Tag: Moon

Murakami’s worlds

Once in a while, we stumble upon an author, just to follow his trail of thoughts.

Haruki Murakami is one of those He too likes writing and running. Not to mention his out-of-this-worldliness (Moon vs Sun).

Murakami’s world often consists of characters who feel detached, more like an observer than participant.

They struggle and strive, often times never arrived. But the journey they took, the travail they faced make it worthwhile. From Kafka to Carver, Murakami exhibits his synthesis skills. His ethos is neither East nor West. In 1Q84, it’s other-worldly ( I read part I and II in Vietnamese, and part III in English, which made the experience even more international).

He dwells a lot not just on the protagonist but also on the antagonist.

And he spared not his protagonists who got flaws as much as the antagonists who got redeemable qualities (aren’t we all!).

His sidekicks sometimes are older men, senile, but with a midas touch (Kafka on the shore) or strong women with a hang-up from the past (tycoon lady in 1Q84).

When it comes to the meaty part (sex), he just touch-bases on the surface to keep the character real (dark realism).

Exhaustive but worthwhile, that’s how a journey with Murakami was.

Just like his 100 km-run. So what do I talk about when I talk about Murakami?

That his novels don’t rock? His flow of thoughts weird? And his characters while other-worldly, yet seem more real if we chose to conspire?

All of the above. And more over, Murakami grows richer in detail and description over time.

I look forward to more developed characters in his upcoming novels. Pick one from his collection, and dive right into his world. Neither East nor West, but then, who needs all those neatly categories, given our blended taste for culture and couture nowadays.

Perceived message

Message received often times is different from message intended.

Wrong timing. Different context and stress level. Words that inadvertently trigger negative emotions.

We live and learn.

It’s not easy to get across, at both cognitive and emotive levels.

Male are known for missing emotional signals more often than female.

That’s why long distance relationships are hard. We can’t rely on non-verbal cues.

Perfect communication doesn’t exist.

Only when two frames of reference converge in a perfect eclipse.

It’s as rare as the Moon and the Sun passing.

Yet we try. We rely on objects to speak for us, on gifts and on symbolism.

These days, people use chat, text and video calls. Yet Hallmarks cards are still thriving.

Twitter is for bursting self-promotion.

Facebook for social, more than two.

LinkedIn for professional networking.

That leaves the ubiquitous SMS and chat (which requires simultaneous typing).

I know that fax and voice mail are on the way out.

Just like pagers and answering machines.

We move on. We change the way we communicate. With emoticons and acronyms..

Languages that once belonged in OPs domain now drifted into our daily conversation.

Machine-like language for a dehumanized world.

Please get to the point ASAP.

OK. I promise to get it done by COB.

Can you hear me saying? All I intend to say is ….

Please don’t get it all wrong. I meant well. Oh, that’s not enough?

Sorry, I completely disregard your circumstances. Are your under stress? I see.

Let me start over again. Since you are this and that….. I just want to say this ….and that. Now we acknowledge the other ‘s level of communication, we begin to factor in empathy. I often feel the same way. People read me wrong most of the time etc…But I found that ….

One of the best conversation on race took place in a(imaginary) trench, between a Princeton Lieutenant (white) and a career sergeant (black) in Matterhorn. Since they both were going to die, the Lieutenant asks the Sergeant to teach him the “hand dance”. After a few times, he still did not feel right. The retort ” that is because you are not Black”.

Even when you meant well, still it’s not enough. Perceived message.

Moon Cake

You can’t possibly finish one all by yourself.

In fact, when I was a kid, I remembered it got cut up not into four but eight pieces, like we would with a Costco pizza.

Slices of sweet moon cake, in all varieties.

Big confectionary  revenue every year in China and Vietnam.

Although it’s a Children Festival,  adults are in for those cakes as well. Later, it evolves into an occasion for gifting, and acceptable bribing.

Sweeten the deal.

It’s almost as if  business and adults  have hi-jacked what few festivals  children got left for themselves.

Let’s face it. In the West, we got Halloween. Then college students hi-jacked it with frat’s costume parties. Even at work. So Halloween spreads to other unintended age groups.

