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I was going to write an email about how entrepreneurship is just cleverly disguised personal development.

But when I sat down to write it. My brain decided nope. I don’t want you writing smart stuff right now.

I want you to talk about the cat that nearly followed you home this morning.

So this is the email…

I needed coffee. I ran out of milk. I had to engage in Mortal Kombat with Martha to get the best AND freshest of milk for my coffee.

Unfortunately. Martha won.

However. I was the true winner of the morning, cause as I was walking home…

This absolute menace of a cat decide it wanted attention and well. I just had to oblige. Pets and scritches were on the menu and as much as I would’ve happily stolen the kitty away. I chose not to obviously.

Then I also realised that no matter how caught up we get in our lives. Our animal counterparts are there to remind us to just take a little time to stop and enjoy whatever it is that you’re doing.

We’re too damn busy rushing around and honestly, who wants rush themselves into an early grave?

I also get that we use our constant busy-ness-ness as a coping mechanism. I mean I do it too.. (You’re not alone)

But every now and then. Just stop. Take a deep breath. Have a good coffee and if the opportunity is there to pet kitties… Well. Do that too.

Now it’s time to soak myself in a bath filled with epsom salts and think about that smart email for tomorrow.

Stephen Walker.

P.S. LOOK AT THAT KITTY

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

You wake up one Monday. Which is today…

Because time is a flat circle and you’re trapped in it.

You feel like Sisyphus with a French press.

There’s a meme making the rounds again. Something about how if you just stop buying coffee out, you’ll retire by thirty five. Maybe thirty six if you’re a slow learner.

The math is suspect.

The hope is infectious.

You stare into the existential abyss of your kitchen sink, which is to say: a chipped mug, a lone spoon, the ghost of last night’s dreams.

No barista in sight. No artfully poured milk foam.

A sad, blank canvas.

You went out to buy a bag of coffee. Not the artisanal stuff, but the kind that comes in a brick, vacuum sealed like a sci fi body bag. You open it and inhale. Regret and hope.

It’s just you and the beans (store brand, because “single origin” is for people who don’t have spreadsheets tracking their emotional debt)

But you’re gonna get fancy now. You’re gonna mash an avocado. No, not with a rustic pestle, but with the back of a fork you found under the couch. Extra crunch comes from mystery crumbs.

Next up. Toast. Ignore the fact that it’s two days past the sell by. Mould is penicillin for the soul, right?

A yuppie snack from home.

But what’s next?

So you calculate your savings…

And at this current period in time you’re practically Warren Buffett.

The final step…

Cackle. Loudly. The neighbours will worry, but that’s fine. You’re retired now. You have time for that.

You imagine a future.

One where you’re lounging on a beach, sipping home brewed joe from a mason jar, the sun bouncing off your SPF 70 slathered nose. You’ve hacked the code. You’ve won.

Except.

The money you save? It’s less “nest egg” and more “slightly larger pile of lint in your bank app.”

The avocado toast? It’s a metaphor for the what the world would call “The American Dream”

Which is green, slippery, likely to turn brown before you’re done…

Your soul? Slowly transforming into a brunch ghost, haunting your own kitchen, muttering about “mouthfeel” and “umami” like a Food Network reject.

And just for fun. Let’s throw in a little horror, shall we? Last night, you dreamt your hand turned to toast. Crusty, brittle, oozing green. You tried to scream, but only crumbs came out. (Don’t worry, Freud would’ve had a field day)

But this wouldn’t be one of my regular ol’ emails without slapping in some advice of the writers variety now wouldn’t it?

Retirement is a mirage.

DIY coffee is a coping mechanism.

Avocado, like hope, browns quickly.

The only thing you’re retiring from is the illusion of control.

You eat your toast. You sip your coffee. You stare at the spreadsheet.

You keep writing. You keep making art. You try your best to make people smile, laugh, cry or at least get off the couch with a bit of motivation. Cause as the years pass. You realise that the things you enjoy will keep you sane.

