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We’ve all been there…

Brain turned to lukewarm, lumpy potato slop, thoughts dribbling through your mental colander like sad, watery starch.

You’re staring at a blank page that’s staring back with all the silent judgment of a disappointed parent.

The cursor blinks. And blinks. And blinks.

And you? You got nothing.

The brain tank is empty.

That well of creativity doesn’t exist anymore. Well for today at least.

We always talk about muse around these parts and how it’s not true.

But in this case. Your muse? She’s in Tahiti with your ex and they’re laughing at you.

Now usually this is the part where you’ll drown your sorrows in strong coffee or any of your favourite alcoholic beverages of choice…

(Kavalan Ex Sherry Oak Single Malt Whisky anyone?)

But the brain isn’t broken. It’s just temporarily stuck in potato state.

When this happens to me, and sweet crispy Christ, it happens a lot.

I don’t try to force anything from the mashed potato. It’s kind of like trying to squeeze blood from a turnip or whatever the saying is and now you’ve just got turnip mush all over your hands and that’s worse.

But I’ve got this unholy trinity of brain-de-potatoization that works pretty well:

GET WEIRD INPUT: Read something so far outside your comfort zone it makes you itchy. Taxidermy manuals. Medieval cookbooks. Technical documents about sewer systems. The stranger, the better. Your brain needs to be ambushed by weirdness.

NOTICE THE FUCKED UP DETAILS: That weird stain on your ceiling? The way your neighbour always walks their dog at precisely 4:17 PM? The inexplicable noises your refrigerator makes at 2 AM? PAY ATTENTION.

RAID YOUR PAST SELF: Dig through your old notes. Your past self might have had better ideas than potato-you. Steal from that smarter version of yourself shamelessly…

And if you’re like me who likes truth that is wrapped in bacon and deep fried?

Originality is mostly bullshit. Everything’s been done. What makes your work yours is the unique clusterfuck of influences you’ve absorbed and how your particular brain vomits them back out onto the page.

There’s no need to wait around for the perfect idea to descend from the heavens like some divine turd of inspiration. Feed your brain weird shit. Notice weird shit. Remember weird shit you already thought of.

Then write. Even if it’s garbage. Especially if it’s garbage.

Garbage can be composted. Mashed potatoes just congeal.

And now we go write some more, damn it.

Here’s what you can read to level up your weird when your brain isn’t doing the thing…

Stephen Walker

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

I’ve been on a Hemingway kick again and so I thought I’d write a little prose the way he would’ve…

I think I nailed it but hey, it’s the message that counts.

On Sensitivity

Don’t apologise for being sensitive. It’s not weakness. It’s strength.

A leopard never apologises for sharp hearing, night vision, or keen smell. It uses these gifts to survive.

Leopards weigh less than men but drag prey three times their size up trees. They can reach forty miles per hour from a standstill. They stalk. They outsmart.

Your sensitivity is like this.

The world lies. It says sensitivity makes you emotional, manipulated, broken, burdensome. Not true.

Your sensitivity is night vision in a world of the blind. You notice tone shifts. Family tensions. Beauty others miss.

It’s not just for enduring. It’s for using. While others play checkers, you see the whole chess board. You detect lies. You read rooms instantly.

Don’t hide it. Don’t numb it. Sharpen it.

Sensitivity is dangerous as a black widow in a glove. Dangerous as a knife in darkness. Dangerous as a watching leopard.

It makes you a better friend, lover, artist, human.

When someone calls you “too sensitive,” don’t smile politely. Smile like a leopard before it rips your face off.

Your sensitivity isn’t your burden. It’s your weapon.

Use it.

Stephen Walker

This collection of Hemingway shorts are my favourite and you can learn a lot about writing tight copy and prose if you go through it.

P.S. The most dangerous people I know are the ones who feel everything and have learned not to apologise for it.

