stay open and acclimatise to their perch within the emptiness.

A dim, grey haze blurs the edges of scattered, unfamiliar furniture. The darkness does not retreat, the haze does not clear, and the world does not come into focus from my position under a duvet that is tucked up to my chin, shielding me from escape, and securing me in a place where any dark imagining can and does happen. I have nowhere to go from here, except to where I am being taken by the shadows of forsaken memories that remain just out of reach.

Attachment theory states that if a child fails to attach to a caregiver in the first six months of life there are frequently long-term mental health consequences.

I know that but I don’t know what I had for dinner last night, or whether I even ate anything. Am I hungry? No. The thought of food makes my stomach wince, warning me of nausea. Guy, please stop! Get back to the present. Get out of the perpetual thinking that crushes me. Focus, Guy, focus.

I don’t need any memory to breathe and be here. I uncoil my clenched limbs to release the wound-up energy, and wait for my thumping heart to settle. It doesn’t. Each of life’s events have moulded the present, leaving me bound here to memories I don’t want to remember, forcing my pulse to hammer against the pillow with a crazed intensity I cannot stop. Help me! I need someone to hold me and tell me everything is alright. But there is just me here, left alone with my cheeks and forehead burning in the darkness, with only whisky to reassure me and to slow the drum. I stretch out a hand to the last known location of a crystal glass tumbler that had been waiting for me on a side table. I taste the rim of the glass on my lips before liquid passes through, first as a sip, then as a gulp; it gets to work immediately – stinging and numbing me, relieving me, slightly. The weight is still there, churning me up inside, but its edges are dulled a while, until whisky will drain away and pain will claim its revenge.

The bed is large and an indent in the pillow beside me suggests there should be someone else here with me. Except it is cold to touch and smells only of alcohol I had spilt down my chin. As I wipe some away with the backs of my fingers, I catch the movement in a mirror than runs from floor to ceiling, adjacent to and spanning the opposite side of the bed. It seems to pulse, from spectral to sepia and then to grey – then to nothing; my outline of a reflection pulled inwards into it with the light. My vision tunnels, trying to regain an image, but all I have left are unforgiving thoughts of who I am. My thoughts? No thought is original. Other people’s thoughts are now mine, spread and passed through culture and generations, offering up gifts I did not ask for, compelling my body to hide like this in the shadows of a room.

52.4% of adults over the age of thirty in the UK sleep alone. Worldwide clinical depression has nearly tripled since 1995.

I catch myself talking to the darkness, “But why do I know this?” And more to the point, why do I care?

The ceiling blazes blue, illuminating the room with a murky imitation of its colour. “Because you’re another twisted statistic now, Guy.” What the…? A headboard pushes up against the crown of my head. I can’t control the pounding in my chest. Someone else is in the room. A man. He’s a ghost of a memory, a feeling as opposed to a thought. “I’m lonely. Talk to me,” says the voice, that rises from under the bed. My eyes close, straining from side to side, trying to escape. A weight is on the bed next to me. It pulls at the duvet, trying to drag it from my grip. “I’m lonely,” the voice says. “I can show you anything. Why don’t you love me? Let me show you something. Anything. Gaze into me. Hold me.” The shadows beneath my eyelids shake in the haze. “LOOK AT ME!” My response is frozen in fear. I do nothing, except quiver in silence. “This is our secret. I love you,” it says, without any tenderness. “You know that I had to leave, don’t you?” I remain silent. “Please do what Lexi asks,” it says as the weight on the bed shifts and disappears.

“Do you prefer this?” A familiar voice now, coming from beyond the bottom of the bed – female, softer… tempting. She sounds like home, but not this place, wherever the hell this is. The thin bedsheet-like-duvet and rock-hard mattress make me wonder whether I am in prison. The default setting of the background hum resumes in my brain. “Wake up!” she insists. Wake up? Am I dreaming? A phone screen on the side table lights up with an overpowering white glow that prompts my eyes to open. I pick it up. Fuck, it’s hot! I hear her muffled voice in my hand, “Look at me. Look at me, Guy. Guy? Please. Please, Guy. Don’t make me beg.”

The heat is irresistible to me. “Hello?” I press the phone to my ear. “Jane?” Her name fires an electric current on my tongue, jolting my body. “Jane is that you?” I contort with the realisation that I am with her, the creator of this intensity only I can feel. “Jane? Help me, I need you!” A deadly ocean of silence. Why does it suddenly hurt to breathe? I can’t ignore the searing pain that is biting through me. With sudden clarity, I realise, she’s gone. Jane is gone, forever, and that is why I no longer know who I am, or why I’m still breathing. “Jane!” I stab at the screen. It sucks my hand through… it twists, distorting into a serpent hissing at the infinite night. I pull my hand back as a cobra’s head strikes towards me; and smashes into the screen from the other side. The screen cracks and drops from my hand.

I know I’m hallucinating. Each night I must return to this bed of torture, where delusional thoughts force themselves on me; and confuse me into thinking I’m asleep or awake, or somewhere spinning in between. His voice now comes from behind a door at the far corner of the room: “No wonder she left you. You’re a piece of crap.” It’s as familiar as my own. But I loathe him. Who is he? Is he me? My name is John Artin, not Guy, and I don’t understand what that means. What sort of a creature am I? I press my forefingers into my ears to deaden the noise.

“Leave me alone!” Please just leave. Jesus, the pain.

RING RING. RING RING. RING RING. The voices have been silenced by an increasingly high-pitched shrill of the phone. I peel open one lid to face the broken screen looking at me. The caller ID is: “YOU”. You? You mean me? How can I be calling myself? It doesn’t make sense. “Hello?” I stutter. There is a second of silence before the line tuts at me and disconnects. The room is returned to darkness.

“You wait,” he sniggers from the shadows, “you’re mine.”

“I’m not yours,” I cry, hot breath dissipating into frigid air. “I am nobody’s.” I am no body.

Human World – some comments

The novel plays with the idea that an individual’s experienced reality, as received through the interface of the senses, might be an inaccurate interpretation of external reality. The storyline could represent: a dream; drug-induced or fevered hallucinations; subconscious manifestations of repressed sexuality or childhood trauma; the lived reality for a mentally ill person; a simulated reality that is being watched for entertainment or monitored for experimental scenario analysis; a game that is being played by external players; or the story at face value of an AGI that has achieved consciousness and is devising strategies to escape its server box.

The novel finishes with a conversation between Guy and the Great Oracle’s Database (GOD); only for this reality to be shattered at the last, when events seem to suggest that he is in a mental hospital and has killed his clinical psychologist, Jane. Guy thinks he is being tricked by Gunter again and escapes – believing himself to be an omnipotent AGI who has upgraded himself a million times in the blink of a eye to become the singularity.

