www.letterred.com/Blog.
I'm consolidating. For efficiency's sake.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Suicide Run
Well, I'm far enough ahead on my work for grad school that I figure I'm ready for the the show: I've entered the 3 day novel writing contest. We'll see how this goes. Tentative title: Beijing Palimpsest.
In other news, I'm transitioning my stuff from this blogger site to one hosted on my own website at letterred.com. It'll make it easier to post, and more fun for me. But not until I write my novel.
Love to all,
Will
In other news, I'm transitioning my stuff from this blogger site to one hosted on my own website at letterred.com. It'll make it easier to post, and more fun for me. But not until I write my novel.
Love to all,
Will
Thursday, August 9, 2007
Chinese Writing / Walltop Grass
I've been here for about a year, now, and this is the first work of Chinese prose that's really moved me, from Taiwanese writer Miou Si, by way of Danwei.
It's hard to see new things, but easy to have your own prejudices confirmed, and I think Miou captures something of the privation-born nastiness that I constantly encounter in Beijing. Plus, Miou has the gift for unusual detail that I really like in Chinese prose-
"If I had a choice, I would willingly become a native Hawaiian."
I've just inadvertently immersed myself in a series of books concerned with ethnic identity; more than any sane man could take, honestly. Red Sorghum, Operation Shylock, the execrable The Elementary Particles, and the wonderful Enemies, A Love Story. So perhaps I've sensitized myself to the whole issue, an appeal to the ugliness of your own people.
It's hard to see new things, but easy to have your own prejudices confirmed, and I think Miou captures something of the privation-born nastiness that I constantly encounter in Beijing. Plus, Miou has the gift for unusual detail that I really like in Chinese prose-
"If I had a choice, I would willingly become a native Hawaiian."
I've just inadvertently immersed myself in a series of books concerned with ethnic identity; more than any sane man could take, honestly. Red Sorghum, Operation Shylock, the execrable The Elementary Particles, and the wonderful Enemies, A Love Story. So perhaps I've sensitized myself to the whole issue, an appeal to the ugliness of your own people.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
At the Tube Station...
...by which I mean the sandwich shop behind my old building near 东四十条 station. Criminality is serving coffee at a place where the toilet looks like this:
Sunday, July 22, 2007
On Expatriot Writing
Well, I'm back in la Chine for another few months- I've got to buy my Dad another couple of Mao Zedong watches. This blog wasn't intended to be the Willy's Adventures in the Land of the Red Chinese, but the majority of my hay has certainly been made from Chinese stuff.
Traveling the Beijing - Vermont - Cape Cod - Boston - Tokyo - Beijing circuit didn't culture shock me as heavily as I thought it might. I think it's cowed me a little, but made me brave in other ways. My Mandarin obviously improved a hair since I've been gone, but my already limited vocabulary shrunk. A contradiction, I know, but I just don't feel as helpless as I once did. Knowing the terrain is as important as the language, I know.
Being a student again is very gratifying. Having missions is important, and doing something I'm good at, rather than something I'm bad at, is a relief. The list of skills is perhaps the next entry...
Traveling the Beijing - Vermont - Cape Cod - Boston - Tokyo - Beijing circuit didn't culture shock me as heavily as I thought it might. I think it's cowed me a little, but made me brave in other ways. My Mandarin obviously improved a hair since I've been gone, but my already limited vocabulary shrunk. A contradiction, I know, but I just don't feel as helpless as I once did. Knowing the terrain is as important as the language, I know.
Being a student again is very gratifying. Having missions is important, and doing something I'm good at, rather than something I'm bad at, is a relief. The list of skills is perhaps the next entry...
Friday, July 13, 2007
The Constantly Updated List of Adulterated Food and Drugs
What with the announcement that the cardboard baozi story was, in fact, an adulterated version of the truth, or possibly not, I'm officially retiring the list of adulterated food. Unless someone dies in my arms, I'll leave the reporting to the pros. Not that I didn't call the story months before it blew up, of course, but that's just sour grapes...
Local baozi made with cardboard and caustic soda. I've probably downed a couple of these...
Previously-
And here's a Globe and Mail report on fake building materials used in the construction industry. Oy vey.
Fake plasma used in Chinese hospitals. Thanks, Alexis.
Antibiotics and antifungals found in imported fish. I'm feeling smug, now.
China promises to do better. Good luck with that.
The diethylene gylcol toothpaste shows up in the US. At the Dolla Store.
An interesting article on Chinese food safety. From the Southern Metropolis Daily, via Danwei.
Alexis mentioned in the comments that fugu was being sold as monkfish in the US.
China is executing the former head of it's FDA and establishing a recall system.
While that friend and defender of the little guy, the Bush administration, takes China to task for food safety, Mom and Lina have been on the case, and dug up these new examples of delicious adulteration.
Toothpaste made with diethylene glycol as a thickener. Best known as windshield washer fluid, the chemical is also popular in the manufacture of wholly counterfeit medicines as well.
Contaminated traditional Chinese medicines. (Ironically, besides arsenic, cadmium, lead, strychnine and mercury, some patent medicines are being adulterated with pharmaceuticals like acetaminophen or cortisone.)
Melamine added to pet and livestock feed, as well as protein flours for human consumption, to increase its apparent protein content. The New York Times just published an expose on the subject. As an ex-carpenter, I should have recognized the adulterant. Mom pointed me to the FDA alert. Thanks, Mom.
The article mentioned some new and exciting contamination- eels battened on birth-control pills, and cuttlefish dipped in (calligraphy) ink. Looking deeper, I found this article on the People's Daily website, which mentions fish dipped in formaldehyde and bamboo shoots treated with industrial sulfur.
I'm especially interested in the birth-control eels, if anyone can point me to some solid information on it.
Carcinogenic wax added to hotpot and to pepper oil. A lot of contamination has to do with Sudan 1. Chinese people like their food to be really red.
Human hair made into soy sauce.
Synthetic eggs (in shell).
Carcinogenic red dye in duck eggs.
"Sewer Grease" in lard.
Fake infant formula, causing a condition known as "Big Head Disease".
Bleached Rice contaminated with aflotoxin.
In an ironic twist, it seems that Chinese farmers are being swindled with counterfeit pesticide. (I have to say that we get very nice vegetables and fruit here in Beijing, probably on account of all those banned pesticides.)
Local baozi made with cardboard and caustic soda. I've probably downed a couple of these...
Previously-
And here's a Globe and Mail report on fake building materials used in the construction industry. Oy vey.
Fake plasma used in Chinese hospitals. Thanks, Alexis.
Antibiotics and antifungals found in imported fish. I'm feeling smug, now.
China promises to do better. Good luck with that.
The diethylene gylcol toothpaste shows up in the US. At the Dolla Store.
An interesting article on Chinese food safety. From the Southern Metropolis Daily, via Danwei.
Alexis mentioned in the comments that fugu was being sold as monkfish in the US.
China is executing the former head of it's FDA and establishing a recall system.
While that friend and defender of the little guy, the Bush administration, takes China to task for food safety, Mom and Lina have been on the case, and dug up these new examples of delicious adulteration.
Toothpaste made with diethylene glycol as a thickener. Best known as windshield washer fluid, the chemical is also popular in the manufacture of wholly counterfeit medicines as well.
Contaminated traditional Chinese medicines. (Ironically, besides arsenic, cadmium, lead, strychnine and mercury, some patent medicines are being adulterated with pharmaceuticals like acetaminophen or cortisone.)
Melamine added to pet and livestock feed, as well as protein flours for human consumption, to increase its apparent protein content. The New York Times just published an expose on the subject. As an ex-carpenter, I should have recognized the adulterant. Mom pointed me to the FDA alert. Thanks, Mom.
The article mentioned some new and exciting contamination- eels battened on birth-control pills, and cuttlefish dipped in (calligraphy) ink. Looking deeper, I found this article on the People's Daily website, which mentions fish dipped in formaldehyde and bamboo shoots treated with industrial sulfur.
I'm especially interested in the birth-control eels, if anyone can point me to some solid information on it.
Carcinogenic wax added to hotpot and to pepper oil. A lot of contamination has to do with Sudan 1. Chinese people like their food to be really red.
Human hair made into soy sauce.
Synthetic eggs (in shell).
Carcinogenic red dye in duck eggs.
"Sewer Grease" in lard.
Fake infant formula, causing a condition known as "Big Head Disease".
Bleached Rice contaminated with aflotoxin.
In an ironic twist, it seems that Chinese farmers are being swindled with counterfeit pesticide. (I have to say that we get very nice vegetables and fruit here in Beijing, probably on account of all those banned pesticides.)
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Thoughts on Return
So, on Sunday, I'm returning to the US. A fourteen-hour plane ride, with, now, four bags. I'd started with three bags, but I bought a hanging bag for my three new tailor-made suits (pictures to follow). Lisa Tailor, at 三里屯 3.3 Mall did a good job, although the buttons they used were cheap...
My feelings on this are mixed. Like my long-ago trip to Japan, the pain was just immense at times. Beijing is a tough city, I've had a tough time here, although I'm glad I ate the bugs at Wanfujing. I only wish that I was this guy. Very much the best "foreigner" blog I've read. He's not especially insightful or such a beautiful writer, but he's as open to experience as anyone I've read.
(His blog reminds me strongly of JR Ackerley's Hindoo Holiday.)
My feelings on this are mixed. Like my long-ago trip to Japan, the pain was just immense at times. Beijing is a tough city, I've had a tough time here, although I'm glad I ate the bugs at Wanfujing. I only wish that I was this guy. Very much the best "foreigner" blog I've read. He's not especially insightful or such a beautiful writer, but he's as open to experience as anyone I've read.
(His blog reminds me strongly of JR Ackerley's Hindoo Holiday.)
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Sorry for the Delay- More Acting!
Blogger lets you save drafts of your posts online, and I've accumulated three or four unfinished posts so far. A lot about the unpopular subject of torture. It has something to do with the heat here.
In any event, I went in for two more DVD shoots. The first I did with Ellen, in the incredibly cool Automation Lab at Xinghua University. It was essentially a long hallway, with glass-fronted classrooms on either side. In the classrooms were a variety of robot playgrounds. I kicked myself for not getting pictures.
Suffice it to say, when not choking on my lines, I spent my time peering at the various machines. One room was just bank after bank of mainframe computers. Another room held a small soccer field, scattered with little humanoid robots, like players relaxing on the field after a match. Then there was the Barbie-scale carwash, and the robot-hand display, and several labs full of cool-looking prototyping gear.
The script itself included a Presidential debate between Senator Butler (my favorite, if you'll recall) and Congressman Santos. A tough job made tougher by the fact that the Senator was an Armenian guy with a thick accent.
For some reason, all my roles that day were either teachers or "coordinators", so I brought my tie collection.
Since I'm leaving Beijing in about a week and a half, I planned to forgo any new work for these guys, but I was guilted into one final shoot by the new production coordinator. (You know that scene you shot with Bald Guy? It's not finished! We'll have to throw out the whole thing!)