In the Far East, we see similar phenomenon: the commercialization and co-opting of  traditional events by the Retai industry.

As long as you can “create” a “first” event. Next year, it will become the Second X event, then Third…

Some events no longer reflect their original raison d’etre. Hence, a need for self-created tradition  (South by Southwest, TED). Somehow, cultural legacies are associated with “uncoolness”.

Malcom Gladwell recalls his Jamaican aunt (light-skinned) disown her dark-skinned daughter when she met a light-skinned man. In Outliers, he makes a case for cultural legacy,  which, after extensive analysis, proves to be the bedrock of  immigrant success. Personally I also found American cultural tapestry as strength (German Beer Fest, Irish pipers, Little Italy etc …helps induct me to early American immigrants) and not weakness. Case in point. I often run into bi-racial couples who took their half-breed children to these festivals. The “foreign” spouse indeed finds those cultural events fascinating. Perhaps he/she hopes to find some clues into the make-up of his or her spouse, or to simply please him/her culturally.

And it’s only fair. Because to marry into a dominant culture, one has to sacrifice and let go things that are deemed “strange” e.g. instant noodles, chopsticks (in California, sushi and Pho restaurants are actually operated by Korean business people, rather than Japanese or Vietnamese).

So this Blue Moon, full moon and Moon Fest. Go out and join the “strange” people. They have their reason behind the season. Find out the fairy tale, their  pre-Neil-Armstrong perception of the Moon. It goes well with Slow Rock. Makes for a perfect slow dance, while the children are occupied with their own lanterns. The commercial world does go ahead of us . But then, maybe they know us more than we do ourselves. After this weekend, watch for the Halloween pumpkin stand. Coming around the corner, literally.

Monsoon and Moonfest

Overhearing some people talking about rain in Dalat, Vietnam‘s mountainous area, I thought back to a time and a place where innocence was shred like old skin. You see, growing up in Vietnam even in the midst of the war, was still something to be cherished. You might have neighbor’s funeral with flag draped over coffin, but you could also have free reign during Moon Festival. Lanterns and lighting, of all kinds.

Monsoon rain during the day and dry crisp air at night, formed a clear line of sight to chi Hang (Moon Lady). I imagined seeing the Moon man hanging on to the magic tree (per fairy tale). Later on, when Neil Armstrong  (who has just died) stepped foot on it, as Curiosity Rover now roaming Mars, science was waging war on our hand-me-down heritage. Fable or fact? Fiction or non-fiction?

If you were to grow up during my time, you couldn’t have helped questioning everything: kids on the opposite side of the world were doing the same thing, asking if the “outsourced” war thousands miles away were worth the sacrifice. Meanwhile, computer geeks just coded their nights away in A/C- humming labs. If we can zoom the camera out , we will see dry and hot day in California and Seattle (where Bill Gates was taking a bus for computer timeshare) and the post-rainy Moon Festival night when I was skipping with lantern in hand. Got to have those cakes and candles.

Sweet tooth and sweet innocence. A whole festival dedicated to our young age group. Who said in Asia, only older people are respected. We (kids) ruled!

Then that innocence was shattered as reports about the unwinnable war got out with CBS dailies. Cronkite walked the ground of the US embassy and delivered a one-two punch in bullet-proof vest and helmet: it’s a stalemate.

Johnson knew then he wouldn’t have a  chance to convince the public the other way, after all, “that’s the way it is”.

Truth and fiction, fairy tale vs glass-encased moon rock.

In full view, we knew something was going on, but “what it is, ain’t exactly clear”.

So I grew up hurriedly, burned my  Moon Fest candles quickly and swallowed that sweet cake in one bite.

Fast forward to this day, again, hot in California, and rainy in Dalat, I smile to myself: it sure has been a wonderful childhood amidst of war. The intense fighting only made coming of age all the more precious.

Blood was shed to protect our playground.

