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Minju....and/or....

in ,

wtf.jpg While doing a search on myself, which I do once in a while, to see what kind of nefarious plots are being hatched against me I came across a Google book chapter I wrote back in 1992 for Chinese Landscapes: The Village as Place-By Ronald G. Knapp-Published by University of Hawaii Press, 1992.

We simply can't be afforded some well deserved obscurity anymore! Regardless, it is a peculiar reminder to see one's 16 years old words available to the rest of the world....albeit in a truncated version; and especially when the original print run could not have been more than two thousand copies meant for scholarly and academic consumption(we all know what that mean).

Back in 1989, I endeavored to document the whole(!) of Chinese rural architecture and dutifully spent the next fours years traveling across every Chinese province in search of these elusive gems, which I can assure you, were not easy to find nor to get to, but that was the fun part.

To achieve my monumentally obscure event in architectural history I would travel to hub cities in each Chinese province and seek out architecture professors in local universities in the hope of picking their brains.

In so doing, I was often met with suspicion and/or disbelief and/or both (especially after Tiananmen) but invariably someone would direct me to a retired professor in a far off lane in Nanjing, Nanning or Luoyang... where I was once again met with disbelief but never suspicion, as they often shared my love of the Chinese countryside and of its vernacular architecture.

We would have tea or eat a meal together and these men (all men) would vaguely point me to a nebulous spot on a greasy map and casually mention that there used to be a beautiful Ming village somewhere around this or that county town but that he could not remember the name or would need to consult his mildewed notes back at the archives, unless of course they had been burned during the CR... but that's another story...

As far as official China was concerned, those old "Minjus"(peasant homes) should all and would all be torn down to make room for brand new piles of concrete and tiles; three storied peasant rice bunkers.....unreinforced emblems of wealth and new found modernity and prosperity. But to add insult to injury they seem to always be conveniently located in "closed" areas or near Red Army barracks; strategically positioned to no doubt protect said ramshackled villages from wandering village idiots(leading to my many and frequent arrests, usually followed by lavish banquets...sounds odd I know, but just trust me on this one).

Accompanied by such invaluable information, I would then take off on a local or long distance bus(or several dozen) to said county towns and armed with my own greasy map would try to figure out where the hell I was relative to my point of departure and where to tell the bus driver to drop me off; usually a crap shoot of largely comedic proportions. This was once more met with more complete stupefaction by my traveling companions, given the fact that my very presence on any given bus was already marvelously bizarre, in a way a stark naked hermaphrodite might have been out of place in the back seat of a mid century Kansas bound Greyhound. Some lone "Guai Lo"(foreign devil) wants to get off in the middle of nowhere, to look for "Minju", which by then was once again met with either uproarious laughter or stern patriotic reprimands...not unlike casually mentioning the specter of new taxes to newly minted Republican conventioneers.

The door would remain opened for a minute or two as our bus driver, in the hope of silently luring me back inside, would smile pitifully uncomfortably; given the fact that I might have already been standing smack dab in a proverbial pile of pig shit.

Regardless, I have to admit, I get a big kick out of seeing that bus drive off while thinking to myself: "What the FUCK am I doing here?".

So, twenty years on, one thing's for sure, nothing much has changed...... and as they say back in the motherland: "Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose", and " Wherever you go, there you are"....

Cut to bus driving off...

Redux quidem est..!

in

addrieen.jpgBeen re-reading the blog looking for inspiration. How much of a narcissist do you have to be to look to yourself for inspiration, a misanthrope? Nevertheless, I decided to come clean and reveal that the quote below, a January 8, 2008 entry, originally attributed to Jonathan Swift, is nothing more than one of my own rantings.... speaking of misanthropic narcissist, just stop what you are doing and wallow in what feels like prophecy..... Been busy with a Samsung job and then a "common cold" of uncommon ferocity. Sniffling around the blog....

“…………… those affected foragers, manipulating other, less disingenuous characters, elephantine rogues and agitators who rise to pomp and circumstance by playing to that imminent and gullible mind, of a market of believers.

Perpetrators, thinly disguised speculators, obstructionist and talented frocks, biding the acrimonious bile of some authority or power: The backslapper, apple polisher, flatterer and glad hander; within whose easy compliance lies the carbonized core of a hateful, bullying and fearful deceiver; a coddling messenger who seeks compliant listeners, like so many fools before them in respectful demeanor…. you shall forgive me, should you derive any pleasure from thy efforts, but ….. ambition often puts men upon doing the meanest offices; so climbing is performed in the same posture as crawlers.” Jonathan Swift.

Nailin' Palin...

in

chicks.jpg Interesting day today:

A- Casting on "Nailin' Palin", the porn version of Sarah Palin's life begins in Los Angeles.

B- My first cousin, Anne Laude, is awarded the "Legion D' Honneur" for outstanding civilian service to "La Patrie" (that 's France to you and me), and the highest honor a french citizen can receive.

C. It's my birthday. No special honors are awarded on this date but I think I have a pretty good shot at being the male co-star in "Nailin' Palin*. Crossing my fingers and knocking on wood (no pun intended).

