By Nick Nicholson
On the morning of August 14, 1955, the novelist Vannevar Mann awoke from a dream in which he was spellbound by the tears of a beautiful dark-haired girl, although in the dream it was uncertain whether the tears were of grief or joy. The cryptic vision of the girl haunted Mann. He sensed that there was something important about her, that she possessed a secret truth of some kind. A week later, Mann spied a dark-haired girl darting through the crowded markets of Petit Socco. Convinced that it was the girl from his dream, he followed her. She led him through a maze of back streets and blind intersections, the labyrinth of the medina, constantly slipping in and out of view, always just out of reach. Then she vanished. In the months that followed, Mann became obsessed. The girl continued to infiltrate his dreams. She materialised numerous times and each time, he pursued her through the kaleidoscopic streets of Tangier. Years passed but he never found her. Vannevar Mann died from a heart attack on December 3, 1962. The next day, a local newspaper reported the story of an unidentified dark-haired girl who had drowned in the Bay of Tangier.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
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This is the final part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue.
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Showing posts with label Nick Nicholson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nick Nicholson. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Sydney
By Nick Nicholson
Michael Robeson was fated to be an outcast when he performed fellatio for the first time on October 10, 1987, at the age of 16. He silently vowed never to do it again but three days later he returned to Kings Cross and quickly found another customer. In a matter of weeks, Robeson had established a reputation around the Cross, his dark, dream-laden eyes earning him the moniker, “Moon Boy”. On July 1, 1989, Moon Boy moved into a small flat in Darlinghurst with “Bianca”, 19, a prostitute he’d befriended three weeks earlier. She and Moon Boy soon became lovers. On lazy afternoons, they would share stories about their clients: the good, the bad, and the lost souls. It was the lost souls (the “heartbreakers”, as Moon Boy and Bianca called them) that they liked the most; there was something about them that got under their skins. On the whole, the relationship proved to be reasonably stable, all things considered, but after three years, Bianca had grown bored with Moon Boy and on November 30, 1992, she left him. Moon Boy was devastated. Five days later, his body was found washed up in a tangle of seaweed on Cronulla Beach.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the seventh part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Tangier
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Michael Robeson was fated to be an outcast when he performed fellatio for the first time on October 10, 1987, at the age of 16. He silently vowed never to do it again but three days later he returned to Kings Cross and quickly found another customer. In a matter of weeks, Robeson had established a reputation around the Cross, his dark, dream-laden eyes earning him the moniker, “Moon Boy”. On July 1, 1989, Moon Boy moved into a small flat in Darlinghurst with “Bianca”, 19, a prostitute he’d befriended three weeks earlier. She and Moon Boy soon became lovers. On lazy afternoons, they would share stories about their clients: the good, the bad, and the lost souls. It was the lost souls (the “heartbreakers”, as Moon Boy and Bianca called them) that they liked the most; there was something about them that got under their skins. On the whole, the relationship proved to be reasonably stable, all things considered, but after three years, Bianca had grown bored with Moon Boy and on November 30, 1992, she left him. Moon Boy was devastated. Five days later, his body was found washed up in a tangle of seaweed on Cronulla Beach.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the seventh part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Tangier
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Santiago
By Nick Nicholson
