clinging to the wreckage

  The flight to San Diego was delayed, but only after we were in the plane. At first, there’d been a terminal change that I almost failed to notice, but I made it easily to the correct gate just as boarding was beginning. Upon boarding, I couldn’t get the arm to retreat into my bag, so I couldn’t get it into the overhead locker the way it was supposed to go. After much fuss and, finally, a guy somehow hitting it back in, we were told there was a delay due to a maintenance issue. After 45 minutes, the issue was resolved and the very same second of the announcement we had a lightning strike. The captain informed us that each lighting strike triggers a fifteen-minute wait period to ensure the sky is clear. In total, we sat on the runway for just over two and a half  hours before finally taking off. The morning had been one of joy, for I was on vacation and my ear infection had almost entirely disappeared. I could hear for the first time in seven days. I made breakfast and then a ...

  Yesterday I visited the Punk Rock Museum in Las Vegas for the second time. The first time I went there was May 2023 and it was during the Punk Rock Bowling weekend, so the place was absolutely crowded beyond comprehension. I was desperate to go back during a ‘quiet time’ to be able to explore in peace. I had been in San Diego for the weekend, so the opportunity to visit on the way home presented itself.                   The Punk Rock Museum is a haven for all things and people punk. From the stark artwork of the museum, a freshly painted black building with the name emblazoned in ‘bad religion font’ across the front, punctuated with the iconic west coast palm trees, to the very final moment before departure – usually the Triple Down bar inside the museum – the place is a testament to all things great about punk rock.              ...

A day off. It promises time in bed with books and coffee. Waking up, however, there is no power and it is not possible to make coffee. First world problems. I pack my computer, a book, and some chargers into my backpack and set off on a walk to find coffee and Wi-Fi. I take a walk past my office, hopeful that Candy has her café open so that I can have breakfast there and work from a friendly environment. Candy is a Korean lady who, with her husband, runs the small cafeteria in the office building where I work. I could have gone into the office itself, but the only food there on a holiday comes in the form of vending machine snacks… not really ideal for breakfast. I walked on, quite some distance, and opted for the only thing open at that time on a public holiday… McDonalds. I knew they had Wi-Fi and coffee, so that was where I went. I ordered a muffin, coffee, and orange juice, opened my MacBook and connected so that I could answer some critical work messages and mails. It was a beauti...

It has always troubled me how they just simply disappear. People. And not just the ones that die. It could be a breakup… and they simply fade into oblivion, without trace, like a death. Also, when one has lived in different countries and different cities within those countries, people who are once a part of daily life are eventually gone. There are so many goodbyes and promises to remain in touch, but people get married, they have children, or they simply meet other people and disappear. It seems that the ones who remain in touch are lost to death. The others simply disappear of their own free will. I remember once reading something that a professor had said in an interview… ‘people will curse me for this, but a breakup is not dissimilar to death.’ It feels that way but, deep down, we know one is final and the other always leaves an option… hope or hate… something. I know I will never share another message or conversation with my mother, something I still struggle to accept, and it is ...