clinging to the wreckage

  Each time I post a video on YouTube, I lose subscribers. The funny thing about that is that most people never unsubscribe from anything. That means that my video merely appearing on their feed must annoy them so much that it prompts them to launch it just to unsubscribe. Or do people simply have a habit each day of going through their subscribers list and cleaning it up? I hope they do the same for all of their movie and music and game and random costly subscriptions.                     The fact remains, I love the process of creating YouTube videos. They force me to research books that I have read in the past or to openly talk about things that are bothering me, they help me to practise speaking to an audience, they prompt me to analyse books that I am listening to, and they also force me to learn about video and audio editing. Often, when I am chatting to friends in the evenings or on wee...

  A magnificent French Queen… residing in Madrid… captured my heart and mind almost the instant that I stumbled into her lair. It was thirteen years ago, and she remains undefeated in my heart. Throned in everlasting glory, a glory that she would reject as ridiculous if I were to speak the words directly to her. That was part of the ethereal quality, part of the everlasting charm.                     We had to behave because she was not single. However, on Fridays we would share links to songs that we loved, and, in many cases, those songs would have messages within them. The one that sticks out in my mind is a music video that she sent to me one morning after we had been out for drinks the night before. We had left together, pushing our bicycles, and I had helped her to put her helmet on before we said goodnight. The music video, ' Comme des enfants'  by Cœur de pirate ,  featured a...

  Everyone around me is getting younger. Or so it seems. And I need to slap myself in the face for giving in to the concept of being old, a concept I managed to defeat in my thirties but one which appears to have crept back in in the last couple of years. I turned fifty-three three weeks ago and, yes, to most of you out there that is ancient, that is prehistoric, that is dinosauric… but I am generation x, not a baby boomer, so it is not over yet. I don’t cling to traditions or refuse to adopt evolving technologies. I don’t preach traditional behaviours to people, and I encourage them to live freely.                     From time to time my knees may remind me of the passing of years. On other occasions it will be the plethora of memories and experiences that I am able to draw upon and surprise even myself with how far back they go. I recall, in the 1990s thinking that 1965 was ancient history…...

  Exactly ten years ago today I arrived in the USA. It’s been an incredible journey. The 29 th of September 2016 I spent my last night in Madrid with my girlfriend, and the following morning flew to Boston to begin a new life. Ironically, the opportunity I’d always wanted came about once I had fallen in love with Madrid and felt that I would be there for the rest of my life.                     It seemed like an eternity, but it was only two and a half years later that I received my Green Card. That is very fortunate. And only two years ago I received my citizenship. It makes me very proud to be both a British and American citizen. My only regret is that my mother passed away before I became a citizen, and I know she would have been really happy to see it happen. She would not have been so happy with the political twist that came shortly afterwards.         ...

  Hope is not always as loud as bad news, but it exists. Hope is what we need. And to stop living with so much worry about what might not happen. The meeting that you are dreading may turn out to be fun, interactive, and productive. Even if it is not, it will be something that helps you to learn… and leaves you feeling better once it is over.                     I often worry about health… sometimes due to genetics and other times due to my own poor choices, but I often feel peaceful, happy, and hopeful in a regular evening at home, reading a book or watching a film, grateful for the opportunity I have had to build a life that has involved travel, romance and love, exploration, art and culture, whilst building financial security and freedom. I still get excited about learning, about creating, about attending a museum or a concert, and about meeting new people upon my travels… even if that is j...

  In 1999, during my first ever trip to the USA, I stayed with a couple that employed me for a few months at their small company. I spent hours searching for that address today and couldn’t find it in any old journals or notes. Then, like magic, I found an email from them from 2009 saying the house had been demolished in 2008. I went to google maps and was looking for familiar road shapes in the street and as I was sliding along a few yards at a time, the Google Maps photos suddenly jumped from 2026 to 2011 and, there it was, a house disappeared (the new one) showing the empty space where the old one used to be. Just one frame, a time lapse, showing the gap and allowing me to put the pieces of the puzzle together.   It is incredible that, at the time, I was desperate to move to the US, but it seemed absolutely impossible. Seventeen years later, I moved to the US through work and, twenty-seven years later, I now live just over four hours south of where I lived in Tulsa. Sadly, ...

