Author: admin

“When I bite down on this mouthpiece, ohhhh boy, I make nails look soft.” – Dan Hooker
​

I was just listening to an interview with UFC Lightweight and full-time BMF Dan Hooker.

​
It went something like this…

​
Dan: “At first, all I wanted from fighting was money. Now all I want is a world championship.”

​
Interviewer: “What made you want a world championship more than you want money?”

​
Dan: “I made money.”

​
Dan’s point:

​
​The easiest way to transcend a lower motivation is not to deny it exists, but to satisfy it.

​
True; money, status and pleasure are only level one.

​
But the way to level two is through level one, and for most of us, it’s the only way.

​
So my (uncommon) advice is this:

​
If you want to get rich, get rich.

​
If you want to hook up, hook up (responsibly, honestly, unapologetically).

​
If you want to chase pleasure and status and shiny sh*t, get running.

​
​Play level one full-tilt.

​
But while you do, keep an eye out for level two.

​
And, when level one gets old…

​
…Don’t get sad, depressed, or existential.

​
Get excited.

​
The game is about to get even better.

​

• T

​
​P.S. The obvious disclaimer:

​
Don’t lie, cheat, or steal. Try not to hurt anyone, including yourself. Stay in school. Wear protection. Don’t do drugs unless you absolutely, positively want to. Common sense not sold separately.

​
And, whatever you do, don’t do anything until you’ve watched this video.

​

​
​
​

​Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 5-420 Erb St. W, Suite 433, Waterloo, ON N2L6K6

Picture this…

You’re lying in bed, chest tight like you’re being crushed by a metric ton of unread notifications, skin doing that weird clammy-not-clammy thing like you’ve just mainlined eight espressos and fat line of regret. Your phone’s throwing numbers at you faster than an accountant having a mental breakdown…

Likes. Comments. Shares. Retweets. Hearts. Stars. Little thumbs-up symbols that mean absolutely fucking nothing but somehow mean EVERYTHING. (Damn subtext-emoji-whatevers)

We’ve become social media slot machine addicts, pulling the content lever over and over, hoping for that sweet hit of validation. It’s like running through sewers barefoot while checking your Instagram analytics. Painful, pointless, and probably giving you diseases science hasn’t named yet.

And as much as I love the allure of social media platforms. My main game for 2025 is to get people into my own little world.

Which is this here list you’re on and/or the group I run on Facebook

I’ve always been an email guy though and that’s why I try and convert everyone with a creative bone to my wicked writer-ly ways…

Why?

Email is honest. No algorithms playing emotional puppet master, no fake engagement from bot farms and no squirrels monitoring my social media activity (okay, maybe some squirrels)

Email is intimate. Just me, you, and whatever latte inspired anarchy I’m spewing that day. There’s no performance arts for the algorithm gods and no desperate attempts to game the system.

Most importantly. Email is mine.

No platform can take it away, no terms of service changes can nuke my audience cause I back it up often (I learnt that the hard way) and no A.I. overlord is deciding who sees what.

So here I am, showing up in your inbox daily like a pal and because quality beats quantity like coffee beats sleep.

Stephen Walker

P.S. Yes, I wrote this without pants while ignoring all my social media notifications and incoming message pings.

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

“Why did she have to happen? Just when I was doing so good without her.” – Hunter S. Thompson
​

A Path member recently asked:

​

“How do I deal with feeling infatuated with a girl I just met? I want to play it cool but I can’t shake this strong feeling of infatuation that wants to be expressed.”

​
(anybody relate?)

​
Here’s what I replied:
​

​
​Notice the feeling but do not express it.

​
You just met her, which means she has not earned your infatuation yet.

​
And expressing a feeling she hasn’t earned signals a lack of standards, which will send her running for the hills.

​
Of course, you can and should express interest, but only in a light-hearted, low-stakes way.

​

Your energy should say:
​
“I don’t know you very well but it feels like there might be something here and it would be cool to find out.”
​
Not:
​
“Ohmg you’re amazzzing I remember you from a past life. Can I wear your skin as a coat?”
​
Because:

​
​Infatuation is not love, it is an attachment pattern.

​
And the part of you that is infatuated is the part of you that will get in the way of your ability to love skillfully.

​
So, when you feel infatuation arise:

​
Notice the feeling.

​
Notice what that feeling wants you to say or do.

​
​Then, don’t do it.

​
Instead, keep your interactions relaxed, fun and light.

​
As you observe your infatuation without allowing it to drive your behaviour, it will begin to transform into a healthier, more mature pattern.

​
And that healthy, mature pattern will set the stage for a healthy, mature relationship.

​

​

That’s what I said in our Path community.

​

But here are a few more quick, tactical ideas that are coming to mind as I write this:
​

1. When strong feelings arise, relax your body.
   ​
   A relaxed body creates a relaxed mind which creates relaxed interactions.
   ​
2. Talk to more people.
   ​
   The more options you have, the less power any one option has over you.

​

Yes, commit to one person when the relationship becomes exclusive, or you both develop real feelings for each other — but not before.

