Interview time. Christ, I hate how nervous these things make me.

in the age of obscenity, decency becomes a mandatory, revolutionary act.

New piece up on my SubStack. Quitting Smoking At The End of the World. open.substack.com/pub/theonlyw...

Haven’t had a ”regular job” in nearly 6 years. Went back to school during the pandemic. Mostly scraped by, finding odd jobs here and there. Have zero savings. No future. Unattainable dreams. Ample pessimism. But I finally landed an interview next week. Back to the food industry I go.

Nice to get some feedback like this. Probably the most high-concept script I’ve written yet. Chop wood, carry water.

stockpiling psychedelics for the end of the world.

Kinda want to take some psychedelics and watch the State of the Union just to see how well my brain handles it.

Poster for a new horror spec. Second new draft of the year. I fuckin’ love writing. Chop wood, carry water.

The US probably needed a win like that before they go to war again for another 20 years.

Kinda want to load one of screenplays into ChatGPT to see if I can get it to kill itself. If you’ve read my work, you know it’s a possibility.

75 pages into the new spec. Man, I fuckin love writing.

A question that’s been circulating around my skull a lot lately has been - “Is it ethical to be alive?” - a strange thing to have running around in one's brain.

32 years old today. With time, I bend like a brittle branch.

“The ultimate, hidden truth of the world is that it is something that we make, and could just as easily make differently.“ — David Graeber

First page of my take on a haunted house story where the real threat isn‘t the home but the realtor selling it. Logline: “When their breakup forces them to sell their dream home, a dysfunctional young couple suspects their eccentric realtor is concealing a horrifying secret.” #scriptsky

Finished yet another rewatch of The Invisible Man. Holds up every damn time. Such a great movie. I’d kill to write a script for and work with @conanthecontrarian.bsky.social someday.

Some days, you just want to give up and let that boulder roll down the hill right over you. And yet, here I am, pushing that mass up because I cannot do anything but carry on. I can’t wait to write tomorrow.

When I wrote my first novel, it was dystopian fiction. It wasn’t written well — that of a young, inexperienced writer — but some of the shit I put in that book… I might need to rewrite it and republish it.

It is now abundantly clear that the United States of America no longer yearns to be a shining city upon a hill for the many but more so, an outhouse, gold-plated and haphazardly propped up, by a pile of bloated corpses, for the few.

And we’ve got a first draft. First new spec in awhile, first new spec of the new year. Feels good to finish something. #scriptsly

100 pages in. On the home stretch for the new horror spec. I fuckin’ love writing.

80 pages into the new spec I don’t know if this thing is any good I don’t really care, sometimes you just have to write.

Variety should get Alex Garland and Ari Aster into a room for a special edition of Directors on Directors.

Who will we be when the smoke finally dissipates Who will be we when the first laugh breaks through the endless wailing.

86 ‘26. Getting ahead of it now.

Year end roundup. Some of my favourite books I read this year. Some revisits, some new discoveries:

2025: The Year We Learned What It Feels Like to Live Inside An Actively Rotting Corpse.

20 pages into the new spec, on track to finish this shit by the end of the year. I fuckin’ love writing.

Winter turns me into a lunatic because every single time, I ended up writing and finishing a new script. Will it happen again this year? It might. Fuck it, right?

I’ve got a bad feeling.

Rest in peace to the person I used to be. Five years ago today, I quit drinking. I didn’t achieve anything professionally this year, but I did accomplish this, and above everything, this is what matters most. Chop wood, carry water.

I think I chose the wrong decade to quit drinking.

“The human race sleepwalked to oblivion, thinking only of the corporate logos on its shroud.” ― J.G. Ballard, Kingdom Come.

I can’t wait to write tomorrow.

depression season.

The joys and sorrows of creation.

Why buy a book shelf when you can make on yourself? Finally got ‘em all out of storage. Misery Pit (my office) feels complete now.

Why would I use a hallucinating AI to castrate my imagination and creativity when I can just as easily expand it the natural way — Pharmaceutically induced hallucinations made possible by my trusted friends — DMT, LSD & Mescaline.

Anyone else secretly find it quietly exciting but softly terrifying to be living inside an Adam Curtis documentary?

Ah fuck, I think I might write another baseball movie. What is wrong with me.

New draft of a very exciting rewrite sent off to my manager. Time to burn the old one. Fuck, do I ever love rewriting. Made a fresh poster for it. #scriptsky #screenwriting

“And people flock around the poet and say: 'Sing again soon' - that is, 'May new sufferings torment your soul but your lips be fashioned as before, for the cry would only frighten us, but the music, that is blissful.” ― Soren Kierkegaard, Either/Or.

Had to send my camera in for (hopefully) a repair. Big bummer not being able to go out and shoot.

Starting to get a corrosive feeling that my particularly dark flavour of storytelling is something the world will never want. How liberating.

maybe we’re all just living in the carcass of a dream that died a long time ago.

Every time I’m compelled to write a script in reaction to the world, I lose my way, because, I firmly believe that the more local I am in my writing, the more universal it becomes. When my vision becomes too wide in scope, it loses its potency. And we can’t be having that in times like these.

I haven’t watched this much baseball since I was 14. We are most certainly in the end times.

Still absolutely firm in my belief that we’d be better off as a species if more people admitted and embraced that we have no fucking clue what we’re doing.

Spec is out in the world. People reading. Everything out of my control. Feels good to let go.