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

So I’m sitting here in my Vader socks (the ones with the little capes on the back) and my ancient Empire Strikes Back t-shirt that’s barely holding together, thinking about what Star Wars has meant to me over the years.

Not just the movies. The whole damn universe, the fandom, the arguments about whether Han shot first (he did), and that weird period where we all pretended the prequels didn’t exist before eventually embracing them like the problematic family members they are.

(Just kidding about having Vader socks and my old Empire Strikes Back t-shirt, but I needed to give you that visual. They got lost into the aether many years ago but I do still think about them and I really need to get them again)

But when it comes to this thing. Finding something to love this intensely? It’s not just for fun. It’s necessary.

We all need our Star Wars. Or our Marvel. Or stamp collecting. Or whatever weird niche thing makes your heart beat faster when you talk about it for too long at parties. The thing that makes people say “wow, you’re REALLY into that, huh?”

(Translation: please stop talking about lightsaber physics.)

Because these fandoms save us from ourselves.

Remember when I went through that apocalyptically bad breakup in 2019? Who pulled me through? Not therapy (though that helped eventually) It was the Star Wars marathon weekend at mates place where we argued about Kylo Ren’s redemption arc until 5AM. It was the Discord server where strangers became friends because we all collectively lost our minds over The Mandalorian.

Community is everything. It’s oxygen, it’s connection, it’s belonging. Even when that community is arguing about whether Rey’s character development was butchered in Rise of Skywalker (it was)

I’ve seen this pattern everywhere.

Someone falls in love with something, anything and suddenly they’re not alone anymore.

They’re part of something bigger. They have people who get their references, who speak their language.

Who understand why they cried when Luke showed up in The Mandalorian (I’m not crying, you’re crying)

So today.

This holiest of nerd holidays. I hope you’re indulging in whatever fandom lights you up. Whether it’s Star Wars or something else entirely. These passions are lifelines we need to hang onto.

I’m off to rewatch Rogue One for the 87th time and pretend I won’t sob uncontrollably at the ending.

The Force will be with you. Always.

Stephen Walker

P.S. If you tell anyone I got emotional writing this email, I’ll deny it harder than George Lucas denies the existence of the Star Wars Holiday Special.

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

I don’t very often get sucked into vidyagame

But while taking some time off. I got sucked into Days Gone and today I needed to write about it.

And if you know me, you know how I get with these post apocalyptic survival games (obsessive, slightly unhinged, definitely sleep deprived)

Starting off. The game isn’t perfect. The pacing sometimes feels like a drunk guy trying to ride a motorcycle through a horde of freakers. (Zombies for the uninitiated)

BUT…

The storytelling? The characters? That’s where this shit shines.

Deacon St. John could’ve been Generic Gruff Protagonist #457, but instead he’s this beautifully broken mess of a human who somehow makes you root for him while he’s literally setting people on fire.

His relationship with Boozer?

(And when I first heard the name I just pictured some old alcoholic dude sitting at the edge of a smoky bar)

The relationship is pure gold. It’s that ride or die friendship that doesn’t feel forced, you know?

The kind where they’d literally take a bullet (or a freaker bite) for each other.

And just cause my brain works this way. Here few lessons from a writer-ly if you like to spin a story…

1) Imperfect protagonists are your friends. Deacon’s got rage issues, trust problems, and the emotional processing skills of a constipated toddler and it works. Your characters should be messy. They should make decisions that make readers scream “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?” at the page. You can do that in your marketing too. The whole when they zig you zag or jump off a cliff. I dunno?

2) Environmental storytelling is underrated as hell. The abandoned Nero checkpoints, the hastily evacuated camps. Days Gone lets the world tell half the story. You don’t need to explain everything through dialogue when a child’s abandoned teddy bear next to an empty bottle of pills can punch your audience right in the gut.

