I haven't been writing for submissions lately. At the moment i write with the hopes of collecting enough prose for a book. I write a little every week, nothing substantial or worth recollecting as it were. Merely little spouts of blood and vomit between lunch and work. The sort of prose that i dwell upon takes time and lamenting in the fruit bowl with rotting apples and bodies of fruit flies. There are many things that i want to do in life. As i have reached and surpassed my literary goal this year which, was to publish at least one piece ( i managed as many as four)-- i have allowed myself to shift my attentions to something else that is close to my heart. 

Here is a snap shot of my current work in progress. I'm excited about it. Sick with self doubt and your conventional self deprecating humour to boot. I don't know why it has taken me so long. For years i have travelled and simply pointed my cameras at whatever i felt i wanted to remember the day before i died. Finally i have pulled the rod from my arse and decided it was time. 

Yesterday i booked my first filmmaking job, and it really goes to show that you can - as along as you want and you try. 

Stay safe out there in the all too cruel world my friends. Do good things and make yourself happy. ?