9 & 20 Tangents

Impressions of the United States

2007-12-31T20:19:00.001-05:00

When I am abroad, I always make it a rule never to criticize or attack the government of my own country. I make up for lost time when I come home. –Winston Churchill

On September 1, I returned to the United States from Japan, thereby ending a journey that started twenty years ago. On September 17, I jotted down these twenty-five observations of my native culture.

The atmosphere is shrill, pushy, and ruthless. Simple courtesies have disappeared.
There are too many logos and labels; even the simplest items have them.
Nearly everywhere there is too much perfume or potpourri in the air.
Suburbia is sterile. It saps, leeches, and blanches all inspiration, drive, and enthusiasm.
Other than one or two cities, the infrastructure everywhere assumes that no one walks and that everyone drives. Time is wasted in cars, especially at intersections.
Few people ask why; fewer still ask why not.
Most mid-sized towns look the same.
There is too much labeling and pigeonholing; many people jump to conclusions in estimating other people.
The nation is obsessed with sex and sexuality. Many people in all bands of the sexual spectrum label and pigeonhole people in all the other bands. And they do so based on presumptions, assumptions, anger, preconceived notions, or pop psychology.
An extraordinary number of people are obese; thin people are treated with derision or suspicion.
The broadcast news media are copycats that fixate on one item.
The pop culture is nauseating.
Television is the colosseum of our age.
Many things are hyped and many people are wired, skittish, and frenetic.
Clothing is outsized; few people wear tailored or fitted clothing.
The clothing styles and fashions are severely limited.
Most passenger cars look as though one designer worked for all the auto makers.
High calorie food. High fructose corn syrup. Ridiculously large portions. The nation has forgotten that “a fat kitchen makes a lean will.”
Service is often bad or begrudging – where it exists.
People in small towns usually are friendly and want to be helpful.
Judging from television and print, the country’s fifth major food group is pharmaceuticals.
Most people are doing too many things at once; few people focus solely on the task at hand.
Most people are in a hurry to get nowhere important.
The country boasts a fantastic selection of and prices on office supplies and tobacco products.
There is a tremendous range of bookstores. They would bankrupt any avid reader.

Going to the Grave

2007-12-26T19:15:00.001-05:00

This was in an email I received a few days ago:

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, guitar in one hand, a fifth in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and screaming, "What a ride!"

This Is A Test Of The Emergency Blogcast System

2007-12-23T09:08:00.001-05:00

If this had been an actual emergency...

Just testing Windows Live Writer.

Back to Blogging

2007-12-22T15:31:00.001-05:00

I’ve been away from this for a long time. I was never here. I just toyed with it a bit earlier this year. For anyone who missed the news on the other sites where I took my first blogging steps, I resigned from the foreign service in July, returned to the United States in September, and have been using Virginia as my base while I shop this great land for my next home.

I’ve done a lot of other things in that time as well, mostly related to finding my bearings as a writer, i.e. novelist, essayist, and freelance corporate writer. When I left Tokyo in the summer, I assumed that I’d work as a freelance copywriter upon returning to the states. But a copywriter conference that I attended in October revealed that this corner of the advertising world doesn’t appeal to me.

So, I’ve turned my efforts to the writing that’s truly in my heart: fiction and creative nonfiction. In November I started writing a novel, which is something I’ve wanted to do since I was a boy. It’s exciting and it promises to keep me busy for a long time.

Mixed in with all this has been an interest in blogging, but blogging has stumped me ever since I first tried it in January. There are so many blogs on the web and they range over so many topics, that I’ve been uncertain how to use this tool in a unique and interesting way. But I’ve explored some ideas and I now look forward to seeing where this takes me as a writer.

If anyone happens across this page then please know that I’d enjoy hearing from you and that I welcome your comments.

Joseph Conrad - Master of Description - Part II

2007-12-19T09:48:00.000-05:00

The Patna was a local steamer as old as the hills, lean like a greyhound, and eaten up with rust worse than a condemned water-tank. She was owned by a Chinaman, chartered by an Arab, and commanded by a sort of renegade New South Wales German, very anxious to curse publicly his native country, but who, apparently on the strength of Bismarck's victorious policy, brutalised all those he was not afraid of, and wore a "blood-and-iron" air, combined with a purple nose and a red moustache. After she had been painted outside and whitewashed inside, eight hundred pilgrims (more or less) were driven on board of her as she lay with steam up alongside a wooden jetty.

