Shameless Self Help Archives - Andrew Hearle
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31 One Month Done

Work quietly on your business and shut the fuck up.

Dig inwards towards truth. And as far as you can ignore those around you. They don’t understand your true nature, they don’t understand your vision. And a lifetime of nuance cannot begin to be valued against any opinion.

Read more! You’re slowing down.

29’s a dime

I just finished playing some music and I’m excited. That’s new.

1. Play loose as fuck to begin with. Write lyrics. Listen to music. See what flows.

2. New idea: set up the track and track it and play with it. Don’t use same old formula of demo files. Create different sounds and inspire lyrics.

3. Have breaks. Came back after not feeling great and really had something.

4. When the music was really playing in my ears and I was resonating with god I was roaring. The feeling was to break convention, break with other people’s energy and roar.

What’s inspiring me right now: 

1. Learning guitar solos. I can learn any fucking guitar solo I like easily. That’s awesome.

2. Rhythm and all music. I can learn this stuff. I can get really good this year.

3. Being a sound engineer. I can actually do this. A tangible skill! Get great at pro tools. Maybe contact Phan.

4. SEO. Being an SEO demon.

5. Learning. I love to learn. It’s exciting. That’s where I need to sit. Exploring and learning.

IDEA: Write everything down. Learn a song: blog post on learning that song. Just start building content. Pro tools, SEO, Life etc.


StageMilk is a success because of god. Any inspiration is god in music and acting. Who I am is god. Stop thinking you need to do everything. Just ride.

SO grateful breathing and heart issue seems to be improving, but once again what a great thing to happen. What enlightenment it gave me. It woke me up.

but this.

I don’t wish to be sentimental.
Not here. Not with the light on.
And me without a drink.
And you never drinking.
And what would our life be
And can I ignore what life might be, but this.

dreaming dark

We’re all weak men
And we’re not even pretending yet
I’m just in motion

I can’t beat it
A feeling so good
And yet I’m dreaming
And they’re dark

I can’t beat it
A feeling so like what you feel
And yet I’m dreaming
And they’re dark

28 – What I found in despair

I was on the phone to my mother. Sitting on an electrical box, right next to railway lines busy with trains. My heart was doing these funny palpitations and I felt I couldn’t breathe. A lifetime of this shit strangled me, and I was listening to Celine Dion. A sure sign things were fucked.

These moments when you’re crushed. When you can only listen to music and sit in the feeling. They’re hard, but in them is wisdom. There is calm.

Reiki. This was my plan to save myself and it worked. An imbalance in my throat chakra. Andrew, speak your truth. Say it and pander to noone. It directly affects your health.

StageMilk. Our first online sale. Our second biggest month.

Life. Play. No expectations. Find the focus and the dedication; the calm and all else will be resolved.

Worked like a dog this week.

IDEA: Write everything you learn. May get SEO and traction, but also a great way to remember and learn. Web stuff on ARH, acting on StageMilk, life on AndrewHearle etc.


Well I feel I went off script. Lost the inspiration. Lost the clarity. Back into a whirlwind of schemes and late nights, indian curry and hot rooms with two fans running.

Stagemilk drama school was created this week. A lot of work. Pretty proud actually. I hope to god it works. At least I think I do. Maybe something has to change. Is it this? Is it building a plane with John? Is it stupidity and belief?

I can’t seem to write any music and kind of don’t care.


We’re all weak men
And we’re not even pretending yet
Just in motion
I can’t beat it
A feeling so good
And yet I’m dreaming
And they’re dark
And they’re silent



And now I live off friendships
And try to hear every syllable
I’m happy to be listening
I haven’t heard a conversation like this in years
Or used someones touch to make up so much ground
And yet, in knowing this I’m missing you
I miss you

9 is fine

I’m just realising. Work your own plot of land. It’s what you got. You’ll look around the neighbourhood and they’ll be bigger and smaller plots. Some will tender to their land and some won’t. Some will thrive; some won’t. Sometimes those that work the hardest will still see their lawn discolour.

I want to play music, but the fact is the music isn’t coming. The flow is in StageMilk at the moment. If the inspiration was there I would playing music. Best I can do is to stay engaged. Listening more, writing more. IDEA: create more specially in lyrics. Create a playground and work using chaos.

Current Album: Anonhi – Hopelessness.

Vivid instrumentation and rich sonic layers. A more industrial and electronic sound, it’s hard to pin down. Anonhi, formerly of Antony and the Johnsons fame, still touches me on occasion as she first did with her song Her Eyes are Underneath the Ground. There are some great lyrical turns, however, it’s a little too literal and topical for my taste. Prefer lyrics and art generally to stay for esoteric and emotion based.

We live on bloodlines
we live on christ
I’m sucking the life out of myself
And getting closer


And now I live off friendships
And try to hear every syllable
I’m happy to be listening
I haven’t heard a conversation like this in years
Or used your touch for so much
And yet, in knowing this I’m missing you
I miss you


Art is never created. Looking at the blank page is only daunting because there is an illusion, or self illusion, one is trying to invent from nothing. Don’t work this way. You frequently keep notes so read them and see what resonates and write that. You write music and record short takes. Listen and write or play what comes. Be chaotic, fragmented and cyclical. You are chipping off fragments of a life’s creative energy. Loss and heartbreak. It’s about getting close to that feeling the only way you can and then chipping away.

