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 It incorporates photographs, old diary notes, published stories of a more personal nature, unpublished manuscripts and the daily blogs which began in 2004 and have formed the source material for a number of books.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/
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Sunday, 4 June 2006
Happy Days
Family photos. Happy days. This is of Sam much younger, at a birthday party with is friend Todd and others out of sight. It's been hanging around on the computer and something told me to put it up; an act of preservation. It was Mardi Gras night the night he was born, and I had to go up from the Women's Hospital to buy chocolate. It was very windy, a lot of rain about. Bedraggled drag queens seemed to gust out of the night, part of the boil and the trouble that was part of profound change. The corridors weren't white. Stories were never linear. You arseholes, someone just shouted outside. They've been quarelling all night up the road. Where are your children, one of them shouted angrily, drunk. I see mine. I know where they are. They're up in Lismore. Yours are in Mount Druit, you f'n blah blah; and on it goes.
Lost moments were for all to recall. There was so much scenery in all the world's dramas. Complex hydration. Refiltering. Gathering strength. Dino has been evicted from Big Brother and some days nothing works at all. He came hallucinating through the back streets. He watched the carp in the park at Elizabeth Bay. He felt the cold in the air and knew nothing could be done about it. The skies boiled and rain swept across the city. In the bars there were a thousand discourses. In house upon house the crunching cold and the damp kept everyone else in side.
In his own melancholic twist of mind it was easy to forget all the good times; as if he missed them before they were gone; as if a doomed destiny had only ever been on hold. Some days were just thought disordered; caffeine induced perhaps. A grinding frustration. It was quiet; boring sometimes; their household routine; but it was comfortable too, cosy even, and at least it had been peaceful for a good while now. Had been.
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