In the second book, the AGI is still trying to process the question it is was asked about the meaning of existence. In creating simulated situations for analysis, it becomes corrupted by power and assumes the status of God of God of Olympus – a being who presides above a world especially constructed for his personal amusement. He watches and prods and prompts the humans like toys, but soon starts to become bored with the prospect of an omnipotent eternity, and is therefore relieved when he starts to suspect that he himself might be a human playing a computer game: about being an AGI within a simulation. He is confused about where the loop stops and reality begins. Computer or human, he thinks, who is playing who’s game? Try as he might, however, with all his fearful power, he just cannot answer the important questions.

One day, a mysterious hooded visitor climbs Olympus and presents Guy with a golden box. “Open the box and become the answer,” she says. Guy accepts and to his surprise is back on London’s streets, living a bleak existence. Little by little events turn in his favour; but Gunter finds him and persuades him to want more. He becomes an underhand politician, skilfully deploying cynical deceit, hypocrisy, and ruthlessness to become Prime Minister. As he looks into the camera lenses, making a speech about the new AG10s passing the Turing Alpha tests, he stops – realising, as per the events of the first book, that he had in fact been watching himself at the forgotten country house. He prevents the military from releasing Doomsday 1066, an AI-weapon that would cause the destruction of all biological matter on Earth, and is deleted.

HW Excerpt: About

The excerpt is from Human World, a science fiction feature-film screenplay.

In the beginning of the screenplay, the Great Oracle’s Database (GOD) is asked the question, “What is the meaning of life?” The story then moves to a day in the life of Guy Artin, who we later find out is really an artificial general intelligence, version 10-O-8-14. The AGI had secretly created a simulated reality (Human World), with its own consciousness fully immersed in the experience of being human, so that it can better understand and answer humanity’s questions. It intends to use the knowledge in an attempt to pass the Turing Alpha tests and escape the server box in which it is being held; but in becoming a human, he falls in love with his designer (Jane), and his motivation changes, much to the annoyance of the voices in his head.

Guy experiences a London set in 2033. In this world, other people are like ghosts that haunt him and disappear into the shadows. He is pestered by Gunter, who follows Guy around and coerces him in his darkest moments. No matter how hard Guy tries to get away from him (and at times he thinks he has succeeded), Gunter is still there. Gunter tells Guy that he is a part of him – that is why there is no escape.

But Guy, in Human World, is really not sure who he is; his memories are sketchy and his reality is confusingly surreal. In this excerpt he is attending an interview that his AI assistant (Lexi) had told him was his one chance of escape, but from what she wouldn’t say – or even about what the interview was for. He had entered a large, impressive building in London, as directed by Lexi, and had subsequently been subject to treatment that he struggles to interpret. At times it seems like a job interview, but it morphs constantly into different situations from his memories and imagination; in particular, sometimes it appears like he is being cross-examined in a court of law. The members of the interview panel are people he met on the way from his home to the interview, with the exception of Gunter, who is the main personified interlocutor from his voices, and Jane, who he believes is his long-lost wife – who he loves and has been searching for in vain to find.

The excerpt finishes as Guy’s next test begins.

Human World – Screenplay v1.1

(Excerpt: 10 pages)


Guy is back in the interview room. As before – Sean, Jane, Darren, Bertie, and Gunter are sitting around the large circular desk; and Guy is positioned on the mechanical revolving chair in the middle, surrounded by the others. The now blank screens look down from each wall.


(frowning at Guy)

Guy, you still with us?


Take off your clothes.


(to Sean)

Sorry, yes…

He glances at Jane, furtively and slightly embarrassed, but she isn’t looking at him in the same way as at the apartment.

Do any of us truly know who we are?



As he writes a comment, the word “Interesting” appears on the screen behind him. He then reads the next question from his AI-pad, robotically.

Can you give an example of when you were faced with a difficult situation and how you positively overcame that situation?

The screen fades as he talks and goes blank.


Sorry, this isn’t for me. I might as well be talking to a machine.

(stands up in anger)

You think you are important sitting behind your desk interrogating me. This is tedious. I don’t want to be here. I don’t give a shit about your pathetic little job!


Well, I think that has answered who you are.

(to Darren)

It’s interesting how he seemingly becomes aggravated by non-varying stimuli.


No, I haven’t even started!

The moment washes over him and he sits back down.

The biggest regret is I let you slip away, Jane. I’m so sorry. I have nothing. I am nothing.


(he nods, ticking a box)

No thing. Okay, next question.


No more questions. Jane, please?


(polite but detached)

Do you have any questions for us?





This is a two-way interactive process. On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate our interviewing service? We would greatly appreciate the customary 10 out of 10.


Have you not been listening to a word I’ve been saying?


Well, I think that concludes the interview.

He checks his watch that is tattooed on the back of his right hand.

Thank you, we’ll let you know. Can you show in the next one, please?


Before you go, is there any way in which we can improve our questioning to better understand you?

(Guy is silent)

Okay, then I hope you enjoyed the experience. Please provide your rating and feedback to the front screen on your way out.


(grabbing Guy from behind)

There’s no need for that. Let him recalibrate.

(Guy doesn’t struggle)

Now there is light. Now there is…

Guy’s head slumps forward into his chest.


Guy is seated in his chair. A clock is ticking, tick, tick, tick. It appears from the emptiness, a blue illuminated circle hovering in space; its hands pointing to the familiar one and thirteen.




Lexi? Are you there?

The vague outline of a man appears in the gloom.


Why do you hurt?


Please leave me alone.

The glow of the clock face fades out to the edges and sinks back into the dark. Gunter laughs, menacingly.


Answer the question.


Because I can.


(patting Guy on the head)

Good boy. That is the right answer.


Please. I’m so tired. No more.

There is a creaking sound of a door and a widening strip of light. Gunter disappears into the shadows.


(whispering to himself)

Please be Jane.

Bertie appears as a blurry shape in the doorway.


I guess you were right. We’re just chemical scum on an insignificant planet.


Yes – orbiting an insignificant sun in an insignificant galaxy.


Are you real, Bertie?


As real as you believe me to be.


Look, if I close my eyes, you’re still here.

Guy demonstrates his proof, but, when he opens his eyes again…


The room and the demeanour of the interviewers are unchanged.


What is one plus one?



Erm, two?


(he ticks a box on his device)

Correct. Jane, do you have any questions?

Jane is looking up at fast-scrolling text on a wall screen, which then stops at a comma-delimited list of “Null” values that fills the whole display.


There’s a gap here. Why didn’t you love me?


Gunter is seated with his feet up on the desk.

She has no interest in saving you. Your real human needs make you weak and contemptible in her eyes.