Yoyo has unfortunately quit the company, to pursue a lucrative career in tourguiding. I struggled with my lines, as usual. The one skit I nailed drew on my construction background. I played the role of Arnie.
_________________
Place: In a workshop 在车间两男
Role: Employee and manager
Content: The employee doesn’t wear a hard hat, a conversation about safety between the manager and the employee by using modals could and might.
Manager: Arnie, why aren’t you wearing a hard hat?
Arnie: Oh, I don’t need one.
Manager: If you don’t wear a hat, you might get hurt.
Arnie: I don’t think so. I’ll be careful. Besides, it’s too hot in here to wear a hat.
Manager: I know but we have occupational health and safety rules we have to follow. You’ve been briefed on them before, haven’t you?
Arnie: Yes, I have. But..
Manager: No buts, Arnie. The last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself and have you end up in hospital.
Arnie: You’re right. If I get hurt, I might miss work. I could lose a lot of money if I can’t work. My wife and family depend on me. I can’t do this to them.
Manager: Exactly. And you’re one of my best employees. I can’t afford to lose you either. Here, let me get you a hard hat.
Arnie: Thanks.
_________________
My personal experience in construction leads me to suspect this is how it would go down in the US-
Place: In a workshop 在车间两男
Role: Employee and manager
Content: The employee doesn’t wear a hard hat, a conversation about safety between the manager and the employee by using expletives and threats.
Manager: Arnie, why aren’t you wearing a hard hat?
Arnie: Fuck you.
Manager: If you don’t wear a hat, you might get hurt.
Arnie: I don’t care.
Manager: I know but we have occupational health and safety rules we have to appear to follow.
Arnie: But I'm drunk.
Manager: No buts, Arnie. The last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself and have to pay worker's comp.
Arnie: You’re right. If I get hurt, I might miss work. I could lose a lot of money if I can’t work. My dog and my meth dealer depend on me. I can’t do this to them.
Manager: Exactly. And you’re one of my best employees. I can’t afford to lose you either. Wear the hat or you're fired.
Arnie: Thanks.
_________________
Chinese version-
Place: In a workshop 在车间两男
Role: migrant laborer and manager
Content: The employee wears a hard hat, a conversation about guanxi between the manager and the employee by using callous disregard for life.
Manager: Ah Q, why are you wearing a hard hat?
Ah Q: I need one. They're required by law.
Manager: If you wear a hat, someone might think it's dangerous around here.
Ah Q: It is dangerous. I'm being careful. Besides, my cousin was decapitated yesterday by this machine I'm using right here.
Manager: I know, but we have occupational health and safety inspectors visiting today. You’ve been briefed on causing us to lose face, haven’t you?
Ah Q: Yes, I have. But...
Manager: No buts, Q. The last thing I want is to be embarrassed, or have to pay a bigger bribe.
Ah Q: You’re right. If I get hurt, I might die. My family could lose a lot of money if I die. My wives in Sichuan and Beijing depend on me. I can’t do this to them.
Manager: Exactly. And you’re only one of many expendable slaves. I can easily afford to lose you. In fact, you're fired. You'll be beaten on the way out...
Ah Q: Thanks.
In any event, I went in for two more DVD shoots. The first I did with Ellen, in the incredibly cool Automation Lab at Xinghua University. It was essentially a long hallway, with glass-fronted classrooms on either side. In the classrooms were a variety of robot playgrounds. I kicked myself for not getting pictures.
Suffice it to say, when not choking on my lines, I spent my time peering at the various machines. One room was just bank after bank of mainframe computers. Another room held a small soccer field, scattered with little humanoid robots, like players relaxing on the field after a match. Then there was the Barbie-scale carwash, and the robot-hand display, and several labs full of cool-looking prototyping gear.
The script itself included a Presidential debate between Senator Butler (my favorite, if you'll recall) and Congressman Santos. A tough job made tougher by the fact that the Senator was an Armenian guy with a thick accent.
For some reason, all my roles that day were either teachers or "coordinators", so I brought my tie collection.
Since I'm leaving Beijing in about a week and a half, I planned to forgo any new work for these guys, but I was guilted into one final shoot by the new production coordinator. (You know that scene you shot with Bald Guy? It's not finished! We'll have to throw out the whole thing!)
Yoyo has unfortunately quit the company, to pursue a lucrative career in tourguiding. I struggled with my lines, as usual. The one skit I nailed drew on my construction background. I played the role of Arnie.
_________________
Place: In a workshop 在车间两男
Role: Employee and manager
Content: The employee doesn’t wear a hard hat, a conversation about safety between the manager and the employee by using modals could and might.
Manager: Arnie, why aren’t you wearing a hard hat?
Arnie: Oh, I don’t need one.
Manager: If you don’t wear a hat, you might get hurt.
Arnie: I don’t think so. I’ll be careful. Besides, it’s too hot in here to wear a hat.
Manager: I know but we have occupational health and safety rules we have to follow. You’ve been briefed on them before, haven’t you?
Arnie: Yes, I have. But..
Manager: No buts, Arnie. The last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself and have you end up in hospital.
Arnie: You’re right. If I get hurt, I might miss work. I could lose a lot of money if I can’t work. My wife and family depend on me. I can’t do this to them.
Manager: Exactly. And you’re one of my best employees. I can’t afford to lose you either. Here, let me get you a hard hat.
Arnie: Thanks.
_________________
My personal experience in construction leads me to suspect this is how it would go down in the US-
Place: In a workshop 在车间两男
Role: Employee and manager
Content: The employee doesn’t wear a hard hat, a conversation about safety between the manager and the employee by using expletives and threats.
Manager: Arnie, why aren’t you wearing a hard hat?
Arnie: Fuck you.
Manager: If you don’t wear a hat, you might get hurt.
Arnie: I don’t care.
Manager: I know but we have occupational health and safety rules we have to appear to follow.
Arnie: But I'm drunk.
Manager: No buts, Arnie. The last thing I want is for you to hurt yourself and have to pay worker's comp.
Arnie: You’re right. If I get hurt, I might miss work. I could lose a lot of money if I can’t work. My dog and my meth dealer depend on me. I can’t do this to them.
Manager: Exactly. And you’re one of my best employees. I can’t afford to lose you either. Wear the hat or you're fired.
Arnie: Thanks.
_________________
Chinese version-
Place: In a workshop 在车间两男
Role: migrant laborer and manager
Content: The employee wears a hard hat, a conversation about guanxi between the manager and the employee by using callous disregard for life.
Manager: Ah Q, why are you wearing a hard hat?
Ah Q: I need one. They're required by law.
Manager: If you wear a hat, someone might think it's dangerous around here.
Ah Q: It is dangerous. I'm being careful. Besides, my cousin was decapitated yesterday by this machine I'm using right here.
Manager: I know, but we have occupational health and safety inspectors visiting today. You’ve been briefed on causing us to lose face, haven’t you?
Ah Q: Yes, I have. But...
Manager: No buts, Q. The last thing I want is to be embarrassed, or have to pay a bigger bribe.
Ah Q: You’re right. If I get hurt, I might die. My family could lose a lot of money if I die. My wives in Sichuan and Beijing depend on me. I can’t do this to them.
Manager: Exactly. And you’re only one of many expendable slaves. I can easily afford to lose you. In fact, you're fired. You'll be beaten on the way out...
Ah Q: Thanks.
Monday, June 4, 2007
More Torture
This MSNBC article (from the Washington Post) discusses the post-traumatic stress one solider is suffering after acting as an interrogator in Iraq, and torturing prisoners on behalf of the US Government. Unsurprisingly, on his return to the US, he finds himself haunted by his actions.
Some interesting quotes from the article-
"What are you going to do? You just want to get back at somebody, so you bring this dog in. 'Finally, I got you.'"
"At every point, there was part of me resisting, part of me enjoying," Lagouranis said. "Using dogs on someone, there was a tingling throughout my body. If you saw the reaction in the prisoner, it's thrilling."
After September 11th, I felt like torturing someone, too. And apparently, the President is hot to keep on torturing people, despite expert evidence saying that it produces bad intelligence, and despite the fact that in breaking the Geneva Conventions it exposes Americans all over the world to reciprocal behavior.
In his classic essay, Grief and a Headhunter's Rage, sociologist Renato Rosaldo discusses how the accidental death of his wife illuminated the puzzle of a Philippine tribe's headhunting ritual. When in mourning, the men of the tribe would seek out, kill and behead a member of a rival tribe. Rosaldo had previously proposed a complex "head economy" to explain this behaviro, which members of the tribe themselves found incomprehensible.
When his wife fell to her death in an accident in the jungle, he suddenly found himself feeling not only sorrow, but overpowering anger. Finding someone and cutting off their heads seemed suddenly like a very good idea.
It should be no surprise that when immersing young American soldiers in a guerrilla war, atrocities of various kinds happen. Human nature makes acts of revenge and atrocity inevitable. A Serbian soldier interviewed several years ago about war crimes said this-
"It was war; sometimes a baby falls on your knife."
But just because abuses will happen doesn't mean that they should be condoned. What's particularly revolting about the war in Iraq and the "war on terror" is that soldiers are acting as proxy torturers on behalf of the President, members of his Cabinet, and a significant portion of his constituency. By condoning torture, this Administration acts like a malevolent drug dealer, feeding the violent, addictive habits developed by soldiers in war.
The angry men in the administration are using the armed forces to play out their own fantasies of revenge. American soldiers are acting on the behalf of sadists, psychopaths, and idiots, and suffering for it.
Some interesting quotes from the article-
"What are you going to do? You just want to get back at somebody, so you bring this dog in. 'Finally, I got you.'"
"At every point, there was part of me resisting, part of me enjoying," Lagouranis said. "Using dogs on someone, there was a tingling throughout my body. If you saw the reaction in the prisoner, it's thrilling."
After September 11th, I felt like torturing someone, too. And apparently, the President is hot to keep on torturing people, despite expert evidence saying that it produces bad intelligence, and despite the fact that in breaking the Geneva Conventions it exposes Americans all over the world to reciprocal behavior.
In his classic essay, Grief and a Headhunter's Rage, sociologist Renato Rosaldo discusses how the accidental death of his wife illuminated the puzzle of a Philippine tribe's headhunting ritual. When in mourning, the men of the tribe would seek out, kill and behead a member of a rival tribe. Rosaldo had previously proposed a complex "head economy" to explain this behaviro, which members of the tribe themselves found incomprehensible.
When his wife fell to her death in an accident in the jungle, he suddenly found himself feeling not only sorrow, but overpowering anger. Finding someone and cutting off their heads seemed suddenly like a very good idea.
It should be no surprise that when immersing young American soldiers in a guerrilla war, atrocities of various kinds happen. Human nature makes acts of revenge and atrocity inevitable. A Serbian soldier interviewed several years ago about war crimes said this-
"It was war; sometimes a baby falls on your knife."
But just because abuses will happen doesn't mean that they should be condoned. What's particularly revolting about the war in Iraq and the "war on terror" is that soldiers are acting as proxy torturers on behalf of the President, members of his Cabinet, and a significant portion of his constituency. By condoning torture, this Administration acts like a malevolent drug dealer, feeding the violent, addictive habits developed by soldiers in war.
