By 
A wise friend once told me with a warning: ‘Be careful what you write songs about, because they get into your bloodstream and you end up becoming the songs’.
Kind of like a self-fulfilling prophecy, but moreso, I think he meant that if you write a song, then you have to go out and sing it every night, sending that message into the universe.
Eventually the universe will echo back to you what you are projecting out to it.
Makes sense.
I once wrote a song called ‘Sixmilecross’, for no real reason.
Now exactly six years later, I’ve found myself living in Sixmilecross. Coincidence? Or the ripples of cosmic song vibrations?
Time to start writing about being a millionaire.
Maybe that’ll work.
Anyway… how’ve you been out there?
Survive the turbulence of the festive season in one piece?
In any case, it’s time to move on now.
Leave the rubble behind.
Let it go.
Look onward, not inward, to the fresh canvas that lies ahead.
I had a friend who lost his mind clinging to a past that was dead and gone.
2026 brings a fresh approach.
Use it wisely.
Leave everything behind in the dust; it’s the only way forward.
I sit now with coffee in hand, pondering a song that’s been stirring in my head for what seems like months now.
But I won’t finish it.
It sits as a sketch in my brain, filled with blanks and holes.
But it’s perfect like this.
Completely complete in its incompleteness.
A fragment, or frag for short.
Dancing around my mind like a Christmas jingle.
Reminding me it’s there.
Perhaps one of these days I’ll finish it.
Just to shut it up.
And then another song is born.
Out of nowhere.
I could be driving and it taps me on the shoulder to introduce itself, like a travelling companion.
A sign from the ether to let you know you’re on the right road.
A gift.
To keep you going onto the next destination, wherever the hell that is.
