clinging to the wreckage

  Friday morning, I awoke after a great sleep, and began to work, with some anxiety, knowing that I was flying to Los Angeles that afternoon, and that I had still to pack my bags. Being a somewhat experienced traveller, I knew that I needn’t worry too much, but I always tend to get stressed about silly things like phone chargers and speakers and AirPods and headphones and power for my computer. At 1pm, we had a meeting between all of the members of our organisation across the Americas, from Canada to Argentina. When the meeting ended, I was sweating with anxiety. I showered, put on fresh clothes, and set out for the airport. As usual, it was a very easy trip on the train from my apartment to DFW airport. I took the SkyLink from terminal A to terminal D and went for a beer. After the drink, I boarded the plane, but as I scanned my boarding pass, there was consternation on the face of the ground staff. After frantically clicking his mouse for 5 minutes, he said ‘oh, it’s because of t...

 There is an empty wine bottle on the kitchen top, and there are cat treats in the bathroom. Why are they in the bathroom? It begins to come back to me. The stray cat reappeared, and I ran inside to get food for him. When I came back inside after feeding him, I went immediately to the loo, and put the treats down next to the sink. The wine… why is the wine finished? I was watching The Railway Man, and it was deeply disturbing, causing me to pour the contents of the bottle a little more vigorously than I ordinarily would. After the film, I slept but awoke at 2am and have been awake ever since. It is now 6am and I am chatting to a friend in France and a friend in Nepal. Over the next few days, the spiral grew, and my sleep diminished. Today as I awake, I promise myself to be better. This Friday I fly to California for a few days away, and I am looking forward to sitting on the beach with a book, meeting new people, seeing new things, and exploring the streets. There are times th...

  It’s a rare cold day in Dallas (11 Celsius) but the sun is shining beautifully and, so, I am having a beer outside at my local bar. The beer is icy cold, it soothes my soul, and the sun soothes my legs. The misery of soccer lingers over me after a weekend of poor results, and I see people unable to walk, so busy are they on their phones. The modern date is a couple walking around the lake whilst both are staring at their phone screens. And, of course, there is judgement. If I post a photo of my beer on the table beside the lake, there are those who say ‘he is drinking alone on a Sunday’. I walk back home and delve into a book. The reading habit is returning, and it is a good thing because, without it, I felt my sense of wellbeing slipping away. Literature has always been my greatest teacher, introducing me to diverse cultures and distant places. It is what helps me to understand the human condition and what it is that so many people are going through on a day-to-day basis just tr...

Grasping for the words that were written or spoken… digital… paper… long lost audio disappearing as ghosts of sound in the wind. Once so relevant and charged with emotion, now simply relics of the past. Fossils that can occasionally be unearthed by excavating old mails, messages, blogs, and journals. Brush the dust from a single word and uncover a phrase, a sentence, a meaning that was once so powerful and is now merely an understanding of the past. The fossil record of our romantic evolution. The black sheets are covered in white papers, coloured books, envelopes and digital devices as I search through them all for the missing pieces. Am I simply lost in the past? Clinging to something I believed to be a superior species? Meanwhile, it is myself that is on the brink of extinction.

  A forlorn lifeguard stares from the loneliest lifeguard office I have ever seen as the sun sets behind a gloomy sky. I sit on the beach while the waves crash and a young-looking African lady waves at me from above. I’ve seen her several times selling small collectible items near the beach, and I’ve always wanted to smile and say hello. Today she finally waved, after which we exchanged several smiles. Eventually she got into the back of a pickup truck with several of her colleagues and the driver drove off into the darkening evening over bumps that the truck seemed incapable of handling. A different life… one that cannot be easy. Once again, it crashes down upon me that I am extremely fortunate. We all suffer to a certain extent, some suffer more than others. Often, those who suffer more still retain a smile and a kindness that those more fortunate will never know. It begins to rain, and I stare out into the abyss of open ocean and contemplate the future. Standing up, I start to s...

During this Christmas break, I have been fortunate enough to read the memoir of one of my life-long heroes: Greg Graffin’s  Punk Paradox . I have found the book to be truly astonishing and ultimately inspiring. Having discovered Bad Religion in 1993, when they had already been around 13 years and had seemingly accomplished so much, I assumed them to be supremely confident, comfortable, and truly in control of their own destiny. Therefore, it was a surprise to me to read of Graffin’s frequent periods of doubt and concern about his own relevance and impact. Equally surprising was my discovery that the band was frequently going through complex periods of difficult decisions and choices during which heavy sacrifices had to be made (Graffin dropping out of his PhD and co-founder, Gurewitz, leaving the band to focus on his record company, for example). Not only that, but their personal lives were also deeply impacted by their touring schedule and lifestyle imbalances even when sacrifices...

Christmas morning with my parents for the first time in ten years. It is quite a remarkable thing. My mother and I would probably drink all day, but my dad doesn’t drink and is not always amused when we begin to get wasted. Outside it’s raining and warm. It’s beautiful. I am sitting at the garden table under shelter of the roof that my father built a few years ago. There is nothing more soothing, peaceful, and therapeutic than sitting here with a book with the rain falling all around. A few days ago, I slipped and nearly broke my foot. It is bruised and painful, but I manage to hobble to the beach successfully where the sand and salty water seem to soothe it somewhat. I read for a while or gaze in a trance at the ocean as the sun flickers through the clouds like machine gun fire and begins to burn me. A child is flying a kite too close to me and I eventually gather my things and walk to the bar for a beer. Finding a seat outside in the crowded space I sit downwind from three women only...