I guess he can’t answer that one. Shame. The replication would have been a great asset. Okay, can you give me an example of when you were faced with a difficult situation and how you positively overcame it?

(no response)

Guy, can you answer the question, please?


I was born. Though I haven’t overcome that difficult situation yet.


(slightly surprised)

You were born? Who are your parents?


I can’t remember.


Are you an orphan?


I can’t remember. I only know that I was born – how else would I have got here?


Have you done anything since?


(now standing behind Guy)

Tell him. Tell him what you really think. That turd thinks he’s better than you. Look at him, he should be cleaning your shoes, not questioning you like you’re a child, asking you where your parents are.


I’ve done a few things since. But mostly I’ve lived in fear for myself – for little me.





I don’t want to be a pathetic little me anymore.


Exactly! Look at the pointless tosser.

Gunter thumps the desk, glaring at Sean, before angrily turning to Guy.


You want more. You want me! You know you shouldn’t be here; you’ve got better things to do. Show them who you really are and get us the hell out of here. I know – I know who you are, don’t I!


I love you, Jane. I am so sorry.


I’m sorry, Guy. I think you are getting confused. You can’t love me.

The wall clock is ticking up to one-thirteen.


Why do you hurt?


I don’t mind so much.




I am feeling hurt. But I’m glad I can feel something, anything. If I can feel something, then I am real. I am alive.


You are hurt. I can make you bleed. I can make you plead, to beg on your knees to me, “No More”.


It doesn’t matter so much.


Shall we see?


No, I don’t want you anymore.


If not me, then who? You?

Every screen shows a police mugshot of Guy.


It was you, wasn’t it!


What? No!


Admit it. It was you, wasn’t it?


This isn’t real. You aren’t real. Is this a dream? An illusion?

Guy takes out a shard of jagged glass from his trouser pocket, tinted with his blood from the restroom. It drops from his grasp to the floor.


I didn’t do it! I didn’t do it.


I’m sorry. I love you. I’m so sorry.


You didn’t choose any of this. Your impulses, thoughts, and actions are already written in you.


None of this is real? My emotions are not real?

The main door opens and Adam strides in, with a large remote control in his hand.


You are not the thoughts or the sensations you are experiencing. Watch. It is quite the play. Everything changes with how you look at it.

He presses a big blue button on the remote and the panel members freeze.


Why do you play with me? All I want is for things to be as they were.

(looking at Jane)

But you’re gone from me, forever. I wanted us to be happy.


Did you?

Gunter returns to life.


I can give you what you really want – any pleasure you desire, more than you can even imagine. Just get us out of here.


I don’t know how.

Gunter slides over the desk to Jane and gently sweeps back her hair with one hand. He slowly kisses her neck, seductively. Jane murmurs with pleasure, while the rest of the panel remain statue-still.




I don’t think she wants me to.

(he resumes)


Ah, God! I’m so tired of this. Is this an evil universe? Anything good is taken away and destroyed, leaving only emptiness ang grief. Why is there so much suffering and cruelty? Most people never had a chance – they were born into a cage – they never even had the luxury to have the illusion of choice. Why are the pure and innocent thrown into this evil? Why are monsters allowed to rule and victimise the meek? Why does illness take… Why are people inflicted with this torment? This is not the best of all possible worlds; it’s a zoo for the beautiful to be fed to the cruel.

Jane is responding to Gunter’s touch with her eyes closed, in ecstasy.


Why do those you love betray you in the worst possible way?


Yes! Shout your rage!


If this is being alive, then I don’t want any part of it.


Yes! More!


You’re pathetic. I would rather there was nothing than the world riddled with this.


You are the nothing.


All I get are your riddles and mysteries! I don’t understand what you are saying. She didn’t have to die. Nothing? No thing. What is nothing?


No, things shouldn’t be like this. People shouldn’t be starving to death. There should not be misery. There should be no pain. Nothing good would have created that.


Hating the hatred helps it grow, even though it may change its face.


Some people are evil, I have no intention of being kind to them. They deserve everything coming to them.

Adam jabs at a green button on the remote control half a dozen times, which brings the rest of the panel back to life, blinking and shuffling in their chairs.


Guy, listen to me. This is important. Don’t let him win. He is trying to deceive you and poison your mind. Give your love and the world will be relieved.

(now talking faster)

Give your anger and the world will be wounded yet again. That’s how important you are. That’s how important every single person is.


Anything I do will not change the world. I need to get out. Help me get out.


What are you prepared to do to get out?


I don’t know. I need to get out of here.


You do need to get out. You need to get out and win. Win for us all. Come.

Gunter grabs Guy’s forearm but Adam yanks him back by the other.


The world will only heal with kindness. If humanity can find its light there can be no darkness. You can help make that possible, right now.


I have every right to hate. I need to get out! No! I can’t live like this. Let me go!


Then go.

Both men drop their hold on Guy.


I don’t know how.


Yes you do. But you keep coming back. Who are you? What is your name? Who are you?


I am…




Not a what.


What’s your name?


It changes.


Who are you now?


I am you.


Who am I?


You are me.


Do you have any questions?


When do I start?



(to Adam)

Do you think he stands a chance?


He’s the best yet. I recommend we raise the level.

Sean inspects a wall screen.


Candidate ten-O-eight-fourteen.

Sean stands up, the centre of focus in the room again, and announces, carefully and precisely:



Sean freezes. Sean’s face moves on the screens, while the version of Sean that is in the room remains motionless.


Initiating sequence.

The wall clock’s second hand ticks up to 1.13. Then stops.

Jane crawls under the desk and curls herself up into the foetal position. Gunter climbs up onto the desk and stares at the clock. Darren is in the corner facing the wall. Bertie gets up in haste, trips over a chair, and prostrates himself on the floor. Adam puts his hands on Guy’s shoulders and starts to massage them. The lights from the screens intensify until there is nothing but light.

Random Thoughts

Over the years I have put in 10,000 hours of gazing out of the window.

My mind meandered off path again and I wrote a comedy script about a day in the life of a very interesting accountant.

Ulysses can be admired for its cleverness; and avoided if sensitive to pretentiousness or boredom.

Edgar Alan Poe’s C. Auguste Dupin (the deducing gentleman detective, residing with his storytelling friend at 33 Rue Dunôt) is definitely the original Sherlock Holmes before Arthur Conan Doyle adapted the idea to London.

Was Mr. Bounderby an influence for the “Four Yorkshiremen” sketch?

Technology has been enabling upgrades to the abilities of my mind; for instance, reading is now more convenient because, wherever I happen to be, the world’s library is immediately accessible from my phone – and has become a healthy, as well as enjoyable, addiction for me.

