To a certain degree, I'm trying to get inside the mind of a quite particular character - the crazed yet totally committed protester. There are many variations. I'm wrestling with the why and the what behind those exposure seekers or windmill tilters or just plain out of their fool minds they're so into whatever thing crowd. I'll admit being intrigued by that degree of Kool Aid consumption. I don't really have a big history of such cause craziness myself. I've been more often into drive-by activism. Like that thing not long ago over on my long-running personal blog - I somewhat facetiously called for dumping garbage in front of Williams-Sonoma stores after receiving ill treatment. But then I was almost immediately found and satisfied in reply by an awesome PR exec with that company - their intelligence gathering would make the Mossad envious. Another recollection - which came quite out of the blue on a pre-dawn run today - is that of this gonzo dude from a journalism class in college who went deep deep undercover literally posing as a homeless guy. Flat out stayed in a mission, probably even drank anti-freeze and god knows what else with the folks around him, just plain went all native on a story that seemed to come out of left field. I don't know if I liked or even understood that degree of awesome commitment on his part. I think I respected it. Crazy for a cause. Good or way way out there bad - there's something to be said for that. I still don't get it. But I'm trying to understand.
An October stir amidst the falling leaves
For all the blather surrounding the "Occupy (Insert Location Here)" wave, I'm left wondering one thing - why protest in October? Is there something inherently more activist-friendly or inspiring about this time of year? I may be overstating the correlation thanks to the most-cliched historical example (Russia in October of 1917) or the surging focus upon current protests. But I'm also thinking about a much less covered brand new example in the area I'm trying to better understand that has deep roots in October activism. I'd love to hear anyone's crackpot theories about why certain segments of society get their collective Underoos all up in a bunch in October. Maybe it has something to do with the baseball playoffs, or lack thereof for certain folks? Go Brewers, by the way. Or maybe folks get unduly lathered up by overpriced corn mazes? Undiagnosed pumpkin allergies? Yes, these are all highly plausible. Nonetheless, I think the harvest of such ideas is not all in at this point.
More than just Pretty Pursuasion
For all the repetitive reflection offered in response to the sad passing of Steve Jobs, I've been considering another transition. I'm not talking someone who died too young. I'm referring to a band that called it quits after maybe too long - R.E.M. hung it up last month after 31 years together. Plenty of music nerds dissected it, "The Daily Show" did what they do best with it, and maybe a few folks actually got it right. And by "right" I essentially mean that they somehow decided that a band like R.E.M. defies easy summation. And of that band's personalities, Michael Stipe certainly became the front man (no matter how he started out). I bring it up because I've been thinking about people who set out to do one job in particular and then end up striving (evolving?) to affect people's tastes. Steve Jobs certainly did that, maybe with more original intent than most. Just look at all the things he made us think are not only cool, that had been intended to seem essential. I'm willing to argue that Stipe somehow grew into someone with a voice and a determination to have a broader influence on society. I certainly listened to his political posturing, whether or not I always agreed with it. And as such, did what Stipe offered represent a political (or social) cause and effect? I'm not willing to go way out there and say "yes." But I'd still put him in the same category as a figure like Steve Jobs. OK, now stop laughing. Let that one gestate. Reply if you've got something worth sharing. And you're welcome, even if only for a bit of levity in the middle of a Monday afternoon.
Chinese PR takes a few baby steps
I noticed a quick follow-up on that Shanghai subway collision. Just 4 days after I left Shanghai, an accident on the 10 Line injured nearly 300 people. The details that now come with an apology are a bit muted, but pretty crazy. Now I've seen a much better breakdown of the breakdown, along with the punishments that followed. The PR blowback correction now being offered by the Chinese managers seems more self-critical and willing to admit mistakes were made. So call it an improved reaction to a scary situation - conductors using cell phones to call between trains to check on traffic up ahead. Still, just imagine if that happened in New York.
It's hard to concentrate on Chinese public safety when my Milwaukee Brewers head to the bottom of the 6th inning in Game 5, still tied 1-1. Or much of anything else. Go Brew Crew.
It's hard to concentrate on Chinese public safety when my Milwaukee Brewers head to the bottom of the 6th inning in Game 5, still tied 1-1. Or much of anything else. Go Brew Crew.
Wrapping a neat little bow around China? Good luck with that.
