This is a collection of raw material dating back to the 1950s by journalist John Stapleton. It incorporates photographs, old diary notes, published stories of a more personal nature, unpublished manuscripts and the daily blogs which began in 2004 and have formed the source material for a number of books. Photographs by the author. For a full chronological order refer to or merge with the collection of his journalism found here: https://thejournalismofjohnstapleton.blogspot.com.au/
Search This Blog
Thursday, 11 May 2006
Enhanced Euphoria
This is the time when all the balances come right, full moon and suddenly, euphoric, God seems to be in the fabric of things. It never last for long, spliced in between headaches and grinding head plates, anxiety and grim preoccupations. I can tell when you're thinking about something, dad, says Henrietta. And later: you know how you have goals when you're young, do you have goals when you're old like you? Some days I'm just glad to get through the week, I say, at night in parks walking the dog; maybe you should work four days; you would be less exhausted.
Yes, I say; and time stands still and then passes. In our day, the oddessy took you elsewhere; not to towns south of the border but to Penang, Bangkok, India of course. In Europe there was London, and there was Amsterdam, and there was always most gorgeously, Madrid, which he loved for some reason above all cities. They weren't meant to be a hive mind, but the millions of stories that spilled out every day fascinated him; and he remained, sometimes, privileged to watch in a technological age which brought them things none of his predecessors had ever seen.
If they died in ignominy it was a silence and detachment from family that seemed characteristic of the age. Or at least of the city. Or at least of them, scattered out as we had been along a truly distant shore. Their imaginations were European, often enough, but the location was a different matter all over again. He'd done all that, sat in rooms and circled into alcoholism and addiction; in the wild days when it was all just part of everything and Penang had been a place to be; perched on the barstools in the top floor disco; the view of the city spread out beneath them, settling in for a long and steady drink. Hey Johnnie, you want something? They would ask as he stumbled back to the cheap, atmospheric Chinese hotel. He almost always wanted something.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment