clinging to the wreckage

A wall of cloud fades away to another one as we bump through a puncture wound in the sky towards a lower altitude. The Boston skyline stretches out below and awaits our entry, its arms open in welcoming embrace.             I think of the one I love, a progressive, liberal, feminist. I think of the way that she does not walk around screaming ‘fuck life’ but rather saying ‘what can I learn today and how can I use this to improve the world, build community, and benefit mankind?’ She has a wonderful worldview. She tells me that this is the way of all female scientists, but I do not think so.             Yet, here I sit, chatting to various people around the world… a two-hour conversation with a friend in Madrid has just ended. I sip some wine and wonder why everyone is so afraid of doing nothing. The online world depicts us climbing mountains and snowboarding down them before...

In our imperfections lies our beauty. It is our imperfections that make us unique and alluring… this is the case with every human being I find attractive and it is the case with the forms of music and literature that I love. Animals too. There is a cat who often waits around in my garden around the time that I get home from work. This cat only has three legs and yet walks with perfect balance and grace. He is cross-eyed and his eyes appear to have cataracts of some kind, yet they are beautiful and understanding. When I step out of my car he runs to me and allows me to run my hand down his back once, just once, then he makes a noise and walks away. He is an amazing example of endurance and survival. He has had a tough life and yet he just peacefully lingers upon the grass next to the flowers and awaits a little bit of love or attention or joy… he is just like us… but better than some.