Memes floating around telling you to quit eating avocado on toast and drinking expensive coffees out can get bent…

I had my fancy coffee.

I had my avocado on toast AND I also got all the words done for the day.

Why? Cause I needed it.

Stephen Walker

P.S. It’s taking a lot longer than I thought to get this old school forum and community built. There are so many little buttons and tweaks and permissions to hammer down. Just so that people can’t come in and ruin shit from the get go.

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

Sometimes we need to sit down and have a proper moan.

Life is frustrating a lot of the times. Especially when things go wrong.

And as much as it’s good to think positively and be optimistic about things. We can’t ignore the negative and dark side of the emotions we feel. After all…

We’re governed by how we feel. Now usually the pendulum should swing in equal measures but always end up more on the positive side.

Lately though it’s getting stuck on the negative side a little more. I mean if you jump onto social media or turn on the T.V. or even pick up that old paper thing called a newspaper. It feels like every form of negativity gets shoved right into our eyeballs.

I mean we all know that negativity is a quick way to garner attention and that’s not the good kind.

So today I’m just going to slip in a little reminder that everything we do. Whether good or bad, positive or negative is a form of energy exchange.

Whether we want to land a new job. Pitch and win a new client. Sell our warez, make more money, Inspire someone or even become a leader to the ones who might want to do what you do. Energy has to be exchanged in equal measures.

And so like I said. Sometimes we need to moan and have a rant and set things on fire. Let that rage fuelled negative fuel us, but when the fire burns out and the ash settles. We need to start changing the type of energy we put out into the world.

The quickest and easiest way to do it (While sounding a little woo woo) is to write down what you’re grateful for and to write down your goals, wants and desires as if you already have them. Present tense baby.

It works like magic. When you start to feel the pull of negativity. Doing this can help flip you out of that mode.

But importantly, you need to balance it all. Feel the feelings even when they’re negative. Acknowledge them and then flip the switch. Exchange that energy and you’ll be good to rock and roll.

With that all said. I’m going into Mortal Kombat with the old school forum software I was talking about.

Gotta put some positive energy into that for the rest of the day.

Stephen Walker.

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

That’s the email…

Okay okay. Not quite…

So. You want to know about the Silly Goose Philosophy?

Keep reading.

Now before we get started you need to know something about Geese. They’re assholes.

Pure, unfiltered, honking chaos machines that’ll chase you across a parking lot for looking at them sideways.

But they’re also brilliant at what they do. They fly in perfect V formations across continents. They mate for life. They protect their own with the fury of a thousand suns.

That’s you, artist. That’s your path.

The Silly Goose Philosophy goes a little something like this:

You know what you love?

That weird ass thing that makes your brain light up like a Christmas tree soaked in gasoline? Make that. Make it with your whole chest. Don’t whisper your art into existence.

HONK it.

Scream it.

Let it rip across the creative landscape like a goose protecting its nest.

Authenticity is magnetic. People smell fake from miles away. But when you’re genuinely, unapologetically yourself? When you’re making the art that sets your soul on fire? That’s when your flock finds you.

Geese are also absolute menaces.

Geese don’t apologise for taking up space and neither should you.

Your art should be a little dangerous. A little uncomfortable. It should make people stop scrolling and go “what the fuck?”

It should lodge itself in their brain like a splinter they can’t stop touching.

It should also be beautiful. Not pretty. Beautiful. There’s a difference. Pretty is safe. Beautiful has teeth.

(Have you see goose teeth???)

You want a cult following? (Not the Kool Aid kind. The good kind) Then you need to understand something…

Communities form around shared obsessions. Around people brave enough to love something so hard it becomes contagious. But the thing with this is. Your job isn’t to please everyone. Your job is to be so passionate about your specific brand of weirdness that other weirdos can’t help but gather around you like moths to a flame.

It’s as serious as a heart attack (When it counts)

Here’s where the philosophy gets its teeth.

Silly doesn’t mean stupid. Fun doesn’t mean frivolous.