The angry men in the administration are using the armed forces to play out their own fantasies of revenge. American soldiers are acting on the behalf of sadists, psychopaths, and idiots, and suffering for it.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Blocked!
The authorities blocked blogger again. Probably because of some FalREDACTED GonREDACTED post somewhere- the Great Firewall isn't very discerning, and cuts off whole chunks of the Web when a single offending site attracts their attention. So I'll be a little slow getting things up on the site- I can still post, but I can't actually go look at this site, unless I fire up the ol' Tor.
Ah, well. Like most things done by the Authorities over here, there's a heavy dose of face-saving involved with censorship. They know that it's not difficult to circumvent their system, but it would be intolerable from the perspective of honor and internal party polhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifitics to allow it to go uncensored.
I just read on Danwei that there are major protests on now in Xiamen. Could have something to do with it. I honestly think that environmental issues will be the big demREDACTED issue for China for the next decade. Chinese people have just become too wealthy and connected to ignore some of the wretched pollution foisted on them by collusion between government and industry.
Ah, well. Like most things done by the Authorities over here, there's a heavy dose of face-saving involved with censorship. They know that it's not difficult to circumvent their system, but it would be intolerable from the perspective of honor and internal party polhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gifitics to allow it to go uncensored.
I just read on Danwei that there are major protests on now in Xiamen. Could have something to do with it. I honestly think that environmental issues will be the big demREDACTED issue for China for the next decade. Chinese people have just become too wealthy and connected to ignore some of the wretched pollution foisted on them by collusion between government and industry.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Left wing rhetoric needs more invective.
I think it's far past time to get this straight. The most recent NYT article on the Bush administration's use of torture illustrates, if more proof be needed, that the Republicans in power in the executive branch are psychopaths and sadists.
The Times also recently revived the old Mommy Party crap in a headline. Googling "Mommy Party" brings some reasonable refutations, as well as this quaint conservative view from 2005.
The New York Times deserves blame for keeping such an obvious piece of Republican propaganda in play. And, from where I stand, Democrats really are the Parent/Adult/Smart/Patriotic Party, and Republicans are the Baby/Teenage/Stupid/Traitorous Party.
We can see this with the issue of torture- it's not only morally repugnant, dangerous to Americans and American interests, but ineffectual. It's role is to satisfy the perverse appetites of sadists and psychopaths, and there is a clear strain of sexual gratification that accompanies it. Those who endorse or defend it politically are acting like children, or psychos, or are stupid.
My main point, however, is that liberals remain stuck playing with propaganda formulated by the right.
How about this on the torture issue-
George Bush and his administration are incompetent failures.
Starting a war for a bad reason makes you a mass murderer.
Torture is worse than murder, and deserves the same punishment.
Torture is morally equivalent to slavery.
George Bush and his administration, will go to jail once they're out of office, because they violated the law in horrible ways.
Why don't we hit those talking points a couple times?
The slogans need work*, and smart guys will be quick to point out that I'm overstating the case. The opposition has yet to show such delicacy, and their very successful efforts to corrupt American democracy, not through rhetoric but through illegal and unethical actions inside the Executive branch, remain uncorrected and unpunished.
*"Waterboarding is a waterboarding offense"
*"Torture is treason"
*"Torture means the terrorists win"
*"Bush = Pinonchet", or maybe "Bush loves Putin" the B + P appeals... These aren't very good either.
The Times also recently revived the old Mommy Party crap in a headline. Googling "Mommy Party" brings some reasonable refutations, as well as this quaint conservative view from 2005.
The New York Times deserves blame for keeping such an obvious piece of Republican propaganda in play. And, from where I stand, Democrats really are the Parent/Adult/Smart/Patriotic Party, and Republicans are the Baby/Teenage/Stupid/Traitorous Party.
We can see this with the issue of torture- it's not only morally repugnant, dangerous to Americans and American interests, but ineffectual. It's role is to satisfy the perverse appetites of sadists and psychopaths, and there is a clear strain of sexual gratification that accompanies it. Those who endorse or defend it politically are acting like children, or psychos, or are stupid.
My main point, however, is that liberals remain stuck playing with propaganda formulated by the right.
How about this on the torture issue-
George Bush and his administration are incompetent failures.
Starting a war for a bad reason makes you a mass murderer.
Torture is worse than murder, and deserves the same punishment.
Torture is morally equivalent to slavery.
George Bush and his administration, will go to jail once they're out of office, because they violated the law in horrible ways.
Why don't we hit those talking points a couple times?
The slogans need work*, and smart guys will be quick to point out that I'm overstating the case. The opposition has yet to show such delicacy, and their very successful efforts to corrupt American democracy, not through rhetoric but through illegal and unethical actions inside the Executive branch, remain uncorrected and unpunished.
*"Waterboarding is a waterboarding offense"
*"Torture is treason"
*"Torture means the terrorists win"
*"Bush = Pinonchet", or maybe "Bush loves Putin" the B + P appeals... These aren't very good either.
Monday, May 28, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
List of Pantophagy
Apropos of the silkworm video, I thought I'd compile the grand list of horrific food. My whole life, I've been interested in eating unusual foods, especially animals. I don't go in for endangered species, though. It's just too trendy here in China to eat the last of something. (The Yangtze River dolphin, for instance.) The closest I've come to orthorexy is giving up tuna.
I've had enough wretched pizza in my life to know that preparation is more than half the battle, and you can't assume that what you ate yesterday is the same as what you'll eat today. Tripe is an excellent example of a food that can swing from revolting to delicious, depending on the chef, so take my reviews with a grain of salt.
Insects and Arachnids-
Live Ants- Sweet, lemony flavor and a soft, grainy texture. Refreshing, but I did get bitten on the uvula once. Not painful, but gave me a rather dry, choking feeling. Eaten on a dare, they became a favorite stunt. I imagine they would taste differently if cooked.
Nacho Cheese Flavor Mealworms (Larvets)- Novelty snacks, look and taste almost exactly like Cheetos, but with that musty flavor all novelty food seems to have. Mom got me these for my birthday one year.
"French Style" Crickets with garlic and parsley- Delicious. A faintly sweet seafood flavor, like soft-shell crab. Ellen and I just went to the pet store and bought a bag of these guys ("They're for our turtle.") It is tragic, though, to throw a handful of live jumpers in the pan. Recipe from Calvin W Schwabe's fabulous Unmentionable Cuisine.
Deep Fried Bee Larvae- Flavorless, they needed a good dose of hot pepper salt to make an impact. Like slightly soggy puffed rice. Served to us at the very mediocre Middle 8 restaurant here in Beijing. There are more appealing descriptions here.
Grilled Silkworm Pupae- Lacquered poop on a stick. A thin flavorless shell surrounds a juicy, fecal inside. The hot-pepper sauce didn't help at all. Like shellfish, I have to suspect that freshness is key to getting good bugs. Gotten at Wanfujing night market, Beijing.
Fried Grasshopper- Delicious, crunchy, like half-popped popcorn. Could snack regularly on them. Also at Wanfujing. Also kosher.
Grilled Scorpion- A less tasty variation of the locust. The stinger was nice, but the body had a slightly liverish flavor. It failed to confer any mystical powers on me, either. Gotten at Wanfujing again.
Grilled "Diving Beetle"- Rather bitter, with too much husk/body ratio. A waxy, unpleasant nibble. Wanfujing night market.
(They have delicious chuan'r and other snacks at the night market, but the whole point of the trip was to eat bugs. That's Beijing has a little feature here about a chef at a similar snack-street...)
Other Exotics-
Raw Urchin- Salty iodine flavors predominate. Like my friend Josiah said about Laphroaig Whisky: "The Floating Hospital." Got one on the halfshell at the Oyster Bar a long time ago, and disliked it. I love urchin roe sushi, though.
Deep-fried Starfish- Unpleasant. A crunchy, gritty carapace surrounding a firm iodine paste. The one I ate had quite a bit of sand still in it, but that might be simply indigestible bits of the carapace. Also eaten at Wanfujing, on the merits of having an uneven number of legs greater than four.
Whole Grilled Baby Birds (or Sparrows?)- 马马虎虎 ("mama huhu", aka mezza-mezza, nishkoshe). The preparation was lacking; simply grilled on a hot plate, and sprinkled with "Xinjiang" spices, mostly hot pepper and cumin. With finesse, it could be good, but as it was, it was simply unpleasantly rubbery and crunchy. Got these at a restaurant in the Quianmen neighborhood whose name escapes me. (The only endotherm on the list!)
I invite you all to top this list in the comments section.
Love and kisses,
Will
I've had enough wretched pizza in my life to know that preparation is more than half the battle, and you can't assume that what you ate yesterday is the same as what you'll eat today. Tripe is an excellent example of a food that can swing from revolting to delicious, depending on the chef, so take my reviews with a grain of salt.
Insects and Arachnids-
Live Ants- Sweet, lemony flavor and a soft, grainy texture. Refreshing, but I did get bitten on the uvula once. Not painful, but gave me a rather dry, choking feeling. Eaten on a dare, they became a favorite stunt. I imagine they would taste differently if cooked.
Nacho Cheese Flavor Mealworms (Larvets)- Novelty snacks, look and taste almost exactly like Cheetos, but with that musty flavor all novelty food seems to have. Mom got me these for my birthday one year.
"French Style" Crickets with garlic and parsley- Delicious. A faintly sweet seafood flavor, like soft-shell crab. Ellen and I just went to the pet store and bought a bag of these guys ("They're for our turtle.") It is tragic, though, to throw a handful of live jumpers in the pan. Recipe from Calvin W Schwabe's fabulous Unmentionable Cuisine.
Deep Fried Bee Larvae- Flavorless, they needed a good dose of hot pepper salt to make an impact. Like slightly soggy puffed rice. Served to us at the very mediocre Middle 8 restaurant here in Beijing. There are more appealing descriptions here.
Grilled Silkworm Pupae- Lacquered poop on a stick. A thin flavorless shell surrounds a juicy, fecal inside. The hot-pepper sauce didn't help at all. Like shellfish, I have to suspect that freshness is key to getting good bugs. Gotten at Wanfujing night market, Beijing.
Fried Grasshopper- Delicious, crunchy, like half-popped popcorn. Could snack regularly on them. Also at Wanfujing. Also kosher.
Grilled Scorpion- A less tasty variation of the locust. The stinger was nice, but the body had a slightly liverish flavor. It failed to confer any mystical powers on me, either. Gotten at Wanfujing again.
Grilled "Diving Beetle"- Rather bitter, with too much husk/body ratio. A waxy, unpleasant nibble. Wanfujing night market.
(They have delicious chuan'r and other snacks at the night market, but the whole point of the trip was to eat bugs. That's Beijing has a little feature here about a chef at a similar snack-street...)
Other Exotics-
Raw Urchin- Salty iodine flavors predominate. Like my friend Josiah said about Laphroaig Whisky: "The Floating Hospital." Got one on the halfshell at the Oyster Bar a long time ago, and disliked it. I love urchin roe sushi, though.
