clinging to the wreckage

  The tumble dryer spins as I stand beside it waiting for the cycle to end. ‘The only way it will end is if you walk away and do something else.’ I walk to my bedroom, climb into bed, pull the covers ups, the tumble dryer stops. I get back out of bed, walk back to the tumble dryer, and take out the towels so that I have a fresh one in the morning when I shower. A 7am meeting awaits. Every day there is a 7am meeting. It’s not so much 7am that I mind, it is more the fact that most meetings are simply not needed. To see a face, to exchange stories, that would be worthwhile, but, in most meetings, people leave their cameras off and the read numbers or ask for numbers. That could be a presentation sent as a message or linked in a webpage.                     AI is rampant, and yet people are working more than ever. That is, of course, until they become a number struck from a list and no longer have...

  An elevated view of the lake. Calm. Inside I am not so calm. It seems that people seek conflict and, yes, I know that our evolution didn’t hinge on passivity, but it seems that many people actively seek irritation. We move on and attend a watch party in the office, France v Spain, and France lose. Most of my colleagues are French, so there is a sense of despair. I escape and start to walk home. On the way, I walk into the bar to escape the sense of… what is it? A sense of despair seems a little bit too strong. A sense of disappointment is probably more accurate. Disappointment that goes back to people not seeming to want to make life better. Too caught up in anger and petty grudges and traditions and conventions. Too worried about whether or not people are in the office to actually focus on anything constructive or meaningful. Too busy with petty acts to try to get the final word in a lost argument. People start, in youth, wanting power, thinking they have power, and, in older ag...

  The rain pours as if an avalanche. Throughout the night it has rained without pause. It is relentless but beautiful after the heat. This morning it is still raining, but it is a gentle and consistent, tranquil and peaceful. For the first time in quite a while I have my windows open as well as the balcony door. I suspected that it was a long weekend in France… Tuesday is a holiday and, usually, the French take Monday off to make it a ‘bridge’ weekend. However, today, everyone was working. People think they can outwork AI.                     As the afternoon rolls around, the weather is beautiful and calm, the sky is blue and it is 30 degrees Celsius, but no one goes to the pool because they were told it would rain. This is the fascinating thing about people; they typically do what they are told. Sorry, I am in Bukowski mode… low tolerance for nonsense. I have been reaching out for friendline...

  A morning at the Perot Museum of Science and Nature is always a good morning. And yet, for some reason, I started feeling a little bit down as I was walking around. I’m not sure if it was because I was the only one alone, surrounded by couples and families, or if it was because I was not feeling all that well. I decided to head back to the train and go home instead of visiting the Museum of Art afterwards, as I had originally planned to do.   Once home, I had a quick shower because I’d done a lot of walking in the intense heat and then I lay down on the couch to continue re-reading Post Office by Charles Bukowski. His first novel, one that he wrote in less than a month because he’d been offered $100 a month for the rest of his life by John Martin from Black Sparrow press if he promised to quit his job and write. He quit his job at the post office and wrote about it. The rest is history. Since I first read that story, many years ago, it has been something of a dream of mine ...

  All is quiet and calm in this empty room. A hangover is my only company. There are very few friendly words lighting up the screen and, often, any attempt to connect is greeted like an attack. In the end… it matters not. Happiness and contentment are our own responsibility and ours alone. It is not easy for any of us to allow others into our lives and, in most cases, people already have a partner, a family, one or two close friends, and they seek nothing more. That is natural.                     The cat has eaten and now sleeps, fat and flat, in the bed of its favourite truck. The owner of the truck is American Airlines staff and is usually travelling around the world, so the truck remains mostly undisturbed. This is the wisdom that cats apply from their vast observation. In the world of the World cup, England and Argentina both won last night and will play each other in the semi-final on We...

  I walked into our office in Nice, France, and, as usual, the team, most of whom I have known for ten years or more, one by one jumped up to hug me, shake my hand, chat and joke with me. There was a new face, too, a beautiful one. I approached her last and introduced myself. She said ‘My name is L__, and you are like Obama.’ I laughed out loud and asked her what she meant. She said ‘I have never seen someone walk into a room and bring it to life the way that you did… everyone loves you.’ I was humbled and flattered. Such beautiful words from the beautiful L__. And we are still in contact to this day as she travels around the world.                     And today… awaking to a note from a friend of twenty years telling me she had a romantic morning as a way of reminding me that we should never flirt. And then begins an adventure of the nightmare kind; I set off in search of the third parcel in ...

I awoke from a dream, laughing. The dream was of a brilliantly funny Scotsman I had once worked with. In it we were drinking whisky in the morning and then found ourselves at a ball. I was mixing a drink that was reacting and producing steam, the Scotsman was behind me somewhere, watching, and he shouted ‘deid mahn’ (dead man in his strong Scottish accent.) Everyone burst out laughing, including myself… but my laughter was real and woke me up. I lay in bad laughing for a while and then simply started to ponder life at 3am as one tends to do.                     A note has been sent… and was greeted with a death-like silence. The note I wrote was sent to a former lover whom I met just a few months before the pandemic arrived. It was wonderfully intimate, and it was a deep friendship, too. I was mesmerised by her voice, her beauty, her compassion, her curiosity and sense of adventure. Over time, for ...