A goose will honk and waddle and be a general pain in the ass 99% of the time. But threaten its goslings? That bird becomes a feathered missile of pure protective rage.

Your art needs that same duality. Have fun. Be weird. Make people laugh. But when it’s time to say something real when the work demands depth and truth and raw fucking honesty. You better bring it. You better mean it with every fibre of your being.

The most beautiful thing about the Silly Goose Philosophy? The flock that forms around you might be passed off as just another audience, when it’s truly a community of fellow geese. People who get it. Who understand that life is too short for boring art and safe choices.

They’ll honk along with you. They’ll defend your work when the critics come calling. They’ll spread your weird gospel to other potential geese who just haven’t found their flock yet.

But you have to earn it. You earn it by showing up consistently.

Being vulnerable in your work.

Engaging authentically (no bot bullshit)

Supporting other artists in your flock.

Never, ever compromising your core weirdness for mainstream appeal.

The Silly Goose Philosophy is about understanding that you can be both a lovable chaos agent AND a serious artist. You can make people laugh and make them think. You can build a community around joy and depth, silliness and substance.

Most importantly? You can be yourself. Your full, unfiltered, honking, flapping, magnificent self and find your people along the way.

So whether you’re a visual artist, writer, make music, sell a product or a service or even a voyeur still trying to figure shit out. This will be for you.

But it’s going to be weird. Good weird.

I’m not going to get you to download yet another app like Circle or Skool or squish yourself into the many abandoned Facebook Groups. We’re going real old school.

We’re going back to 2000s era forums. Super not so sexy silliness.

But why you might ask?

People still want some sort of anonymity. Forums let you have that. You can create a wild username and participate in your own way. You can stalk and watch and be that voyeur if you want. Or you can join in and become a chaos agent too. On top of that. 100s of groups on FB have vanished the last few days.

They seem to be cracking down and forcing people to do what they want which is not cool.

I’ve also chosen to do it this way because those were the early days of true community. Where online discussions mattered and friends for life stuck around.

We’re so damn distracted by every app going. I can’t remember the last time I sat down at the computer and logged into a forum and got lost for hours having genuine chats or interactions on topics that interested me and the others there too.

There’s way too much noise out there and not enough signal and as we’re getting bombarded with A.I. bullshit and fakery. Being able to talk freely about what matters is important without some stupid algorithm limiting your reach.

Who knows though. Maybe I’m having some grandiose idea and people will look at me as if I’m crazy.

But between email and forums. Structured long form content will win any day of the week. I don’t care much for the copy paste prompt world we’re slowly being forced into.

Now if you excuse me. I have to slip into something a little more comfy and get cracking on this forum.

Stephen Walker

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

If you know anything about England.

You’ll know that we don’t have the luxury of walk in showers.

That being said. The bath that doubles as a shower is always good fun until it’s not.

Now most adults (definitely not me lol) would have one of those grippy mat things to stop you from slipping, followed by demolishing your skull against whatever hard object might get in the way.

I don’t like those grippy mat things because they’re fucking gross. I won’t go into details but all you need to know is they are disgusting. They’re horrifying petri dishes of doom that collect enough DNA samples to clone a small village. No thanks.

The again. Some of us (definitely NOT me again…) live life on the edge. I’ll surf that porcelain wave like a death defying idiot, one foot placement away from becoming a tale at the next family gathering or whatever…

(Luckily the majority of my family either hate me and/or don’t speak to each other so that’s not a big worry)

But with this near death slip hitting me.

It got me thinking.

Just like showing up to that soul crushing job or facing that google doc that’s mocking you from your desktop.

You’ve got to get clean. Every. Damn. Day.

Now I’ve made a promise not to talk about the stuff that girls who follow astrology talk about but… (Cause they’ve gotten me into trouble before)

The universe doesn’t care if your bathroom is trying to murder you.

The day doesn’t stop because you’re performing a one person circus act between the shower curtain and certain doom.