Deep-fried Starfish- Unpleasant. A crunchy, gritty carapace surrounding a firm iodine paste. The one I ate had quite a bit of sand still in it, but that might be simply indigestible bits of the carapace. Also eaten at Wanfujing, on the merits of having an uneven number of legs greater than four.
Whole Grilled Baby Birds (or Sparrows?)- 马马虎虎 ("mama huhu", aka mezza-mezza, nishkoshe). The preparation was lacking; simply grilled on a hot plate, and sprinkled with "Xinjiang" spices, mostly hot pepper and cumin. With finesse, it could be good, but as it was, it was simply unpleasantly rubbery and crunchy. Got these at a restaurant in the Quianmen neighborhood whose name escapes me. (The only endotherm on the list!)
I invite you all to top this list in the comments section.
Love and kisses,
Will
Sunday, May 20, 2007
A Day at the Chinese Movies
I've been taking video since I've gotten here, with my digital camera. The pictures are beautiful (for a still camera), and since I've been writing a little about the movies, I thought I'd post some of the most interesting clips. Unfortunately, I've had to compress them all to hell, to get them up on the site-
A day at the park. I doubt this would fly in the US, due to fears of suffocation.
A nautical tchotchkie seller on the Li River.
Workers demonstrating the stretching of silkworm cocoons. Listen in the background and you can hear Happy David discuss eating silkworms. More on that soon.
Crossing the 天桥 next to Yashow Clothing market.
More to come...
A day at the park. I doubt this would fly in the US, due to fears of suffocation.
A nautical tchotchkie seller on the Li River.
Workers demonstrating the stretching of silkworm cocoons. Listen in the background and you can hear Happy David discuss eating silkworms. More on that soon.
Crossing the 天桥 next to Yashow Clothing market.
More to come...
Thursday, May 17, 2007
More to come...
I'm sorry, I've been busy lately, but I've got things to talk about, really. I haven't written anything about my recent trip to Lhasa, of which I have pictures, nor have I posted the videos I've accumulated...
They were shooting yet another movie in front of my building today. I live out at 阳光都市 (Sunshine Metropolis!), aka "Sun City", a pretty tony apartment block between Sanlitun bar street and Dongsishitiao subway station, that's popular with film crews. I'll post those photos, and others, soon...
Hopefully, I'll get a chance this weekend to write up a couple of reports on la vida china.
Love and Kisses,
Will
They were shooting yet another movie in front of my building today. I live out at 阳光都市 (Sunshine Metropolis!), aka "Sun City", a pretty tony apartment block between Sanlitun bar street and Dongsishitiao subway station, that's popular with film crews. I'll post those photos, and others, soon...
Hopefully, I'll get a chance this weekend to write up a couple of reports on la vida china.
Love and Kisses,
Will
Friday, May 11, 2007
The Hollywood Angle
We were summoned yesterday to the Beijing Hotel, for to be extras on Transsiberian. The experience was eerily similar to acting for the DVD guys.
We got an email on Thursday, saying that we'd get a second email telling us when to show up. The second email, sent midnight Thursday, told us to get to the hotel by 9:30 the next day. Naturally, we didn't get this email until 8 the next day, asking us to show up at the "Beijing Hotel, floor 18 conference room", and to wear "casual clothing- sneakers and t-shirts.".
The first problem, as you might imagine, is that there is more than one Beijing Hotel in Beijing. We emailed them back, and we got an address- "33 Chang Avenue". Cross-Googling them, we divined that there was, in fact, a Beijing Hotel at "33 Xiang An Avenue". Close enough- we ran down to the subway, hopped on a rush-hour train and found the place. Of course, when we arrived at the hotel, we got into the elevator only to discover there was no button for the 18th floor. So we went to the front desk.
"We're looking for the movie set. We were told it was on the 18th floor."
"I'm sorry, we don't have an 18th floor."
"We were told to go to the conference room on the 18th floor. We're actors for the Brad Anderson film. Is it on another floor?"
"The conference room on the 18th floor is very forbidden."
A-ha.
"We are actors, who were told to go there. Is there a way to get to the 18th floor?"
"I will have to call the director of conferences."
Ellen gets the phone.
"Yes, we're actors. We are supposed to go to the conference room on the 18th Floor. We are actors on the film. We are actors. Yes."
"Go to the 17th floor. There are stairs."
Thank God. We get back in the elevator, go up, climb a set of stairs, consult with a pair of Chinese conference-stooges who also try to turn us away at first. Finally, we find the film set, in an enormous dining room. A man in an immaculately wrinkled linen suit, hand-whittled owl glasses and a massive Beethoven haircut comes over to us. He's the costumer.
"So, what have you brought?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where are your winter clothes?"
So Ellen sprints back to our place.
By the time Ellen gets back, the place is flooded with regular extras, three dozen or so 外国人, and a sprinkling of Chinese people, as well. I sat between a Sichuanese lady named Stella, and a Venezuelan woman named Estella. Estella was a white-haired woman in her 60's and said she was an English teacher, which I found depressingly plausible, because of her near-pathological shyness and imperfect mastery of English. Stella was a businesswoman who lived in Australia full time, and had gotten into the movie for a kick.
We're finally summoned from the side lounge into the dining room. It was an afternoon of toasting, and pretending to eat the withered food prepared by the props department. I had a nibble of hot-dog, two squares of fingerprint-laden chocolate, two boiled peanuts, and three slices of dried banana on the plate.
Brad Anderson seemed nice, but his affect was almost completely flat, not what I normally associate with a film director. Everyone was fried- the production had been going for 10 weeks, with the majority of shooting happening in Lithuania in freezing weather. Woody Harrelson, a nice-seeming female celebrity who I can't identify off the top of my head (Emily Mortimer), and another character actor who was pulled in at the last minute, who I also can't identify.
The whole production crew was Spanish. We sat next to the Assistant director and a guy who I assume was assistant-assistant producer, who gave us an especially hard time about being American in perfect, unaccented English. ("Celsius just makes sense! We PROTESTED after our 9/11! The Spanish got through killing people in our colonies 100 years ago!) Infuriatingly, he seemed to speak pretty good Chinese as well. Basically a good guy. We were seated, very considerately, right behind Woody, so that we would (most likely) show up in the scene. I wasn't able, however, to get a shot of the famous guys.
We toyed with our food, made inane conversation, and shouted "Amen!" at certain moments.
I induced a possible continuity error by rolling up my sleeves- film nerds take note.
We got an email on Thursday, saying that we'd get a second email telling us when to show up. The second email, sent midnight Thursday, told us to get to the hotel by 9:30 the next day. Naturally, we didn't get this email until 8 the next day, asking us to show up at the "Beijing Hotel, floor 18 conference room", and to wear "casual clothing- sneakers and t-shirts.".
The first problem, as you might imagine, is that there is more than one Beijing Hotel in Beijing. We emailed them back, and we got an address- "33 Chang Avenue". Cross-Googling them, we divined that there was, in fact, a Beijing Hotel at "33 Xiang An Avenue". Close enough- we ran down to the subway, hopped on a rush-hour train and found the place. Of course, when we arrived at the hotel, we got into the elevator only to discover there was no button for the 18th floor. So we went to the front desk.
"We're looking for the movie set. We were told it was on the 18th floor."
"I'm sorry, we don't have an 18th floor."
"We were told to go to the conference room on the 18th floor. We're actors for the Brad Anderson film. Is it on another floor?"
"The conference room on the 18th floor is very forbidden."
A-ha.
"We are actors, who were told to go there. Is there a way to get to the 18th floor?"
"I will have to call the director of conferences."
Ellen gets the phone.
"Yes, we're actors. We are supposed to go to the conference room on the 18th Floor. We are actors on the film. We are actors. Yes."
"Go to the 17th floor. There are stairs."
Thank God. We get back in the elevator, go up, climb a set of stairs, consult with a pair of Chinese conference-stooges who also try to turn us away at first. Finally, we find the film set, in an enormous dining room. A man in an immaculately wrinkled linen suit, hand-whittled owl glasses and a massive Beethoven haircut comes over to us. He's the costumer.
"So, what have you brought?"
"What do you mean?"
"Where are your winter clothes?"
So Ellen sprints back to our place.
By the time Ellen gets back, the place is flooded with regular extras, three dozen or so 外国人, and a sprinkling of Chinese people, as well. I sat between a Sichuanese lady named Stella, and a Venezuelan woman named Estella. Estella was a white-haired woman in her 60's and said she was an English teacher, which I found depressingly plausible, because of her near-pathological shyness and imperfect mastery of English. Stella was a businesswoman who lived in Australia full time, and had gotten into the movie for a kick.
We're finally summoned from the side lounge into the dining room. It was an afternoon of toasting, and pretending to eat the withered food prepared by the props department. I had a nibble of hot-dog, two squares of fingerprint-laden chocolate, two boiled peanuts, and three slices of dried banana on the plate.
Brad Anderson seemed nice, but his affect was almost completely flat, not what I normally associate with a film director. Everyone was fried- the production had been going for 10 weeks, with the majority of shooting happening in Lithuania in freezing weather. Woody Harrelson, a nice-seeming female celebrity who I can't identify off the top of my head (Emily Mortimer), and another character actor who was pulled in at the last minute, who I also can't identify.
The whole production crew was Spanish. We sat next to the Assistant director and a guy who I assume was assistant-assistant producer, who gave us an especially hard time about being American in perfect, unaccented English. ("Celsius just makes sense! We PROTESTED after our 9/11! The Spanish got through killing people in our colonies 100 years ago!) Infuriatingly, he seemed to speak pretty good Chinese as well. Basically a good guy. We were seated, very considerately, right behind Woody, so that we would (most likely) show up in the scene. I wasn't able, however, to get a shot of the famous guys.
We toyed with our food, made inane conversation, and shouted "Amen!" at certain moments.
I induced a possible continuity error by rolling up my sleeves- film nerds take note.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Assuagement
Just to soothe Mom- the New York Times just published a nice article on the risks I was running as a carpenter, the job I had before moving to China. They frame it, understandably, as "risks for the do-it-yourselfer", but most of the guys in the building trade I've met take the same kind of dumb risks.
I won't list any of my own close calls here, but I recall one time, standing on a board, acting as a wedge and counter-weight, while my boss walked the plank, three stories up, trying to get at the sofit.
Or the time he cut the live wire with the aviator's shears- I told him that I wasn't sure if it was on the circuit we shut off- I couldn't trace the wires, because they ran straight through a beam. He was going to cut them with metal-handled pliers, and I insisted he use the insulated shears. The blades welded together from the voltage, and he got mad at me for jinxing him.
I won't list any of my own close calls here, but I recall one time, standing on a board, acting as a wedge and counter-weight, while my boss walked the plank, three stories up, trying to get at the sofit.
