Thursday, October 27, 2005

What's black and white and red all over?

The Second World War is defined by the iconic black and white images and photography of the time. When one thinks of that time (and the rest of the century that preceded it), the images formed in one’s mind are all black and white. Think of the Nazi rallies at Nurenberg, the US marines raising the flag in the Pacific, that famous kiss on the streets of Paris after its liberation, the crowds in Trafalgar Square on VE Day. They’re all black and white. Translating them into colour is inconceivable. So when one does see pictures and film from that time in colour, the effect is incongruous and slightly unsettling. Pictures of London in bright sunlight, swarming with red double-deckers and people wearing colours other than black and grey are startling yet strangely artificial.

With the rapid advance of visual media and entertainment technology, are we going to reach a stage, sometime in the near future, when we'll look back at now and feel the same sense of how a particular time is created by the technology of that time? Some sort of future virtual reality technology will make the way we view and hear things now seem old-fashioned yet right for perceiving images and sounds of the time.

Am I rambling, am I making sense? And if I’m making sense, is there any point to all this? Let me wind back a bit.

Stalker D spent the night with me on Friday. It was the first time I’d seen him since leaving Nottingham over 2 months ago. Unlike Stalker A, he didn’t know that I’d been to Nottingham several times since starting work here in Northampton. Having the two run into me at the same time would have been too complicated for even me to handle. I really am far too nice to my stalkers!

He was perfectly sober when he arrived and had probably not had more than 5 joints during the day. So, for a change, he didn’t start one of his philosophising rambles until much later. It was good to see him again, especially seeing him ‘straight’. I knew that I’d probably want to see the back of him by midday the next day but, for the time being, it was good being in his company.

We swiftly consumed the first bottle of red wine that he’d brought and then he brought out the dope. Ages ago, I used to smoke a lot of the stuff but I hardly ever do these days, particularly if it’s ‘skunk’. If I am going to get stoned, I far prefer getting stoned in a slow, mellow sort of way rather than have my head caved in by a sledge-hammer as happens with a drag or two of skunk.

‘Do you want some,’ he asked, expecting me to decline.

‘Yeah, why not?’ I said, thinking that being on D’s wavelength couldn’t be too bad a thing for a change.

D rolled up while I opened a second bottle of wine. By the time I’d reminded him that I’d said I wanted some, he’d already smoked a third of the spliff.

‘Oops, sorry, I forgot.’ He actually looked embarrassed but that may have just been the glow from the wine. I took two drags and passed it back.

The effect was immediate. I felt a warm whoosh rushing from my chest to the rest of my body while my skin started to tingle. The whoosh reached my head before it got to my toes. D’s face loomed large and he looked more like Bart Simpson with a wobbly head than ever. I had a sudden desire to envelop him in my arms and feel his breath on me.

‘Some more?’ he asked.

I shook my head. As nice as the feeling was, it was too quick, too extreme. By the time we’d finished the wine, D had had another spliff.

In the next half hour or so before we ripped each others clothes off we listened to music and talked about all manner of things, including the Second World War.

My head felt very fuzzy the next day but it didn't have to contend with D for too long. He left just after midday.


Blogger mike said...

D’s face loomed large and he looked more like Bart Simpson with a wobbly head than ever.

LOL! Perfect description!

2:13 pm  
Blogger portuguesa nova said...

Oh, man! You're asking for tuh-ruh-bul.

I think I have smoked pot three times in my life, and I have no real need to ever do it again, but I am tempted to find someone who sells the stuff just so that I could have it once in a while for purposes of the great sex I remember having two of the three times I used it.

3:15 pm  
Blogger ChittyChittyBangBang! said...

You are right about the impact of b&w images and photgraphy of the time. I tend to think of those years in B&W too, when in fact they were bloody and in full colour.
As for defining WWII; the death, persecuton, destruction and human suffering define it for me, but the b&w images does illustrate the stark reality of these atrocities aptly.
Smoking weed and getting stoned... those were the days!

7:27 am  
Blogger BUDDESS said...

When I think of any of the wars, I just see black. Not a time to remember. As for weed, done that. Worst experience was a blow-back. Never did it again after that.

9:31 am  
Blogger Reluctant Nomad said...

I wish that I could still enjoy weed as much as I did when much younger! As far as recreational drugs are concerned, there are others that I prefer these days.

Buddess: What do you mean by blow-back?

11:00 am  

Post a Comment

<< Home