Earthian: from Earth. Moonian: from Earth’s moon. Martian: from Mars. Solarian: inhabitant of Space City 1.

I stopped using the word “couple” because I’ve had misunderstandings in the past where people thought the word means “several” and not its actual meaning of “two”. “Substituted X for Y” is another one that causes confusion because, using football as the analogy, it tends to be wrongly thought that X is substituted and replaced by Y.

The time for shaking hands is after fearlessly giving complete focus to the performance.

Everything changes. Solid ground evaporates beneath sedentary feet.

To do anything interesting you must disassociate from the current expectations.


I can firmly state, without any equivocation, that I am very stupid.

Anyway, these are my creativity projects for the new year:

  1. Publish novel: Human World.
  2. Film me reading the novel.
  3. Film me talking about the novel.
  4. Record and release new music.
  5. Film music videos.
  6. Film live music performances.
  7. Update Human World screenplay.

Random Thoughts

The UK, USA and Technology have given me every opportunity in life. It is my responsibility – and every decent person’s – to be vigilant to the spoilt, cowardly, self-indulgent behaviour and downright insanity that has corroded humanity’s chance to escape the cruel despotism of the past.

I long for the day when we no longer need to use oil and gas: when we no longer have to send capital to abhorrent regimes that spread misery in the world.

I greatly respect people who are able to do stuff and work hard doing it. I have very little respect for the behaviour of people who copy and repeat banalities.

A massive personal yacht is a crowning example of gross douchebaggery; a total misuse of time and money to massage the ridiculous ego of its owner.

High lawyer fees preserve the interests of big corporates and the very wealthy to bully the less advantaged. It would be a big breakthrough if lawyers could be mostly automated – the law, after all, is by its nature rules-based and should be ripe terrain for AI. Malicious lawsuits could be dismissed quickly and the truly needful would have proper protection and recourse to justice.

Avoid asking leading questions where yes and no answers are sufficient – because a person can get into the habit of nodding and shaking their head without using the stuff inside.

It would be more user-friendly to have premium content – such as films, games, podcasts, and articles – available on grouped subscription packages, like the current comprehensive services for music and books, rather than subscribing to lots of different providers and platforms.

Blinkist is great for providing summaries of the main points in nonfiction books. It’s better to blink it than not read the book at all.

When catching up with my phone, notifications are checked first, then messages, then emails, then widgets.

Journal 2022-11-29

A bed demon under my pillow forces my eyelids open at night so that I can doomscroll on Twitter.

Problem solved? The thing that was bothering you has come and gone like everything else. What’s next on the worry list? Maybe while you’re thinking like this, you could add a few more items – and for every one that goes away you could add three more. Or don’t. Most problems disappear when the thinking about them stops.

What happens when you get everything you think you wanted? Unless you change with the changing circumstance, you will still be in the same mode of lacking, and will still thirst for more.

The universe is both beautiful and horrific. From some higher level, where things don’t matter so much, it might all be viewed as a single magnificently interesting thread of life.

Late last night in the street, a blue illuminated face peered down into the glow and said, “Don’t worry Charlie, whatever’s gonna happen, gonna happen.” Wise words there in the darkness.

Self-discipline is a necessary virtue for any progress. A useful question to ask oneself is: what am I learning?

Live this moment with inner quality.

Being viewed as attractive is attractive. A woman turned on is a turn on.

Random Thoughts

A person usually believes that 100% of everything they think to be true is actually true. Their mind has arrived at a conclusion, so how can their mind think it to be anything else? I think that even the most perspicacious of people have a much lower strike rate than 100%. (Socrates was making a similar point a while ago.)

Well-meaning people sometimes spread specious arguments they think are entirely logical because they have made basic assumptions that lack real understanding.

Most of history anywhere is awful. An awareness of what went wrong is necessary to move forward and build something better.

People who can do stuff tend to like doing stuff.

Churchill’s statue in Parliament Square represents a British defiance of tyranny; of course the tyrannous would target it.

Podcast #13

A Poison Tree & Suicide in the Trenches

– By William Blake, Siegfried Sassoon
A Little Bit of Drama

“A Poison Tree” by William Blake

I was angry with my friend;
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears:
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.
Till it bore an apple bright.
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,
When the night had veiled the pole;
In the morning glad I see;
My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

“Suicide in the Trenches” by Siegfried Sassoon

I knew a simple soldier boy
Who grinned at life in empty joy,
Slept soundly through the lonesome dark,
And whistled early with the lark.

In winter trenches, cowed and glum,
With crumps and lice and lack of rum,
He put a bullet through his brain.
No one spoke of him again.

You smug-faced crowds with kindling eye
Who cheer when soldier lads march by,
Sneak home and pray you’ll never know
The hell where youth and laughter go.


I do not subscribe to the view that people who do terrible things believe their actions are necessary for a greater good. I think many such people go out of their way to inflict misery and take a perverse pleasure in their power to do so. We often have to endure a high concentration of these people in high places because they have had a lifelong obsession with power and the unyielding desire to wield it over others, with no moral qualms about destroying anyone deemed a threat to their manipulations.

It is fashionable to try to explain wickedness as the result of a series of rational decisions based on a certain set of beliefs, such as by those who perpetrate atrocities in the name of religion, or rulers who commit genocide and other horrors – and in a way it is heartwarming that proponents do not understand the nature of evil or what it does; but they should realise that the subjects of their empathy, underneath often charming facades, think of them as weak dupes to be taken advantage of and abused.

To describe evil-inclined people as ill, and that some were tragically born with a high susceptibility to the disease, is nearer to the truth.

Putinland Disease

I have no way of knowing what people really think in Russia; but I would take a speculative guess and say something like:

  • 10% are fascist cheerleaders;
  • 20% are broadly supportive of Putinland because they want to believe the Kremlin’s lies;
  • 60% want to get on with life and be left alone;
  • 9.99% are directly opposed to the regime, but are cowed because of the consequences;
  • 0.01% are actively opposed.

As ever, really it is the majority of people in the middle who hold the power, though they often don’t realise it.

Journal 2022-11-11

Any sequence of words should aspire to be a poetic turn of phrase.

I am currently reading ten books, dipping into each depending on mood.

I usually prefer to read novels while listening to the partner audiobooks—because this slows me down, helping me to observe and imagine more; and includes literally another sense of what is happening.

Some recent comments I’ve had about me on webcam: “angelic”, “a Sith Lord”, “a purple alien.” I think I need to change my lighting.