Or the time he cut the live wire with the aviator's shears- I told him that I wasn't sure if it was on the circuit we shut off- I couldn't trace the wires, because they ran straight through a beam. He was going to cut them with metal-handled pliers, and I insisted he use the insulated shears. The blades welded together from the voltage, and he got mad at me for jinxing him.
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
First Tragedy, then Farce
May holiday has arrived in Beijing, along with my girlfriend's buddy Tim Krieder, and millions of Chinese tourists up from the provinces.
A strange flooding and abandonment happens around the national holidays, when all the migrant laborers and provincial professionals leave the city, causing an ear-popping drop in human pressure in the everyday places. A day or two later, the public spaces in Beijing are packed with tourists, fifty or sixty thousand deep.
I'd left Ellen and Tim to tour the Forbidden City on their own, but I'd promised to meet them for lunch- I knew a place nearby that served whole grilled sparrows (or baby chicks?). I walked down to my local subway stop and found a complete riot. Everyone was on the move, hauling luggage on and off the trains, packing them full, fighting with security guards, etc.
I had to let the first train go, and as it went, I noticed a pair of old ladies, nicely dressed, with rollie bags, standing on the edge of the platform. I stood next to them. They were looking over the edge onto the tracks. In all the bustle, they'd dropped a small bag of apples onto the tracks. Surely not.
Indeed. The older of the two women grabbed the hand of the younger, and with her help, lowered herself onto the tracks to get the apples. After all, they probably cost almost as much as the subway ticket, and you wouldn't want 3 元 to go to waste, right?
I shouted "别的！" which is nonsense (~"Don't of the!"), but which was all I could muster at the moment. I followed it up with "No!". The security guard came running, but by the time he got there, she'd all ready gotten the apples together, and her friend and I dragged her back up onto the platform. I admit, I was a little rougher than necessary.
The security guard immediately began berating the women about the insane risk they just took. I couldn't follow the language, but then I kept hearing the term ”电“ - electricity. The women responded by voiciferously asking for directions. This was 东四十条 station, wasn't it? Which exit should they take? They wanted 东四十条 street. Why are you yelling at me? I just want to find the street. The train had just left- there wouldn't be another one for a while!
I looked back down onto the pit. Unlike Boston or New York, I there was no third rail. I cocked my head, and looked along the length of the tracks. There it was, under the lip of the platform. She'd been standing on the third rail when I grabbed her arm, using it as a step.
This is actually the second time I've dragged someone off subway tracks. The first time was very frightening- I wrote about my experience here.
A strange flooding and abandonment happens around the national holidays, when all the migrant laborers and provincial professionals leave the city, causing an ear-popping drop in human pressure in the everyday places. A day or two later, the public spaces in Beijing are packed with tourists, fifty or sixty thousand deep.
I'd left Ellen and Tim to tour the Forbidden City on their own, but I'd promised to meet them for lunch- I knew a place nearby that served whole grilled sparrows (or baby chicks?). I walked down to my local subway stop and found a complete riot. Everyone was on the move, hauling luggage on and off the trains, packing them full, fighting with security guards, etc.
I had to let the first train go, and as it went, I noticed a pair of old ladies, nicely dressed, with rollie bags, standing on the edge of the platform. I stood next to them. They were looking over the edge onto the tracks. In all the bustle, they'd dropped a small bag of apples onto the tracks. Surely not.
Indeed. The older of the two women grabbed the hand of the younger, and with her help, lowered herself onto the tracks to get the apples. After all, they probably cost almost as much as the subway ticket, and you wouldn't want 3 元 to go to waste, right?
I shouted "别的！" which is nonsense (~"Don't of the!"), but which was all I could muster at the moment. I followed it up with "No!". The security guard came running, but by the time he got there, she'd all ready gotten the apples together, and her friend and I dragged her back up onto the platform. I admit, I was a little rougher than necessary.
The security guard immediately began berating the women about the insane risk they just took. I couldn't follow the language, but then I kept hearing the term ”电“ - electricity. The women responded by voiciferously asking for directions. This was 东四十条 station, wasn't it? Which exit should they take? They wanted 东四十条 street. Why are you yelling at me? I just want to find the street. The train had just left- there wouldn't be another one for a while!
I looked back down onto the pit. Unlike Boston or New York, I there was no third rail. I cocked my head, and looked along the length of the tracks. There it was, under the lip of the platform. She'd been standing on the third rail when I grabbed her arm, using it as a step.
This is actually the second time I've dragged someone off subway tracks. The first time was very frightening- I wrote about my experience here.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
The Third DVD session- anticlimax
The guys over at the production company have been after me for another round.
I turned them down for this weekend; we've got a friend visiting from the US, although the thought of forcing him to come along with us, or even just making him act, occurred to me. They're pretty desperate- they even sicced Da Yang, the white guy, on me. So if there are any stardom-seeking Amero-Beijingers out there, email me and I'll hook you up.
The last round of DVD shooting was by far the most relaxing day I've yet spent in China. There were the usual confused logistics- it took them three tries to get us the script, they changed the meeting place an hour before we were due, etc. But the location they finally chose was on Tsinghua University campus, in as lovely a spot as exists in Beijing.
Rolling hills, actual grass, not to mention lilacs and forsythia! Little canals threaded through campus, past cute Chinese style buildings. Not really more lush than an average American playground(1), but practically jungle by Beijing standards. The groundskeepers must work overtime, scrubbing fingerprints off the trees.
The crew started setting up in a corner of this park, and immediately lost themselves in the usual anarchy. It was compounded in this case by the complexities of outdoor shooting- car alarms, curious passerby, and thieving magpies.
I had only two pages of script, this time, and profited from the chaos, relaxing on the grass and reading Tarzan of the Apes. I fell asleep at one point. As usual, we worked with a fairly gracious lady, and a jumpy, irritated guy, both college kids. To be fair, though, I was just as irritated as he was, the first time I worked for these guys. He'd done some acting back in the states, so unlike the previous losers, his objections were based in reality.
Of course, Ellen got stuck with four pages of nonsense, playing, as usual, the jerk. Can you guess which character she's playing?
...
Christina: You just want to sit around and hang out? That sounds boring. Come on, let’s give each other manicures. Your nails look kind of bad. You could really use one.
Ashley: Well, I’m not so sure. I think manicures are a waste of time.
Christina: They’re not and you really need one. Just let me give you one and you’ll change your mind.
Ashley: You know what? (sigh) I’m not sure if I can come this weekend. How about this? I’ll call you when I figure out my schedule.
...
The hardest line I had was this-
...
Mark: Oh, that's Guarav, he's on the college debating team.
...
What it all amounted to was long nap in the park, a free lunch, and about a half-hour of work. I learned all about the rhythm method from my fellow American Man Actor, who was a devout Catholic. He pointed out an angle I hadn't bothered to figure-
"It has a high failure rate because it's really hard to keep your hands off each other."
1) You can bet I felt like a rube taking Mandarin classes at Beijing Language and Culture University, whose campus is as seedy and decrepit as they come. This particular corner of Tsinghua reminded me strongly of Brandeis. Of course, the Chinese are delighted when you can draw those sorts of parallels.
I turned them down for this weekend; we've got a friend visiting from the US, although the thought of forcing him to come along with us, or even just making him act, occurred to me. They're pretty desperate- they even sicced Da Yang, the white guy, on me. So if there are any stardom-seeking Amero-Beijingers out there, email me and I'll hook you up.
The last round of DVD shooting was by far the most relaxing day I've yet spent in China. There were the usual confused logistics- it took them three tries to get us the script, they changed the meeting place an hour before we were due, etc. But the location they finally chose was on Tsinghua University campus, in as lovely a spot as exists in Beijing.
Rolling hills, actual grass, not to mention lilacs and forsythia! Little canals threaded through campus, past cute Chinese style buildings. Not really more lush than an average American playground(1), but practically jungle by Beijing standards. The groundskeepers must work overtime, scrubbing fingerprints off the trees.
The crew started setting up in a corner of this park, and immediately lost themselves in the usual anarchy. It was compounded in this case by the complexities of outdoor shooting- car alarms, curious passerby, and thieving magpies.
I had only two pages of script, this time, and profited from the chaos, relaxing on the grass and reading Tarzan of the Apes. I fell asleep at one point. As usual, we worked with a fairly gracious lady, and a jumpy, irritated guy, both college kids. To be fair, though, I was just as irritated as he was, the first time I worked for these guys. He'd done some acting back in the states, so unlike the previous losers, his objections were based in reality.
Of course, Ellen got stuck with four pages of nonsense, playing, as usual, the jerk. Can you guess which character she's playing?
...
Christina: You just want to sit around and hang out? That sounds boring. Come on, let’s give each other manicures. Your nails look kind of bad. You could really use one.
Ashley: Well, I’m not so sure. I think manicures are a waste of time.
Christina: They’re not and you really need one. Just let me give you one and you’ll change your mind.
Ashley: You know what? (sigh) I’m not sure if I can come this weekend. How about this? I’ll call you when I figure out my schedule.
...
The hardest line I had was this-
...
Mark: Oh, that's Guarav, he's on the college debating team.
...
What it all amounted to was long nap in the park, a free lunch, and about a half-hour of work. I learned all about the rhythm method from my fellow American Man Actor, who was a devout Catholic. He pointed out an angle I hadn't bothered to figure-
"It has a high failure rate because it's really hard to keep your hands off each other."
1) You can bet I felt like a rube taking Mandarin classes at Beijing Language and Culture University, whose campus is as seedy and decrepit as they come. This particular corner of Tsinghua reminded me strongly of Brandeis. Of course, the Chinese are delighted when you can draw those sorts of parallels.
Vanity
Supposing for a moment that this blog were about personal glory, rather than the betterment of others. What would be the point of requiring some kind of log-in to comment on a post? It'd be silly- I never log into anything if I can help it. The New York Times is lucky to have me in their databank as a 90 year old millionaire Uzbeck prosthetics engineer, and I only caved to them because you can't get the print edition over here.
It was with unjustified dismay, then, as I watched day after day go by without so much as a Viagra ad posted to the comments. Sometime yesterday morning, however, Alexis Turner, a better netizen than I, actually logged in to post a reply. It was her heroic sacrifice that made me realize what was going on- the comments section was closed to casual readers.
Well, no more. The comments are open to all, and soon, no doubt, will become a palimpsest of wild commerce, negative attention seeking, and hypergraphic babble. Mom and Dad are welcome to post, too.
Love and Kisses,
Will
It was with unjustified dismay, then, as I watched day after day go by without so much as a Viagra ad posted to the comments. Sometime yesterday morning, however, Alexis Turner, a better netizen than I, actually logged in to post a reply. It was her heroic sacrifice that made me realize what was going on- the comments section was closed to casual readers.
Well, no more. The comments are open to all, and soon, no doubt, will become a palimpsest of wild commerce, negative attention seeking, and hypergraphic babble. Mom and Dad are welcome to post, too.
Love and Kisses,
Will
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
More On My Acting Career
Since I last wrote about it, my girlfriend and I have been on two more instructional DVD shoots. It's gotten to be a nice pattern. They call us about three days in advance, send us a long, agrammatical script and a place to meet, and we arrive with books, ready to face the chaos. 500 yuan is eating money for a week and a half, after all, and without DVD acting, I wouldn't have a blog. (How much milage can I squeeze from gun-toting nerds?)