Throughout his adolescent years, Miguel Valasco dreamed of becoming a famous poet like his hero, Pablo Neruda, but at the age of 22 he realised that he had little facility with the written word so he turned instead to videotape. Valasco purchased his first video camera in May, 1984, and quickly discovered the endless possibilities afforded by the medium. He videotaped everything for which he had no words: the restless feet of pedestrians rushing along Calle Bandera; a game of chess played by old men on the banks of the Mapocho River; the decomposing body of a cat in an alley. On February 25, 1987, Valasco videotaped a fly crawling on his kitchen window for twelve and a half minutes and in the summer of 1992 he recorded 141 hours of his girlfriend, Maria Salazar, sleeping naked in his bed. After Miguel Valasco was killed in a car accident on March 5, 1994, a collection of 1,217 videotapes, hidden in boxes and organised by date, was discovered in his apartment. Maria Salazar brought the tapes to the attention of a curator who subsequently mounted an exhibition that toured the Americas. The exhibition was entitled: Miguel Valasco, The Poetry of Videotape.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the sixth part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Sydney
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Throughout his adolescent years, Miguel Valasco dreamed of becoming a famous poet like his hero, Pablo Neruda, but at the age of 22 he realised that he had little facility with the written word so he turned instead to videotape. Valasco purchased his first video camera in May, 1984, and quickly discovered the endless possibilities afforded by the medium. He videotaped everything for which he had no words: the restless feet of pedestrians rushing along Calle Bandera; a game of chess played by old men on the banks of the Mapocho River; the decomposing body of a cat in an alley. On February 25, 1987, Valasco videotaped a fly crawling on his kitchen window for twelve and a half minutes and in the summer of 1992 he recorded 141 hours of his girlfriend, Maria Salazar, sleeping naked in his bed. After Miguel Valasco was killed in a car accident on March 5, 1994, a collection of 1,217 videotapes, hidden in boxes and organised by date, was discovered in his apartment. Maria Salazar brought the tapes to the attention of a curator who subsequently mounted an exhibition that toured the Americas. The exhibition was entitled: Miguel Valasco, The Poetry of Videotape.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the sixth part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Sydney
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Rotterdam
By Nick Nicholson
In June, 1939, Dutch surrealist Janek Bruhl finished production of his only film, De Wreedheid van Geboorte (The Cruelty of Birth). He was 31. Bruhl’s lover, the actress Clara Leitz, played the lead role of a young woman who descends into a subconscious world of psychosexual madness and perversity, depicted in a series of nightmarishly bizarre scenes that at times bordered on the pornographic. The experience was so grueling for Leitz, physically and mentally, that upon completion of filming, her doctor dispatched her to a sanitarium in Switzerland. Three weeks later, Leitz returned home to Rotterdam but she was never the same. She’d become fragile and prone to uncontrollable bouts of weeping. In March, 1940, Bruhl made some preliminary notes for his next film, Het Ei (The Egg), but not a single frame was ever shot. As fate would have it, Janek Bruhl and Clara Leitz were both killed on May 14, 1940, during the German blitz on their beloved city. In 1947, after a private viewing of De Wreedheid van Geboorte, Spanish director Luis Buñuel is reputed to have said, “After Bruhl, there is nothing.” The last surviving print of Bruhl’s cinematic masterpiece was destroyed by fire in 1961.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the fifth part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Santiago
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
In June, 1939, Dutch surrealist Janek Bruhl finished production of his only film, De Wreedheid van Geboorte (The Cruelty of Birth). He was 31. Bruhl’s lover, the actress Clara Leitz, played the lead role of a young woman who descends into a subconscious world of psychosexual madness and perversity, depicted in a series of nightmarishly bizarre scenes that at times bordered on the pornographic. The experience was so grueling for Leitz, physically and mentally, that upon completion of filming, her doctor dispatched her to a sanitarium in Switzerland. Three weeks later, Leitz returned home to Rotterdam but she was never the same. She’d become fragile and prone to uncontrollable bouts of weeping. In March, 1940, Bruhl made some preliminary notes for his next film, Het Ei (The Egg), but not a single frame was ever shot. As fate would have it, Janek Bruhl and Clara Leitz were both killed on May 14, 1940, during the German blitz on their beloved city. In 1947, after a private viewing of De Wreedheid van Geboorte, Spanish director Luis Buñuel is reputed to have said, “After Bruhl, there is nothing.” The last surviving print of Bruhl’s cinematic masterpiece was destroyed by fire in 1961.
