clinging to the wreckage

  As a lifelong punk rocker, people assume that I have no awareness of the bible or its teachings, that I don’t know about Jesus Christ. I am an atheist, yes, but I do believe that Jesus existed. He was a human being. And I believe that he was one of the most progressive revolutionaries to ever exist. His compassion and forgiveness resulted in him being put to death because people simply could not understand him. It has been the same for two thousand years, any progressive with a different ideology is marginalised and punished. As for the bible, I studied it as a part of my literary studies, as a work of fiction. However, to be brutally honest, I preferred to focus on serious and artistic literature, not that of made-up fables to try to convince mankind that death is not so bad or that there was a virgin birth, presumably to hide the reality of what happened.                     That said, I a...

  People promote mental health awareness, and that is good and it is essential. Those people who promote it suggest that we speak up and reach out with issues without shame. Those same people ghost anyone who they don’t find attractive or useful in their daily life. Of course, I am old now, I have seen most patterns 1000 times or more… those who feel they need help are quick to promote that others reach out for help… and even quicker to ignore anyone reaching out because the only mental health problem is, of course, their own.                     Nine years ago, today, I was on the stage in Vigo, Galicia, Spain, singing for The Handicaps in a celebration of Vigo and the club Celta De Vigo at an event called Palmer Fest. We headlined, but it was late, the club was loud, and I had lost my voice. It almost felt like a chore getting through the show, it was punishment. Once it was over, we flooded...

 As a child, even when things went badly wrong, I always felt that, with my family together, we could make it through. My mother was great with numbers and finances, and my dad could fix anything that he put his hands on. Both of them were disciplined and determined. They seemed to find jobs relatively quickly if we moved, and then always had a plan. They saved and sacrificed and helped my brother and I in all aspects of life, whether it was helping us to get to school (although we usually walked or cycled), dealing with the stress of homework and projects, getting to sporting events, or ensuring we had the equipment we needed. The more I read about the lives of others, the more I discover how fortunate I was. We were never rich by any means, we never had fancy things, but we always had food, clothes, and a lot of fun times at home watching movies or playing soccer or cricket in the garden, or swimming (we were very fortunate to have a pool).  Looking around today, I feel he...

  For those who think that the renaming of a lake is some form of victory over a country or a modern people, it demonstrates a true lack of culture, a lack of education, a lack of history knowledge, and a lack of compassion in general. Not only has Lake Ontario been known as that since at least 1639, before Canada or the USA existed, its name is derived from the Iroquoian word Kaniatarí:io or Oniatarí:io meaning "lake of shining waters" or "beautiful lake". The story of Lake Ontario is, at its core, a story about language, land, and continuity. The lake’s name is one of the oldest recorded Indigenous place‑names in North America, named by the Wendat people, and it comes from the Iroquoian linguistic world in which the Wendat lived, a world that long predates both Canada and the United States.   Also, bear in mind that, although the President signed an executive order to change the name in America, a petty act designed to bring about irritation, this order is not...

  Monday morning moves in and, after a sparky flourish, the day settles into one of calm reflection. Sleep was mostly elusive and the night awake was spent listening to, and trying to make sense of, noises that seemed to stem from the apartment below. It’s difficult to describe the sound, something like that of a drawer being opened and closed every few seconds. At other times, it is like a hard ball being rolled up against a wall, as if a cat is playing, but it doesn’t last long enough to be this. Thoughts drift to 7am meetings which ultimately get cancelled. By the time they are cancelled, I have already woken early, showered, and started to work in anticipation.                   The day drifts on and I am a waste of space. Slow, and struggling to concentrate due to the lack of sleep, but also because I am excited about the trip to San Diego next week and, for the first time in months, a change ...

  None of us become famous while we are alive… very few of us become famous after we die. It matters not, just continue to do what you love, even if you can only do it in your spare time. Continue to write, continue to paint, continue to take photos… travel when you can, slow down and see everything aro und you.                     I went to the bar and we all shared songs on the jukebox, had a chat, laughed, and genuinely enjoyed the day. Yes, we are appalled by the renaming of a lake, but we understand that is just a weak leader trying to make a ripple in the water as he slowly drowns. What amazes us is how there are still people who even want that side to win the midterms, or any election, why? What is being offered? Is there anything being said or done or promised that will help the people of America? Is there any policy being promoted to try to win an election? There is nothing There is j...