clinging to the wreckage

  Words at play on a page have always been my paint on a blank white canvas. Words paint pain… and pleasure, but even the pleasure is often born of pain. Afterall, when it comes to art or literature, one of the facets that fascinates me the most is the context… the life and mind of the artist as well as their environment. My context is that, beyond words, I am not comfortable with much. For instance, when people ask me to take care of a baby animal, I get nervous these days. If someone asks me to work with physical equipment, I feel uncertain, only comfortable in solitude, writing or reading.                     06:30am and I tune to the soccer match of my hometown team, Wigan Athletic. Today they are playing away in Huddersfield. I remember, many years ago, when I was married and my mother was alive, I drove from Wigan to Huddersfield with my mother and wife in the car. I dropped them both at...

  Each day I awake and I strive for positivity. I find it in many things because I am very fortunate, I live in a beautiful place, I have a good job with a good team, and it is flexible. I find joy in researching new topics such as places of interest, people of interest (writers and musicians) and I plan little trips. I read books and listen to music, or I do an online course in history, government, security, technology, communication, etc. I create via blogs, podcasts and videos… but this is sometimes where I am simply unable to control myself. If I witness an injustice, I feel the need to speak about it. If I feel that rights are being taken away or life is being made worse, more difficult, for no reason, I rally against the sheer ignorance or greed that leads to such things. That in turn brings me down because I want to be constructive and lead through light rather than darkness, but sometimes we have no choice other than to resist.         ...

  Many people have claimed that life changed in 2020.   Here is my opinion…                   In 2020 we were served a warning by nature. A warning that was also an opportunity. It said, ‘slow down, find some balance, spend time doing what matters, be with friends and family, spend time with your pets.’ By 2021 and 2022 it felt like we had started to form a better version of life, a more balanced existence, less commuting, less time sitting at a desk staring at a screen, more flexibility to visit family or to go to the doctor or to do some chores during breaks rather than have to do them all in the nighttime, exhausted after a commute home from work.                     2024 rolled around and the alpha males were getting restless… they didn’t want to be locked up at home with their wives, they didn’t want...

  The beauty of the sunrise walk is astounding. The silver light causes the unique cloud pattern to reflect upon the water and create a mythical image. The reflection represents my tumultuous thoughts of a former lover, a Russian with an Asian appearance. I loved her and still do… but it is never that simple, and so there is another empty silence soaring into a sensual sunrise. A voice, a scent, a secret kiss over a span of 6 years… America to France and back again. It’s always pain with a vibrant memory. Is the story over?                     And so, I set out for another lengthy walk around the lake that takes me to the local bar once more. I’m tired of politics, of sport, of people trapped by tradition, and the boredom of the status quo. It’s a day that I long for England and Spain, my European life. As I enter the area of the bar, I discover that there’s a classic car show and a market tak...

  They get married, buy a house, have children, and call everyone sheep.   They all refuse to get vaccinated because social media told them they shouldn’t get vaccinated… all together they fight vaccination, and they call everyone sheep.   They wake up at 6am and get into their cars to drive to the office because it is what they are told they should do, it is what they have always done, it is what should always be done, and they call everyone sheep.   They hate immigration, they believe that illegal immigrants are getting free health care and being housed in New York Penthouses, they do no research of their own, they form no opinions of their own, and they call everyone sheep.   And maybe I am wrong, or blind, maybe it is wise to make friends with Russia and North Korea and to make enemies of Canada and Europe… I know they were all against war, terrified of war, determined Harris would start war… now they support the war and they call everyone sheep.   Bide...

  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 p...

  And, just like that, the cat reappears without a care in the world… as relaxed as ever… posing before a pale grey sky, awaiting sunrise. As we connect and crouch in each other’s company, a figure appears on the car park roof. He’s wearing headphones and looking down at us. It’s 6am. It’s something that I fail to understand. The building is equipped with a communal workspace, a community social space, a gym, a pool, it is surrounded by lakes and nature trails… but people ‘get their steps’ and take calls in the car park. Nevertheless, it makes me feel calm again to see the cat and know that she is safe and healthy.                     The following morning rolls around and I have been up since 4am. That was when I gave up. I’d been sleeping on and off for a few hours and had, in fact, just woken from a dream in which I had found a baby blue whale in a wreckage and was taking it to my apartment, through flooding, to take care of it s...

  Worrying about the cat, I decided to walk down to the lake to watch the sunset and cheer myself up. As I approached the deck with a book, I saw an Asian lady with what looked like a very fluffy little dog in a harness, but as I got closer to her, I discovered that it was the fattest, fluffiest, cutest cat I had seen. I smiled a few times and walked over to the deck to sit down and read. The lady with the cat came and sat a few chairs along from me and I couldn’t help but stare at her cat and smile uncontrollably. A few moments later the cat had crawled through the fence, and the lady was unable to pull it back through. I walked over and asked if she needed help… she whispered, ‘I think so’, and a lady who was reading on the other side also approached to help. She held the leash while the cat owner dashed around to the other side to gather her cat.  The three of us ended up having a conversation for a while. The cat’s name is ‘Flower’ and has just arrived with her owner fro...

