clinging to the wreckage

  There are moments of fear… not a fear of being alone, but a fear of being disconnected from everyone to the extent that, if I were to die right now, there would be no funeral, there would be no gathering, there would merely be sadness for my father and brother and a wondering at what happened. People say ‘give my name as your emergency contact’ but even I can’t get a response out of them. An emergency contact is someone who should suspect something is wrong. If that person doesn’t hear from you for a full day, they know something is wrong.                     It is difficult to relate to people. They seek marriage, children, ownership… they don’t like music, they lead such lives of convention. I have always been a loner. I have always sought and loved the solitude of a quiet room at home, far from the crowd. Inside the room, as a child, I would play with figures, making them play ‘soccer’. I...

  The wind howls in the black night. It seems almost to seek to gain entry through the window. The temperature drops and I think of the cat that sleeps outside. She is wise and knows what to do and where to go, but it is not exactly comfort. Dreams of loves long lost once more wake me at 4am and render me restless as I gaze into the dark and think of the past and long for one last embrace. A world of war and winter is what we have right now as the power-mad boomers cannot sit still… they press and press in their endless need for attention and control and domination. All boomer leaders are in some way weak. Perhaps it is simply that they cannot step aside, relax, and leave the world to the future… they think that they are the only ones capable of running things. Weakness masked as power. The super ego of the ‘me generation.’                     We lie in our beds, sit on our couches, drink in b...

  I sit in the waiting room, scared, and it suddenly dawns on me how many experiences I have had in life. Serious and sometimes terrifying ones, as well as many fun ones, of course. Sitting here, now, it’s funereal. Yes, it is like being at a funeral. Wearing a jacket. Nervous. But the nerves start to disappear upon thinking of all the intense experiences of my life. At one point, in my younger years, they were almost too much to bear. Now, they often stir very little feeling, which, in a way, is sad. We grow older and become desensitized. In youth, if we are humble, we realize that we are lost in a world in which adults have experience and understanding, which they use to knit together the fabric of society, making things function. In our older years, we have so much experience ourselves that, even though there is so much to learn, and we understand that there are so many people with more knowledge than us, we know that we can hold our own in discussion, we are educated, we are ex...