Other Writing

Picture this: You’re standing at the edge of a vast, dark abyss. The wind howls, carrying whispers of forgotten dreams and shattered hopes. That, my friends, is the playground of Existentialism. It’s not for the faint of heart, nope. It’s a philosophy that’ll grab you by the throat and force you to stare into the void until your eyes bleed.

Now, you might be thinking, “What’s the big deal? It’s just another fancy word for a bunch of eggheads to toss around at cocktail parties.” But let me tell...

Writing. It’s a bitch of a mistress, but damned if she doesn’t know how to show a guy a good time.

Robert Louis Stevenson once said he hated to write but loved having written. Well, no offense to RLS, but I’m here to tell you that’s a crock of shit. I love every hellish minute of it - the good, the bad, the ugly!

Let’s get one thing straight: writing isn’t just some fancy way to get your thoughts out there. It’s a friggin art form, as old as cave paintings and twice as messy. Sure, you could...

Diving headfirst into the wild and wondrous world of creativity, the way it bubbles up from the depths of the human psyche like a geyser of pure inspiration, hot and steaming and ready to burst forth onto the page or canvas or wherever it damn well pleases. It’s a crazy thing, creativity, a force that grabs you by the collar and shakes you awake in the middle of the night, demanding to be heard, to be seen, to be felt and experienced in all its raw, unfiltered glory.

You see, creativity ain’t...