8 is a lucky number

I just watched “Blue is the warmest colour” and then played guitar and sang. The songs were sincere and exciting. And still I’m broke. I scribble down an idea then move on. It’s too convoluted to go back and I am too conservative in the day to finish these deeper wounds.

My idea to write everyday toppled. As did my routine of reading. I can feel myself wanting to be familiar. But I can barely breathe. I got an asthma puffer and it seems to help somewhat. I can’t tell if I’m dying of panic or something more serious.

There is no space in this life. I’m too excited about money, too greedy. Too desperate for something to work and too far gone to slow down. I hope god gives me peace. Calms me. Everything else just seems to feel like it’s impossible to change.

3 and I’m breathless

I feel pretty good other than this irritating shortness of breath. It’s like I’m panicking but I can’t feel it yet. Or maybe I’m calm; calmer than I’ve ever been, and this is like my body fighting back. Taking orders from my mind to bring me into that familiar safety of mild panic and surface level stress. Regardless, I’m frantically working on my acting blog. It feels like the closest thing to success right now and though I feel more at ease in my striving, it’s still tantalising. I hope it works. And I know it already is in many ways, but I feel like something having a life of it’s own, really feeling valid will help me. Not trying to be rich, at least I’m too poor to ask for that right now, but I just want to be able to live and work off something I create. A passion. That dream I first heard some 20 years ago.

Lesson: reading is easier when you read.

The second in a long line

Life isn’t about growing. My forms are already grown. Set in place. It’s just watching yourself swing from noble to base and every little character in between. And every time it’s one decision and then it seems too far to turn back. I’m trying to take a hold of myself. That seems to be what I’ve been doing for a long time.


And you lose something, of course
You might lose most
You’re frail
nothing to boast
And you’d think that’d make you less
Less in your own eyes
But your calm and maybe funny for the first time in ages

robert frost

The newest year

I want to stretch this feeling across the 2017 calendar. I wake up knowing the date. I like knowing the date. It’s the significant number 1 in a long-short stream of 365 to come. And I want to give it meaning, and I do.

So many of the days to come I fear I’ll waste, or just sleep through. And yet I’m so eager not to.

There is a feeling that comes. Often it’s after a long read, or after watching a great film. I get the feeling of calm, and then I feel inspired. Life is simple from there. I was there at times today.

I’m reading a Robert Frost biography and it’s strangely gripping. It’s inspiring me to turn inwards, to work and be humble in that work. He was 38 before any success came his way. And as you read you see that life, the day to day life that I often see as distraction, is the very substance of his art, and mine. My hardships, my longings, my struggle will doubtless be what I return to again and again in my work and my art. So maybe I should relax a little.

I wanted to learn Violin after reading. I wanted to learn to play an instrument.

Lesson: reading so and carefully, though it can be tough pays dividends is all other aspects of your life.

Lesson: I’m beginning to see that dedicated activity of any kind may be the answer to effective work, and more generally a happy life. How you do one activity becomes how you do them all. And you rely on a stregth of habit, rather than the exhaustable stregth of will.

Lesson: Mixed vegetable stir fry for breakfast. Add tomato, kind of like ratatouille.

Idea: learn cool guitar solos.

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Eve (Robert Frost)

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.

My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.

He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.

The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

On the new year 

I can’t think what this year holds
So likely to be an imitation of the last
The same ambitions thwarted by long sleeps and muddled mind
I can’t think it good because hope has proven slack and uncharitable
But despair is also tiring.
It seems too trite and boring
So I’ll live by the favour of god, like I said I would
Maybe leave some room for him, a space to keep me lucky
So far my hard work is numbing and disheartening

I’m aware my generation is all me
Is all this desire and hope, slowing
But I’m still so sure of my uniqueness
My hopeful pride
My indomitable self and self-interest
My obsession with success
Whatever that words means I still shake for it off these stubborn branches
And clamber for the fruit
Some messy hands hoping for something sweet

Tikka Masala

It’s 5.30pm
I’ve been spending a lot of time alone lately
I read an essay on Self Reliance
She knows my order with a smile
Something about this in the day light is jarring
Like I don’t want to be seen there
But I read a few pages of a book
Listen to some music
The food is very good
It feels like she gave me a bigger portion of everything
She is very kind.
I think she likes that I come in alone.

we don’t speak, we murmur

I’m not committed to this lunch engagement, or your messy sarcasm
I want to find an ancient peace
And mend my mind to it
I’m sure history will laugh at us
And you too
We are already forget what we say
Because we don’t speak, we murmur
We dressed our fat bodies with pumped up bodies
And calm our hearts with crying
Album Review – BadBadNotGood – IV

I don’t know jazz. I like it but I like it like most people like bread. They know what a sourdough is, but can’t see much difference in a wonder white. This is a good album. It’s creates a good feeling, and the jam based, hip hop esk jazz grew on me. The meandering sound finds coherence in parts, and locks into some stimulating grooves. The lack of familiar hooks forces me to pace down, and gives real power to the repeated hooky parts that shine in a few songs, especially in Confessions Pt II – that’s sick.

One thing at a time

I cannot be a master at many things, at least not at the same time.

I cannot control outcomes or success, only my work.

Even there, staring at that blank page, something else controls my hand. Only my commitment to sit, my willingness to listen and my courage to be patient is what counts.

To do this one thing day after day is what will lead to mastery. Nothing else.