3) Relationships are what hold apocalyptic stories together. Not the zombies. I mean, “freakers.” Not the cool bikes. It’s watching Deacon and Sarah’s love story unfold in those flashbacks. It’s Iron Mike’s stubborn pacifism against the brutal world. These connections give weight to all the throat slitting and molotov throwing. Which is also probably one of my favourite parts to this game. That and I like to watch things burn in person and in a vidya game too.

Remember how we talked about my zombie fatigue in the past? This game somehow made me care about another fucking zombie apocalypse in 2025 which is basically a storytelling miracle.

The way they handle the biker culture stuff is surprisingly nuanced too. You get this whole code, this brotherhood thing that’s simultaneously toxic and life saving.

(Side note: I would 100% die within the first 15 minutes of any apocalypse scenario, but playing this game made me briefly consider whether I should buy a motorcycle “just in case.”)

Anyways. You playing anything good lately? I need something new before I start a second playthrough and completely destroy my sleep schedule again.

Check it out over here on steam or if you’ve got one of those fancy console types I’m sure you can find it on their own store or whatever…

Stephen Walker

P.S. Now I’m about go indulge in a fancy IPA and watch that new MobLand series on Paramount+

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

“To anyone I’ve offended, I just want to say: I re-invented electric cars and I’m sending people to Mars in a rocket ship. Did you also think I was gonna be a chill, normal dude?” – Elon Musk

Normally, I like to think I’m a pretty chill dude.

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Agreeable. Easygoing.

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Even downright pleasant, on a good day.

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And I think the entrepreneurs I coach would agree.

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​Normally.

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But sometimes…

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Once in a while…

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Easygoing just don’t get the job done.

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​Sometimes, the only answer is violence.

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Here are three of those times, pulled directly from real client interactions over the past few months.

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(coaching clients in bold)
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​”My team is pissed at me, Stripe just held a huge payout, and a client just quit. I feel really overwhelmed.”

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“You gonna pack it in and go back to school?”

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​”Hell no.”

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“Then shut the fxck up and get back to work. This ‘aint cuddle-your-feelings time, this is war.”
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​”I’m doing well but my mind keeps saying ‘oh shit this could blow up at any moment.’ How do I get rid of those thoughts?”

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“You don’t. You listen to them.

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Your business could blow up at any moment, and it likely will, unless you patch the vulnerabilities that could make it blow up.

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Your mind is telling you something you need to hear…

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…And just because it doesn’t feel good doesn’t mean it’s not true.”
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​”My family has been calling me all week, asking me to stop because they know I’m really stressed out.”

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“Get out of here with that family shit.

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If they’ve never run a business, they don’t get a seat at the table.
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Men in the arena don’t take advice from spectators.”
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​I share these examples for two reasons:​
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I find them entertaining.
Most people radically underestimate the violence involved in high-level entrepreneurship.

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I’m not saying you need to Goggins yourself.

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(you don’t, and you shouldn’t)

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But I am saying that if you enter the arena:

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​Be prepared to fight.​

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I hope these examples help fuel your own fight, whatever it may be.

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Happy Friday.

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• T

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​P.S. In case you missed it earlier this week, here’s…

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​How To Build A Business While Working 9 to 5​

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And, here’s…

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3 things that will make your weekend better

What to read, watch and be inspired by this weekend.

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​Lamb: The gospel according to Biff​
The story of Christ, as told by his childhood best friend… Who also happens to be a hilarious twat who punches angels in the face, hits on Jesus’ Mom, sleeps with the concubines of one of the Three Wise Men, and much more. A damn good time.

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​Naval on Modern Wisdom ​
Finally making my way through this beast of a podcast episode, now that I’m out of my solo retreat. Naval’s first appearance on Rogan (in 2019) is often called “the best podcast episode of all time.” I have no doubt this one will hit just as hard, if not harder.