I still have to look back at my last - and probably favorite - part of the ten days I spent in China. Hong Kong. I got just a taste - delivered in a whirlwind of exploration and not much sleep. But it was enough to amp up my sense of urban life halfway across the world. I was completely caught off guard by how much I loved the blend of East and West there. This part of my tour was really only about exploring - not the spoon fed exposure to this business I'm researching. So I could just soak up tiny bit of a city that has blended East and West into a fascinating stew.
But since my return to Seattle and the dozens of conversations both large and small about this trip to China, I'm finding it hard to wrap a bow around it. Without giving away everything I've been working on for Pelting Out - please bear in mind that this blog is meant to slowly let out some line on the reel that is a big book project. A few nights ago I talked with one of my best friends about the broad arc of all this - China, writing a non-fiction book when fiction's been the gig for so long, how it feels to be an American overseas these days. This friend has always been one of my most unflinching, spot-on sounding boards. And as such, he made me think about what any of us know about China - those who've been fortunate enough to visit, those who complain about their rise, those who couldn't care less about the subject. I found us debating whether there's a historical comparison for China's rise. Maybe you've got one, but we came up bupkis. So rather than look for a big summarizing construct...I'm done with the China shtick in this forum. For the time being. But not before I lay out a few of the things I did in Hong Kong that so entirely entertained me for that brief recent period.
I jostled my way around the subway system. I saw how people congregate downtown on a Sunday, with crowds of what appear to be foreign-born women dancing in the street and throughout Statue Park. I braved the crowds to ride the Peak Tram (the world's steepest funicular rail line) up to Victoria Peak. I tried not to interrupt morning exercises of all kinds in Kowloon Park. I wandered the Night Markets. I got chops made for family - carved marble ink stamps with Chinese characters spelling out our Western names phonetically that are used to accompany signatures. I took an amazing ferry cruise not just through Victoria Harbor and back, but all the way out to Lamma Island for a seafood dinner. I even got a full clinic on using chopsticks correctly - an embarrassing but validating discovery during an incredible three-hour dinner seated next to a friendly local who wasn't the least bit afraid of pointing out that my technique needed tweaking.
After all that and much more than you surely care to read, I came back to Seattle. Sated, challenged, and armed with stories and pictures and impressions I'm obviously still sorting my way through. Do I want to go back? Absolutely. But for the time being, I've got fish much closer to home to catch and season for serving. Thanks for reading. If you check back, I promise there will be more (and less - shorter entries hereafter) that I hope proves tasty. All heading in the general direction of a much larger project. Or so I keep telling myself.
But since my return to Seattle and the dozens of conversations both large and small about this trip to China, I'm finding it hard to wrap a bow around it. Without giving away everything I've been working on for Pelting Out - please bear in mind that this blog is meant to slowly let out some line on the reel that is a big book project. A few nights ago I talked with one of my best friends about the broad arc of all this - China, writing a non-fiction book when fiction's been the gig for so long, how it feels to be an American overseas these days. This friend has always been one of my most unflinching, spot-on sounding boards. And as such, he made me think about what any of us know about China - those who've been fortunate enough to visit, those who complain about their rise, those who couldn't care less about the subject. I found us debating whether there's a historical comparison for China's rise. Maybe you've got one, but we came up bupkis. So rather than look for a big summarizing construct...I'm done with the China shtick in this forum. For the time being. But not before I lay out a few of the things I did in Hong Kong that so entirely entertained me for that brief recent period.
I jostled my way around the subway system. I saw how people congregate downtown on a Sunday, with crowds of what appear to be foreign-born women dancing in the street and throughout Statue Park. I braved the crowds to ride the Peak Tram (the world's steepest funicular rail line) up to Victoria Peak. I tried not to interrupt morning exercises of all kinds in Kowloon Park. I wandered the Night Markets. I got chops made for family - carved marble ink stamps with Chinese characters spelling out our Western names phonetically that are used to accompany signatures. I took an amazing ferry cruise not just through Victoria Harbor and back, but all the way out to Lamma Island for a seafood dinner. I even got a full clinic on using chopsticks correctly - an embarrassing but validating discovery during an incredible three-hour dinner seated next to a friendly local who wasn't the least bit afraid of pointing out that my technique needed tweaking.
After all that and much more than you surely care to read, I came back to Seattle. Sated, challenged, and armed with stories and pictures and impressions I'm obviously still sorting my way through. Do I want to go back? Absolutely. But for the time being, I've got fish much closer to home to catch and season for serving. Thanks for reading. If you check back, I promise there will be more (and less - shorter entries hereafter) that I hope proves tasty. All heading in the general direction of a much larger project. Or so I keep telling myself.