Two weeks ago, we spent the day in a rented coffee shop in Haidian district. Would've been a nice day, except the guy they pulled off the street to star opposite me was an enraged securities broker from Philadelphia.
According to him, "I don't need the money- what I do, I earned enough in the first four months, you know, to live here, check it out for a while."
This little bald guy was mad because he had thought he was here to do voice acting, and read off a script. Nobody told him ANYTHING about memorizing ANYTHING. And he wasn't going to wear no fucking makeup, either. I suggested, privately, that he leave. He didn't need the 500 yuan. He could just apologize and go.
In classic Western Creep style, he insisted on staying. But no makeup ("I shaved it- it's supposed to be shiny") and no memorizing.
As I explained before, the torturous problem with making this instructional DVD has been that you've got to speak your lines word for word. This is hard to do without rehearsing, and really hard to do when an a seedy waiguoren is fuming in your ear about the injustice of it all, or relating sexual adventures gleaned from the personals in That's Beijing.
On an hybristrophilic note, he got the makeup girl's number on the way out.
Interestingly, whoever wrote the script had a startlingly clear grasp of modern American political debate. I played the liberal, my girlfriend the conservative.
（F2）大英 Unit 11—1
一男一女在楼道、室外或咖啡厅谈论两个总统竞选者前一天的电视辩论。
Michelle: Did you see last night’s political debate between the two presidential candidates?
Jay: Yes, but I was disappointed in Congressman Santos. I wanted him to talk more about the issues and less about Senator Butler’s character. I don’t like it when the candidates get into a character debate.
Michelle: Well, I think the character of the candidates is important.
Jay: I’m not saying character isn’t important. I just think politics is mostly about issues, not about character.
Michelle: I disagree. I care about political issues, and I’m a conservative. I want a president who can keep me safe and I think knowing a person’s character can help me know who will keep me safe.
...
Michelle: Congressman Santos seemed to take his duty to defend the country seriously. Plus, I saw a picture of him kissing his wife. This makes me think he is a good husband. And I know he goes to church. I like leaders who believe in God. If he is a good soldier and a good husband who believes in God, I think he has the right character to be President of the United States.
Jay: But Senator Butler is known for his character. He is a liberal Senator and has always supported liberal issues.
Michelle: Sure, it’s easy to support the issues that your party supports, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he has good character. It just means he’s smart enough not to make his party mad.
Jay: Okay, maybe, but he has been a leader in his state for 20 years. Many people in his state support his ideas and respect his leadership. Doesn’t that make him a good leader? Isn’t that important to you?
Michelle: Well, I would like a respected leader, but I would rather elect a leader who can keep me safe. I think Congressman Santos is the best leader for the issues that matter most to me.
___________
It's eerie, isn't it?
Two weeks ago, we spent the day in a rented coffee shop in Haidian district. Would've been a nice day, except the guy they pulled off the street to star opposite me was an enraged securities broker from Philadelphia.
According to him, "I don't need the money- what I do, I earned enough in the first four months, you know, to live here, check it out for a while."
This little bald guy was mad because he had thought he was here to do voice acting, and read off a script. Nobody told him ANYTHING about memorizing ANYTHING. And he wasn't going to wear no fucking makeup, either. I suggested, privately, that he leave. He didn't need the 500 yuan. He could just apologize and go.
In classic Western Creep style, he insisted on staying. But no makeup ("I shaved it- it's supposed to be shiny") and no memorizing.
As I explained before, the torturous problem with making this instructional DVD has been that you've got to speak your lines word for word. This is hard to do without rehearsing, and really hard to do when an a seedy waiguoren is fuming in your ear about the injustice of it all, or relating sexual adventures gleaned from the personals in That's Beijing.
On an hybristrophilic note, he got the makeup girl's number on the way out.
Interestingly, whoever wrote the script had a startlingly clear grasp of modern American political debate. I played the liberal, my girlfriend the conservative.
（F2）大英 Unit 11—1
一男一女在楼道、室外或咖啡厅谈论两个总统竞选者前一天的电视辩论。
Michelle: Did you see last night’s political debate between the two presidential candidates?
Jay: Yes, but I was disappointed in Congressman Santos. I wanted him to talk more about the issues and less about Senator Butler’s character. I don’t like it when the candidates get into a character debate.
Michelle: Well, I think the character of the candidates is important.
Jay: I’m not saying character isn’t important. I just think politics is mostly about issues, not about character.
Michelle: I disagree. I care about political issues, and I’m a conservative. I want a president who can keep me safe and I think knowing a person’s character can help me know who will keep me safe.
...
Michelle: Congressman Santos seemed to take his duty to defend the country seriously. Plus, I saw a picture of him kissing his wife. This makes me think he is a good husband. And I know he goes to church. I like leaders who believe in God. If he is a good soldier and a good husband who believes in God, I think he has the right character to be President of the United States.
Jay: But Senator Butler is known for his character. He is a liberal Senator and has always supported liberal issues.
Michelle: Sure, it’s easy to support the issues that your party supports, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he has good character. It just means he’s smart enough not to make his party mad.
Jay: Okay, maybe, but he has been a leader in his state for 20 years. Many people in his state support his ideas and respect his leadership. Doesn’t that make him a good leader? Isn’t that important to you?
Michelle: Well, I would like a respected leader, but I would rather elect a leader who can keep me safe. I think Congressman Santos is the best leader for the issues that matter most to me.
___________
It's eerie, isn't it?
Beijing Spring
I love winter. I don't mind the cold, and I like the snow and the dark days. As Melville said,
"Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals."
Beijing winter is patently unloveable, however. Hotpot does little to ameliorate the effects of frozen smog, unheated public buildings and slicks of tubercular phlegm coating the sidewalk. I'm glad spring is here.
"Let them talk of their oriental summer climes of everlasting conservatories; give me the privilege of making my own summer with my own coals."
Beijing winter is patently unloveable, however. Hotpot does little to ameliorate the effects of frozen smog, unheated public buildings and slicks of tubercular phlegm coating the sidewalk. I'm glad spring is here.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Nerd Gun Love
So, regarding the guff blown off some American nerds regarding guns addressed in the previous post. Nerds love guns for many of the same reasons other Americans do.
But nerds have a special relationship with guns, too. Libertarian nerdfather Heinlein wrote that "An armed society is a polite society". It's easy to see the emotional appeal of a gun to a social pariah- it solicits through the threat of violence the respect most people achieve through social acceptance. For those who've had trouble figuring out or conforming to the subtleties of human interaction, the "polite society" of Heinlein's imaginings seems like Utopia(1).
(To others, living under the constant threat of death from those around you is a nightmare.)
Besides the dream of enforced civility, there is also the siren song of revenge. A gun obliterates the differences between us. Strength and size, charm and wit are all the same to a gun. Depending on your particular fantasy, there doesn't even have to be a quick-draw contest, only well-justified murder.
All this, however, forms the subtext of the issue. The most striking and obvious aspect of nerd gun love is in its appeal to reason.
Intelligence is the source of a nerd's self-esteem, almost by definition. This can sometimes lead to an ironic mistake- assuming that those who are most intelligent are also the most reasonable. Conflating intelligence with other virtues has always been the original nerd sin, despite having separate INT, WIS and CHA scores clearly marked on D&D character sheets.
Guns belong the hands of the nerd, supposes the nerd, because they don't act irrationally. Aren't intelligent decisions usually the right ones? And who's better equipped to make those decisions?
To be a nerd is, on one level, to be rejected for making logical (geeky) decisions instead of illogical (socially acceptable) ones. By the time they've become adults, most nerds have learned to stifle their negative emotions in the face of rejection and even violence.
As if the mind were a zero-sum game, with the intellect crowding out the emotions. The impulse to abuse power is only available to the powerful- the revolutionary turned dictator, the citizen turned sadist, patriots turned torturers.
The notion that intelligence acts as a restraint to savagery has been thoroughly debunked by history. Humans are bad people, and nerds are human. Cho Seung-Hui was probably mentally ill, and that's a different ball of wax. But this dork isn't, and neither is this one.
Violence is seductive.
1) This might also explain the peculiar love nerds have for military organizations in science fiction. The dream is of escaping the vague but urgent social demands of day-to-day existence for a more rigid, but explicit and comprehensible social order.
But nerds have a special relationship with guns, too. Libertarian nerdfather Heinlein wrote that "An armed society is a polite society". It's easy to see the emotional appeal of a gun to a social pariah- it solicits through the threat of violence the respect most people achieve through social acceptance. For those who've had trouble figuring out or conforming to the subtleties of human interaction, the "polite society" of Heinlein's imaginings seems like Utopia(1).
(To others, living under the constant threat of death from those around you is a nightmare.)
Besides the dream of enforced civility, there is also the siren song of revenge. A gun obliterates the differences between us. Strength and size, charm and wit are all the same to a gun. Depending on your particular fantasy, there doesn't even have to be a quick-draw contest, only well-justified murder.
All this, however, forms the subtext of the issue. The most striking and obvious aspect of nerd gun love is in its appeal to reason.
Intelligence is the source of a nerd's self-esteem, almost by definition. This can sometimes lead to an ironic mistake- assuming that those who are most intelligent are also the most reasonable. Conflating intelligence with other virtues has always been the original nerd sin, despite having separate INT, WIS and CHA scores clearly marked on D&D character sheets.
Guns belong the hands of the nerd, supposes the nerd, because they don't act irrationally. Aren't intelligent decisions usually the right ones? And who's better equipped to make those decisions?
To be a nerd is, on one level, to be rejected for making logical (geeky) decisions instead of illogical (socially acceptable) ones. By the time they've become adults, most nerds have learned to stifle their negative emotions in the face of rejection and even violence.
As if the mind were a zero-sum game, with the intellect crowding out the emotions. The impulse to abuse power is only available to the powerful- the revolutionary turned dictator, the citizen turned sadist, patriots turned torturers.
The notion that intelligence acts as a restraint to savagery has been thoroughly debunked by history. Humans are bad people, and nerds are human. Cho Seung-Hui was probably mentally ill, and that's a different ball of wax. But this dork isn't, and neither is this one.
Violence is seductive.
1) This might also explain the peculiar love nerds have for military organizations in science fiction. The dream is of escaping the vague but urgent social demands of day-to-day existence for a more rigid, but explicit and comprehensible social order.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Apropos of the arguments about the Virginia Tech shooting and gun control-
There's been a lot of guff on the internet recently about how "if only those poor students had been armed" this tragedy would never have happened.
Yesterday, by pure coincidence, an 18 year old crashed his car into my friend's house, through the wall and into the living room. She was asleep upstairs and unharmed, although a passenger in the car was killed. Police say speed was a factor in the crash.
Regardless of your position on gun control in general, it seems obvious that a college would consider it in its best interests to keep guns out of the hands of their students, at least while on campus. Young people are impulsive and prone to make poor judgments about all sorts of things- drugs and alcohol, sex, cars and guns, especially in the presence of their peers.