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the fifth part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Santiago
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Havana
By Nick Nicholson
Born on April 2, 1895, to a French mother and Spanish father, Jean-Baptiste Fuentes worked as a street sweeper, barber and smuggler before becoming, in the 1930s, the most successful pimp in Old Havana. Jean-Baptiste’s choice of livelihood was one of pragmatism because in those days Havana was flush with American tourists looking for a good time. “A little passion to forget the shit,” he would say to them. The sentiment resonated deeply so securing business was never difficult. Over the years, more than a few of Jean-Baptiste’s girls fell in love with him but the liaisons never developed into marriage. That some of his girls shared their bodies with him from time to time was enough for Jean-Baptiste. “Better that a tigress live in the jungle than a cage,” he always said with a wistful smile whenever one of his girls pressed him for a more permanent relationship. Jean-Baptiste had been stabbed three times during his life, in street brawls, but his passing on June 12, 1958 was without violence. After playing the seventh tile in a game of dominoes with Ernest Hemingway in the lobby of the Hotel Ambos Mundos, Jean-Baptiste Fuentes simply closed his eyes and died.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the fourth part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Rotterdam
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Born on April 2, 1895, to a French mother and Spanish father, Jean-Baptiste Fuentes worked as a street sweeper, barber and smuggler before becoming, in the 1930s, the most successful pimp in Old Havana. Jean-Baptiste’s choice of livelihood was one of pragmatism because in those days Havana was flush with American tourists looking for a good time. “A little passion to forget the shit,” he would say to them. The sentiment resonated deeply so securing business was never difficult. Over the years, more than a few of Jean-Baptiste’s girls fell in love with him but the liaisons never developed into marriage. That some of his girls shared their bodies with him from time to time was enough for Jean-Baptiste. “Better that a tigress live in the jungle than a cage,” he always said with a wistful smile whenever one of his girls pressed him for a more permanent relationship. Jean-Baptiste had been stabbed three times during his life, in street brawls, but his passing on June 12, 1958 was without violence. After playing the seventh tile in a game of dominoes with Ernest Hemingway in the lobby of the Hotel Ambos Mundos, Jean-Baptiste Fuentes simply closed his eyes and died.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the fourth part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Rotterdam
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Tokyo
By Nick Nicholson
Takashi Masuko, 36, a mid-level executive for a multinational electronics company, fell in love with Kimi Ishiguro, 23, on the evening of February 14, 1994, when he ate sushi off her naked body at a nyotaimori restaurant in Kabukichō, although it would be more accurate to say that he became obsessed with Kimi because he returned to the restaurant frequently over a period of several months, specifically to see her. Strangely, a friendship developed. As Takashi delicately picked up pieces of sushi with his chopsticks from Kimi’s torso and thighs, Kimi would tell him about her extraordinary life: she had been famous, briefly, when she published a book of erotic poems at the age of 17; in 1991 she posed nude for a series of arty pornographic photographs by Nobuyoshi Araki which were subsequently collected by the Tate; and she had travelled to America. By contrast, Takashi’s life amounted to little more than that of a worker bee. He was married, of course, but had no children. Takashi Masuko was last seen on January 11, 1995. He simply, and inexplicably, disappeared. Kimi Ishiguro quickly forgot about Takashi and in 1997 she became the hostess of a popular TV game show.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the third part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Havana
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Takashi Masuko, 36, a mid-level executive for a multinational electronics company, fell in love with Kimi Ishiguro, 23, on the evening of February 14, 1994, when he ate sushi off her naked body at a nyotaimori restaurant in Kabukichō, although it would be more accurate to say that he became obsessed with Kimi because he returned to the restaurant frequently over a period of several months, specifically to see her. Strangely, a friendship developed. As Takashi delicately picked up pieces of sushi with his chopsticks from Kimi’s torso and thighs, Kimi would tell him about her extraordinary life: she had been famous, briefly, when she published a book of erotic poems at the age of 17; in 1991 she posed nude for a series of arty pornographic photographs by Nobuyoshi Araki which were subsequently collected by the Tate; and she had travelled to America. By contrast, Takashi’s life amounted to little more than that of a worker bee. He was married, of course, but had no children. Takashi Masuko was last seen on January 11, 1995. He simply, and inexplicably, disappeared. Kimi Ishiguro quickly forgot about Takashi and in 1997 she became the hostess of a popular TV game show.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the third part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Havana
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
New York
By Nick Nicholson
