Troubled waters

I nursed Z into the New Year last night, she was in a quivering state of nervousness. Awful really! 

Waves of shivers rippled through her warm and normally limber snuggly body. I held her shaking and stiff body in my arms till 7am, she was in a deep sense of panic and distress. 

I will never understand the need for personalised explosive fireworks in Germany, so reductive and unnecessary. 

I remember many New Year days walking around looking at 1000's of expired fireworks lining the streets. A complete fuck you to the environment, wildlife, the elderly, young parents with kids sleeping, house pets. Not to forget that this year hospitals are overrun with Covid patience, and the last thing they need is a bunch of drunk agro folk in the ICU with firework injuries being fixed upon the taxpayer's hard-earned bread. I also wonder what the country spends on the clean up over the first days of the year. In a way, it parallels with how backward Germany was with smoking. Australia banning smoking indoors in public places in 1995 whereas Germany was in late 2007. One of the last in the EU. I fear I don’t know a German who would admit it or agree but - I feel there is a stoic stubbornness to this culture, a sense of; WE Germany - know best and are an Institutional authority staple point of design, system and order. At times I hear my inner voice say to my self - so arrogantly blinded by their own national pride and unnecessary bureaucracy that they've lost sight of what should count on days like new years eve/day in the 2020s …. In a nutshell, so often I feel that system and order are far more important to the atypical German than common sense and empathy, its as though these qualities become redundant. 

But even if the government banned it, I am sure that the people will bring them illegally from Poland or the Czech republic. 

I guess my real question is, what is it about blowing up cheap fireworks that makes people happy? Most of all, in a country that was flattened with bombs during world war 2. There has never been a New Years I spent here that I didn't sit back and think to my self - this must have been somewhat what it sounded like during an allied air raid….. such a strange way to celebrate a new beginning in a place with such a dark past. I hope it will change, I know most of my dear German friends would also be happy in the most to see the civic end to the use of personal fireworks. In saying all this, I also don't really understand massive firework displays where hundreds of thousands of people head out to watch millions being spent on firecrackers going off monuments, buildings and bridges. When you think about how many people on this planet are in need, it's hard to understand or justify the excessive amounts of money spent on fireworks. Sydney this year spent $6.5 million. If I'm here next year, I will have to take Z to the countryside.  

 

At noon, I woke up rested and calm, unlike poor Z, who is still in a state of PTSD. I'm sober, and I feel at the least balanced and grounded, which under the circumstances, is somewhat a miracle. 

There're many unread messages on my phone, concerned friends and family but I don't want any of it. I have not wanted to hear any Happy New Years from anyone. I just wanted to be alone, stay alone, close the outside world away. I don't want to allow life or any of the people I love in my life to unintentionally or intentionally hurt me. It's not that I don't appreciate the effort and unconditional love, I just don't think anyone understands me and as tragic as it may seem I’m ok with this for the moment, at least till I am clear-headed. 

I'm aware that quite accidentally I've become an un-understandable cultural misfit. I have no way forward other than to shake hands with the omnipresent misfortune and the social de-compatibility and walk on past and up the mountain with my head held up, alone and proud. 

Self-pity or trying to seek loved ones to understand my circumstances is pointless and in the end, will inevitably disappoint me. It's a bit like telling someone with terminal cancer to be hopeful or asking someone to explain the taste of chocolate when they themselves have never tried it. 

I am reading Susan Sontag's essay on photography, written in 1977. It's a fascinating analysis from her brilliant mind—Sontag's examination of the normally invisible complex matrix of human beings' insatiable need for images. I would give anything to hear what she would say now with the narcissistic onslaught of Instagram. I wonder if, even back then she had the insight to see what was coming in our now image choked world. 

I hope it continues to help me work out my own complex need to take so many images. What am I memorialising it all for? Is it memorialising? If it's not memorial of my life, then is it a validation of emotions? Or a simple fool needing to show off his expert tourist self showing off souvenirs to feed the narcissistic ego? In the same way, as I so fervently accuse others of - making me a grand old hypocrite. My photography style or styles leave me feeling schizophrenic, making it all so hard to recapitulate, regardless of this early bemusement, it's good to finally have open pandora's box and work on the deep mechanics of the purpose of the greater body of my work. 

 

There are 25’345 new case's in Germany, and 696 souls lost their life today.  

I have been sober for five days. 

Today was grounding, lockdown continues. 

Photo - Troubled waters, during the monsoon floods of the Ganges Delta, Varanasi India,  2016