clinging to the wreckage

  The fan spins with a monotonous hum, a vaguely audible hum. There is peace and calm. Sauntering towards the door I make a bowl of food for the cat and step outside into the 6am morning. A wall of violent sound greets me as a tow truck idles right beside the door, inspecting cars in the car park that might not be legitimately parked. This is the modern world. We spend more money and effort trying to protect and punish unnecessarily than we spend contributing to helping people. People like punishing people, they prefer it to helping people. We spend money on war but not food. We spend money checking if people are in the office but not on incentives that will promote office attendance and engagement. We prefer fear over respect. It’s why some places choose religion over science… it is fear over understanding. It is control over education and freedom.                     That being committed to ...

 Every page is blank… and yet every day is a play that brings us emotion from events that occur, events often stirred by those who are unable to sit still. Nevertheless, we should wish to live deliciously and taste every moment as it arrives to the fullest. Not to be dull and conventional. To avoid dogma and tradition and convention. By this, I do not suggest cruelty, I suggest fun and growth and learning and compassion.   A part of modern convention that I see as a negative is that of people being told that they are ‘too nice.’ This results in waves of people refusing to show any level of kindness or vulnerability because they want to be the ‘stronger’ one.   Tradition often results in debt and depression because people believe that they simply have to have a home and a spouse and a child… if they don’t have it, they are depressed. And, even worse, if they do have it, they often end up struggling to pay for the home and/or the family, which in turn results in a feeling o...

  The tumble dryer spins as I stand beside it waiting for the cycle to end. ‘The only way it will end is if you walk away and do something else.’ I walk to my bedroom, climb into bed, pull the covers ups, the tumble dryer stops. I get back out of bed, walk back to the tumble dryer, and take out the towels so that I have a fresh one in the morning when I shower. A 7am meeting awaits. Every day there is a 7am meeting. It’s not so much 7am that I mind, it is more the fact that most meetings are simply not needed. To see a face, to exchange stories, that would be worthwhile, but, in most meetings, people leave their cameras off and the read numbers or ask for numbers. That could be a presentation sent as a message or linked in a webpage.                     AI is rampant, and yet people are working more than ever. That is, of course, until they become a number struck from a list and no longer have...

  An elevated view of the lake. Calm. Inside I am not so calm. It seems that people seek conflict and, yes, I know that our evolution didn’t hinge on passivity, but it seems that many people actively seek irritation. We move on and attend a watch party in the office, France v Spain, and France lose. Most of my colleagues are French, so there is a sense of despair. I escape and start to walk home. On the way, I walk into the bar to escape the sense of… what is it? A sense of despair seems a little bit too strong. A sense of disappointment is probably more accurate. Disappointment that goes back to people not seeming to want to make life better. Too caught up in anger and petty grudges and traditions and conventions. Too worried about whether or not people are in the office to actually focus on anything constructive or meaningful. Too busy with petty acts to try to get the final word in a lost argument. People start, in youth, wanting power, thinking they have power, and, in older ag...

  The rain pours as if an avalanche. Throughout the night it has rained without pause. It is relentless but beautiful after the heat. This morning it is still raining, but it is a gentle and consistent, tranquil and peaceful. For the first time in quite a while I have my windows open as well as the balcony door. I suspected that it was a long weekend in France… Tuesday is a holiday and, usually, the French take Monday off to make it a ‘bridge’ weekend. However, today, everyone was working. People think they can outwork AI.                     As the afternoon rolls around, the weather is beautiful and calm, the sky is blue and it is 30 degrees Celsius, but no one goes to the pool because they were told it would rain. This is the fascinating thing about people; they typically do what they are told. Sorry, I am in Bukowski mode… low tolerance for nonsense. I have been reaching out for friendline...

  A morning at the Perot Museum of Science and Nature is always a good morning. And yet, for some reason, I started feeling a little bit down as I was walking around. I’m not sure if it was because I was the only one alone, surrounded by couples and families, or if it was because I was not feeling all that well. I decided to head back to the train and go home instead of visiting the Museum of Art afterwards, as I had originally planned to do.   Once home, I had a quick shower because I’d done a lot of walking in the intense heat and then I lay down on the couch to continue re-reading Post Office by Charles Bukowski. His first novel, one that he wrote in less than a month because he’d been offered $100 a month for the rest of his life by John Martin from Black Sparrow press if he promised to quit his job and write. He quit his job at the post office and wrote about it. The rest is history. Since I first read that story, many years ago, it has been something of a dream of mine ...