  Sitting at Bird’s Fort Trail Park and reading a book, and it’s really an odd experience because, although surrounded by trees, a river, nature, there is a shooting range somewhere in the vicinity and the sound of guns being fired is constant. Not exactly harmonious with the otherwise beautiful surroundings.                     Finishing there I drive to the record store and buy the new Menzingers album, Everything I Ever Saw . It has been a lengthy period of time since I last went there and I have been meaning to visit for quite some time, so this album was the perfect excuse to visit… and I had time to kill before going for lunch at Ojos Locos. Now I am sitting at The Ginger Man, surrounded by magnificent beauty.                     A Saturday of debauchery… because I am really tired of society. I am t...

  I did something that I have not done before… I threw a book to the floor in horror and could read no more. On and off I have been reading Eileen Chang’s Half a lifelong romance , I have been reading other books at the same time. I love Eileen Chang… and was enjoying this book. However, I felt that it started to become a bit frivolous in the sense that it was like a teenage romance… Chang, I now believe, was doing this deliberately because, unexpectedly, the book punched me in the face with its depiction of cruelty and violence and pain. It opened my eyes even more to mankind’s capacity for cruelty and selfishness. How people will even collaborate against their own family, causing pain and destruction, to achieve their own selfish goals.                     Deciding that I probably could not continue to read the book… at least not in the short term, I immediately asked Copilot to outline the ...

  ‘How old are you?’ she asked.   ‘45’ I answered.   I could see the sudden flash of shock on her face.   ‘How old are you?’ I returned the question. ‘I am 31. I thought you were 38.’ I didn’t tell her that I thought she was 35 or 36. It was a few days after this exchange that she told me I was not the one. It was the first time I truly understood that I was too old for the person I was seeing. In terms of relationships, I had gone from six years older, to eleven years older, to thirteen years older and now I was fourteen years older. At this point, I realised that the previous relationship, with a gap of thirteen years, had also most likely ended due to age. That girlfriend had told me that she simply wanted to travel, go to parties, have fun, be free… and two months later she was with a younger guy with whom she now has two children.                     Today it is all just a ...

  Wonder Woman lived in Somerville, so the perfect place to meet, half-way between her apartment and mine, was Davis Square on the border of Cambridge and Somerville. We met at a casual bar for a beer, then walked along the street to go to an Italian restaurant for dinner. WW was born in Vietnam and moved to Canada with her parents at the age of two. She was Canadian but had moved to Boston that year after graduation from the University of Toronto with a PhD to work in the Biotech industry which was booming. We got along extremely well and, shortly after leaving the restaurant, found ourselves kissing passionately in the doorway of a closed coffee shop. WW invited me to go to her apartment for a glass of wine and so we stopped at the liquor store a few steps from where we embraced, picked up some wine, and walked back to her apartment. I remember thinking it was incredible that she invited me to watch a film but had no TV. She proceeded to pull a projector out of the cupboard, plac...

  When I lived in Cambridge, Massachusetts, I lived close to Alewife Station, a major train and bus hub. This worked perfectly for me because I lived alongside the Alewife Nature Reservation but had walkable access to the station from which I used to take a bus to my office in Waltham each day of the week and The T Metro through Harvard, MIT, into Downtown Boston on evenings and weekends. The bus was subsidised and cost $100 per month, and I spent on average about $30 a month of The T. I had no need for a car.                     The bus to Waltham was not always the easiest to ride, especially when one particular driver, we called him Gargamel (after the character in The Smurfs), was at the wheel. He was heavy on acceleration and braking, so the first thirty minutes of each day upon arrival at the office was spent dealing with motion sickness. Our office was in an office park surrounded by te...

  I love books in which people stand up to the heavy pressure of tradition… books in which people are constantly being told to marry, constantly being ‘setup’ to meet someone to marry. Everyone is getting married and having children around them and they defiantly cry out ‘no, I will not marry, I want to remain single and create. I want to paint and I want to write and I want to travel.’ Inevitably, this speaks to me. From an early age, I never wanted to marry, I never wanted to buy a house, I never wanted to have children in spite of everyone that I knew either telling me that I should do all of those things or themselves doing all of those things. I remember, at the age of 25, having a girlfriend who was 26… she owned her own home and got angry with me when I told her that I didn’t want to buy one. She argued that there was ‘no point to life’ and ‘no ambition’ if one did not seek to get married, buy a home, and start a family. That was not the last time I would hear such words thr...