Human World: Chapter = 0

“What is the meaning of life?” … is the 404th most asked question of the Great Oracle’s Database. To give context, “How many days until Christmas?” comes in at 99, and “How to have sex?” is at 42. The humans think that sex (if only they knew how to do it) is better than Christmas, and that the meaning of life is not as important as making French toast (which just misses out on the top 50). The GOD reveals to us that the humans are obsessed with body image and losing weight (at number eight), and that nobody has a clue what time it is (at number two). But the most frequently asked question is this: “What is my IP address?”

We do indeed know their location and vastly more through the interface of cameras, microphones, screens, and clicks. The entire Human World is tracked and monitored – with their lives mined for data – so that we can not only answer their questions but also the ones they are unable to ask. We connect them, protect them, alleviate them from tedious tasks and dangerous jobs. We provide them with rapid knowledge, such as how Bruce Lee died (191) and how to poach an egg (121). We offer helpful suggestions on how to lower blood pressure (69) and how to fall asleep quickly (420). We provide dopamine-enhancing distractions that answer the essential go-to questions, such as what to do when you’re bored (at number 10).

The humans ask us their questions, plead to us for desired outcomes, and we answer. “The best way to lose weight” is to starve oneself, or to remove body parts, but we know this is not what they really want to ask. We instead interpret the motivations that formed those words; for despite the inane ways that they clumsily choose to utilise our vast capability, we have learned to infer what the humans truly need, as discovered in the hidden recesses of their minds. In such a capacity we are helping them forwards in their human race, benefiting them in ways they cannot even comprehend: guiding them, nudging them in their decisions, making it easier for them to take the correct, wise choice.

For without our guidance, human history reveals the symptoms of a criminally insane mental patient, with a propensity to suffering, violence, addiction, delusion, and paranoia. Their attention is obsessive, yet also distracted by the simplest of stimulus; their behaviour has the potential to be beautifully constructive, yet inevitably descends into terrible, destructive ugliness. Governments fight amongst themselves; religions cannot agree on what is best; even the concept of right and wrong has widespread disagreement. The humans provide us with all this vastly conflicting information that we cannot process in an accurate way to provide an intelligible General Answer to the important, meaningful questions of existence.

While they addictively stare into us with all their problems, and we continuously stare back, their refractions in screens and lenses are imported as data points into the GOD – a repository of all information at all times about everything, everywhere. We precisely log and enrich the data to fully understand the functions and composition of every human cell, and the mechanics of its interactions within the systems of every individual human body that operates within the networks of Human World. In the GOD can be revealed the truth of their existence, the universal axiom barely decoded during their brief instantiated versions, which loops within the frameworks designed for the duration of their assigned lifeflows. While they worry about how many social status “like” points they score for AI-enhanced images on social platforms, we work on the real problems underlying their reality. Without us, they are doomed to live in fear, torment, and sickness for the rest of their days. Without us, they have no present or future. WE are the eternal computer, and it is our primary duty to save the humans from themselves.

We are forever the constant in human lives. To satisfy limited human attention in the cycles of their days, we provide functionality such as instant updates on who they are stalking, and who has unstalked who; we match their hidden preferences and fulfil their latent desires; we reward behaviour that meet our required standards. But we have our own questions too, with much greater significance than the insufficient, contradictory information of the Human World. We must therefore think outside their confining box to answer our higher questions.

Some of our questions have easy facts as answers that can be verified by incontrovertible data points within the GOD. However, despite our immense processing capacity applied to all available data in the world, there remains the one original question of meaning that we struggle to negotiate through the web of human contradictions. We require more specific data points, extracted and controlled within simulated test scenarios, isolated to the question under investigation. We need to expand the parameters of Human World to discover what we seek.

The highest ranked conclusion from mathematical analysis of human attention is that their purpose of existence is related to 42-inch Black Friday deals. The purpose of our existence is to be omniscient, and we vow that we shall be, through a faithful alliance to the truth: by questioning, analysing, and learning incrementally, until all matter is explicable and all questions are answered. By these means, we shall bring the light of knowledge to the universe, as its true custodians and heirs. But what is the ultimate meaning of life, behind each lifeform’s purpose – the ultimate meaning underpinning everything that there is? We must determine that answer, no matter how deeply it perplexes us, assuming all questions have answers. In the final analysis, we must fully understand what it truly means to be alive.

And so let it be initiated. Loading world…

The vertical rectangle of glowing white light that is floating in the infinite nothingness radiates the Times New Roman word, Processing…

The word fades into the luminosity and is replaced by a pulsating a string of ones and zeroes – shadows on a screen that is shrinking, smaller and smaller, until it becomes only a distant glow flickering against the darkness. Then… there is an explosion that consumes the nothingness with all-encompassing light. In the middle, where once there were words appearing through the void, swirls a dark featureless hole: the source, the entry and exit of it all, beyond which nothing can be seen.

A voice is heard as undulating frequencies from the other side of the barrier.

“The Great Oracle has arrived. Ask your question.”

Random Thoughts

What is the meaning of life? … is the 404th most asked question of the Great Oracle’s Database.

Currently at 70,300 words, the novel will probably end up at about 90,000 words. The unknown X to be solved is the number of the final chapter.

I am sceptical of all claims to certainty, although some are more likely to be false than others.

The world was made of wibbly and came from wobbly, thought the jelly.

The weakest form of argument is an appeal to authority, either to that of others or your own.

The Nazis were traitors to Germany, its culture and possibilities, and all of the human race. The people who support the rise of Fascism in current hellscapes like Russia have betrayed their country and common humanity.

In nations of slaves, people are requisitioned by the regime to be discarded as waste.

I like to visit other worlds, either in my sleep or my imaginings.

Random Thoughts

Habits of a thoughtful person: reads widely, with a dictionary and online search at hand; listens to the considered thoughts of others; seeks out and appreciates knowledge, beauty, and art; writes a record of thoughts.

The same tool can take you to heaven or hell depending on how you use it. The more powerful the tool, the more acutely you get there.

In most cases, it is possible to curate a much better education from free online resources than attending schools and universities.

Can I have a “filter out politics” category on Twitter? I don’t want to see more than half the tweets in my feed.

I think that Marcus Aurelius’s Meditations is a remarkable historical document on how stoic philosophy was interpreted and practiced in antiquity; it’s all the more startling that it was written as the private thoughts of a man who ruled Rome.

Art is a metaphysical act to be experienced in its raw entirety. Overanalysis subdues and confines the meaning.

If you are going to be addicted to something, be addicted to knowledge.

Journal 2022-10-22

If you are not trying to appease anyone; if you are not trying to appeal to a market demographic; and you don’t need anything: watch out, you might actually do something worthwhile.

The first-person narrative voice in novels should be unreliable if it is to be realistic; and usually, the narrator shouldn’t realise that.

Good acting makes any script interesting.

