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Add one part satire to two parts sincerity. Sprinkle on a couple of rants. Stir liberally.
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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.
If it's called Daily Blah, how come you don't always write every day?
I am trying harder. I promise. Please don't hurt me.
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)
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"Better than Xanax." - Lessley Andersen, journalist
"Dude, lay off the crack pipe." - Souris Hong-Porretta, gamesmith
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Daily Blah for... Saturday, July 13, 2002
Earthquake, the Sequel
As if the lingering threat of two more typhoons weren't enough, we just this minute had an earthquake in Tokyo. I was here on the 22nd floor of the Century Hyatt, recuperating after a hard day's shopping, and suddenly felt the whole building wobbling precariously. For one awful moment I remembered reading about how the Japanese tend to construct their buildings so they fall down quickly in quakes, and hence are easier to rebuild. Luckily, the city still seems to be standing. Nevertheless, the experience leaves me wondering what kind of geological jinx I am. After all, it hasn't been all that long since the San Andreas shaker I wrote about on May 13. I have just got to stop spending time on this damn Pacific plate.
Don't Rave -- Bellydance!
Last week I wrote that pending U.S. Senate legislation might drive ravers underground and across the borders to Tijuana or Toronto. But soon, according to my Toronto correspondent Jennifer, even that may be half-wrong. Yes, the once fine and liberal-minded city of Toronto has taken to banning raves on its property. Jeez. Maybe we'll all end up at relatively small, tame, guitar-and-drum-based "happenings" like the one I attended until 5am last night in the backstreets of Tokyo's Roppongi district. Still, the accompanying bellydancing was fantastic. It seems bellydancing classes are all the rage among female members of the so-called "new species", the collective name for Japan's hip urbanite under-25s. Well, if techno-filled warehouses are to be replaced by roomfuls of gyrating naked torso and sultry Middle East sounds, I guess I won't mind that much.
When You're Big (and) In Japan
See what happens when I go away for a week and don't post so often? I end up one of the Blogs of Note on the Blogger homepage. Of course, this has nothing to do with the fact that I just paid 35 smackers to upgrade to Blogger Pro. I hope.
Daily Blah for... Thursday, July 11, 2002
In Perfect Harmony
The typhoons seem to be giving Tokyo a wide berth, at least for now. It's not looking so promising for Saturday. But at the moment, snow-capped Fuji-san is shining in the far distance and the streets are steadily baking in a 90-degree heat. Such extremes of weather, yin and yang, seems perfect for this place.
I'm really enjoying the extraordinary emphasis Japanese culture places on being harmonious, though I imagine if I lived here any longer it would make me want to scream. Yesterday I met with some executives from Sharp, and we went through the whole business card-swapping ceremony. I'd been forewarned about the rules that govern this elaborate exchange -- always study the other person's business card with interest, be sure to watch how far down they bow and bow to the same level -- but I guess I really didn't believe it would be as formal as all that. It was, of course, and it continued throughout the meeting. One had to hold an expression of interest, to nod at appropriate junctures, to shun eye contact, and heaven forefend you loosen your tie or lean back in your chair. Part of me likes the civilized mannerisms; politeness, after all, is the lubricant of society, and something we could do with more of in the West. The other part of me just wanted to rip off my tie and sprawl back in my chair with legs hanging over the side, TV-watching style.
Comfort vs. congeniality: the eternal debate continues.
Daily Blah for... Wednesday, July 10, 2002
Stranger in a Strangely Familiar Land
My first day in the far east, and I have the dubious fortune to run into three (count 'em) typhoons, all licking their lips at the sight of Tokyo. And yet it is the dirty gray clouds and constant anticipatory drizzle, the relative calm before the storms, that help me feel at home here; it is, for the time being, a very English climate. The excessive humidity, though not very English, reminds me of the four New York summers I suffocated through. And the forward tilt into the future which touches everything -- buildings, walkways, giant screens and vending machines -- reminds me of the Blade Runner-type world I always secretly wanted to live in.