​

3. Get clear on what you’re actually looking for in a partner.

​

Then, treat your early interactions as a testing ground to see if the other person meets your criteria.

​

(while staying open to being surprised, willing to update your criteria, not dismissing people too early, etc)

​

Remember:

​

It’s a tryout, not a chase. ​
​
Hope that helps 🙂

​

• T

​
​P.S. This clip pairs perfectly with today’s email:

​
​Never Do This Early In A Relationship
​
​

​

​
​
​

​Unsubscribe | Update your profile | 5-420 Erb St. W, Suite 433, Waterloo, ON N2L6K6

Deadlines, documents and word counts have been the common theme for over a week.

The idea of going gently into 2025 was but a dream…

Although I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world (Except for unlimited Coffee + Krispy Kreme’s for life…maybe)

My editor has vanished, well not vanished but taken a well-deserved holiday for putting up with my shenanigans in 2024.

I’ve had to become a mega-hermit and block out everything and everyone, I mean. When you’ve got a mission in place. An end goal. You don’t just allow anything or anyone to get in your way from achieving it.

Yeah, you’re gonna get people who don’t understand and call you selfish. Which is cool.

Years ago I would’ve tried to be that type of people pleaser who’d want to make sure I manage their feelings on the subject.

Now. I don’t care one bit. This always-on, always-available and emotionally justifiable world we live in seems to get worse every year. Which to me is nuts.

Which gets me to the point of this email today…

Protecting your peace while working on your goals, dreams etc. You’re only alive on this spinning rock for a finite amount of time and you need to make sure you live your life on your terms.

(Woah this is getting a lot more inspirational and serious than in most of my writing…)

There’s been way too much chaos being swirled around and spat out for everyone to see and in 2025, I’m not about that life. I don’t think anyone’s gonna be about that life.

My mode has been switched to: Serious.

Things need to get done.

Squirrels need to be monitored…

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. This set has been keeping me going while I’m pounding away at the keyboard. I’ve gone from writing 20k+ words, down to editing it to less than 12k…

P.P.S. I’m about 1 cup of coffee away from transforming into a gelatinous flesh-vessel of pure caffeine.

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

Here’s a little monster of a manifesto, all jangly bones and loud squawks, just for you.

I was asked about why I write and I always meet that answer slightly differently because it’s forever evolving.

So let me tell you something true. A bit of real talk.

I do not give a rabid raccoon’s ass if you read my emails or posts or gory scribbles or sweary-word-laced stories. Seriously.

Apathy, has set up a lawn chair inside my soul and is enjoying a tall glass of I-Don’t-Give-A-Damn.

And here’s why…

I write because it’s what I do. It’s an all-consuming, devouring flame that would fry me from the inside out if I didn’t push these words through my fingertips like demonic confetti. Love it, hate it, read it, ignore it. Whatever.

But don’t mistake me. You are all voyeurs…

Peeping through my digital curtains, rummaging around for the hot stuff. And I see you. I see your eyeballs lurking in the internet shadows, waiting to pounce when something hits that sweet spot. (We can call it a “viral moment,” but it’s really just some weird stellar asteroid thingy lining up like some vampire goose cackle to say, “Hey, read this, or else!”)

And that’s when you’ll show up, face in the light, making yourself known. Maybe you’ll tweet me. Maybe you’ll show up in my DMs, or buy me a coffee. Maybe you’ll just give me this Internet-tap on the shoulder: “Hey, friend, read your thing. Took some action.” And that’s cool like a chilled margarita, but it’s also not the goal. The goal is the writing. That intangible bliss of words frothing over like a cappuccino machine gone haywire.

(Side note: Last time I used a cappuccino machine I nearly set everything on fire. So yeah. Use that knowledge however…)

Could you read every little shred of nonsense I shovel onto a page? Sure. Do I need you to? Absolutely not. But if you do, you do. My heart grows three sizes, Grinch-style. If you don’t, I’ll keep tapping away anyway because that’s the thing about being a writer of words. You do it because you can’t not do it. No different than a cat hacking up hairballs. It’s gonna happen no matter who’s watching.

So read, don’t read, peep like a creeper or share it with your mother-in-law. I’m not bothered either way. Because I’m over here, feeling the itch in my fingers, collecting stray syllables and weird phrases from the wind, spinning them into something, anything and that’s the real payoff. The words are the spark. The rest? Just icing on the weird, wonderful, writerly cake.

Cheers for sticking around so far.

Stephen Walker
https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I wrote this on the apple notes app and you know what, it’s not that bad, except I did drop the phone on my face a few times. So I guess it’s time to get out of bed, grab a coffee and do some more of that writer-ly stuff.

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

England. November 2012. The kind of day where the sky pisses misery and the clouds look like they’re having an existential crisis. Because of course it is. Because England.

I’m feeling fine. Absolutely fine. This is important because spoiler alert…

I was absolutely not fine. My body was basically running a silent self-destruct sequence while my brain was all “THIS IS FINE” like that meme with the dog in the burning house.

So I waltz into work, right?

Coffee in hand, ready to corporate the shit out of my day.

And everyone.