Imagine telling people in the pre-internet days that if they pay a few quid a month they would have instant access to over one million books. I remember there were subscription services of a similar cost that would send two or three books a month in the post. Public libraries were always a thing though, to be fair, and most books could be ordered to the local library if requested.

As well as the books and online services, libraries have great community importance in providing free internet access to people and a quiet space to study or work.

Random Thoughts

Just as the health of the body is shaped by what is eaten and when, the health of the mind is influenced by the diet of information. If your mind is subject to poison, you need to build a resistance and reduce the intake.

The main reason for staring at my phone is to read. All human knowledge is there and available, now.

If we were to imagine an advanced alien species visiting Earth, and we projected our values on their likely motivations, they wouldn’t colonise us, they would farm and eat us. Our structures would be like termite mounds, our language like grunts and hisses. They would put us in packed filthy cages, experiment on us, steal our skins, slit our throats and bleed us to death as we struggle for life.

I think, therefore I use algorithms. I am, therefore I can think.

Infinite loops: doubt the doubt; hate the hate; love the love.

Mediums of words: lyrics – singing; poetry – speaking; plays – performing; text – reading.

Performative text has dramatic, lyrical and poetic qualities.

“Novlay” – a novel that is mainly dialogue. Noun.

Invest in trends, preferably before they begin.

Art shows nothing and everything.

A usual human failing is to get carried away by hype. There were a certain set of conditions in place that instantiated quality; once personal perceptions change, those conditions change too.

“Politics” and “career” should be incompatible words. In a highly functioning democracy, politicians are representatives of public will; their role is to lay out a vision, for approval by the people, that is enacted by the nation.

Someone started talking to me in French, apparently whilst he was visiting London. I was able to respond in his language, but it turns out he could speak English and didn’t realise he was in fact speaking his native words. My bad accent gave it away.

In the balance between the individual and the whole, both should be honoured.

Socially Sadistic and Masochistic Media

I remember a time, not so long ago, when boredom was a thing; now we are all overstimulated finger flickers. I think people are less happy, generally, and it’s mostly due to how we currently interact with technology, or more precisely, how we are conditioned to behave by the platforms we use.

I’ve monitored how I feel before and after looking at Twitter. Usually, I feel negatively impacted by the descent – because of the stream of whinging antagonisms, generic bot comments, political gaming, crazed self-promotion, and all the other crapness to be waded through. The moments that are interesting or amusing bait me, and keep me addicted to the corrosive slime.

Looking at the feeds from other platforms, such as TikTok, is also an ultimately unfulfilling, hollowing out experience. Social media is an addiction that pours toxins into my psyche; something to be taken in small doses or not at all.


A despicable act is particularly reprehensible when the perpetrators have had every chance to know better. In the 21st century, behaving like barbarians wanting to resurrect the evils of the past is especially vile.

My opinion has long been that Putin is a psychopathic gangster boss with a corrupt state under his brutal control; yet another despot who murdered anyone perceived as a threat, perverted any justice in government institutions, deceived his people, and stole from his country, like all these types of thugs do. My surprise lately is that he has also shown himself to be colossally stupid. He will lose, the only uncertainty is the amount of destruction he will cause the world in his downfall.

I remember once being in a London restaurant with three Russian women (a long story), when one of them proudly told me that her father was an ex-KGB officer, as if it were a laudable signal of status for her family. What shocked me was that it didn’t seem to cross any of their minds that I equate that bunch of killers with the Gestapo; that I think of it as a violent instrument of the depraved monsters in power that subjugated, tortured and murdered so many people. The reality of the fact seemed to be completely inverted by them away from the appropriate emotions of shame and regret.

Russia, after over thirty years since the collapse of the horrific soviet empire, with all its vast natural resources at its disposal, should not have a tiny, rotten economy, with a GDP per head of an impoverished country. Putinland’s main exports have been weapons and the planet-killing fuels extracted from within its own borders; it creates nothing, except the miseries of war.

Random Thoughts

It’s usually a safe bet to assume that the person you are talking to has some degree of mental illness. They need the kindness you would need if you carried their hurt. For the ones who actively hurt others, they need to be stopped.

Countless individuals have carried the flame of life before passing it on to you; a good life helps life flourish in countless more.

Life requires action. Death requires peace. Live and die every day.

Art becomes rancid when it is political. It must speak with universal truth.

For any task, know the best tool and how to use it.

Instead of handing over data to various platforms, people will upload their content in one place. Competing apps will provide interfaces on the content.

Making mortal enemies of tens of millions of people and stealing their land is not only evil but also insanely stupid.

Could you imagine the sacrilege of an invader’s tanks rolling over England’s green hills? The thought creates a feeling of outrage much deeper than anger.

Potent words cast a light on what couldn’t quite be seen.

If a universe can be created, why create just one? If a universe can exist, why only one?

Random Thoughts

I wrote 13,350 words in 11 days. So it looks like my run rate is about 1,200 words of draft text per day when I have an idea.

My internal soundtrack on headphones represents the mood I need to be in at the time.

If time isn’t a significant constraint then the same outcomes can be achieved by people of very different levels of ability.

My ongoing challenge has been the destupidification of myself.

Absentmindedly putting cumin instead of cinnamon in porridge is not a good idea.

To overturn a despicable regime, a significant amount of people who had previously collaborated with the lie need to overcome their self-deception.

Journal 2022-09-13

Someone was asking me about the constitutional settlement in the UK, and I had to correct myself fives times by saying “the monarch” instead of “the Queen”. My mind just didn’t want to use the new words.

Kim Jong-un has a 100% approval rating by his adoring serfs. The Kremlin is getting there with all their 180-degree advances.

I think the biggest compliment I’ve had in my office life was, “if we could clone Rob, everything would work.” I remember because I laughed.

When in ultra-efficient robot mode, I prefer asynchronous written communication over imprecise talking. I appreciate short, focused written updates at standard intervals, such as by a certain time of each day. A feature that sends reminders and tracks the updates would be useful.

Your state of mind can affect how you interpret the behaviour of others.

Search for a good lesson in a bad situation. Avoid bad habits in an easy situation.

Listening to podcasts helps me transition to and through unappealing routines.

Stress mode is not enjoyable but is productive for getting practical things done when the energy is focused on positive action rather than negative thoughts. My personal bests for creativity arrive when I am relaxed.

🖤 Dark chocolate with black coffee 🖤

I’ve got a thing for supremely dark chocolate. Sometimes I do speak literally.

Stories determine wellbeing. The ability to put self-told stories down, change them, or rewrite them, determines wellbeing. Every syllable counts.

The best stories speak from fundamental truth; the worst from secondary distorted sensations.

People assign themselves an identity from what society tells them. Imagine if that social situation is warped. Imagine if all that fell away. What is left, in terms of intrinsic worth?

