clinging to the wreckage

  In researching pictures and places and searching through notes for traces of the places I went and the words that were used I discovered something completely removed from my memory. This discovery was that, when I had been in Hollywood, it was to fulfil a dream of seeing Bad Religion at the Hollywood Palladium, a dream I’d had since they released a DVD of the same in 2004… but the thing that had completely slipped from my mind was that I saw them there two nights in a row. Seeing the pictures revived the memory of how it had happened. I had gone with one ticket to one night but, while I was there, they added a second show, so I decided to buy tickets and go again. I had not done this, like a groupie, since I lived in England and I watched Bad Religion in London on Friday night, close to my home, and then took the train to Manchester, close to where I was born, to watch them the following night at Manchester University. Before the Manchester show, I met Greg Hetson, a legend, and ...

  Drifting through the parking lot at 04:30am, looking for the cat. Unable to sleep. A few minutes earlier a group of people arrived, talking and laughing on the top of their voices in the corridor not seeming to realise that the doors that surround them are the doors of people’s homes and that it is 4am. Selfish people empowered by selfish people, a perpetual cycle. Questioning the value of education because ‘it won’t help to get a job’ and not realising that it brings self-development, critical thinking skills, understanding, tolerance, independently formed worldviews, etc. If your only concerns in life are cheap ‘gas’ and large salaries, you have lost before you even start.                     After going to Ojos for lunch, I watch England beat France in the ‘losers’ final of the world cup. It brings me very little joy because England were 4-0 up, then conceded 3 goals, and the tactical dec...

  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 ...

  All is quiet and calm in this empty room. A hangover is my only company. There are very few friendly words lighting up the screen and, often, any attempt to connect is greeted like an attack. In the end… it matters not. Happiness and contentment are our own responsibility and ours alone. It is not easy for any of us to allow others into our lives and, in most cases, people already have a partner, a family, one or two close friends, and they seek nothing more. That is natural.                     The cat has eaten and now sleeps, fat and flat, in the bed of its favourite truck. The owner of the truck is American Airlines staff and is usually travelling around the world, so the truck remains mostly undisturbed. This is the wisdom that cats apply from their vast observation. In the world of the World cup, England and Argentina both won last night and will play each other in the semi-final on We...

  I walked into our office in Nice, France, and, as usual, the team, most of whom I have known for ten years or more, one by one jumped up to hug me, shake my hand, chat and joke with me. There was a new face, too, a beautiful one. I approached her last and introduced myself. She said ‘My name is L__, and you are like Obama.’ I laughed out loud and asked her what she meant. She said ‘I have never seen someone walk into a room and bring it to life the way that you did… everyone loves you.’ I was humbled and flattered. Such beautiful words from the beautiful L__. And we are still in contact to this day as she travels around the world.                     And today… awaking to a note from a friend of twenty years telling me she had a romantic morning as a way of reminding me that we should never flirt. And then begins an adventure of the nightmare kind; I set off in search of the third parcel in ...

I awoke from a dream, laughing. The dream was of a brilliantly funny Scotsman I had once worked with. In it we were drinking whisky in the morning and then found ourselves at a ball. I was mixing a drink that was reacting and producing steam, the Scotsman was behind me somewhere, watching, and he shouted ‘deid mahn’ (dead man in his strong Scottish accent.) Everyone burst out laughing, including myself… but my laughter was real and woke me up. I lay in bad laughing for a while and then simply started to ponder life at 3am as one tends to do.                     A note has been sent… and was greeted with a death-like silence. The note I wrote was sent to a former lover whom I met just a few months before the pandemic arrived. It was wonderfully intimate, and it was a deep friendship, too. I was mesmerised by her voice, her beauty, her compassion, her curiosity and sense of adventure. Over time, for ...

Recently I decided to go and rummage through the iTunes store for Slayer albums. I have a few, including the classics, but not all. I discovered that they released an album in 2009, before their guitarist died, called World Painted Blood , an interesting title, so I purchased it. It is very good. And appropriate in a world painted blood red by politicians and greed.  At 06:30 I walk to the office. The temperature is already 28 degrees Celsius and I start to wonder if I should leave this city, this State. However, I feel connected to, almost enslaved by, the poor homeless cat that waits for me each morning on the ledge outside the door of the building. She refuses to come inside, but I can tell that she enjoys this process of waiting, seeing me appear with a bowl of food, waiting for me to place it on the floor nearby, leaping down and eating before retiring to the bed of her favourite truck where she remains until the temperature is too high and she retreats to cooler areas....

  The soothing fire of a shot of scotch. A delicate memory of a beautiful and passionate past encounter. The recognition of time and change, of things rearranged. And then, sadly, awaking to an end to the ceasefire and the depression that sets in as a result of that. But I just finished reading Bread of Angels by Patti Smith and the image at the end of the 'Bay of Angels’ in Nice, France, made me feel nostalgic. It is a place I have been fortunate enough to visit many times, and the view is spectacular. I have visited with great friends and even a lover and, yet, all this time, I never knew that Patti Smith stayed at the Hotel Suisse and that, before her, James Joyce had also spent time there during a crucial phase of writing Finnegans Wake . Literature is beautiful. The world of books and literary history is a world that I am grateful to have discovered a passion for and, honestly, as I grow older, one of the things that terrifies me most is knowing that, one day, this all comes ...