College administrators are in a good position to witness the outcome of poor decision-making among large groups of young adults. They see the alcohol poisoning, the car crashes, the date-rapes and the other stupidity otherwise smart students get into. Why on earth would they permit these people to carry guns onto campus, and into classrooms?
This is not to say that young people are particularly vicious or violent, or that they can't be taught to safely handle firearms. They are young. They haven't lived very long, and haven't necessarily developed the skills or patience that only experience can teach. They certainly have the right to carry firearms outside campus according to the laws of the state. But school, and college especially, is intended to be an environment where youthful mistakes are tolerated, and used to instruct. Mistakes with firearms are far too permanent, and too horrific, to be tolerated in such circumstances.
As has been noted many times, it is extremely difficult to defend oneself against a suicidal terrorist attack, which is precisely what has just happened. In the event of a calculated ambush, none of us know how we would react, especially since we cannot live our lives in constant expectation of violence. We can only take action to protect ourselves from reasonable threats, not extraordinary ones. Cold-blooded, targeted execution is monstrous, and rare. Accidents and crimes of passion are equally deadly, and far more frequent.
Yesterday, by pure coincidence, an 18 year old crashed his car into my friend's house, through the wall and into the living room. She was asleep upstairs and unharmed, although a passenger in the car was killed. Police say speed was a factor in the crash.
Regardless of your position on gun control in general, it seems obvious that a college would consider it in its best interests to keep guns out of the hands of their students, at least while on campus. Young people are impulsive and prone to make poor judgments about all sorts of things- drugs and alcohol, sex, cars and guns, especially in the presence of their peers.
College administrators are in a good position to witness the outcome of poor decision-making among large groups of young adults. They see the alcohol poisoning, the car crashes, the date-rapes and the other stupidity otherwise smart students get into. Why on earth would they permit these people to carry guns onto campus, and into classrooms?
This is not to say that young people are particularly vicious or violent, or that they can't be taught to safely handle firearms. They are young. They haven't lived very long, and haven't necessarily developed the skills or patience that only experience can teach. They certainly have the right to carry firearms outside campus according to the laws of the state. But school, and college especially, is intended to be an environment where youthful mistakes are tolerated, and used to instruct. Mistakes with firearms are far too permanent, and too horrific, to be tolerated in such circumstances.
As has been noted many times, it is extremely difficult to defend oneself against a suicidal terrorist attack, which is precisely what has just happened. In the event of a calculated ambush, none of us know how we would react, especially since we cannot live our lives in constant expectation of violence. We can only take action to protect ourselves from reasonable threats, not extraordinary ones. Cold-blooded, targeted execution is monstrous, and rare. Accidents and crimes of passion are equally deadly, and far more frequent.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Chinese Stardom
If you found me through my website, you know that I'm a writer, living in Beijing. I've been doing odd jobs to keep things going (not hard, the cost of living is low, here), and working on my fiction. I'm living the life of a remittance man, like so many greasy Westerners here, but I'm trying to keep my creative life vital.
The most recent job was an acting gig for an English-language instructional DVD.
"If you are a Professional Actor, Don't bother Applying! We are looking for Native English Speakers to appear in an instructional DVD. Please send picture! 400 yuan for one day."
Sounded okay to me. I'm not a professional actor. I sent along a couple snapshots, got a nice reply, and grabbed my girlfriend on my way out the door. The auditions started in the Kentucky Fried Chicken near Wudaokuo Station- not an auspicious place to meet, but not out of line with usual Beijing business.
What was ominous was the slightly weightless feeling of arriving early, and watching the clock tick past the agreed-on meeting time. I was supposed to meet a white guy named Da Yang, but texts to him went unanswered. I called, to no avail. All I got was the mournful advertising jingle that you hear when you ring up a pre-paid Chinese cell. (Sounds like "Mama's Little Baby Loves Shortnin'") I asked a few folks, including a slick-back American pedophile type, but he just stared back at me, wordlessly.
Finally, I noticed a small knot of Westerners congregating out front. I call again, again get no answer, and go out to them. Yes, they're here for the DVD. Da Yang, the white guy, is there. Turns out, the pedophile is in with them too. Thanks for all the help, guys.
I talk to some of the other applicants. A nice Turkish couple. A nervous Chinese American dude named Mo. It's chaos- loud and cold and lonely, like a lot of Beijing. Finally, we're herded up into an adjacent apartment building. It's obviously Da Yang's place, but he obviously shares it with some otherwise uninvolved roommates, who sit quietly on the couch while the director takes pictures and has us read samples of the script.
Mo refuses to read- he's seen this scam before. Get the voicework you need at the audition and kick everyone out, no callbacks. Ellen and I are game, though, and besides Mo, we're the only Americans reading for the part. (Mo also suspects that they're not looking for Asian faces at all, even if they're carrying authentic California surfer-dude voices). We fill out a contact sheet, where I foolishly list my availability as "anytime".
After a week and a half of anticipated silence, I unexpectedly get a call Thursday, 9pm.
"Hello, Mister William?"
"Yes?"
"This is the DVD instructional video calling."
"Oh! Hello."
"Yes, are you available Sunday?"
Ellen and I had a party planned for Saturday night. A chili cookoff, in fact. Everyone was coming.
"Yes, but only after 10."
"Okay, then. We will send a car. We will send you the script to study."
"Great. See you then."
Minutes pass. A text.
Could you come 9:30 am?
Fine.
We get our script by email that night. It says,
Connect it ,,,then you'll see Your Lines with color of orange !
This 'll be played in the office... so wear your Formal clothes please !
Make sure you can familiar with your lines , and almost can say it without paper ! (last time some guys didn't familiar with his lines ,and take all of us lot of extra time)
I give the script a cursory look- The ad had said "Not For Professional Actors." I have two busy days to work, so I rehearse, the night of the party, with Ellen.
The cookoff is a success. We get 4 chilis, 1 scorchingly hot Thai fish soup, 1 bowl of chili dip, and hot chili chocolate. The soup gets the prize, and we hustle everyone out by about 1 am.
We then set the alarm for 9, drop into bed, and are awakened at quarter of six the next morning by a text message:
Can you come at 9 o'clock?
Followed immediately by this:
Take a taxi to this address.
And an aborted phone call for good measure. I turn off my cell. Sleep disrupted, we toss the rest of the morning, get up at eight, and then receive this text:
9:30 is OK! Should we send a car? Or do you still want to take a taxi?
I give them a call. No, we're already up. We'll just take a cab. Yes, everything's fine.
We arrive at their office, and after a brief wait in the spring sun, they send a runner down and collect us, hustling us up into what's obviously their production offices. Having worked with a small documentary company, I was familiar with the setup. No sense in renting an office set if you've got your own. Just unplug the phones that day and go for it.
They'd set up a little cubicle farm in reception, with laptops and production bibles laid out like someone else's paperwork. And there was the pedophile, in a tie, interviewing a young redheaded American in stiff, but unaccented, English. Two big video cameras churned away, and a crew of a half-dozen Chinese tape heads busily attended to the proceedings.
The most unusual thing about the cramped, grubby set-up was the toilet. Instead of a lever, or a massive chrome button, it had a key, like a motorcycle, sticking out the side of the commode.
YoYo, the production translator, was apologetic about the whole time issue- "I'm sorry, I don't know American culture."
We got hustled off to the boss' office to study our lines. There's always a lot of waiting around when you're doing any kind of movie, so we'd brought books too. We read through our lines, went off book, did okay, and then the redhead came in.
So we spoke for a while, and we all rehearsed our lines together.
"Don't worry" she said, "You can usually prop the script up out of sight."
The pedophile took off, and while they broke down the set, YoYo came in for a chat.
"That man is so strange. He wants to be treated special- did you hear him? Everything has to be his way- he needs chocolate in the morning, he needs to be driven home- he lives 5 minutes away!!"
I told YoYo that he was acting like actors in the US. But Ellen and I, I told him, we were just writers.
Before our first scene, they brought lunch. So we had a nice Chinese lunchbox there on the boss' desk, trying to keep sauce off our tailored office duds. A meatball, greasy little nuggets on sticks, shredded potato in vinegar, some kind of spicy chicken, eggplant, rice and rolls. I only finished half, and Ellen even less, but it was good.
Our first scene came after that. An easy job for me, at least- I was Mr. Jones.
...
Mr. Jones: Well, you said that you had something to discuss with me. What can I do for you? I’m all ears.
Ms. Biggers: Well, Mr. Jones, as you know, we are involved in Angels Project, a nonprofit group that provides after-school programs for low-income high school girls. Our mission is to encourage teenage girls to be involved in fun and challenging community projects....
Mr. Jones: I understand. As a man, it’s hard for me to relate to this issue. Do you do something comparable for boys?
Ms. Biggers: We don’t, but there is an organization similar to ours that does. It provides activities such as tutoring for fatherless boys in the inner city.
Mr. Jones: That’s good. I know it’s difficult to be a girl in this society, but it’s difficult to be a boy, too…
The girls were, of course, thrilled with the sexual politics of this scene, but there was a practical problem. We'd been given 2 days to learn three pages of this claptrap. Word for word. It all had to match the textbook, after all.
Ellen got it pretty much cold. The Texan and I, though, struggled the whole way. I could recite the scene, and hit every important point. But if "I know it's difficult..." becomes "I know it is difficult..." they stop the scene. As if dubbing didn't exist. Back to the top. I felt like Marilyn Monroe.
(last time some guys didn't familiar with his lines ,and take all of us lot of extra time)
What had been an annoying job suddenly became a test of wills. I was caught. Ellen would give a perfect reading, a full paragraph of tortured claptrap, and I would screw up my single line. The poor girl from Texas gave up, after a while, and just read straight from the script, held before her by a hunched PA. On average, I could go about one sentence before gaffing.
A pleasant morning became a long, stuffy afternoon. At every slack moment, I worked on my lines, trying to get them perfect. But, of course, once the camera was rolling, it would all collapse. Adding to the strange Rube Goldberg feeling (which I always have on sets), we were being directed in shouted Chinese from the next room.
Of course, as we left that night, to face the rubble of our post-chili party apartment, the director told us in English,
"We'll call you next time."
(1) I've always wondered about the justifications for the way things are run on a set. Actors are coddled to an absurd degree in the US. In China, apparently, actors are truly cattle. Why not be a mensch and split the difference? Everybody's got a tough job, right?
The most recent job was an acting gig for an English-language instructional DVD.
"If you are a Professional Actor, Don't bother Applying! We are looking for Native English Speakers to appear in an instructional DVD. Please send picture! 400 yuan for one day."
Sounded okay to me. I'm not a professional actor. I sent along a couple snapshots, got a nice reply, and grabbed my girlfriend on my way out the door. The auditions started in the Kentucky Fried Chicken near Wudaokuo Station- not an auspicious place to meet, but not out of line with usual Beijing business.