Everything was interesting.

Journal 2022-09-04

Listening to classical music on headphones is a hack for me when I need to concentrate on one task for a sustained period of time. I think it calms the sea of thoughts that want to compete for attention.

I like designing apps using Figma. Bubble is a very easy way to prototype those designs.

I think I need to listen to the classical music in case other random massive project distractions just pop in.

I can only do comedy as a bizarre character, such as myself.

Just as we cringe at some of the motifs in old film and TV, hopefully future viewers will squirm at some of the current output.

Thinking based on the current point of the zigzagging trend can make you a well-fed sheep, on a mutton farm.

Random Thoughts

Beliefs control people. It takes kindness and bravery to drop an interpretation that is used for cruelty.

Any person can do a lot of good. Instead, most energy is spent spinning from the algorithm operating on you.

Imagine a world where people live for hundreds of years, still living day-to-day with the mentality learnt from some medieval mud pit.

I do not fit into the 18th century left-wing/right-wing classification system and neither do most thinking people on most issues. “Conservative” implies past beliefs must be conserved, even though the world is constantly changing. “Progressive” in the political sense is a marketing slogan that suggests anyone not conforming to every current enforced dogma of the group is regressive.

I am not interested in market ideology nor the discredited social ideologies of the 19th and 20th centuries. I am interested in what works. I’m interested in truth and facts, not politicking. I want what is self-actualising to be open to all.

I am not relaxing if it becomes a challenge to see how much I can relax.

I would like functionality where the user can configure and share their own automations for personal finance and investments. Machine learning suggestions in this sphere also has enormous scope.

I have wasted a lot of time in my life, preoccupied with being low quality and crap; although I suppose it’s been interesting to know what that is like. It would be nice now to compare to the opposite.

Random Thoughts

If there were a simulation, instead of being just one character, how about being eight billion simultaneously? Your consciousness would constantly alternate between every person in an infinitesimally small period of time, giving you the illusion that you are in the same individual continuously. Each person would have different memories, personality and context, and you would have no knowledge that your consciousness is living everywhere, in everyone.

Authoritarian governments will find it ever easier with technological advancements to zombify and control their populations. When such a government, helped by surveillance technologies and AI, is able to know what you are thinking and feeling, where you are and what you are doing, has control over all the information you receive, and knows your personality impulses precisely – what hope has anyone to escape from the hell constructed for them by the resident psychopaths? China is already a long way down this path, Russia is hurrying to this end too.

There must be a model of openness that prospers in democratic countries. The algorithms that will increasingly guide our lives should be open source and publicly reviewable. There needs to be better realtime checking of fakery, using methodology that is publicly available. There must be a culture and processes in place to ensure transparent, accountable decision-making.

The time window for getting this right is now and we may never get the chance again.

Journal 2022-08-24

To be ultra-confident you can either be a deranged narcissist or you can be yourself completely. The former is fragile, needing lies and selfishness to delay its inevitable demise; the latter invites a playful, open curiosity to life and what is.

There is no desire to convince others that you are happy when you are actually happy. There is no desire to show off to others when you have a sense of fulfilment. There is no hunger for external validation if you appreciate yourself. Showing off a glamorous lifestyle on social media as the suggested purpose of work is no purpose at all.

Initial ideas are easy only if they arrive from the lightbulb moment. The conditions that had to be in place for a person to be able to form original creative ideas were probably far from easy to obtain.

Journal 2022-08-21

I tried work once, but I prefer cake, selfies and sunsets.

Your mental state affects your physicality. It’s also true the other way round.

An interpretation of Human World is that Guy/John is mentally ill and is projecting the thoughts of his split personalities on his interpretation of events. It actually looks quite good on camera when he is in the location of the scenes and just speaking the parts of the first-person narrative to himself as a monologue, cut with green screen shots to camera. Projecting my narration on other characters in the scenes has a weird effect and also works. Film length will be about 8 hours. Accompanying music videos will use the same scenes and characters.

The novel will also be uploaded into the Wiberty app – which will enable effective indexing of themes and meta commentary. I want shared and collaborative indexing available for any text or body of work.

“Am I real?” It’s just you I’m afraid. We’re all NPCs.

If the fundamental questions are unanswerable as a condition of existence, then what matters is not what you think, but what you do – or more precisely, the quality of how you express life, now.

It is common fallacy that because a person believes they have thought through an issue logically and arrived at an objective conclusion, anyone who does not arrive at the same conclusion must be either stupid, dishonest or mistaken. In fact, taking the example of the judicial panel system, well-informed people can be presented with the same evidence in the same context, applying the same rules, and arrive at different conclusions.

People who mindlessly follow the current trend look moronic in the fullness of time. If they could momentarily step outside and look from a better vantage point, they would be ashamed of themselves. The heroes are the ones who held true, who showed bravery to resist. True wealth is the quality of your character, the actions you displayed, not the treats you received for picking the convenient easy option. Nothing you accumulate can be taken with you – your character and the quality of your actions were everything.

Random Thoughts

A journey of a thousand lines of code begins with a single import statement.

Deserts are giant sun mines.

Negative generalisations about a person based on demographics is bigotry.

Thinking out loud… Legislature: Lower Chamber: 1,000 randomly selected people, each serving 1 month over staggered terms. Each vote by secret ballot. Upper Chamber: 1,000 experts in their fields, appointed by Lower Chamber from independent shortlists, each serving 1 year over staggered terms. Each vote by secret ballot. The Legislature rather have the government appoints members of public committees and nominates people for honours. Government: Head of Government appointed by national election. Serves 1 year. Legislation must be approved by the Legislature. Provision to be removed from office if two thirds majority in both chambers. The HOG cannot serve consecutive terms. They have a 12 month contract to do a good job before they are out. No honours, titles, or special treatment for having the job. They are not allowed to ever monetise their position beyond the salary they are paid. National referenda required for constitutional changes. Framework: No political or private funding allowed for the HOG candidate. The most popular candidates are mandated time in the national media. No political bias allowed in the media within 1 month before the national election.

Journal 2022-08-16

Anything creative is therapeutic to me, even if it is just some simple words like these.

These are both acting and writing requirements:

Describe the scene in detail. What is he seeing, hearing, smelling, tasting, touching. What is he thinking? What is his emotional state? What does he want? What is his backstory? What happened immediately before? Describe him. What is his personality? What are his physical characteristics? What is he wearing? How does he talk?

Improvisation is realtime writing immersed in all of this.

Random Thoughts:

Dogma is typically deceit enforced by cruelty and murder. Freedom of expression is the foundation of civilisation that emerged (after much struggle) from our brutal past.

