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119 years

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 I took a true trip through history and time today. Perusing my bookshelf, I came across Goethe’s Novels and Tales , a collection of stories with the main one being The Sorrows of young Werther . The remarkable thing about this book is that the writings were published in the 18th century with Sorrows being publish in 1784 when Goethe was just 24 years old. My copy of the book was printed in 1907. Thus, it is a 119-year-old print of a 252-year-old publication. To me, it gets even more fascinating… I purchased the book in the early 2000s from a second-hand bookstore in Guildford, Surrey, England, and the inside sleeve is signed by one of the previous owners in 1943 in Canada. This means that the book was printed in London in 1907, was signed by someone in Canada in 1943, came back to England where I bought it 55 to 60 years later only for it to then travel with me to Madrid, Spain, and then cross the Atlantic once more with me when I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Now it sits on ...
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stories within stories

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  A beautiful bicycle ride brought peace to a day of unease after a night that lacked sleep. Tormented by a mix of work and life thoughts, I kept tossing and turning until I finally got up, poured some water, and started to research old conversations with people from the past. Haunted as always by the way in which people disappear. Each disappearance a story within itself… shame, pride, anger, hate, lack of interest, envy, resentment, or simply something else that comes along to prevent them for whatever reason from making any contact. The stories are buried before birth and remain untold.                     As we grow older, we often become less tolerant of those who we consider to have ‘foolish’ views or beliefs. Difference of political opinion, religious beliefs, views of marriage and children, renting versus buying, traditional family over unconventional lifestyles. It rarely makes sense ...
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Hip Hop

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  There was a woman in England, I called her Hip Hop because she didn’t want her real name to be thrown around. She called me Lion Cub for reasons only she knew. It was passionate love. It was forbidden, which made it all the more passionate. I had not considered it possible that such a beautiful, sexy, individual would ever have any interest in me but, for some reason, she did. She was eleven years younger than me. I was thirty-five. I think that she liked my innocence, my softness, my manners… I suppose this is why ‘Lion Cub’ was the preferred name. Last night she appeared in my dream, and it was erotic whilst being innocent. Both naked, I stood behind her, with my arms around her, and we looked into a mirror. She told me I was beautiful, and I almost laughed out loud. Then I awoke and spent the day plagued by thoughts and memories.                     It ended because I didn’t want to have ...
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c'est la vie

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  A sombre and silent Sunday morning spent in bed. Outside the sun hides beneath a blanket of dark grey and a gentle drizzle fills the air. It is beautiful. A dramatic change. The temperature has dropped significantly, and we can look forward to a few pleasant months. Messages matter little when the recipient doesn’t respond… or, if they do, the response is like a final farewell. Almost like a middle finger in words.                     Formidable replied to the video link I sent her, which brought a flicker of cheer… but the message was brief and certainly was intended not to provoke engagement. C’est la vie. The world keeps turning. Sometimes you get what you wish for and I always wished for solitude.                     Monday morning was spent in the office and it was pleasant. Arriving before 7am me...
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creating against the odds.

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  Each time I post a video on YouTube, I lose subscribers. The funny thing about that is that most people never unsubscribe from anything. That means that my video merely appearing on their feed must annoy them so much that it prompts them to launch it just to unsubscribe. Or do people simply have a habit each day of going through their subscribers list and cleaning it up? I hope they do the same for all of their movie and music and game and random costly subscriptions.                     The fact remains, I love the process of creating YouTube videos. They force me to research books that I have read in the past or to openly talk about things that are bothering me, they help me to practise speaking to an audience, they prompt me to analyse books that I am listening to, and they also force me to learn about video and audio editing. Often, when I am chatting to friends in the evenings or on wee...
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Formidable in French

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  A magnificent French Queen… residing in Madrid… captured my heart and mind almost the instant that I stumbled into her lair. It was thirteen years ago, and she remains undefeated in my heart. Throned in everlasting glory, a glory that she would reject as ridiculous if I were to speak the words directly to her. That was part of the ethereal quality, part of the everlasting charm.                     We had to behave because she was not single. However, on Fridays we would share links to songs that we loved, and, in many cases, those songs would have messages within them. The one that sticks out in my mind is a music video that she sent to me one morning after we had been out for drinks the night before. We had left together, pushing our bicycles, and I had helped her to put her helmet on before we said goodnight. The music video, ' Comme des enfants'  by Cœur de pirate ,  featured a...
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getting younger

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  Everyone around me is getting younger. Or so it seems. And I need to slap myself in the face for giving in to the concept of being old, a concept I managed to defeat in my thirties but one which appears to have crept back in in the last couple of years. I turned fifty-three three weeks ago and, yes, to most of you out there that is ancient, that is prehistoric, that is dinosauric… but I am generation x, not a baby boomer, so it is not over yet. I don’t cling to traditions or refuse to adopt evolving technologies. I don’t preach traditional behaviours to people, and I encourage them to live freely.                     From time to time my knees may remind me of the passing of years. On other occasions it will be the plethora of memories and experiences that I am able to draw upon and surprise even myself with how far back they go. I recall, in the 1990s thinking that 1965 was ancient history…...
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