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​OCEAN: John Butler (66M Views)
So glad I stumbled back across this video earlier. This song carried me through some wild backpacking adventures in my mid-20’s, and is one of the best displays of mastery of a craft I’ve ever seen (wait ’till you hit the ~5 minute mark).
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​”Children see magic because they look for it.” – Christopher Moore, Lamb

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

“You did it. You’ve finally scaled the Everest of modern technobullshit…

Inbox Zero.

And not the fake kind, where you just archive everything and hope no one notices.

No. You fought the beast. You unsubscribed. You purged. You deleted.”

This was the my day. I kept telling myself some wild heroes journey story like above.

At first, it was simple. A couple of newsletters I vaguely remember signing up for when I was a little drunk.

“Oh, I should really read more about productivity hacks,” was a thought I had six months ago…

Just put all of those bullshit emails in the bin.

Then the whole “We Miss You! Here’s 20% Off That Thing You Looked at Once in 2017.”

No, you don’t miss me. You don’t even know me. Delete.

Next was the:

“Your Horoscope Says You Need This Essential Oil Set!”

My horoscope says I need less stress, not a lavender scented pyramid scheme, Barbara.

And don’t even get me started on the brands that think every single click is grounds for a lifelong relationship.

You bought one pair of socks, and suddenly they’re acting like you owe them joint custody of your inbox.

Fuck that noise.

The best though…

Were the ones that played dirty. “Are you sure you want to leave? We’ll stop sending emails, but we’ll miss you!” Oh, spare me the guilt trip, Brenda. You’re a bot.

Okay well it’s not really a love story but I’m sure you get the drift.

I’ve actively been looking for cool people and cool brands to subscribe to, cause who knows? In the future we might do a little joint venture or even just shoot the shit.

This was probably the most adult thing I’ve done on a Friday before sinking a bottle of whiskey.

And I’m going to be extra mega blatant.

Forward this email to someone you know who might like to read some words from your favourite unhinged bearded hobo and tell them to click on this super mega obnoxiously long link here.

They may learn a few things about:

Life

Marketing

Psychology

Writing

Bare knuckle honey badger boxing

Cheese

Stephen Walker

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

Today your favourite degenerate is in mourning over Twitter.

POLITICO wrote a magically glorious meltdown piece about about Elon Musk’s hostile takeover. Sorry, “acquisition” of Twitter.

Some people call it “X,” if they’re feeling masochistic.

But holy mother of slow motion funeral marches, it’s like watching a once mighty beast, now wheezing and dripping social media gunk all over the place, especially in Europe. They lost 11 million European users.

That’s like the population of a small country, all sprinting away and leaving Musk to scowl forlornly at his rocket ships.

And here’s where I’m going to get on my high horse again…

Which I’ve preached a thousand times. From the mountaintops of righteous marketing mania…

Never trust your entire brand, your sweet lifeblood, to a platform that some random shitlord can gut in a hot second. Because right now, that’s exactly what’s happening.

It’s like someone microwaving leftover sushi at 3AM and hoping it doesn’t become sentient and eat them first.

Europe’s saying “Au revoir” and “Auf Wiedersehen” and “G’bye, ya wankers” to Twitter, and Musk is sacrificing the golden goose for a stack of rancid memes.

Anyway, I still love that bird err, X and maybe I’m just a masochist who enjoys those sweet, sweet micro dopamine hits of retweets. But you can practically smell the decay, can’t you? Like rotting fish heads wrapped in day old newspapers. Because, my fellow email friend, I can’t say it enough…

Own. Your. List.

Start hoarding those email addresses like they’re precious glow-in-the-dark Pokémon cards from 1999.

Build your own ding dang list that no rich overlord can nuke from orbit. Because someday, maybe tomorrow, maybe next Tuesday at 3 PM. Elon might push the big red button (likely labelled “CHAOS?”) and poof, your entire audience disappears into the vapour.

Consider these bullet points (because yes, that’s how outraged I am, I’m bullet pointing my inner meltdown)

Twitter: Slipping deeper into Musk’s rabbit hole, shedding European users like a wet dog shakes off fleas.