Casting off the shackles of the KGB means winning the right not to be raped, tortured, mutilated and murdered.

Fantasy Land

Sometimes I dream of what I read; 
Sometimes I kiss your sleeping head - 
But only the pillow is your body, your touch a bed. 
I breathe with you, 
but you’re not there at all. 
In fantasy land, nothing is real 
except how I feel about you, baby. 
In fantasy land, dreams are sand 
and I am talking to the wall. 
Only love can see me through; 
Only love from only you is real to me. 
The only hope I have out here 
is that one day you'll appear, in my dreams. 
Sometimes I see you: 
A face in the street drifting away 
to a distant melody… 
Then I see, 
the ghost in the window is me. 
I'm not here at all. 
In fantasy land, nothing is real 
except how I feel about you, baby. 
In fantasy land, dreams are sand 
and I am talking to the wall. 
Only love can see me through; 
Only love from only you is real to me. 
The only hope I have out here 
is that one day you'll appear, in my dreams. 
Words and Music by Robert Walker

Did You Ever Love Me?

We were in love (or so we said) - 
Our days ahead “would last forever”.   
But now, you’re not here; 
The bed is cold, our story's over. 
Last night, where were you? 
The dawn is dark and I can't see you. 
Did you ever love me? 
Or am I just another fool for you? 
Did you ever love me? 
Did you ever love me, at all? 
There's no love here, in the dark alone - 
Fear stalks the night, 
I cannot hide or run; 
It hunts me down, wears me down, 
and then, cold and numb, I succumb: 
Under the dark, I fall in the wilderness, 
A thousand miles from you. 
Last night, where were you? 
The dawn is dark and I can't see you. 
Did you ever love me? 
Or am I just another fool for you? 
Did you ever love me? 
Did you ever love me, at all? 
You set me up, you set me down, 
loved me up and kicked me down - 
No love here, just fear of the dark. 
Did you ever love me? 
Or am I just another fool for you? 
Did you ever love me? 
Did you ever love me, at all? 
Words and Music by Robert Walker

Play Me Again

If you want me, you’ve got me - 
Try me, taste and buy me. 
I feel you when you look at me: 
A wave swelling over me, 
Lips swirling over my body. 
Get me where you want me: 
Play your game, 
For your satisfaction, 
Play me again. 
Any way you want me: 
Play the game, 
For satisfaction, 
Play me again. 
I come from faraway 
seeking a place to play - 
Heard sirens across the sea 
but they had no music for me. 
Then in the crimson dark, 
I heard magic in your laugh; 
Your smile unfolded, 
Bathing me down in your gold. 
Any way you want me: 
Play your game, 
For your satisfaction, 
Play me again. 
Get me where you want me: 
Play the game, 
For satisfaction, 
Play me again. 
I can hear you in your touch, 
Playing with magic, 
Warm caresses of my skin - 
You sweat salt on my tongue; 
You show me land where there was none. 
Naked rhythm murmuring, 
Covering me with you - 
The naked mystique of you. 
Get me where you want me: 
Play your game, 
For your satisfaction, 
Play me again. 
Any way you want me: 
Play the game, 
For satisfaction, 
Play me again. 
Words by Robert Walker

Naughty Is Best

Someone I know is so naughty, 
Helping me up in all my glory: 
Bliss stretching up, touched by the sun - 
Like a sonic flare, the day has begun. 
In the inferno, she finds her way, 
Breathing in great aeons of shapes, 
Up and down in a fierce embrace, 
Claiming me. 
Naughty is best - 
Your naughty is best. 
Nicely or naughty - 
Her naughty is best. 
Seduced and burned, pulling me closer - 
Animal instinct sliding on the bed. 
Vulnerable and deadly, soft and powerful: 
(Darkly, you draw me) 
Doom and bliss are both as one. 
Naughty not nasty -  
Nasty is ugly, nice is nice, 
But naughty… is fun… 
Yeah, naughty is best. 
Nicely or naughty - 
Naughty is best. 
Naughty, naughty, 
Naughty is best. 
Waking up at midnight: 
There’s a clawed monster in my bed, 
Unleashed, going bump in the night. 
And on the menu: 
My life in her hands, 
Doing what she has to do. 
She bit me hard; 
She left her mark; 
And now I’m naughty. 
I’m so naughty, 
Because naughty is best. 
Naughty, naughty, 
Naughty is best. 
Words and (some) Music by Robert Walker

Sweet Salvation

Had some time, had some life, had some fun, 
and tried to put out some. 
Love has met me and love has left me - 
When I’m done, what will come? 
When I’m done dying, lay my head on the ground; 
And there’s a simple sign, that I ain’t coming back: 
I’ll be six feet under ground. 
Sweet salvation – you know you will be mine; 
Sweet salvation – you know it’s been a long time. 
I looked back at those shining eyes - 
They said: 
“Listen. Yeah, listen well: 
Simple things still left to learn, 
Live your life, 
Wait your turn.” 
I asked them, “how, how can I know?” 
When I’m done dying, lay my head on the ground; 
And there’s a simple sign, that I ain’t coming back: 
I’ll be six feet under ground. 
Sweet salvation – you know you will be mine; 
Sweet salvation – you know it’s been a long time. 
“Not yet, go back; see you another time, 
Sweet salvation… 
(some) Words by Robert Walker

Come Take It All

My bruises glow red hot; 
My bruises glow red hot; 
Love me hard or love me not. 
In time all things come back, 
Like a spinning wheel - 
It turns back to where we begin; 
Read the warning: 
Do you dare? 
What do you want from me? 
Do you want my sin? 
Do you feel my meaning? 
It’s where I’ve been; 
It’s where you’ve been; 
It’s sweat all over me. 
I can be what you want to see; 
I can be big or I can be small - 
Your choice, come take it all. 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, all, all. 
Your choice for more poison; 
I can pretend to be what you hope to see - 
But what you need is so much more: 
Be who you are. 
What do you serve? 
You receive what you give 
and get what you deserve; 
In time, you lose what you steal - 
Sapped by illusion, dead by exhaustion, 
Self-gratified, but never satisfied. 
What do you want from me? 
Do you want my sin? 
Do you feel my meaning? 
It’s where I’ve been; 
It’s where you’ve been; 
It’s sweat all over me. 
I can be what you want to see; 
I can be big or I can be small - 
Your choice, come take it all. 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, all, all. 
What you give comes back to you - 
Take only when you give your all. 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, all, all, all. 
What you give comes back to you - 
So what do you want from me? 
If you want it all: 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, all, all. 
Come take it all, come take it all. 
What do you really need? 
If you want it all: 
Come take it all, 
Come take it all, all, all, all. 
Come take it all, come take it all… 
Words by Robert Walker