ON JULY 18, 1953, four weeks after the electrocution of the Rosenbergs, the temperature in New York reached 101 degrees and within the crumbling walls of his apartment, after fucking his girlfriend, Latisha, from behind, Wesley Washington declared, “Damn dog days is a motherfucker,” which subsequently, and famously, became the first line of the first poem he ever wrote. On October 13 of that year, Latisha was murdered, shot. The police conducted an investigation of sorts but the killer was never found. Latisha’s death moved Washington to express his grief in words. He remembered the ferociously hot summer. He remembered lying naked with Latisha beneath the slowly rotating ceiling fan. Then he remembered the line that had sprung from his lips. He wrote it down and thus began Washington’s illustrious poetic career. Washington was prolific. By 1962, he had become a revered underground literary cult figure with a raw, urban voice that spoke to a generation of black youth. His fame eventually declined, however, and on July 4, 1977, Washington was found dead from an overdose of heroin. According to legend, an unfinished poem was discovered in his pocket and the last words he’d written were these: We all dogs.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the second part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Tokyo
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
ON JULY 18, 1953, four weeks after the electrocution of the Rosenbergs, the temperature in New York reached 101 degrees and within the crumbling walls of his apartment, after fucking his girlfriend, Latisha, from behind, Wesley Washington declared, “Damn dog days is a motherfucker,” which subsequently, and famously, became the first line of the first poem he ever wrote. On October 13 of that year, Latisha was murdered, shot. The police conducted an investigation of sorts but the killer was never found. Latisha’s death moved Washington to express his grief in words. He remembered the ferociously hot summer. He remembered lying naked with Latisha beneath the slowly rotating ceiling fan. Then he remembered the line that had sprung from his lips. He wrote it down and thus began Washington’s illustrious poetic career. Washington was prolific. By 1962, he had become a revered underground literary cult figure with a raw, urban voice that spoke to a generation of black youth. His fame eventually declined, however, and on July 4, 1977, Washington was found dead from an overdose of heroin. According to legend, an unfinished poem was discovered in his pocket and the last words he’d written were these: We all dogs.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010, 2011. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the second part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: Tokyo
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Naples
By Nick Nicholson
The highlight of Edward Gray’s life occurred on the night of November 20, 1971, when he slept with the twins, Adrianna and Arietta Ferrara, while holidaying in Naples. Edward, a postal worker from Manchester who secretly harboured pretensions of culture, was driving a rented Fiat back to his hotel after attending what he considered to be a somewhat lacklustre performance of Rigoletto at the Teatro di San Carlo. Rain fell in cascading veils over the old city. Edward spotted the girls huddled together in a doorway on a dark street. They had no umbrella so he stopped and offered to drive them home. The twins accepted, thankful for the unexpected kindness. Upon arrival, they invited Edward into their tiny flat where they shared a bottle of Chianti and smoked cigarettes. Then they led him into the bedroom to properly express their gratitude. Unlike most Italian girls, Adrianna and Arietta weren’t especially beautiful, but it didn’t matter. To Edward, they were angels, the rarest of miracles. Compared to that magical night, the subsequent unfolding of Edward’s life was pointedly uneventful. He never married and died 35 years later, at the age of 67, his heart too bored to beat any longer.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the first part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: New York
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
The highlight of Edward Gray’s life occurred on the night of November 20, 1971, when he slept with the twins, Adrianna and Arietta Ferrara, while holidaying in Naples. Edward, a postal worker from Manchester who secretly harboured pretensions of culture, was driving a rented Fiat back to his hotel after attending what he considered to be a somewhat lacklustre performance of Rigoletto at the Teatro di San Carlo. Rain fell in cascading veils over the old city. Edward spotted the girls huddled together in a doorway on a dark street. They had no umbrella so he stopped and offered to drive them home. The twins accepted, thankful for the unexpected kindness. Upon arrival, they invited Edward into their tiny flat where they shared a bottle of Chianti and smoked cigarettes. Then they led him into the bedroom to properly express their gratitude. Unlike most Italian girls, Adrianna and Arietta weren’t especially beautiful, but it didn’t matter. To Edward, they were angels, the rarest of miracles. Compared to that magical night, the subsequent unfolding of Edward’s life was pointedly uneventful. He never married and died 35 years later, at the age of 67, his heart too bored to beat any longer.
------------------------
© Nick Nicholson 2010. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or in part without written permission from the author.
------------------------
This is the first part of Nick Nicholson's theme-adventurous, eight-part Travelogue. Subsequent segments will be published here in upcoming months.
Next Travelogue story: New York
• • •
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Throughout his life, Nick Nicholson has pursued a variety of creative vocations: music, photography, painting and, in recent years, writing. He lives in Australia.
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