I now realize why I keep coming back for more . I wish for other kids to feel what I felt: an appreciation for life, albeit amidst danger. Despite having threats from all sides, one could still do some self-validating, self-legitimizing and story-telling (to generation next). Now, that’s pre-computer-age coding and culture making. That’s buying time in a society on the verge of collapse. Now, we see children with I-pads in hands, but disrespectful and unappreciative. The age of Entitlement is overtaking the age of Enlightenment. And no one seems to “cry, my beloved country”. The Monsoon suddenly brought back sweet memories of  MoonFest. Monsoon continues still, year after year, but not my MoonFest,  which exists only in faint but never faded memory.

The flow

We woke to all sorts of noise, among them the flow of traffic.

Resting by the lake after my few-mile run in the heat, I noticed all sorts of creatures: squirrels, rabbits and ducks.

As peaceful as could be, yet we don’t often say “I’ve got peace like a lake”. We say, “I ‘ve got peace like a river”.

River flows. Water moves. Ocean and  tide. Moon and Mars. Can’t stay still. Thought flow, money flow from hand to hand.

New games got invented everyday. Skin rejuvenation, sex drive rejuvenation and self-reinvention. Press “reset”. Be kind and rewind.

Get to be old hats.

One birthday piles up on top of another.

Summer time.

Vacation time.

Sabbatical.

Just lay low. Under the radar. Poor man’s vacation. But vacation nonetheless.

Dollar Stores are still doing well. Costco is expanding. And any kind of drinks is still sold for a buck at McDonald’s.

Money is changing hands, but not a lot .

Us, playing and making a living by being in the middle, got less, by the percentage.

Nokia shut down its offices at home. Industries see a lot of volatility and fluctuation.

Brands however endure especially in uncertain times: Ford, Coke and Costco. Sweet and more sweet as we got sweated.

Got to reward ourselves. Got to have that Gatorade, under the scorching sun. Can only stand in opportunities’ way that long. Not without taking a break . Jackson Brown says, ” opportunity likes to dance with those who were already on the dancing floor”. So swing and sway, but stay the course. Go with the flow of music. The tempo will change. It always does, even in the worst of times. Even now, things don’t stay static. It flows even when we are asleep.

Moon Alley

Last night, when I got back to my alley, I thought they had turned on extra lighting.

Turned out I did not notice that it was full moon. No wonder people were going to the Temple, buying and selling fake dollars for the dead.

It was supposed to be the second important date on the Buddhist calendar, second to his birthday.

Here in Vietnam, the consumer confidence index is on the rise.

You thought I must be kidding!

A war-torn country with a higher consumer index in the midst of a global recession?

Don’t take my word for it. Check out Nielsen data source.

College students are back from Tet holidays: dictionaries, backpacks, Samsung phones, and facemasks.

Ready to roll!

The old (money for the dead) and the new (studying a foreign language, preferably certified by an European  Language center) co-exist.

I also noticed all sorts of snack items: hot-dogs of all types, fish balls, fertilized eggs (in the Philippines, they call “Ba-Lut”), chips, corns etc.. The young demographics are poised for the likes of KFC.

Fast food on the fast lane.

If they can redesign the stores to accommodate ride-in (scooters nation)

In fact, some sandwich stores located at street corners are doing just that.

Nearby you will also find hamburgers on wheels (xe-lam) or food carts at the curb.

Living in a dead-end alley affords me some peace and quiet.

It’s also safer, although not well-lit.

Until last night, with full-moon.

Moon Alley.

Where children learn to walk and the old do exercise.

Neighbors turned on their karaoke machines… so loud it took over my reading concentration.

Still I love my Moon Alley. I know no one is waiting for me, except my parents’ pictures on the altar.

Felt like a kid every time, walking in the door.

Still, for me, there is no need for food offering and burning of fake money.

Their memories are well-preserved in my mind, and their advice well-heeded.

i.e. Just be a good kid. Bring honors to the dead and the living.

And remember to floss your teeth.

Moon Alley.