You: Laughing maniacally from the safety of your own email fortress.

Email lists: The real superhero no capes, just open rates and good words.

Musk: Possibly too busy fuelling midnight rocket rides to notice his platform hemorrhaging folks.

I swear, time to get out the metaphorical defibrillator and jolt procrastinators into building that newsletter, that blog subscription thing, those monthly digital whatevermajigs, whatever it takes.

In a year, the only folks left on Twitter might be Elon’s bots and that one uncle who thinks everything is a conspiracy (and that birds aren’t real, ironically)

Anyway, if you see me scuttling around the charred remains of that once bustling social birdhouse, feel free to nudge me (gently) I’ll be the one whispering “Gather your emails, gather your loyal minions, run free from the meltdown.”

The article is here if you’re keen

Stephen Walker

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

It’s that time of the year when I get some blood work done.

Just to make sure everything is ticking over and still working.

One thing I never tested before was Testosterone.

And so today I found out that the reason for my sleep issues aka not being able to sleep properly is cause my body is pumping out 1097ng/dL of this sauce.

They said it was high but not dangerously high. They asked stupid questions like “Do you take steroids?” and I told them I just take regular vitamins and supplements. Nothing wild. Copper/Zinc/Magnesium and I do eat a fair amount of steak. I’m not a gym nerd and I do spend a lot of time hiking and I’m also not against smashing a large pizza while binging a new favourite series.

All in all, just a regular dude who likes to talk some shit on the internet and write stuff.

So maybe it’s genetics and luck but hey I’m not dead. My body seems to be working but they want me to do another test in 6 months and see where I’m at.

Now if only I could bottle this excess sauce like Bell Delphine did with her bathwater and sell it to the angry men on the internet who are always raging at something stupid. I could change the world…

On that note though…

I’m gonna go for another hike now as it’s 23c degrees out or 73.4f for my friends who use freedom metrics, cause I’ve got some research and ideation to do for a micro business I’m going to build using Instagram and reels.

So I’ll keep you posted once it’s all in motion and you can either follow along on the adventure and watch many micro failures happen.

Stephen Walker

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

One of my favourite marketers/guru’s are moments away from taking their group and nuking it.

Why? No engagement.

It’s all bullshit though.

Engagement exists.

It’s just been microwaved into a soggy, dopamine starved husk by the brain rot hordes.

(You know the ones. The “Why isn’t this free?” crowd.)

The “TL;DR” legion. The “But what about my feelings?” death cult.

This dude?

He was giving away gold. Actual, no bullshit, “holy fuck this works” knowledge.

For free. And still…

Crickets. The equivalent of a graveyard.

The thing is. They’re also the problem.

There’s this ego trap though.

1. He’s a genius. No, really. The man’s got receipts. His shit works. But…
2. He’s also a fucking tyrant. Someone posts something dumb? (And oh, they will and do often.) Instead of guiding them, he atomises them. A verbal smackdown. A “How dare you?” wrapped in a “You moron.”
3. Newbies? They don’t learn from that. They flee. They crawl back to their safe space echo chambers where everyone gets a participation trophy for breathing.

And look, I get it. You want to scream. You want to shake them by their slack jawed faces and yell, “THIS ISN’T PRIMARY SCHOOL. THE WORLD DOESN’T CARE ABOUT YOUR FEELINGS.”

Although if you treat your tribe like idiots, they’ll either leave or become idiots.

THE RYAN HOLIDAY SOLUTION

• Ego is the enemy. (Yes, that book. Read it. Burn it into your skull.)
• Correction ≠ crucifixion. You can educate without eviscerating. (Wild concept, I know.)
• Newbies need scaffolding, not a guillotine. They’re babies. Soft, squishy, stupid babies. But babies grow. If you let them.

The hard pilll…

Changing platforms? Won’t help.

Charging for everything? Won’t help.

