clinging to the wreckage

  The ice cubes clinked in the glass as I poured a Jack Daniels and Coke. England had beaten the Democratic Republic of Congo in the world cup, but it was stressful. Fifteen minutes away from elimination and acts of individual brilliance saved the day. Later that day the USA beat Bosnia-Herzegovina. But that was yesterday… now I have a headache. A headache caused by people who just don’t want a calm life, they actively pursue conflict. And so, once more, pixels on page, the new pen on paper, become my companions. The cursor dances before me and lies in wait for the night to bring a lack of restraint. It is July 2 nd and we are on the cusp of a long weekend. However, my network is primarily European, and no one really cares about a holiday in America. It’s also ironic that this holiday celebrates American independence from Great Britain and it's former King. Here I am, a British American, a dual citizen, living in a country currently worried about a new kind of controlling king… on...

  I woke up at 05:30, prepared a bowl of food for the homeless cat that refuses to come inside, took a short walk along the lake in my flip flops, and returned directly to the pool for a swim. By 06:45 I was showered, dressed, had a cup of coffee, and began to work. However, these days, the thought of freedom haunts and taunts me. The cat is a living example of what many of us should probably aim to do in life: forego comfort for freedom. We become slaves of our salaries. I have saved and invested well, I am secure, and yet I remain devoted to my income because I want to continue to build. Not to be super wealthy, just to seek financial independence. No job required. Having said that… therein lies the problem; why not just do it now and take the risks, but the beautiful freedom, that come with this?   With time zone differences and massive amounts of activity, I often find myself in meetings at 7am or earlier. When these meetings, back to back, end around 11am, I start to work...

  The pool shimmers in the blinding brightness and causes hallucinatory reactions in the intense heat. I open the blinds and look down, but all I see is light… rippling rays of light. There are noises erupting from people down below, so I close the blinds and listen to Shattered Faith  by Bad Religion, it plays from the Marshall speaker in my bedroom, one of my greatest purchases. I have two of them, one in the living room, one in the bedroom; Marshall Acton III. In my bathroom I have a smaller one, a waterproof battery operated one that I use to listen to music whilst I am in the shower. I cannot live without music and literature. Reading about Rimbaud’s A Season in Hell made me think of Slayer and their Seasons in the Abyss . Now I listen to Slayer, but I was in the mood for South of Heaven , so that is the album I am playing. I love the way that the opening track, the title track, bleeds into the second track, Silent Scream . South of Heaven was one of the very first CDs ...

  A voice from Spain booms from my speaker. We exchange messages about life and relationships. For so many years we, as humans, live in the naivety and ignorance of youth and then, suddenly, time catches up and people around us start to disappear or die. So often, when this happens, we have left the relationship in a bad way, it ends in an open and unfinished silence. However, that is life. We enter with hopes, ambitions, and dreams… then we often just ride a wave and hope for the best. The ones we look at and consider to be the most successful, the most in control, are often the ones with tremendous secrets and unfathomable depths of pain.                     I walked to the office, grateful to be able to go and see people and share some discussions. A colleague told me about some of the work he was doing with airlines and payment systems, and it was fascinating. The Korean sisters running th...

  It’s really fascinating how people will post a video or story about ‘Europeans loving America’ during the world Cup. And they add a thumbnail of Donald Trump or add something about religion. Yes, Europeans love America when visiting, it is an incredible place. However, do not fool yourself, there is no love for Trump… and Europe has almost entirely moved on from religion. An even greater irony is these guys posting videos, including Trump thumbnail, of Europeans saying 'we are free here.' Do they not realise that Trump is trying to have comedians banned, fired, blocked, because they joke about him? Yes, Europeans, and others, love America, but the America they love is the one established by great systems and communities over decades, not the one that Trump aspires to and wants to create. America, without Trumpism, is great. I only wish Americans would travel to Europe and speak to locals in the countries they visit to understand how people really feel and think. And, if the s...

  The recurring theme of recent years (or is it a lifelong recurring theme?) is silence. The silence that comes when one messages a friend or lover from yesteryear and there is no response. There is no response for days, or weeks, or months, or eternity. They are simply gone. Disappeared into a vast vacuum of dark emptiness. And yet, I am happy alone, I am grateful for it. I feel as though I have made some immensely wise decision or found the true key to happiness. And small things fascinate me and bring me joy. For example; in the past, I have purchased second-hand books in which a previous owner has written their name, where they were, and the date in them. I have a copy of De Profundis , by Oscar Wilde, that I bought in England which is signed 1911. As a result, I have started to do the same… I write my name, date, and location inside a book when I buy one. Imagine, 100+ years from now someone finds a book that was marked by me, it may even have the bookmark still inside of it. ...

  The beauty of capturing moments of our lives in some form, whether it be writing, photos, paintings, drawings, or any other means, is astounding. I am currently reading an entry of mine from the 13 th of March 2016, I was visiting my parents at the time and received an email from my university to say that I had successfully completed my master’s degree. I had completely forgotten this, but reading the entry transported me back to that moment… running to tell my mother… her reaction… my father’s reaction. My mother is no longer with us, but it fills me with warmth to recall that I was able to share that moment with her.   Today my dad told me a story about my mother, which he pivoted to from talking about cars and his favourite colour being red… he said that my mum became enraged any time he said his favourite colour was red because, when he first met her, he had been chasing/dating a lady in their social circle who was famous for wearing a long red coat. My mother insisted ...