Strange sounds, familiar shores

Instead of “I woke up to the sound of music, Mother Mary comes to me…” like Paul McCartney,

I woke up to strange sounds these days: peddlers who use “low tech” au parleur (bull horn) mounted on bicycles or tri-cycles (selling boot-legged CD‘s). In fact, it was my first time got chased by pleasant sound from behind (most of the time, it was emergency vehicle with a sense of urgency). By music here, I mean, not Beatles‘, but Slow Rock (nhac Sen), lamenting heart ache and heart-break.

In the evening, you can hear metal belt sound for in-home massage ( I have never tried).

I miss those wood-on-wood sound of a noodle peddler.

Those were the best snacks a boy could wish for. Speaking of Vietnam childhood and music.

Steve Jobs and friends were listening to music with headsets so they could do it while laying down.

One of his signature photos was an empty room with just a lamp, with him sitting cross-legged.

Very Zen-like. Minimalist. Pure simplicity in design.

He went on to take classes in calligraphy (even Reed College curriculum was still too restrictive for his type).

The sum of all these experience gave us the I-pod with ear-plugs, and later on the I-phone and I-pad.

Studies mentioned that babies could hear before birth.

If this is true, I must have heard an early scooter, a vendor on wheels, someone trying to get the grill going, or a rooster announcing a new day.

Dawn in Vietnam and dusk in the US. (You can experience similar feel, let’s say by traveling down Mexico, but then they got the same time zone as in the US).

Sharing the same Moon.

Sharing the same hope, fear and dream:

Will my kids grow up “con nha lanh” (teachable), and not into drugs.

Will they stay or leave for strange shores?

Will they listen to our voice, those familiar sounds, or they will just “follow the money” and “hearing voices”.

In the end, especially in our flat world, the sound of jet engine and popping soda cans will bring us home from any strange shore.

For a moment there at my friend’s party, we danced and jumped to a familiar tune (sound), felt our hearts go on beating (The End of the World) and saddened “when you say, ‘goodbye'”. The day can’t go wrong when you “get up to the sound of music”, let’s say in “Beautiful Sunday” (when you said, you love me, hey, hey, it’s a beautiful day). Or at night, when soothing sound you first heard while inside Mummy’s womb was that of the noodle man’s peddling.

from gook to geek

It’s been a while since The Right Stuff was released. Gabby’s husband (Mark Kelly) was going back on the last Endeavor mission. The President referred to our Sputnik moment , and how we should move Science Fair under the Super (Bowl) dome. All this reminds me of a piece of moon rock on display by USAID in Saigon back in 1969.

At least, it dispelled the myth for me that once you stepped on the Moon, you can’t come back (Vietnamese folklore). In “burning flesh, jasmine smell”, I blogged about the burning monk. I went and saw his charred heart on display as well. Curious George!

Saigon. War time. Oh Suzie Q. President Johnson was quoted as saying “I left the woman I really loved (the Great Society) for that bitch of war on the other side of the world” (Grand Expectations pg. 597-98). Everybody’s attention was diverted.

From Gainsville to Pinkville, from Kent State to Ohio State.

I was forced to stay home a lot because it was unsafe to come back to school (Tet 68).

Mass graves in Hue and mass migration from Central Vietnam ( Nick Ut and his ” naked napalm girl” snap). Ironically, those blood-stained barges which had carried refugees from Central region, conveniently served as chartered “swing low, sweet chariots which carried me …home to the US” .

Had there been a place further South than Phu Quoc Island, we would have migrated there

(as it turned out, there were a bunch of ships down there on the war’s last day. The late Richard Holbrooke had been sent to extract Navy intelligence from those ships, which were eventually allowed to dock at Subic Bay, after having to change their flags per international law).

From Presidents on down, America did not know what to make of Vietnam.

But I know what to make of Moon Rock and classic Rock.

Others might enjoy putting away their pajamas for tuxedos.

But I cherish my first glimpse of the Moon rock, my Sputnik moment. From then on, to me, what’s said in the village stayed in the village (tales of the Moon Festival).

