From Douglas Coupland’s book “Marshall McLuhan: You Know Nothing of My Work!”
You are in an airport and the year is 1962. Women around you are dressed nicely. You are wearing a hat. You are a fifty-two-year-old man eating roast beef in an airport restaurant, and the roast beef you are eating is marbled with globs of fat shaped like American states and counties. The air is silky blue with cigarette smoke. There are no black people around you. You are reading newspaper articles about birth control pills and about art being made in New York that uses comic strips and magazine ads as its creative nucleus. The ice in your bourbon is almost entirely melted. Your flight is announced and you go to your gate. You get into your seat, 3A, and the guy seated beside you pinches the stewardess’s butt. She giggles.
You cross a continent.
The car that picks you up at the other end is a machine that pumps large clouds of leaded blue smoke into the air while it idles. All the other cars around you are doing the same thing. None of these cars have seat belts. The sky is brown.
A woman on the sidewalk takes a pill. Pills of all sorts seem so common: amphetamines for people trying to lose weight, elephant-pill barbiturates for those in need of sleep. But your brain is calm. Your brain feels like a cathedral made of brown stone, light beaming in through stained-glass windows. You are witnessing the world, but you are not being affected by it. You are driven to a skyscraper where rich men are paying you thousands of dollars to say pretty much whatever passes through your mind.
I wonder if it’s old age, alcohol, a racing mind, or a combination of the aforementioned that cause these frequent sleepless nights to happen.
At least I’ve been getting better in doing productive, if not mindless things in these early morning hours. (Is it productive getting your daily quota of looking at cat photos done early?)
May is bringing lots of travel. Just returned from Penang, which is a city that contained many pleasant surprises, and soon will go to Bandung, Hong Kong and Kuala Lumpur. Different cities, new projects, all exciting opportunities.
The Secret Mermaid has been well-received, so I’m happy about that. Looks like there is demand and curiosity for American craft alcohol, which is promising for Liberty Spirits Asia. Shinkansen is thrumming along and will soon be in two more locations. Yay for soba and brown rice bowls! We’re revamping the offerings at Tanuki Raw; keeping the much talked about happy hour and refreshing the food items as well as pushing forward with our lunch options. My stalwart, Standing Sushi Bar, should be expanding soon as well.
I need to start exercising again. Had been doing it on an almost daily basis for a month and a half but stopped about two months ago. Various aches and pains have cropped up since then.
I wish Singapore had cooler weather.
Life has scrabbled forward since the last post. Shinkansen opened! The Secret Mermaid opened! American craft spirits are now flowing from bottles at Ocean Financial Centre. Hmm, no wonder it’s been a few months since the last post.
Santa Claus is on his way, hopefully pulling something magical out of his sleigh. What is that thing I wish for? A successful start to my new restaurant.
Shinkansen is scheduled to open this Friday after a long delay. After working through a few issues this is the home stretch; I can tell because I haven’t been able to sleep. Lack of sleep combined with a recently bruised rib has made this a somewhat physically strained holiday season.
Our Christmas tree at home looks nice.
Oh ye of little updates. That ye being me. I’m not sure why I don’t blog much anymore. Can one outgrow blogging? I don’t think that’s it. Sure, like everyone I’m busy, but that’s also not it. Just something that has fallen by the wayside, which I regret. I use phone apps like Day One to record some thoughts down but they come in microbursts and are written primarily in the elevator between the floor I live on and the ground. Not a time for insight.
Anyway, another birthday has come and is about to be gone. I was thinking about my lack of interest in birthdays (mine or other people’s). Perhaps it’s a selfish way of thinking but instead of putting “me first” on only my birthday, I want to do that every day of the year! So the birthday becomes pointless.
What do I mean by “me first?” Ultimately it’s about owning my time. Being engaged in everything I do because it’s what I want to be doing at that moment. From the unproductive to the super-productive. It doesn’t mean I have to like what I’m doing; I just need there to be a point.
With that in mind, I’m off to play video games.
That reminds me of a chat I had today about growing old and being an adult. There’s no such thing as an adult. We’re all just kids that become easily tired.
Been busy these days immersing myself in American craft spirits for an upcoming project. It’s fun; who doesn’t like a few drinks in the name of research? Even better when you have a proclivity for drinking.
Anyway, while waiting for some other folks to get ready I’m alone at home drinking a Widow Jane Rye Whiskey and listening to The Byrds. How much more American can you get?