Category: 5. Blog

il dolce far niente

I learnt the phrase from “Eat, Pray, Love”. It’s the wonderful art of doing nothing at all, literally “sweet doing nothing”, or as my mate Tom is fond of saying, “sweet f.a.”, and it’s something I’ve never been very good at.

But on occasion, I truly have a day with nothing to do…and am rarely OK with that. I feel like it’s a waste of time – of which we seem to have very little. And of those rare occasions, there are rarer still: where I manage to actually enjoy the sweet art of doing nothing.

Continue reading…

Put your mind to it

Sometimes when I look at the recent achievements of my mate Lorenzo, I just marvel at how it’s all coming together for him. He works so damn hard, and everyone he works with comments on his professionalism and skill in what he does.

He recently shot this video for singer/songwriter Molly (see,, take a look!

“DOP Lorenzo Levrini was a firm perfectionist and wooed me with the promise of lens Flares throughout the day…lens flares *swoon*.”

– Molly, on

When you see a finished article as well-crafted and polished as this, the mind boggles as to how they managed to bring it all together. I start thinking to myself stuff like “How the heck did he know what shots to take? The lighting? The TYPE of camera? The setting? The clothes n makeup and how that would appear on film? The props, the symbolisms, the pace, the representation of a story through the presentation of LIGHT.” Continue reading…


We are Princes. The lot of us.
And we have forgotten the point of being.
Everything is in the name of stimulation,
occupation, amusement, and purpose;
for in the grand scheme of things,
we have none.

What purpose have we now that we’ve pooled our resources?
Working 40 hours a week so we can enjoy 50-odd of freedom.
From what?!
From the struggle of living? Perhaps.
But not from our 8-hour shifts; only existing as part of the freedom we claim that it’s robbing.

How twisted a purpose,
and altogether meaningless.
Even science, as bold as it comes,
is an extraordinarily complex, but all the while utterly insignificant pursuit of denial.

We are meant to survive.
No more. No less.
And, to be fair, we’re pretty damn good at it.
But I just cannot help but wonder how much of my everyday life,
it’s triumphs and woes,
how much of it is the utter fabrication of a deeper despairing?

Like battleships cruising into the middle of an easy, peaceful, sunny bay,
we blast gulls from the water.
Just because.

Because we’re Princes. The lot of us.
Royalty of survival.
And with little in the way of adversaries,
is it any wonder we go mad with boredom?

We’re not the same.

Education bugs me. There’s something fundamentally wrong with the whole process, from examination to lesson style. No doubt it’s been explored in many a way, many a time before, and I suppose this warrants a ton of extra research on my behalf. But for now, I just want to get a few things off my chest and onto paper.


Are there many things more lamentable, stressful in life than being put under unnecessary amounts of pressure, and required to spew every last bit of data-like info your brain can muster from its short-term memory? Believe you me, sitting here knowing I got 100% in my C2 AS-Level Mathematics exam, and yet knowing very little (off the top of my head) about things as simple as integration or differentiation, proves this point spectacularly. However, Continue reading…

The boat that rocked

I was lying on a beach, looking out at a boat,
stationary at the tip of an arm of land, jutting out from the mouth of this cove.
I stared at it for a while, willing it to move,
to sail away so that I may see it in motion,
taking to the waves, as was its design to do.

But it remained, unaffected by my wishes.
And though I have heard we should not ask of the divine to prove itself,
like some genie to appear upon rubbing a lamp,
it seemed too opportune a moment – for He perhaps even more than I –
to prove this atheist misguided.

I did not clasp my hands in prayer, nor look to the sky for answers,
I simply asked, and awaited to see if I would receive.
“I’ll believe…if you move that boat.”
The underlying question being “Will you give me faith?”,
whereby I’d take it as confirmation, if the boat did indeed move,
or were it to stay put, I’d find myself godless.

The boat moved.
It didn’t sail majestically, or race from its dock,
but for the first time in all my moments of watching,
it rocked and swayed…presumably upon some passing wave.
I smiled.
“Coincidence.” I murmured.
But I cannot claim that I thought no more of it,
and this bit of writing is testament to said denial.

Perhaps it was coincidence.
And I remember asking of God to move it again, just so that I may be sure.
It did not move a second time.
But perhaps I’d had my quota? I’d asked, received, but then questioned,
and sought out affirmation of my confirmation.

If I were He, I’d not have moved the boat again either.
Where would it end?
When would this demanding reassurance find itself content?
When it moved again? When it sailed West?
When it rose from the very water it rocked upon?

To grant every trial and proving question would be to grant an infinite medium,
becoming of the man a magician of sorts,
whereby he would then no doubt conclude he was, in himself, a God.

Why did I deny the first proof, and cast it off as coincidence?
Because it was not complex enough a request?
Should I have asked for something more elaborate, before wasting it on trivials?
I believe at the time I was aiming small,
giving my God-in-question every opportunity to present himself discreetly.

But just now, it occurred to me how infinitely complex a coincidence
that I came to be lying on that beach at all,
looking out at a boat,
on water,
next to land,
both earth and sea teeming with life,
for me to cut right through this wonderful amalgamation of coincidences,
and ask the boat to move.

It did move.

And the mind boggles.

Keep them guessing

May I say right away that I’m not confident in how much sense this post will make, cos I’ve not eaten a thing since yesterday lunchtime…take it from me, tha’s pretty uncharacteristic!!

There’s no real reason for it as far as I can see…I had a bit of badminton rage yesterday, which could account for yesterday’s grump-induced-starvation, but I’d have expected to be ravenous today…but alas! Not so. Played tennis for over an hour n everything. Get the snacks in..tomorrow my desk is gonna closely resemble a Henry VIII spread. Continue reading…

Work hard, play harder, check balance, work harder

Good evening, one and all, and may I welcome you to the next instalment of “Method to my Madness” – the officially unofficial subtitle to my most every thought that wriggles forth from keypad or pen and onto the digital, or indeed the wood-born, page. I cannot promise anything more than a stream of consciousness, so do with it what you will, and good on you – should you make it to the end. (Adam’s discovered “Hyphens, and their many misuses”. A good-read.)

It is at this early point Continue reading…