We are called to seize our Sputnik moment. Egyptian demonstrators put up a banner that says “We want, the internet”. Officially, online access is an important part of our human rights now (dictator’s dilemma i.e. cutting off service to a few affects the many). In today’s context, President Johnson might as well be quoted as saying “I left them both – for this? ” – namely both the Great Society and the Lost War to gain the 11th place on the Happiest Country chart. Maybe folklores ain’t far from the truth after all: once you left the mansion for the moon, you could never come back. Not as the same man with the same mentality. No more gook. Just geek. And I found out to my surprise, I am not alone.

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My machine vs yours

When Henry Ford put together two motor cycles side by side to invent the automobile, he wasn’t interested in pleasing his customers, “you can have any color you want, as long as it’s black”.  Now, car turns commodity, the Chinese came up with Cherry, the pink car designed to please its female customers  Bye bye Alpha Male.

We are moving swiftly to post-industrial society, where valued apps differentiate services (the Application layer).

My android app vs your I-Phone‘s. More women play games that fit their lifestyle, instead of shooting down the enemies in Mortal Combat. And medical records can be made available to avoid cross-drug effects. Ironically, pornographers are way ahead in tech curve (money-motivated people adopts invention very quickly).

How much more the “good” guys can advance if they put their mind into it.

My machine vs yours.

Let’s race.

We went to the Moon, collected rock samples, and returned safely.

Now, we just have to sit down in a chair and think.

Let our fingers do the walking on the keyboard, not feet on the surface of the Moon. Let them glide, and be the extension of our speed of thought.

Besides speed (Moore’s Law), and network effect (Melcafe), we need Movement (macro-wiki?)  to lift ourselves above the mundane.

Google’s “don’t be evil”, Steve Job‘s “be hungry”.

Sadly but truly, hunger and fear are good driving forces. The former compels us to hunt, the other to invent weapons to protect ourselves. Peter Drucker once said “organizations exist to do two things: innovation and marketing”.

From Taser to Tommy, it is not unusual to find in a woman’s bag: car alarm, I pod, I phone, flash lights, garage door openers, remote control of all sorts etc….

Wireless technologies have liberated dancers/singers so they can move around the stage, and their laptops around the house.

My machine vs yours.

Surround sound. Shared sorrow. The Japan that can now say NO.

Once thrived, now disheartened, Japan has quietly moved on to robotics to serve its aging population. If any country that could work technology into health care, Japan should be it. I had a chance to sort through first hand, all sorts of machines junked by hospitals. Brace ourselves for 21st-century hospitalization, where you can’t affor having allergy to all things machine. From Youtube to test tube, you will instead of viewing your music video, end up breathing from one.

My machine vs yours.

The Who will change its tune, from “see me, feel me” to “test me, read me”.

The machine won’t prolong life, but at least, it can give exact reading of time of death. That’s when the cursor blinks, without going to the next alphabet.

No period. Just blinking, incessantly.

My machine vs yours. Learn to live and love it while you can.

summer breeze

Rolling black-outs in the city occur here quite often.

So it’s refreshing to ride through District 1, where the Saigon River occasionally delivers some wind-tunnel effect. Lightings are up to prepare for the upcoming holidays. Bakeries are setting up kiosks everywhere in town, pushing their Moon cakes.

We got Givral joining the confectionary space traditionally belongs to Kinh Do and Dong Khanh. Sweet tooth and sweet spot.

Summer to many is now officially behind. Moon Festival is next.

Children enjoy lanterns, candle lights and of course, Moon cakes.

We used to light our lantern each year, our version of Christmas tree. Being kids, we knew this season was ours.

I hit the nerve when I ordered mini-moon cakes as give-aways at MCI booths back in 1995.  With lanterns, moon cakes, even grown-ups wanted to switch over. They knew that someone cared, and paid attention.

Marketing is not difficult if you begin and end with the customers.

Another childhood imprint was when my parents took turn to recite their freshly composed poems on New Year‘s Eve ( I had barely finished sweeping the floor in time to greet New Year).

The poems were to usher in luck and new hope for the entire year.

I wonder if the tradition still carries on at that sacred hour.

But for this Moon Festival, the children certainly will sing that traditional song, while carrying around their lanterns.

And sure enough, lingering summer breeze might snuff out their candles as it did mine long time ago.  May I have some lights please!