They streamed aboard over three gangways, they streamed in urged by faith and the hope of paradise, they streamed in with a continuous tramp and shuffle of bare feet, without a word, a murmur, or a look back; and when clear of confining rails spread on all sides over the deck, flowed forward and aft, overflowed down the yawning hatchways, filled the inner recesses of the ship--like water filling a cistern, like water flowing into crevices and crannies, like water rising silently even with the rim. Eight hundred men and women with faith and hopes, with affections and memories, they had collected there, coming from north and south and from the outskirts of the East, after treading the jungle paths, descending the rivers, coasting in praus along the shallows, crossing in small canoes from island to island, passing through suffering, meeting strange sights, beset by strange fears, upheld by one desire. They came from solitary huts in the wilderness, from populous campongs, from villages by the sea. At the call of an idea they had left their forests, their clearings, the protection of their rulers, their prosperity, their poverty, the surroundings of their youth and the graves of their fathers. They came covered with dust, with sweat, with grime, with rags--the strong men at the head of family parties, the lean old men pressing forward without hope of return; young boys with fearless eyes glancing curiously, shy little girls with tumbled long hair; the timid women muffled up and clasping to their breasts, wrapped in loose ends of soiled head-cloths, their sleeping babies, the unconscious pilgrims of an exacting belief.

"Look at dese cattle," said the German skipper to his new chief mate.

-from Lord Jim

Joseph Conrad - Master of Description - Part I

2007-12-19T09:44:00.000-05:00

She cleared the Strait, crossed the bay, continued on her way through the "One-degree" passage. She held on straight for the Red Sea under a serene sky, under a sky scorching and unclouded, enveloped in a fulgor of sunshine that killed all thought, oppressed the heart, withered all impulses of strength and energy. And under the sinister splendour of that sky the sea, blue and profound, remained still, without a stir, without a ripple, without a wrinkle--viscous, stagnant, dead. The Patna, with a slight hiss, passed over that plain luminous and smooth, unrolled a black ribbon of smoke across the sky, left behind her on the water a white ribbon of foam that vanished at once, like the phantom of a track drawn upon a lifeless sea by the phantom of a steamer.

Every morning the sun, as if keeping pace in his revolutions with the progress of the pilgrimage, emerged with a silent burst of light exactly at the same distance astern of the ship, caught up with her at noon, pouring the concentrated fire of his rays on the pious purposes of the men, glided past on his descent, and sank mysteriously into the sea evening after evening, preserving the same distance ahead of her advancing bows. The five whites on board lived amidships, isolated from the human cargo. The awnings covered the deck with a white roof from stem to stern, and a faint hum, a low murmur of sad voices, alone revealed the presence of a crowd of people upon the great blaze of the ocean. Such were the days, still, hot, heavy, disappearing one by one into the past, as if falling into an abyss for ever open in the wake of the ship; and the ship, lonely under a wisp of smoke, held on her steadfast way black and smouldering in a luminous immensity, as if scorched by a flame flicked at her from a heaven without pity.

The nights descended on her like a benediction.

-from Lord Jim

Making Heady Progress

2007-06-25T07:43:00.000-04:00

Follow Your Heart...

It's amazing how much progress can be made on a project in very little time when you're really fired up for it.

In the past few weeks I have learned a phenomenal amount about freelance writing and have used every scrap of time that I have away from work - or that I can steal in the office - to do so. And it has all been entirely effortless. The resources and the guides and the inspiration are just flowing in.

...And The Money Will Follow

It's very encouraging to read so many articles on the web from other freelance writers who are successful at the craft. Many of them stress that a degree or formal training isn't necessary, that what really matters is just an ability to write well. With so many people saying that the opportunities are there...well, they can't all be wrong. But they also stress that it's uber important to:

Have A Professional Attitude

So, much of my scouting and planning right now has been focused on learning what resources are available to assist someone with starting a business. Many of the freelancers out there stress the importance of viewing this line of work as a business; your product is the writing that you turn out. Fortunately, there are many business planning resources available for free or for minimal costs. I have the added advantage that I've written one full business plan in the past and have worked on or reviewed several others. So this won't be alien to me and I don't need persuading about the importance of planning.

Furthermore, in the past week I've found that I should be able to establish a home office with the bare essentials for around $5,000 or just slightly above that. I'm sure that most small businesses would require much more capital to get going. And I can rest easy knowing that I have this much available from my savings and enough left over to live until I can get a client base and an income. I also have several essentials that I'd need: the talent, an education that taught me how to get the knowledge I need but don't have, the enthusiasm, and some of the tools.

So, I'll keep working on my plans and I'm excited to think about everything that's in store for me if I simply have the courage to take the first step and truly follow the path that my heart yearns for.