You show up, you do the dance, you try not to die. Sometimes that’s all life is. Just showing up and trying not to crack your skull open on the toilet and die.

Pretty morbid for a Friday night right?

Maybe life is just one big slippery bathtub?

Who knows? I certainly don’t.

Between me watching horror movies and watching people get murdered by a mother fuelled by revenge (cause her son drowned)

To me nearly existing this mortal plain because of my lack of grippy mat in the shower…

I really honestly don’t know what to make of the world sometimes.

Yeah life can be a bitch, but we just need to show up before we exit stage left.

It’s fun. It’s worth living and if we can tell silly tales (like this one) I’m sure people will at least remember you being entertaining and memorable.

We have to shower every day. We have to show up every day. Might as well stay consistent about it eh?

Stephen Walker

P.S. I’m cooking up something which is old school for all of us nerds to hang out in. Facebook just sucks a bag of dicks and I really don’t like the platform at all. I want that old nostalgia baby. Where we can rise up with our pitchforks and talk about things we are passionate about, while still having an anonymous presence.

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

Let me tell you about the time I watched a room full of marketing dickweasels discover that fear sells better than sex.

It involves summer camp murder and a metric fuckton of coffee because I got stuck travelling down to London and we stopped at Wolverhampton for an hour. Good old fashioned British transport lol.

Anyways.

So there I am, right? (Once we got to where this talk was)

Slouched in my chair like a half melted action figure, watching these “content strategists” circle jerk their way through another presentation about “engaging storytelling frameworks” and “authentic audience connection.”

The kind of shit that HR would smash into your face if you were stuck in a cubicle gargling on the balls of corporate whatever.

Because the universe has a sick sense of humour after I mainlined 3 espressos…

I had this moment of clarity.

“how do you grab someone by the eyeballs and make their brain beg for more?”

The answer was 200%…watch Friday the 13th.

The original. Not the remakes. Not the sequels. The 1980 masterpiece of murderous simplicity.

Here’s why…

The Hook: Two teenagers decide to play hide the salami. They die. That’s it. That’s the hook. No backstory about camp history. No character development. Just hormones and homicide.

(Your LinkedIn post about “disrupting the paradigm” is looking pretty flaccid now, isn’t it?)

The Questions:

Every good story is a meat grinder for your brain. It keeps churning out questions faster than answers. Who’s killing these kids? Why? What’s wrong with this place? Will anyone survive? What happened to the parents?

The Momentum:

Ever see a car accident? You’re trapped in this beautiful death spiral of “oh shit, oh shit, OH SHIT.”

And here’s the thing that’ll really bake your noodle…

The movie doesn’t give a single solitary fuck about your expectations. It’s not trying to be your friend. It’s not trying to teach you valuable life lessons about summer camp safety.

It just wants to drag you into the woods and murder your attention span.

There’s no elaborate setup, no justification for existing, no apologies for the violence. Just pure, uncut story mainlined into your eyeholes.

You know what modern content creators do?

They write fucking manifestos explaining why you should care. They craft “value propositions” and “content hierarchies” and other terms that make me want to gargle bleach.

But Mr. Voorhees? He just shows up and starts solving problems with sharp objects.

(There’s a marketing lesson in there somewhere, but I’m too caffeinated to find it)

This movie was made for what amounts to pocket lint and promises. They had about twelve dollars and a dream. But they understood something fundamental about human nature

So when you sit down and write again;

Don’t explain.

Don’t apologise.

Don’t waste time setting up your story’s LinkedIn profile.

Just grab your audience by the throat and don’t let go until they’re either dead or subscribed to your newsletter.

(Metaphorically. Please don’t actually strangle your audience. That’s what lawyers call “evidence.”)

And for fuck’s sake, stay away from summer camps. Nothing good ever happens at summer camps.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go write some horror stories about content marketing. Because after sitting through those meetings, I’ve got plenty of material.

(The real monster was ROI metrics all along, duh)

Stephen Walker

https://www.facebook.com/stphnwlkr

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