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Express Journalism

When dawn breaks, whether a brilliant burst of colour or as a dull hot poker prodding a drowsy night to rollover or more often where I live, a vague entrance through drizzle and cloud staggering through the tenements of the inner city; when dawn has broken I have been sound asleep. The few times I have seen this wonder of nature have been due to a missed bus followed by a slightly intoxicated stumble through the backstreets of my town aiming for bed. The sight of dawn on these occasions caused me to briefly pause before resuming my mission to lie

on a soft pillow in a warm bed.  My last real dawn without the aid of mild stimulants or mild sedatives was as a boy helping my uncle on his farm in the summer holidays. These magical holidays stopped abruptly one year after he had to sell up and move to the city with its fetid version of the start of the day. For the whole of my adult life I have been sleeping through the best part of the day, that part which brings hope.

For the last three years I have had as a goal to wake up with the dawn and go for a jog to supplement my eight hundred metre daily bicycle ride to work. This small ambition has dealt a steady attrition of my self-esteem for three years. With each shrill alarm smacked to snooze, a slow blow was dealt to my self-worth. I began to question whether; if I can’t even get up to make my life a little better and healthier then how could I seriously consider acting on my principles in the wider world to make it better.

Then 10 days ago I woke up before the dawn. I felt not drowsy and a thought popped in my head; it would be nice to do something use this time where I normally sleep for living. So I pulled on my joggers and an old shirt and went for a jog. The sun rose and I glimpsed the dawn from a small hill in the park close by.  I felt content and well just at peace.  Every day since then I have I have felt the same have made a small jog and then sat on the hill in the park watching whatever version of the dawn the day presented. Whether a Technicolor spectacular or black and white screening of Prague theatre. Whatever the screening, I was a happy and curious customer.

The actions of Immigrant X we have formulated are working well and we are safe and secure. What we have is a model of operations that is small but scalable. I also realise that the new me is most likely a result of the success of Immigrant X, this is a little painful; knowing that my feelings of self-worth are linked to the successes and failures of Immigrant X, whose orbit is tenuous, passing to close to celestial bodies of much greater mass that can easily crash and distort us from our intended path. By extension my self-esteem hangs is attached to this unstable comet.

When I look at the noise of the social or mainstream media I feel a strange disconnect. I feel my version of reality is not represented and it can’t be represented as to me it is apparent that we consume what we want to consume as media. We therefore construct our own version of reality and consume information from a market flooded with poor quality products, bad imitations with some products that are just downright dangerous. We build our reality on weak and substandard foundations and we see the terrible consequences when we try to connect with another edifice equally built on shaky ground with poor materials. It becomes so painful to retrofit our ideas and concepts to be able to even to share what should be an incontestable truth or a simple story and its moral underpinning.  The part of humanity that should be our strength to share and empathise should have been enhanced by our hyper connected world, but the leaches and the middle men are moving in not oiling the wheels and cogs but in throwing sand.

The atrocities we see daily on screens of varying sizes disconnect us from the mild or major outrage that would be visible in a peripheral vision if only the screen was not so close to our face.  What outrage outrages us is part conditioning part our innate humanity. In general “follow” and “friend” what is like us and reinforces our worldview not what confronts. We seek small enclaves shielded by obscurity or user access rights that comfort and reinforce our worldview. Is it an exploitative enterprise that designs these enclaves or is it the residents themselves? If it is the residents of these virtual worlds that forces the limitation on expression and who and can’t be a member of an enclave then is there much hope for us? The reality for the majority of us is that we want a peace and acceptance as human beings not a continual critique of our moral compass and this could be a driver to compartmentalise our reality. If it is rich and powerful that are successful in compartmentalisation of our views and lives then the construction of bridges and ducts to meet and exchange seem to being torn down as quickly as they are built.

Last week  my thesis above  that the media is feeding us what we want to consume was reinforced. There were two stories about Immigrant X in the media one in Politics.co.uk and one in the Express.co.uk.  These stories were about the Immigrant X Stop and Search Mobile App. The comments of both sets of readers to the stories directly reflected the impression of mutual reinforcement of a prescribed viewpoint. This was expected but the both stories were not built on a factual basis and failed to contact Immigrant X for comment or verification.  Reality is built on the plausibility of construct not necessarily on its objective reality becomes clearer each day. So what can Immigrant X be or mean in this splintered world? Can we really be successful as we imagined or are we a stereotype of activism playing to the crowd? Each day I question whether I am at the dawn of the a new era or am I seeing the last beautiful dawn where tomorrow I will roll over, feebly hit the snooze button and go back to sleep.


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Immigrant X is our communication and plan for a better future, we blog, tweet and use social media to push our ideas. It is what has happened, could happen, will happen or is happening now somewhere close or on the other side of the world. Immigrant X is fiction and faction.