Stay tuned. I'll be a freelance writer yet.

-jmh

Satori in Tokyo

2007-06-23T03:56:00.001-04:00

Well, here it is. What was so vague in January is now as clear as a punch. Namely, what this is all about.

Freelance writing.

That's where I've been headed for so long.

Over the past month it has occurred to me that it's time for a serious change, a real break, and something new. And that is writing.

So, within the next twelve months I will leave my current job which has dead-ended and I will set sail for the states and I will establish myself as a freelance writer. Right now, I'm busy with planning my exit and entry strategies and where my new campaign will be undertaken. And that will probably be:

Chicago.

-jmh

One Thing for Tippytat

2007-02-17T02:32:00.000-05:00

Tippytat
I wish I'd never known.
But now she's in me, always with me.
But I wish I'd never known.
And I just can't sort it out.
Wish I'd never known.

"One Thing"

Restless tonight
Cause I wasted the light
Between both these times
I drew a really thin line
It’s nothing I planned
And not that I can
But you should be mine
Across that line

If I traded it all
If I gave it all away for one thing
Just for one thing
If I sorted it outIf I knew all about this one thing
Wouldn’t that be something

I promise I might
Not walk on by
Maybe next time
But not this time

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

Even though I know
I don’t want to know
Yeah I guess I know
I just hate how it sounds

-Finger Eleven, 2004.

Knickerbocker Bridgewalker

2007-01-25T00:07:00.000-05:00

As always, so far away
but still thinking of you,
Knickerbocker bridgewalker.

“Day After Day”

I remember finding out about you
Every day, my mind is all around you
Looking out from my lonely room, day after day
Bring it home, baby, make it soon
I give my love to you

I remember holding you while you sleep
Every day, I feel the tears that you weep
Looking out of my lonely gloom, day after day
Bring it home, baby, make it soon
I give my love to you

Looking out of my lonely room, day after day
Bring it home, baby, make it soon
I give my love to you

I remember finding out about you
Every day, my mind is all around you
Looking out of my lonely gloom, day after day
Bring it home, baby, make it soon
I give my love to you.

-Badfinger, 1971.

Tiny Dancer

2007-01-23T06:55:00.000-05:00

In my head
out of the blue
13 hours
from NYC
to Tokyo:

“Tiny Dancer”

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

Jesus freaks out in the street
Handing tickets out for God
Turning back she just laughs
The boulevard is not that bad

Piano man he makes his stand
In the auditorium
Looking on she sings the songs
The words she knows, the tune she hums

But oh how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near
Only you and you can't hear me
When I say softly, slowly

Hold me closer tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
you had a busy day today

Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band
Pretty eyed, pirate smile, you'll marry a music man
Ballerina, you must have seen her dancing in the sand
And now she's in me, always with me, tiny dancer in my hand

- Music Elton John; Lyrics Bernie Taupin. 1971.

Desiderata

2007-01-13T23:56:00.000-05:00

"Desiderata"

Go placidly amid the noise and the haste, and remember what peace there may be in silence.

As far as possible, without surrender, be on good terms with all persons. Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even to the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story. Avoid loud and aggressive persons; they are vexatious to the spirit.

If you compare yourself with others, you may become vain or bitter, for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself. Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. Keep interested in your own career, however humble; it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.

Exercise caution in your business affairs, for the world is full of trickery. But let this not blind you to what virtue there is; many persons strive for high ideals, and everywhere life is full of heroism. Be yourself. Especially do not feign affection. Neither be cynical about love, for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment, it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years, gracefully surrendering the things of youth. Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune. But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings. Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline, be gentle with yourself. You are a child of the universe no less than the trees and the stars; you have a right to be here. And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

-Max Ehrmann, 1920s.

Begin the break...

2007-01-11T07:44:00.001-05:00

Herewith betrays a vague promise to myself from a long time ago: to studiously avoid, at any cost, ever having that most bourgeouis - and God help me, teenage - trapping of suburban angst: a buh-laah-gue.

Then something changed.

Somehow, in the recent past, this has come to interest me. Some...thing...seems to be coalescing or finding a way to express itself. Is it creative expression? Or release? Self discovery? An...epiphany? Is there anything at all or am I simply restless? I don't know right now, but it seems there is something clutching for air and maybe this is the straw that will float it.

And maybe not. It’s unclear what this would be for me; how it would fit in; how it would rig out; how it would function; or what purpose it would serve.

But for now and if nothing else, this might be a good place to track interesting lyrics, poems, expressions, aphorisms, conversations, observations, or turns of phrase.

-jmh