| The Art of A(m)p(p)lification |
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Nothing used to delight my father more than a hint of scandal dawning on the horizon. It was he who taught me that no matter how grim, there's always another side to catastrophe. After all, isn't it doom and disaster that enables the Fourth Estate to rake in the shekels? Good causes is the last thing news buyers are looking for - they want to wallow, abhor and shudder, and better still, be given something to be incensed about. Although my father was no different, he regarded it as a form of entertainment even though he usually managed to pull an appropriately grave face. He felt no need to intervene, even though he was a lover of all things cinematic who actually tried making his own films, the theatricals of his shoots easily surpassing the result, as far as I can remember from when I was young. Despite all this he was resigned to the course of everyday life, so that his sole legacy consists in a collection of fragile 8mm pictures of a small group of young men who roared with laughter, both behind and in front of the wind-up camera, just as much as I do when writing my pieces. Some of this has been passed on to my daughter, who although she is clever enough to conjure up her own texts on screen finds nothing more amusing than sit on my lap and order me to key in a text, sneakily doing everything she can to disrupt my movements and roaring with laughter whenever this results in a typo. Meanwhile, for a fleeting moment I resign to the course of life and bask in her presence. |