But in this instance the reactive, hair-trigger, “I AM THE LAW” bullshit and the inability to separate being right from being useful will slowly erode this group.

(I’m hoping he doesn’t close the group. It’s one of the rare ones I enjoy seeing pop up the feed when someone isn’t posting some dumb shit)

But there’s always a choice if you were found in this position.

1. You can keep being the smartest asshole in the room. (You’ll eventually be alone.)
2. Or you can learn to teach without turning every interaction into a fucking gladiator pit.

But they’ll need to pick fast.

Cause the clock’s ticking.

And the brain rot hordes?

They’re not waiting. They’re running around the internet with their umbilical chords out waiting to plug into the next great guru.

Stephen Walker

P.S. I’m not your next great guru. I’m a dude who writes email.

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

Hey man. It feels like yesterday when we were going on about that stupid dress.

Now here’s another fun little debate that’s popped up on the ‘ol internets…

And Look, I know we usually talk about real stuff. Like your boss who is actually a hairball with a personality or my ongoing battle with existential dread at the grocery store cause I have to fight the old people for the milk at 8am, but I need you to focus up.

Because there’s a debate raging across the internet and it’s just silly fun.

What is it?

100 men vs. 1 gorilla.

Yeah. That one. The one that keeps popping up on Reddit, in group chats, and probably in the background of every failed first date in America.

I mean, this is it: The apex of human intellectual achievement.

Plato’s Republic? Pfft. Try Chad from accounting versus a silverback on a bad hair day.

Here’s the premise, in case you’ve missed the memes (in which case, are you okay?)

100 regular dudes. Not action heroes. Not guys with weird survival skills. Just…guys. The kind who think “hydration” means a third beer.

1 gorilla. Not just any gorilla. The kind of gorilla that could bench press your car and then use your femur as a toothpick.

And the question?

Could those 100 men, unarmed, actually take down the gorilla?

Let’s break it down. Because apparently, I have nothing better to do and neither do you.

Team 100 Men:

“Just dogpile it, bro. Simple math.”

“We’d use tactics, like ants. Or the Avengers, but with more sweat and less charisma.”

“Sheer numbers, man. The gorilla can’t punch everyone at once.”

Team Gorilla:

“Have you seen a gorilla? Google it and then apologise to the concept of hope.”

“One swipe and you’re a human Capri Sun.”

“The gorilla could probably unlock a car door with your ribcage.”

Real-world test?

Gorilla: Allegedly deadlifts cars.

Men: Deadlifts a pizza box if there’s motivation.

Gorilla: Pure rage. No taxes. No rent.

Men: Lose morale the minute someone gets a papercut.

Tactics?

“Zerg Rush”: All 100 men charge at once.

Half trip on their own shoelaces.

The rest become gorilla confetti.

“Surround and Poke”: Try to flank it.

Gorilla spins like a murder blender.

“Sacrifice a Greg”: Distract the gorilla with a Greg.

Greg’s last words: “Tell my memes I love them.”

Honestly, this isn’t Planet of the Apes.

It isn’t Home Alone with 100 Kevin McCallisters.

It’s Battle Royale meets Donkey Kong on bath salts.

So, who wins?

The gorilla. Every time.

The 100 men would realise too late that “strength in numbers” isn’t a cheat code for “immune to getting turned into a human smoothie.”

The only real winners are the internet trolls who keep this debate alive and everyone who gets to watch the chaos unfold from a safe, gorilla free distance.

Is there a moral to the story?

Don’t underestimate gorillas.

Definitely overestimate the stupidity of groups of men online.

And hey, next time I’m bored, I’m starting a “100 toddlers vs. 1 goose” thread.

(The goose is basically a winged demon.)

Alright, that’s my brain dump for the day, I’m out to go get some sun which is a rarity up north.

Let me know which side you’re on, or just join me on Team “Why Are We Like This?”

Stephen Walker

Interesting image for contextual numbers but probably won’t make a difference…

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