  Reading a book in the pool as the sun starts to set, ripples of light reflect from the water and hit the page. The scene is beautiful in its flickering tranquillity and yet every book that I read of late is about neglect and death and suffering and sorrow.               I’ve been thinking of the significance of months. For instance, September. I was born in September. I moved from England to Spain in September, I moved from Spain to Cambridge, MA, USA, in September and then I moved to Dallas, Texas in September. I became a US citizen in September and, one year later, my friend, Jill, who attended my citizenship ceremony, died in September. The queen of England died on my birthday in September. Then there is December. Every second December for six years I met women whose names all began with ‘S’ who became my girlfriends. Finally, my mother died in December.             ...

  People live in fear of socialism. I think the word may be too extreme. However, I saw a quote this week that put it into perspective: ‘Socialism is the fire department putting out the fire. Capitalism is the insurance company refusing to pay you.’ This is so true. Nevertheless, the world goes on and life goes on… for now. We finally had something positive occurring in the world – the world cup – and a lot of news was calm and quiet and positive. Then, of course, he who cannot keep quiet, he who cannot stay out of the news, he who believes that everything is about him, made a call to FIFA to ask for a USA’s player suspension be removed and, of course, FIFA agreed and removed the suspension. I do believe that the red card was harsh and should not have been given. However, the president of a country should not be interfering in a sporting event to abuse his position and power. All the positive energy that was being built around the US, the US team, and the world cup has taken a hit ...

  The dreams were wild, and sexual. It’s also very surprising to dream in this manner of ex-colleagues from sixteen or seventeen years ago. There was also one about an ex-girlfriend, although this was more conversational with tremendous suggestion and anticipation. The worst part about dreams is that they often make one want to message someone in the morning… someone one probably shouldn’t message.   Alas, here I am, awake before 6am on a Sunday morning. The day is filled with promise and potential and yet it also guarantees the end of a long weekend. I hear the Doves singing, they are like family. Two of them had lived here for a while, they nested and had young. Sometimes I see the four of them perched on the roof looking down into the pool area, their kingdom, or even on the fence beside the pool as I swim as if they are enjoying the moment of company.   Of late, I have been plagued, again, with thoughts of my French muse, the lady who stole my heart thirteen years ago...

  The cat lies flat on top of the forlorn jeep in the car park… awaiting my arrival (at least, this is what I believe) with a bowl of food that I place beside the jeep. The cat gazes into my eyes for a moment or two and then elegantly descends from the jeep to the bowl and begins to eat. Once satisfied, she strolls across the car park and leaps up into the comfort of her favourite truck where she will sleep until the heat drives her to a cooler place. My duties done, I sip a cup of coffee and read before setting out for a short jog. The heat launches an assault, and I am grateful to be jogging on a heavily shaded path. Endurance is not there yet, I only survive twenty minutes before heading directly to the pool where I swim for ten minutes before showering and feeling entitled to laze a while and write and read and listen to music… all of the things that ground me, all of the things that make life seem worth living.            ...

  It’s 3am and once again I lie awake. Nightmares shattered the realms of reality with death and flying axes… the ending of things. And yet, 3am is peaceful even though my thoughts try to dismantle that peace. My thoughts of the relentless heat of Dallas, the homeless cat that I care for which must suffer through this heat… and all the other animals and humans who, for various reasons, are exposed to these conditions. Most of us take for granted the ability to heat our cool our homes, some do not have such luxury. Soon, the sun will rise and deconstruct the dark night.                     I lift myself to take a short jog before the heat becomes unbearable. On the way, I drop a pair of flip flops at the pool so that I can go directly to swim upon my return. Last night I discovered I had left my favourite flip flops in the office, so I decided to take a walk and pick them up. A sweet colleague ...

  The ice cubes clinked in the glass as I poured a Jack Daniels and Coke. England had beaten the Democratic Republic of Congo in the world cup, but it was stressful. Fifteen minutes away from elimination and acts of individual brilliance saved the day. Later that day the USA beat Bosnia-Herzegovina. But that was yesterday… now I have a headache. A headache caused by people who just don’t want a calm life, they actively pursue conflict. And so, once more, pixels on page, the new pen on paper, become my companions. The cursor dances before me and lies in wait for the night to bring a lack of restraint. It is July 2 nd and we are on the cusp of a long weekend. However, my network is primarily European, and no one really cares about a holiday in America. It’s also ironic that this holiday celebrates American independence from Great Britain and it's former King. Here I am, a British American, a dual citizen, living in a country currently worried about a new kind of controlling king… on...

  I woke up at 05:30, prepared a bowl of food for the homeless cat that refuses to come inside, took a short walk along the lake in my flip flops, and returned directly to the pool for a swim. By 06:45 I was showered, dressed, had a cup of coffee, and began to work. However, these days, the thought of freedom haunts and taunts me. The cat is a living example of what many of us should probably aim to do in life: forego comfort for freedom. We become slaves of our salaries. I have saved and invested well, I am secure, and yet I remain devoted to my income because I want to continue to build. Not to be super wealthy, just to seek financial independence. No job required. Having said that… therein lies the problem; why not just do it now and take the risks, but the beautiful freedom, that come with this?   With time zone differences and massive amounts of activity, I often find myself in meetings at 7am or earlier. When these meetings, back to back, end around 11am, I start to work...