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The increasingly inaccurately-named blog of journalist and futurist Chris Taylor. Either the most sporadically brilliant amateur blog, the most brilliantly amateur sporadic blog, or the most amateur sporadic brilliance on the Web since 2001.
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Daily Blah FAQ
Who are you?
I'm the newly-appointed Future editor at Business 2.0 and the former San Francisco correspondent for Time Magazine.
Wow, so does this mean everything you write reflects Time Inc's opinion? Or do you perhaps have some sort of standard disclaimer to the effect that it doesn't?
Naturally, the opinions contained in this blog are not those of my employers. In fact, some opinions may be the polar opposite of my employers. Some may be the same, for all I know. Hey, it's not like I ask my employers their opinions about everything in the news, okay? Let's just say that if this were a Venn diagram with one circle marked "my opinions" and the other one marked "my employers' opinions", there would doubtless be some overlap. But neither I nor my employers are able to pinpoint exactly where that overlap is.
What is this Daily Blah thing?
An experiment for a column I wrote about blogging back in December 2001. All these years later, I haven't been able to kick the habit.
Do you write any other blogs, by chance? Could that have something to do with the fact that Daily Blah isn't always Daily?
Yes -- the Future Boy blog for Business 2.0. And yes. If you want true, editorially-mandated daily coverage from me, that's probably the best place to look.
Mister, you talk funny. Are you one of them furrners?
Why yes I am, as it happens. I was born, raised and educated in Great Britain. I've been living in the U.S. since 1996 and identify as British.
I say, old chap, you forgot the "u" in "colour."
No I didn't. I may identify as British, but I am also an American journalist writing for an American audience about mostly American issues. These two different sides of me are a constant source of tension. Nevertheless, Daily Blah will adhere to American English grammar and spelling.
Praise for Daily Blah:
"It is fun to watch the author's navel-gazing joy." - Sunday Times (UK)
"It's really funny and informative." - Dave Eggers, author
"The Blah is becoming a daily destination for me." - Richard Marsh, Playwright
"I like it, and I don't." - Fiona Hogg, Teacher
"Better than Xanax." - Lessley Andersen, journalist
"Dude, lay off the crack pipe." - Souris Hong-Porretta, gamesmith
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Daily Blah for... Tuesday, November 26, 2002
A Dip into the Painfully Hip
I'm slouching against a space-age silver beanbag in the corner of a room that looks like it could have jumped out of the pages of Wallpaper. There's a king-size futon, a Sharper Image-style stereo, a cordless phone, a pile of trendy magazines (Bomb, Paper, Nylon) and in keeping with tasteful minimalism, very little else. The bathroom boasts a bright orange plastic washbasin and soap with instructions: wash. Rinse. Repeat. The minibar contains three CDs mixed by the in-house DJ. And the AC does not announce itself as AC. Oh no. There is simply a panel on the wall marked "blow," with settings "hard", "harder" and "stop."
Such are the charms of The Standard on Sunset Boulevard, in LA, possibly the most painfully hip hotel I've ever stayed in. Behind the brushed-white check-in desk, which makes its purpose known only by its location, lies the human mannequin -- a long, languid model straight out of central casting -- sunbathing artfully. Men of Mediterranean descent walk by and blow kisses at her, missing the artistic point entirely. At the end of the corridor, a black and white film of a woman putting on lipstick plays on what seems like an endless loop. But this isn't The Factory. We don't want the punters to get bored. And so the seemingly endless lipstick loop is replaced by another seemingly endless film loop of a family at their dining table. Clocks on the wall of the in-house coffee shop display the time "here" and, three hours further on, "there." The very name of the hotel is displayed upside-down.
I'm here for one night only. My purpose in LA will be fulfilled tomorrow morning (I'll leave you guessing for the moment as to what that purpose actually is). Part of me wants to tell you I'll be glad to leave this place, that I will roll my eyes one final time on departure. But who am I kidding? I'm a card-carrying member of the futurist hip-oise (my credentials were clear when I walked in here with an iPod in my pocket). I love anyone and anything that tries to dream itself further into the 21st century. And my one complaint about the Standard is that it does not go far enough. I mean, I'm writing this on a dial-up connection, for chrissakes. What, no wi-fi?
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