It's a narrow window. Less than a couple of days after an event I don't have enough perspective to write about it. More than a week and, without notes, I can't remember enough specifics. Notes would solve this problem, but I already feel too much like a journalist. I've caught myself writing stories in my head while still experiencing the event that triggers them.
The other problem is that after a week something else has happened.
There are a lot of things I never wrote about and some of them are gone forever - for both of us. I spend more time reading my travel journal than anyone else does.
Here are a few. I'll update this entry in future, as placeholders for the things I might find time to write.
Randomly riding into an Akha village in Laos. They spoke zero English and couldn't understand my Lao, but they fed us lunch, tried to get us drunk, and made me pay 4000 kip to buy cigarettes for the house spirits for applauding.
Returning to Faust. It was called The Masque of the Red Death, this time. Outstanding, but same-same.. which is terrifying.
Passing the bottle with long-term freegans under the treehouses at Bilston Road Protest Site.
Sunbathing on Portobello Road on a five-degree day, and still not winning the photo contest.
Using facebook to track down everyone I've ever cared about, more or less, and reestablishing contact.
The most amazing house party ever at Battersea Arts Center.