What was ominous was the slightly weightless feeling of arriving early, and watching the clock tick past the agreed-on meeting time. I was supposed to meet a white guy named Da Yang, but texts to him went unanswered. I called, to no avail. All I got was the mournful advertising jingle that you hear when you ring up a pre-paid Chinese cell. (Sounds like "Mama's Little Baby Loves Shortnin'") I asked a few folks, including a slick-back American pedophile type, but he just stared back at me, wordlessly.
Finally, I noticed a small knot of Westerners congregating out front. I call again, again get no answer, and go out to them. Yes, they're here for the DVD. Da Yang, the white guy, is there. Turns out, the pedophile is in with them too. Thanks for all the help, guys.
I talk to some of the other applicants. A nice Turkish couple. A nervous Chinese American dude named Mo. It's chaos- loud and cold and lonely, like a lot of Beijing. Finally, we're herded up into an adjacent apartment building. It's obviously Da Yang's place, but he obviously shares it with some otherwise uninvolved roommates, who sit quietly on the couch while the director takes pictures and has us read samples of the script.
Mo refuses to read- he's seen this scam before. Get the voicework you need at the audition and kick everyone out, no callbacks. Ellen and I are game, though, and besides Mo, we're the only Americans reading for the part. (Mo also suspects that they're not looking for Asian faces at all, even if they're carrying authentic California surfer-dude voices). We fill out a contact sheet, where I foolishly list my availability as "anytime".
After a week and a half of anticipated silence, I unexpectedly get a call Thursday, 9pm.
"Hello, Mister William?"
"Yes?"
"This is the DVD instructional video calling."
"Oh! Hello."
"Yes, are you available Sunday?"
Ellen and I had a party planned for Saturday night. A chili cookoff, in fact. Everyone was coming.
"Yes, but only after 10."
"Okay, then. We will send a car. We will send you the script to study."
"Great. See you then."
Minutes pass. A text.
Could you come 9:30 am?
Fine.
We get our script by email that night. It says,
Connect it ,,,then you'll see Your Lines with color of orange !
This 'll be played in the office... so wear your Formal clothes please !
Make sure you can familiar with your lines , and almost can say it without paper ! (last time some guys didn't familiar with his lines ,and take all of us lot of extra time)
I give the script a cursory look- The ad had said "Not For Professional Actors." I have two busy days to work, so I rehearse, the night of the party, with Ellen.
The cookoff is a success. We get 4 chilis, 1 scorchingly hot Thai fish soup, 1 bowl of chili dip, and hot chili chocolate. The soup gets the prize, and we hustle everyone out by about 1 am.
We then set the alarm for 9, drop into bed, and are awakened at quarter of six the next morning by a text message:
Can you come at 9 o'clock?
Followed immediately by this:
Take a taxi to this address.
And an aborted phone call for good measure. I turn off my cell. Sleep disrupted, we toss the rest of the morning, get up at eight, and then receive this text:
9:30 is OK! Should we send a car? Or do you still want to take a taxi?
I give them a call. No, we're already up. We'll just take a cab. Yes, everything's fine.
We arrive at their office, and after a brief wait in the spring sun, they send a runner down and collect us, hustling us up into what's obviously their production offices. Having worked with a small documentary company, I was familiar with the setup. No sense in renting an office set if you've got your own. Just unplug the phones that day and go for it.
They'd set up a little cubicle farm in reception, with laptops and production bibles laid out like someone else's paperwork. And there was the pedophile, in a tie, interviewing a young redheaded American in stiff, but unaccented, English. Two big video cameras churned away, and a crew of a half-dozen Chinese tape heads busily attended to the proceedings.
The most unusual thing about the cramped, grubby set-up was the toilet. Instead of a lever, or a massive chrome button, it had a key, like a motorcycle, sticking out the side of the commode.
YoYo, the production translator, was apologetic about the whole time issue- "I'm sorry, I don't know American culture."
We got hustled off to the boss' office to study our lines. There's always a lot of waiting around when you're doing any kind of movie, so we'd brought books too. We read through our lines, went off book, did okay, and then the redhead came in.
So we spoke for a while, and we all rehearsed our lines together.
"Don't worry" she said, "You can usually prop the script up out of sight."
The pedophile took off, and while they broke down the set, YoYo came in for a chat.
"That man is so strange. He wants to be treated special- did you hear him? Everything has to be his way- he needs chocolate in the morning, he needs to be driven home- he lives 5 minutes away!!"
I told YoYo that he was acting like actors in the US. But Ellen and I, I told him, we were just writers.
Before our first scene, they brought lunch. So we had a nice Chinese lunchbox there on the boss' desk, trying to keep sauce off our tailored office duds. A meatball, greasy little nuggets on sticks, shredded potato in vinegar, some kind of spicy chicken, eggplant, rice and rolls. I only finished half, and Ellen even less, but it was good.
Our first scene came after that. An easy job for me, at least- I was Mr. Jones.
...
Mr. Jones: Well, you said that you had something to discuss with me. What can I do for you? I’m all ears.
Ms. Biggers: Well, Mr. Jones, as you know, we are involved in Angels Project, a nonprofit group that provides after-school programs for low-income high school girls. Our mission is to encourage teenage girls to be involved in fun and challenging community projects....
Mr. Jones: I understand. As a man, it’s hard for me to relate to this issue. Do you do something comparable for boys?
Ms. Biggers: We don’t, but there is an organization similar to ours that does. It provides activities such as tutoring for fatherless boys in the inner city.
Mr. Jones: That’s good. I know it’s difficult to be a girl in this society, but it’s difficult to be a boy, too…
The girls were, of course, thrilled with the sexual politics of this scene, but there was a practical problem. We'd been given 2 days to learn three pages of this claptrap. Word for word. It all had to match the textbook, after all.
Ellen got it pretty much cold. The Texan and I, though, struggled the whole way. I could recite the scene, and hit every important point. But if "I know it's difficult..." becomes "I know it is difficult..." they stop the scene. As if dubbing didn't exist. Back to the top. I felt like Marilyn Monroe.
(last time some guys didn't familiar with his lines ,and take all of us lot of extra time)
What had been an annoying job suddenly became a test of wills. I was caught. Ellen would give a perfect reading, a full paragraph of tortured claptrap, and I would screw up my single line. The poor girl from Texas gave up, after a while, and just read straight from the script, held before her by a hunched PA. On average, I could go about one sentence before gaffing.
A pleasant morning became a long, stuffy afternoon. At every slack moment, I worked on my lines, trying to get them perfect. But, of course, once the camera was rolling, it would all collapse. Adding to the strange Rube Goldberg feeling (which I always have on sets), we were being directed in shouted Chinese from the next room.
Of course, as we left that night, to face the rubble of our post-chili party apartment, the director told us in English,
"We'll call you next time."
(1) I've always wondered about the justifications for the way things are run on a set. Actors are coddled to an absurd degree in the US. In China, apparently, actors are truly cattle. Why not be a mensch and split the difference? Everybody's got a tough job, right?
Monday, April 9, 2007
List of things left on Chinese roofs
Bricks
Corn
Scallions
Bicycle Tires
Pick Axes
Cabbages
Air Conditioners (Unplugged)
Roof Tiles
Stuffed Animals
No Frisbees
Corn
Scallions
Bicycle Tires
Pick Axes
Cabbages
Air Conditioners (Unplugged)
Roof Tiles
Stuffed Animals
No Frisbees
Wednesday, April 4, 2007
Occam's Razor
Weirdly, after writing this essay about it, I was searching for some unrelated information about Anton Levoisier, an 18th century French chemist. While googling, I came across a strange, crank article about Georg Cantor, who discovered transfinite number sets.
I'm not qualified to comment on his primary objection, that Cantor's math requires a leap of faith. I don't believe it does- the diagonal proof is pretty easy to understand, but there might be subtleties...
I am comfortable identifying him as a nutcase, though.
His main point is that the problem of artificial intelligence could solved easily of if only computers could be taught math (1). To my ears, this sounds like "If only horses could be taught to run, they'd be cars."
What interests me is that he assumes arithmatic computation is what makes us conscious. The solution must be simple, and therefore, anyone who suggests that it's really complicated must be perverse. A comment on the article notes that the Nazis held the same opinion of Cantor's work that they held of Einstein's- Jewish science.
It's interesting because simplicity is usually a sign of sound thinking. Occam's razor is a good rule of thumb, and the simplest explanation is probably the correct one. But if applied inflexibly, it'll make you bonkers.
The cornerstone of conspiracy theory is the notion that it's all connected. A conspiracy, after all, is solvable. The Jews, Freemasons, Cantorists, Rightist Elements, can all be uncovered and thwarted. Creationists get a lot of milage out of the watchmaker theory for the same reason- it seems simpler than the Rube Goldberg mechanism of evolution by natural selection.
Here in China, and back in the US, the simplicity argument is often invoked by different factions of the government to smooth over complicated problems. The terrorists hate our freedom. China's too big for representative democracy.
A friend of mine recently heard from a Chinese colleague that,
"Other people evolved in Africa, but Chinese people evolved in China."
Makes perfect sense to me, but it's beside the point. What I mean to say is that you've got always to stay loose. Acting rationally requires a lot of guesswork, and knowing when to apply the rules is an art. Otherwise, you go nuts.
1) Of course, there are ad-hominem attacks against the mathematical community itself, which speaks to an unhappy postgraduate experience.
I'm not qualified to comment on his primary objection, that Cantor's math requires a leap of faith. I don't believe it does- the diagonal proof is pretty easy to understand, but there might be subtleties...
I am comfortable identifying him as a nutcase, though.
His main point is that the problem of artificial intelligence could solved easily of if only computers could be taught math (1). To my ears, this sounds like "If only horses could be taught to run, they'd be cars."
What interests me is that he assumes arithmatic computation is what makes us conscious. The solution must be simple, and therefore, anyone who suggests that it's really complicated must be perverse. A comment on the article notes that the Nazis held the same opinion of Cantor's work that they held of Einstein's- Jewish science.
It's interesting because simplicity is usually a sign of sound thinking. Occam's razor is a good rule of thumb, and the simplest explanation is probably the correct one. But if applied inflexibly, it'll make you bonkers.
The cornerstone of conspiracy theory is the notion that it's all connected. A conspiracy, after all, is solvable. The Jews, Freemasons, Cantorists, Rightist Elements, can all be uncovered and thwarted. Creationists get a lot of milage out of the watchmaker theory for the same reason- it seems simpler than the Rube Goldberg mechanism of evolution by natural selection.
Here in China, and back in the US, the simplicity argument is often invoked by different factions of the government to smooth over complicated problems. The terrorists hate our freedom. China's too big for representative democracy.
A friend of mine recently heard from a Chinese colleague that,
"Other people evolved in Africa, but Chinese people evolved in China."
Makes perfect sense to me, but it's beside the point. What I mean to say is that you've got always to stay loose. Acting rationally requires a lot of guesswork, and knowing when to apply the rules is an art. Otherwise, you go nuts.
1) Of course, there are ad-hominem attacks against the mathematical community itself, which speaks to an unhappy postgraduate experience.
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