clinging to the wreckage

With Fitzgerald’s The Last Tycoon in hand, I saunter down to the swimming pool. It has been a day of meetings and walks and talks and swims, my watch tells me I have done enough, so I want to soak in the water and read in silence. The pool is always empty at this time of day. It is empty most times of day, but the chances of seeing anyone around 6pm are little to none. I arrive at the pool and one of my elderly neighbours is swimming. A great guy who always says a few words, very few, but he always waves and smiles. We chat a little and then he returns to his apartment. I settle into a corner of the pool, allow my limbs to float and muscles to relax, gather my book and read a few lines… a tremendous noise starts to approach me. Suddenly, four young women in their twenties arrive at the pool with alcohol, bikinis and tattoos. Far from being excited, I feel trapped. It seems they see me late and are surprised. I feel like I am spoiling their party. I feel like I am lurking, even though

  I awoke thinking about her. A woman I met in Madrid who had moved from Thailand, she’d married a Spanish gentleman. She heard about the drinks that we used to have every Thursday night and she came along… immediately we connected. She was intelligent, funny, completely into the social disorder that we created, and she was also impressively talented. For example, she was a professor at university (in her spare time) to teach aspiring young professionals about business and the tech side of business that she was involved in. She was also devastatingly beautiful. I decided to send her a message before getting out of bed, but when I opened our chat I realised I had sent her one just over a year ago and she had not replied. Having realised this, I never wrote a message, I merely sent a gif of a silly creature waving. Alas, there was no reply. To add insult to injury, I launched my photos and went to ‘on this day through the years.’ Eight years ago today we had gone to Madrid’s Circulo Bell

  Walking along the natural bike paths that once were my home, stunned by the beauty as well as by the rapid change that had already occurred since I left, less than three years ago, I heard the mournful groans of geese as they flew overhead in formation. I stopped and took a short video of them elegantly floating by. Such large and powerful birds and yet so graceful and calm. Canadian geese. I see them here, too, but in smaller numbers and less frequently. A strong urge came over me to pack up and move back to Cambridge… but the cost of everything is absolutely incredible. Without having a physical need to be there, would it be worth spending all of that extra money on rent and daily life? What do we need? What do we want? What makes us happy?  

  A drive from Cambridge to Boston on a beautifully sunny Massachusetts day, we head towards Nahant beach. The beauty is astounding. New England, in its classic ocean-side glory, is at its best here. The soft smooth sand caresses one’s feet as the ocean gently rolls up to kiss the beach. A line of houses to the far left and the far right provide a scenic masterpiece, but also a sense of privacy and peace within. There is space, but the people who are there all seem to be beautiful. It is clearly my state of mind; a state of happiness that makes everything bright and brilliant and beautiful. On the beach our conversation flows and feeds our thoughts. We speak of books and films and travel. There is desire, but it is forbidden. It is a wonderful moment in time.

  What caused you to reach out today? What is it that made you feel you wanted to connect with me on this day of all days? Was it a dream? Was it a photo? Was it a thought like ‘I need money and I think he has some’? Or is it merely a desire to be friendly and remain in touch? We once lived together. We made the decision to put our relationship into the hands of the government… something I could never fully come to terms with. Perhaps I’d read too much Thomas Hardy. It has just always seemed incredibly ridiculous to me that the government manages a relationship. If you want to end the relationship, you have to ask the government for permission to do so, and they decide who owes what (after you have paid them).                   It can be sad how we grow older and lose excitement or enthusiasm… or both. We lose a lot of hope. I used to dream of love, of holding the hand of someone I was passionate about from afar. I used to dream of sharing time and space with them, of travelling and ex

  The world is ending… so everyone has stopped drinking and has started having kids. I simply do not understand it. I take a short walk in my flip flops and go directly to the pool on the way back. In the pool I read a book and enjoy the blinding bright blue sky. Tomorrow morning, starting at 8am, I have three one-hour meetings back-to-back, so I decide against having a beer. Last night was a sleepless one, mostly, because my mind was painting the walls and ceiling black. I dozed off at 5am and had a dream about an ex. I awoke feeling desperate to message her… but I resisted the urge. In the pool I started to see things… a crocodile floating upon a crocodile… and prey, or babies, in the water. A stampede takes place on a balcony to my right and there are more babies, forever loud. The drone ant colonies file home from the office. They are told to return to the office, and they do. They are told the climate is changing and they ignore it. They ignore all science. But they love money. Th

Memories come and memories go… but I recall driving to Newbury where you had booked a hotel for us for one night. At the time of the booking, we were innocent. We were less innocent when the night arrived. Afterwards, we were bathed in sin. It was delicious and delightful. It was also when love was forged. I saw you looking into the mirror and, whenever you did, one of your eyes would lose focus and look towards your nose. It was one of the most adorable things I had ever seen. The next day, I saw you crying as you sat in your car behind mine. As I drove home my phone rang and it was your friend telling me that I was your dream man. I couldn’t understand it. You were not completely free. Hence the tears. We intended for that to be the last night… to walk away and get on with our lives, but it was not to be. We fell in love. We spent many days and nights together and there were times I couldn’t understand how. I began to wonder if the other was merely a phantom. An apparition to allow y