Moving Forwards


Suggested Audio Candy:


John CarpenterĀ “Escape From New York”



I’m sure you’re aware that sharks aren’t able to move backwards. It’s one of life’s cruel little ironies, a whole ocean to peruse at one’s leisure and yet there’s no popping back to the reef to pick up your smokes or, at least, no direct route. I’ve never really considered myself as sharing much common ground with these underwater predators but, in one respect at least, we’re practically bosom buddies. You see, I have absolutely no intention of back-peddling either. Progression beats regression hands down in my book, it is how I challenge myself to learn and not become set in my ways. I’m never comfortable; in many ways I’m the one kid in class with pants full of ants, writhing around on my perch searching for a less awkward position. Every single piece of literature that births from my cranium is a shuffle forward and looking behind never enters my mind.


It helps being so passionate about my work; each blank canvas is pre-loaded with opportunity. The chance to move forward, to challenge myself, push harder, give more. I read a comment the other day which truly resonated. It spoke of my generosity, of the manner in which I exert myself into each word scribed and the heart and soul which seeps through every line of text that flows from my quill. This is all the validation I require to know that my choice is an astute one; I have no intention of staying put as life moves forwards, never in reverse gear. Unless you’ve got a DeLorean, too much time on your hands and an almanac that needs returning. It’s true you see; any tears, be they of pleasure or pain, any blood, every droplet of sweat, it’s all here. This has become my outlet and a vital component of moving forward.


Every day is a fresh chance to learn, to soak a little more information into those glorious cerebellums we each have at our disposal. Take today for example; today I became a little closer to mother nature, dolphins to be precise, thanks to a truly gifted poet and dear friend who understands the process exquisitely. Whilst it is unlikely that I shall go out and endorse Free Willy 4: Flippers of Freedom anytime soon, I’m thankful for the Intel. It heads off to processing, there said Intel undertakes rigorous examination and gets stored in the archives. Any new-found knowledge may not be put to use for many years, if ever, but it’s still there. When it comes to writing a fresh piece I access any number of these hidden caches and, as a result, have pulled out many faintly ridiculous facts or tidbits from times passed.


I don’t understand my brain. It seems to have a mind all of its own and I’m just the poor chump doing all the legwork while it sits in its bracket pouring forth all manner of pointless data and supping on club soda. It’s such a fascinating piece of kit but is nothing without its partner in crime. The heart has the somewhat ominous task of keeping the ship sailing. Should either brain or heart cease to persist then we drop anchor for the final time, no questions asked or land ahoy. You have to keep the lines of communication between the two open at all times and, when you do, you’re able to sit back and watch the sparks fly. I love my work, it has helped me make sense of the most nonsensical and forged my path forward. I embrace the union of these two fundamental key players and trust that they will find a way through any of life’s grey areas.


Looking behind can be painful, it has passed and not always in the way you had hoped or dreamed. When I enter into this backward pilgrimage I do so with rose-tinted spectacles and never searching for a reason to lessen my belief or purpose. This is everything, writing is my chance to be true, real, clear and sincere. In the whole time I have been a scribe I haven’t told so much as a white lie. What good would that achieve? Words are something to stand by, not hide behind. I stand by mine unerringly. Words can be misinterpreted, meanings misunderstood, but I’m always clear about their true meaning. It took a long time for me to find the courage of my convictions and, like the shark, I will never move backwards. The future isn’t written until it says so, we have these pockets of opportunity scattered all around to write our next chapter and they are so precious and deserving of our full attention.


My life is about to undergo a transition of sorts. My honesty and integrity has gifted me the opportunity to become involved with a project which, I make no secret, has fueled the fire in my mind ever since that first fateful introduction. I can tell y’all that Keeper shall be on your screens in the near future and, more critically, will have played a part in assembling the Trojan horse that is The Orphan Killer: Bound X Blood. It is such an honor, I have worn my heart as a crimson cuff-link unswervingly and it has been duly noted by two artists with the same drive to create something of beauty. My head is in the most wonderful spin and it is still sinking in if I’m honest, which I invariably am. I’m moving forward into the beautiful unknown with one piece of knowledge at my disposal. My blood, sweat, tears, semen, will be on exhibit without exception, that much I know. When I fly to Los Angeles next week the plane will be moving forwards and I certainly won’t be bucking the trend.


Each of us have a different way of expressing ourselves and we use this however we see fit. I’m reaching through the screen when I write, if I had my way, I’d be sat next to y’all reading it in person. This is why audio plays such a pivotal role in my work, it’s my way of eliciting a response. John Carpenter’s Halloween was test screened before its release to an underwhelmed audience. The very same critics almost shit a kidney stone when the audio was later overlayed and ended up sharing a rather humbling piece of pie for their vilification. Audio offers me another stepping stone to reach you from my distant vantage, to apply a whole new level of irony to what you read. Take this piece of audio for example, it’s my most cherished soundtrack composition and makes my nostrils flare with every synthesized key. This is Keeper at his most open, my clown shoes are safely tucked under the bed and I have no intention of scaring anyone witless either. I just wish to resonate.


The path before us is not always clear. On occasion it can appear convoluted, fraught with peril and downright terrifying. Without wishing to go all Sinatra, that’s life. I have had some pretty gargantuan decisions to make the past twelve months and none have been more pivotal than whether or not to move forward, remain in the present or recess into the past. I’ll take this pilgrimage and do so freely, regardless of obstacles, intrusions or conclusions. Right now I offer one thing and that is my hand. Worry not, I wash it regularly and, despite any humidity in the air, any groin readjustments have been performed with my other hand. Please take it, it’s safety in numbers you see. Together we can overcome adversity, achieve so much more, travel at a brisker pace. No more looking back, we’ve all been there and done that. Tomorrow morning when I wake I shall be greeted by the same blank canvas that introduces itself any other day. What a magnificent thought to wake to.


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