   The sun seems somewhat reluctant to rise over a sleeping Dallas. Lying in bed, motionless, sleepless, I start to worry a little about the recent bout of insomnia that plagues me. Thoughts of work creep into my mind and snuggle up beside other thoughts already troubling me… thoughts of politics and sport and death and the absence of romance. Even the cat has disappeared. Finally, I gather the motivation to saunter into the kitchen to make a cup of coffee. Back in bed, sipping in silence, I glance at the screen and see not too much in the way of positivity.                     When I venture outside, I discover that the cat’s food bowl, which sat untouched all day yesterday, is empty, which means that she appeared and ate at some point in the night. It wasn’t the birds that ate the food because they leave a different pattern. There is still no sign of the cat, however. The cooler tempera...

  Creativity must be done for oneself. A form of therapy that comes through the joy and hope and (sometimes) beauty of creativity. Writings that go unread. Songs or Podcasts that go unheard. Videos that go unseen. This is often the fate of the artist and the creator, but it should not deter them from doing what they love and seeking meaning through expression.                     Contemplating this, it is also appropriate to mention that today is World Mental Health Day. I think it is important to recognise that, and to take some time to consider it. Even in current times, mental health is not taken seriously and many people, especially in a work environment, are still ashamed to raise the concern or express their needs in terms of mental health. Often, when they do, leaders respond as if it doesn’t exist. Especially those who are being told that everything sensitive is ‘woke’ or ‘fake’. In a ...

 Two years ago, my dad was visiting Dallas for the first time, his first ever visit to the US. I am sad that my mother never made it, but grateful that my dad was able to see my adopted home and spend some time here. He loved it. Even though we are British, my dad lives in South Africa… the south of South Africa, so the journey is a long one and not easy, even for me. I have not visited there since my mother passed away and there is something that haunts me about the idea of visiting now. He lives fifteen minutes, walking, from the beach and it is spectacular. A beach upon which I have witnessed majestical things… whales breaching and dolphins playing close to the shore. It’s also, unfortunately, a place with many sharks and there have been numerous attacks along that stretch of coastline. Stepping off the beach there are quaint little restaurants where you can order some local home-made food and sip a beer or wine whilst looking out over the vast Indian Ocean.  At least, fo...

 I took a true trip through history and time today. Perusing my bookshelf, I came across Goethe’s Novels and Tales , a collection of stories with the main one being The Sorrows of young Werther . The remarkable thing about this book is that the writings were published in the 18th century with Sorrows being publish in 1784 when Goethe was just 24 years old. My copy of the book was printed in 1907. Thus, it is a 119-year-old print of a 252-year-old publication. To me, it gets even more fascinating… I purchased the book in the early 2000s from a second-hand bookstore in Guildford, Surrey, England, and the inside sleeve is signed by one of the previous owners in 1943 in Canada. This means that the book was printed in London in 1907, was signed by someone in Canada in 1943, came back to England where I bought it 55 to 60 years later only for it to then travel with me to Madrid, Spain, and then cross the Atlantic once more with me when I moved to Cambridge, Massachusetts. Now it sits on ...

  A beautiful bicycle ride brought peace to a day of unease after a night that lacked sleep. Tormented by a mix of work and life thoughts, I kept tossing and turning until I finally got up, poured some water, and started to research old conversations with people from the past. Haunted as always by the way in which people disappear. Each disappearance a story within itself… shame, pride, anger, hate, lack of interest, envy, resentment, or simply something else that comes along to prevent them for whatever reason from making any contact. The stories are buried before birth and remain untold.                     As we grow older, we often become less tolerant of those who we consider to have ‘foolish’ views or beliefs. Difference of political opinion, religious beliefs, views of marriage and children, renting versus buying, traditional family over unconventional lifestyles. It rarely makes sense ...

  There was a woman in England, I called her Hip Hop because she didn’t want her real name to be thrown around. She called me Lion Cub for reasons only she knew. It was passionate love. It was forbidden, which made it all the more passionate. I had not considered it possible that such a beautiful, sexy, individual would ever have any interest in me but, for some reason, she did. She was eleven years younger than me. I was thirty-five. I think that she liked my innocence, my softness, my manners… I suppose this is why ‘Lion Cub’ was the preferred name. Last night she appeared in my dream, and it was erotic whilst being innocent. Both naked, I stood behind her, with my arms around her, and we looked into a mirror. She told me I was beautiful, and I almost laughed out loud. Then I awoke and spent the day plagued by thoughts and memories.                     It ended because I didn’t want to have ...

  A sombre and silent Sunday morning spent in bed. Outside the sun hides beneath a blanket of dark grey and a gentle drizzle fills the air. It is beautiful. A dramatic change. The temperature has dropped significantly, and we can look forward to a few pleasant months. Messages matter little when the recipient doesn’t respond… or, if they do, the response is like a final farewell. Almost like a middle finger in words.                     Formidable replied to the video link I sent her, which brought a flicker of cheer… but the message was brief and certainly was intended not to provoke engagement. C’est la vie. The world keeps turning. Sometimes you get what you wish for and I always wished for solitude.                     Monday morning was spent in the office and it was pleasant. Arriving before 7am me...

  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...