  The past lurks around corners in a haunting shade awaiting the moment that it can leap out and terrify you with memories. There is also a resounding awareness of the passing of time, an awareness that is driven home upon looking in the mirror. The mirror mocks those once young and asks what they spent their lives doing. Did you pursue freedom or slavery? Were you kind or cruel? What did you contribute? We spend life commuting, trading our time for money to pay for the commute. And yet, there are glorious moments; Finding French love in Madrid. Being completely enamored with an American amor in San Diego. People who have become lifelong friends in The Czech Republic and Albania.                   Alas, life goes on. We know not what lies around the corner, all we can do is try to live well and enjoy the moment whilst also doing all that we can to be independent and free. Working can bring meaning ...

  Two years ago, today, I became an American citizen. It was a great moment, a lifelong goal and dream, and at a time that the country seemed to be progressing towards a more loving and globally connected future. I was able to vote for the first time and, whilst my dad was visiting for the first time, we went to the local voting centre and I cast my vote for Harris. I then flew to India on business. I was a little bit nervous about the trip and about my new role leading a vastly technical team, but I was also grateful to get to see India for the first time and I was still on a high from becoming a dual American British citizen. Then, whilst in India, election night came. I stayed awake all night in excitement and anticipation… and ended the night depressed and fighting back tears. I had to cancel my day and stay in my room in mourning. It felt like a death. At a very minimum, the death of four years for the entire US population and, undoubtedly, all of those around the world who wo...

 A leaf is cast down in its brown autumnal coat. It is stood upon and crackles as it breaks. The water beside it, in contrast, appears to be a magnificent blue. The light has changed and there is less sun, but the heat remains, making the water inviting and refreshing without being cold. It soothes me during a break from work on my first day back after a week of vacation. Sitting at the desk in my home office I felt like I was starting to burn my brain and fall asleep. So many thoughts about time and retirement. All the while knowing that I am fortunate. Nevertheless, time is like water, it is a finite resource, and we are like the leaf… we fall gently to the ground and get crushed under the sole of a relentless machine that never stops.  And yet, existence is always a contrast.  Yesterday, as I sat at the local bar casually catching up with people, a lady walked in and sat beside me. She starting to contribute to the conversation and, as it seemed we had a lot of music...

  Flying on the 25 th anniversary of 9/11 felt like an honour. As I thought of what those people went through 25 years ago, I felt grateful to be able to fly a smooth flight in safety… and even had the pleasure of having one of my neighbours on board as the lead flight attendant. As a dual British American Citizen, I feel proud to represent those two countries in spite of the dark clouds that have troubled both in recent decades. Being in San Diego was special for this moment, too, because I feel some unknown connection to the place, the harbour, the Naval Base, and it made me feel emotional for no reason whatsoever to see so many US Marines board the plane alongside me to Dallas. As a British Punk Rocker, it even surprises me to write these words… but it is true. Perhaps it is just from some book or film that struck me at a certain time in history that caused this resonance. Some people would say ‘incarnation.’ Yet, in this I simply cannot believe. Most people seemed completely o...

Wednesday the 9 th of September was the greatest of days… even though it ended badly. It was the day after my birthday, usually a day that tends to be insignificant, dull, dark and depressive. However, being in San Diego, it was my second full day of the trip and, even though I had not slept well at all, I decided to take a bus to Ocean Beach. I usually take the train to old town and then a bus from there but this time I discovered the 923 bus that goes directly from the front of my hotel on North Harbour Drive to Ocean Beach. When I arrived in Ocean Beach it was around 10am, so I walked directly to the beach and sat in the shade of the lifeguard’s station and read. I recorded a reading of 99 Degrees by Charles Bukowski for my YouTube channel and then I read To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.                     Around 11:30, the shade was disappearing and the heat was rising, so I decided to ...

  The last night in San Diego has arrived… and the day started really badly due to a terrible hangover, the worst I have had in years, and regrets from the night before. I lay in bed and watched European soccer, Man Utd v Sabah, then finally ventured out. I had originally intended to go to a British pub called The Shakespeare but missed it due to my hangover. Therefore, once feeling better, I decided to head there on the train. When I got out at the station, there were people fighting and the area was very industrial. To get to the pub I had to cross an extremely busy road that as under construction, under a highway. I decided to turn around and walk back to the train. Craving British food, I took a few stops back and went to little Italy to the Prince’s Pub. It was disappointing.                     I walked back to my hotel and then, after a rest, took an Uber to the Gas Lamp Quarter and vis...

  99 Degrees, a poem by Charles Bukowski