Don't get me wrong; I'm not so in love with the world's most populous city to want to insert myself into its endless tower blocks for a substantial period of time (though that would not be out of keeping with the westward-ho trajectory of my life, which has so far catapulted me from England to California via the east coast). But I often say that I adore the San Francisco-Silicon Valley axis for its historically consistent desire to thrust itself five minutes into the world's future, technologically and philosophically speaking. If that is so, then Tokyo wants to live ten minutes into the future. Not just because videoscreens and futuristically funky architecture have been sprinkled everywhere with a kind of innocent glee, but also because of its wholesale cosmopolitanism; its ravenous adoption and effortless mingling of western corporate culture with timeless eastern sensibilities.
I sit here in a hotel room where I can charge up my American laptop in an American socket without need for an adaptor, where my every need is dealt with in English via a variety of media (phone, Internet, fax, interactive TV). Looking out across the Shinjuku area of the city, I can see half a dozen huge signs in English, stretching to all horizons; barely squinting, I'm able to imagine I'm in a kind of European version of Los Angeles. Earlier I took my hotel-property umbrella out for a walk and went shopping in an enormous department store called, in part, Times Square, where T-shirts were plastered in bizarre literary prescriptions for world peace. So the Japanese drive on the left, drink lots of tea and love radical (and radically nonsensical) English phrases.
No wonder I feel at home.
Daily Blah for... Monday, July 08, 2002
Tomorrow in Tokyo
In a couple of hours I'll be flying to Japan for a week of vacation (plus a few business meetings). Too late for cherry blossoms or the World Cup, this is nevertheless my first trip to the land of the rising sun; I'm enormously excited, and I'll keep you abreast of my experience. That's if the pesky international dateline jetlag doesn't get me first.
Daily Blah for... Sunday, July 07, 2002
Rotten Apple
I know Steve Jobs likes to control the message -- he's very gung-ho about promoting Apple products and controling the timing of information release -- but this is ridiculous. It seems Jobs has convinced MacWorld organizers to refuse press passes to any "rumor" website; that is, any small media outlet that joins in the fun of guessing what the company's next hot product is going to be. By pissing these guys off, Jobs is only hurting himself. Nearly all the buzz about products-to-be is created by these sites. They are what turns journalists like me on to what's next, or what might be next. If our only information source is Apple flacks [PR people], we're not going to be so keen to spill ink on whatever the product turns out to be when Jobs deigns to unveil it.
In this brave new world of information, media is organic. There's a whole food chain going on. The big journalists and the little journalists help keep each other alive. Any media hungry individual or organization who does not realize this, ultimately, is finished.
Rave Gone?
Can it be true? Can the U.S. Senate be so far out of touch with youth culture, and so disrespectful of liberty, as to be considering banning raves? What next? Thousands of teens in day-glo pants and black light T-shirts streaming across the border to warehouses in Tijuana and Toronto? A Million-Raver march on Washington? A prohibition against candy pacifiers and light sticks?
The Battle of Bull Run
If there is some gene that causes an inclination towards Hemmingway-esque stuff, I don't possess it. I have absolutely no interest in shooting, boxing, fishing or participating in a major European civil war. When I went to Pamplona during the running of the bulls, I was not one of the testosterone-filled mental adolescents trying to whack the bull on the tail with a rolled-up newspaper, but rather sitting comfortably further up in the arena seating with my sister, shaking my head at the sorry spectacle. Why did these idiots want to do this? What did they have to prove, and to whom? Was it a misguided attempt to work their way into the hearts of women? If so, I remember, the bulls were not playing along, but were rather making very well-guided attempts to work their horns into the hearts of their provocateurs. So it does not surprise me to learn that three people were gored in this year's run. It does surprise me to learn that a 19-year-old woman from Kansas was among the three. Even the more sensible sex, it seems, carries the Hemmingway gene.
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