Sanctuary

 There sometimes is a punishment for having a night of good sleep, it is a night of hardly any sleep the following night. This is where I am. 03:56 purgatory. The wind howls outside like a vicious beast, lashing the windows with a wet whip, and the temperature drops from 31C to 14C. The apartment does not yet reflect the dropping temperature, its walls still warmed by months of relentless heat. Yet, tomorrow, it should be beautiful. Almost cold, but sunny and calm, the perfect day to sit outside with a beer and a book. 

                  Before that, there is work to be done, and it is relentless. At least there is a great song stuck in my head… ‘Cyanide’ by Bad Religion. I connect to the Marshall speaker in my bedroom and play it. It punctuates my current listening, The Menzingers, and, once again, it dawns on my how so many things are interconnected by character, personality, values, and principles… at a Menzinger show you will hear The Smiths and Motorhead played shortly before they come on stage, you will discover that their music is released on the record label that Bad Religion founded, Epitaph, and you will discover that their lyrics are literary, romantic, troubled, political, just like all those other bands that love the world of literature and love and peace and compassion. 

                  The afternoon brings exhaustion. Sheer exhaustion. It’s a release of all the stress as the week comes to an end, a week with a thousand bullets flying from every direction. It’s a time when I have to start to consider my health… either to force myself to take it easy at work or to consider something more dramatic because, in modern times, even though we seemed to be heading towards a more progressive mindset up to only two years ago, mental health and work life balance are no longer concerns for the wealthy. Now the focus seems to be an attempt to outpace Artificial Intelligence. 

                  

Sanctuary Books, Dallas. 

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