EVERYONE

Looks at me like I’m wearing a banana costume.

Turns out, I basically was.

My skin had gone full-on YELLOW.

Not “oh you look a bit peaked” yellow. We’re talking “holy shit you’re cosplaying as Springfield’s finest” yellow.

I still felt fine though…

(Narrator: They were not, in fact, fine.)

Next thing I know, I’m in the hospital, getting turned into a human pin cushion. They’re shoving needles in my arms like they’re trying to recreate a connect-the-dots puzzle with bruises. By the end, I looked like I’d gone twelve rounds with an angry octopus wielding ink needles.

The IV drip becomes my new best friend.

My arms look like a roadmap of bad decisions, but hey, at least I’m not doing my best impression of a banana anymore.

48 hours and approximately 47 gallons of blood samples later, the doc drops the bomb…

Epstein-Barr Virus.

Because apparently my immune system decided to take a vacation without telling the rest of me.

How did I catch it? Who knows? The universe sometimes just decides to play Russian roulette with your organs for shits and giggles.

But here’s the real mind-fuck that settled in.

There’s nothing quite like almost dying to make you realise how much of your daily stress is complete horseshit.

Nothing like a near-death experience to make you go “Huh, maybe that passive-aggressive email from Karen in accounting isn’t actually the end of the world.”

But a simple life lesson: If your co-workers at the time tell you you’re yellow, maybe don’t argue.

Maybe just… you know… Go to the hospital!

And it got me thinking…

We’re all just temporary meat-puppets piloting bone-mechs covered in flesh-armor, and our time here is shorter than a hamster’s attention span.

So what the HELL are you waiting for?

That story you’ve been sitting on? WRITE IT.
That art you’ve been dreaming of? MAKE IT.
That idea that keeps you up at 3 AM? BUILD IT.

Death doesn’t give a tap-dancing fuck about your excuses. It doesn’t care that you’re “not ready” or that “the timing isn’t right” or that “maybe next year will be better.”

Every breath is borrowed time. And you know what? That’s not scary. That’s beautiful. That’s motivation wrapped in a mortality bow.

I didn’t get yellow as a banana and nearly kick the bucket just to come back and scroll through social media until my eyes gushed blood. Neither did you survive whatever chaos tornado sucked you in and spit you out to just exist like a houseplant.

CREATE.
MAKE.
DO.

Cause we should all know that the he only thing worse than death is reaching it with our songs still unsung, our stories still untold, and our art still locked in the prison of our mind.

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I’m locking myself inside of my murder shed and going to town on my writing. Deadlines need to be hit and that word count ain’t gonna write itself.

P.P.S It’s been cold here and the squirrels have lost interest.

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom

Sometimes we need to deep-dive into the art of documenting our murderous impulses…

We all have bad days.

And this is purely for a creative point of view and a little exercise that’ll unstuck your brain meats.

So grab a coffee, pen, piece of paper or even your nearest word processor and inside your own rage-tinted reality, go to war with your imagination.

Let that rage-fury-flag-fly.

For 20 minutes write about every justified grievance from your point of view:

Each eye twitch and blood vessel pop

All the reasons you’re the hero of this story

That thing they said about your mom in 7th grade

Don’t hold back. This is your villain origin story. Make it SING with righteous anger. Let your keyboard or notepad catch fire with the intensity of your completely rational desire to introduce their face to your fist.

Once your time is up take a little break and the sit down again.

This time around. Another 20 minutes, but this time…

You’re walking in the devils shoes.

You’re the other person who felt the wrath of 20 minutes ago you. You’re wiping yourself off from the floor. Bloody and bruised.

Now it’s time to tell your version.

What unholy logic drove their actions?

What broken brain chemistry made them think that was okay?

How does it feel to be so catastrophically wrong about everything?

Once that’s done and the dust has settled.

A final 5 minutes is needed.

It’s the sobering truth.

It’s the 3rd wheel. The final POV.

And here’s where it gets real.

Strip away the drama, the coffee jitters, and the murder fantasies. What actually happened?

Were you both assholes?

Was anyone actually right?

What came out of it?

Why does this work so well?

Catharsis through creative violence

Perspective-shifting is a great tool

Truth-finding through exhaustion

When you take an idea and split it into 3 points of view while telling the same story. It opens up a whole different world for when you need to do some serious writing and analysing.

Sometimes you’re the hero, sometimes you’re the villain, and sometimes you’re just an asshole having a bad day and everyone was just sitting back, watching…

Stephen Walker

https://stphnwlkr.com/theleague

P.S. I haven’t lost my mind. This is just a fun exercise.
P.P.S. It’s Friday and this was written without pants.

Writing about wanting to punch someone is always better than actually punching them. Usually. Terms and conditions apply. Results may vary. Consult your lawyer before proceeding.

(Side effects may include: reduced rage, increased empathy, and a concerning addiction to perspective exercises.)

If you’re not diggin’ these tasty little emails anymore you can hit the unsubscribe button right here >>> unsubscribe

Stephen Walker
Unit 146317
PO Box 7169
Poole
BH15 9EL
United Kingdom