clinging to the wreckage

  As a teenager, I saw a video of GBH playing live in Stoke, England, and it absolutely inspired me. I loved the sound, the energy, the chaos. I dreamed of someday seeing them live. In recent years I have seen them four times. Two of these occasions were in the last two weeks, once in Las Vegas, and last night in Dallas. To be able to see GBH in 2023 is something I am truly grateful for, and I am still amazed by their energy and power. They are legends and yet so down to earth. I took a break on the patio last night just before they played, and the vocalist was standing next to me casually chatting to the people around him. Then he got up on stage and set the place ablaze. Looking back, it never fails to amaze me how life unravels, and I am so grateful, always, for all of the opportunities I have had and all of the things I have done. ​

  Arriving home from Las Vegas and returning to normality is not easy. Reality is a joke. Where are the pools with the drugs and the booze and the punks and the tattoos? I don’t take drugs, but I strongly encourage them, especially for people who are boring. For the past five days I have been in Las Vegas for the Punk Rock Bowling Music festival and… well, where do I begin? Las Vegas is extraordinary. I arrived at my hotel, downtown, to a street full of punk rockers… more than I had anticipated even though the festival was starting that night. I did not realize at the time, due to my confusion over the time zone, that Greg Graffin of Bad Religion was in the hotel at that very moment in the midst of a book signing event. As well as this, bands were setting up at the Swimming Pool on the third floor for performances that would stretch into the night. This was to set the scene for the weekend. I struggled to get up to my room on the 10th floor because the escalator to the pool wasn’t work

  Arriving in Virginia Beach, the airport is a surprise… it is tiny and cozy. It feels like a private space. Walking out and getting an Uber is extremely easy. It took me a while to get to that point, however, as I had left my AirPods on the plane and when I tried to return for them, I was denied access. I walked to the loo and then returned to the gate… the ground staff called out my name and handed my AirPods to me. Relief. The Uber driver looked and spoke like Ned Flanders from the Simpsons. He attempted to offer me guidance, which I appreciated, but I felt he was forcing himself in an attempt to get a tip. He dropped me off and I gave a relatively large tip in Uber terms, but he never ‘liked’ it, which means, I suppose, like many things in life, it didn’t meet his expectations. He’d dropped me at the wrong hotel, which was my fault, but a kind old African American gentleman drove me down the street to the correct one. I checked in just before midnight and was delighted to discover

  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 the c

 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 that I

  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 trying

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.