*Other titles we are currently considering are: " In Palin, Sarah", "Drill Baby Drill" and "Country Fist".

Smells like sex, and snowmobiles....Part Deux.

in

As previously mentioned I spent the month of August in the country of my birth. It had been at least twenty years since I had spent that much time with my family and as expected it was both wonderful, but equally enervating, in no uncertain way.After all, I have spent he better part of the last thirty years living in the US or traveling the world which for all instance and purposes has turned me into a creature few of my countrymen can understand, let alone tolerate.

Of course France had much to offer, especially when it comes to food, which is always far and away superior to anything I could ever find in this country, lest it be "ethnic" cuisine, therein such choices become clearly superior in the States.

As a matter of course I rarely eat French or Italian food in the US as it pales to what I have grown used while visiting or vacationing. This country does not have the artisans and dedicated professionals which are "de rigueur" in any self respecting french city. I can actually go to a quality fruit stand and ask for today's peaches or to my local butcher and purchase the best damn squabs you've ever tasted, lovelingly cage raised in some god forsaken hole in some long forgotten provinces; far, far, far, from the nearest PETA branch offices.

Anyway, my fellow Americans, tis not why I sat down today. Is just wanted to talk to you about the utter consternation which awaited me as I made my way back to the good ole US of A, right after labor day, to discover, to my continued dismay, that Ms. Palin had just been nominated to replace the honorable Juan McCain; should he be forever dismissed, from his presidential displays.

Unfortunately, since I am still speechless, and can't think of anything else to say, I have carefully chosen an image to stand in and demonstrate wherein my true political allegiances, lay....

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Smells like sex, and snowmobiles....

in

Been sniffing around the blog ever since I've been back from France. The damn thing smells like old feet and unkept hippies. Frankly, I have also been far too busy dictating love sick notes to Govn'r Palin and saving my pennies for one steamy night of sex and snowmobiles. Consequently, I find blogging, as of late, utterly unsatisfying.touchme.jpg Touch down...!

PS: Those white specs are frozen bananas...

Healed by steel?

in

Why the long silence? Well it appears that on the morning of May 28th I was rudely awaken by a Kaiser administrator, who promptly inquired as to wether I would not mind getting sliced and diced a few hours earlier. The first patient of the day seemed to have chickened out of his or her procedure at the last moment.It now appeared that for a few hours the OR would be empty of patients and would need someone to fill its cavernous and sterile walls; someone, desperate enough to submit their temple to a few hours of controlled butchery.

I agreed, and the rest of that day was spent languishing in an induced coma. When I woke up five hours after watching an IV enter my right hand, I knew that a new, 13 inch scar would forever embellish my posterior, as previously discussed on this blog, and that the next few weeks would be less than amusing. Indeed it was, and so much so that any thought of keeping up this blog, vanished; proportional to the large amount of idle time given to me by this surgical handicap.

Regardless, I am, and continue to assume, that I am moving towards a full recovery, and look forward to returning to work at the beginning of September. Consequently, I'll be back to blogging at such time, unless I am too busy with real work or have lost interest in keeping up 'Dear leader", which is always a possibility.

July 6th.

in

Back from the depth, but not for long...... I shall recap the last two months in a post shortly but not right now. My personal trials and tribulations pale in comparison to standing by the Indian Embassy a week or so ago and being blown to smithereens by a religious zealot desperately looking to get laid. My friend and Afghanistan fixer(who shall remain nameless) sent me these images in desperation, along with this caption: " The bomb went off while the suicide bomber trying to enter the embassy with his car in the Indian embassy right after the ambassador's car entered the embassy at around 08:30 am this morning. There are about 44 people killed, including women and children. Among the victims, there are many civilians who were waiting to get their visas".

Since the mainstream media tends not to publish but the tamest of images, here a re a few of the "not edited for content". As for myself, I have stood at these very gates of the Indian embassy, waiting for a visa, more than a few times... Sobering.

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Is the Dear Leader Healthy?

in ,

Wonderful gala last night in my honor. I danced and danced, great pleasure....aaaaahhh......!

...... a million Casiotones for the People, great pleasure....aaaaahhh......!

Later, after party, took Wangjaesan Dancers, for a spin, ha, ha, no pun... The generals watched "Dear Leader" perform "Honored Bukkake".... Great pleasure.......aaaaahhh......!

the people, they whistle while they worked.....great pleasure....aaaaahhhh......!

and then we really confused the fuck out of the Chinese. The generals and I had them sing "Frère Jacques" and think it is revolutionary song.....ha, ha...great pleasure....aaaaahhhh......!

and of course, the best part about all this is that, after all is said and done, our very own brand of variety and propaganda pabulum differs little from our North Korean brethren's; rendering our own opprobrium as entertaining to the educated North Korean...... as the doppelgänger boomerangs.....

In the immortal words of Lily Tomlin(via Laura Penny, whose work I shall discuss shortly) "No matter how cynical you become, it is never enough to keep up"