Karen and craft: My first real post

On the tour from Hangzhou to Shanghai in China, we visited this town that was built around canals. I forget the actual name of the place [I should write these things down]. There was all this crappy talk from the tour guide about Venice and similar bullshit. I dismissed such simplistic comparisons.

All the houses were tiny timber-framed things with tile roofs, built god-knows when, and looking like it, too. Despite the place being a tourist attraction with an entrance fee, people actually lived there, thus making it 'more authentic'. The people there made a living catering for the needs of the bus loads of tourists that pour through the little village. They would usually be selling Chinese-y souvenirs or recreating a craft from the 'olden days'. So one store had someone manually using a loom, and another place printing onto the fabric made [forget industry!]. They hung up the fabric to dry, or something [I didn't catch the actual process].

That's my sister, there, with her black clothes and brand new all-white All Stars.

This was my favourite destination of the tours we were on. I didn't care for the tourist-oriented throwbacks to the past, but I loved the dilapidated housing. The general vibe of the place, beyond the tourist queso, felt 'real'.

I know, I know, if I went to an actual town like that that wasn't a tourist attraction, it would actually be 'real', but I'd be less one camera, and I'd be unhappy and hate the place. Sometimes you have to be a walking contradiction. In which case, I love tours!

I'm reading a book and it gets to be so preposterous that I'm about to give up on it, before it twists me back in

Nikon F4; 20mm f/2.8; Fuji Sensia 100 pushed to 400

You know, I don't think anybody really cares what camera you used.

Fine, I won't do it anymore.

I've grown to enjoy cheese

I don't want to bore you with the minutiae of my life [no, wait, that's all that I ever do], so I'll just say that I'm only happy with a handful of the scans that came back of the one hundred and eighty photos I took while away. I still needed to fix this one up.

Weren't you ecstatic with the original slides, though?

Yes, they were sublime - it didn't transfer to the scans, and I'm blaming the place where I got it done.

Nikon F4; 20mm f/2.8; Fuji Sensia 100 pushed to 400; TTL flash

Yes, more contrast. I think that helped the image slightly - it was about half hour after dusk when I was there.

Yes, more grain. What can you do about that? But I guess you can't tell with this size on screen.

I fucked up, though, with the filter on my lens vignetting the corners. Will either get rid of the bloody thing completely, or buy a filter with a thinner ring [more expensive]. Yeah, I could have Photoshopped it right, but that's not really what I'm about.

Yes! Flash! I'd planned to learn flash this time around, and I think I've progressed considerably. Hit and misses throughout, but I think this is a hit with the flash. Death to available light!

Of the subject matter: I have no clue as to why I did it [I'm generally an internationalist]. Deal with it.

Wedding day forecast: rain

Barbara,

I was thinking about what was said, with friend Tamara, about anarchy, and the social ritual of weekends, and I thought, why not fuck things up this weekend. Inject a little of that anarchy.

I was well on the road, in my mind, before I stepped back and saw all the calculated moves I'd made.

I find myself driving to nowhere in particular. But there I am, doing it for the sake of doing it. I'm not there because it's the least likely thing for me to do, but because it's the most likely thing to do when you're in this mindstate of anarchy.

I think, what else can I do? Everything leads you to an ironic ending of conformity.

We are not individuals. It's all been done.

Anarchy doesn't exist.

Currently listening to: Destroyer

I love that moment in the Simpsons, when Bart takes Milhouse and Nelson to an R-rated film using a fake ID. The three walk out of the cinema, with 'Naked Lunch' in lights above them, and Nelson goes, out loud, in his usual gruff voice, "I can think of at least two things wrong with that title."

So, on the plane in, I saw the new Cronenberg film, 'A History of Violence'.

It was great. I love ultra-violence [However, I abhor rape and am undecided on Beethoven]. You know the world is generally a good place when you can see the dramatisation on screen of a man gagging on his blood even after having been shot in the head.

I like the title, because I read it as a title, and, like Nelson, I was confused. Later, I understand the title as being a phrase, and not an indicator of content.

Why did I expect a history of violence in the film?

Check it out, when it is released. Maybe I'll come with.

Hangzhou Continental Hotel

I read in Time magazine a while back an article about how China was slowly weaning itself onto this new-fangled thing called the 'internet'. Of course, there would be limitations [I hope you understand what I'm saying, and realise that I'm scared... I'm scared of being woken up tonight by the sound of the secret police crashing my door down and dragging me out of bed to take me to the Ministry of Love, or something along those lines, if I am any more specific in saying what I'm thinking... you know? Comment if you don't understand, and I possibly can reply an explanation in more peaceful circumstances...], so I find I can't load this website, advarp, or Barbara, or whatever you or I want to call it. I find I can't load anybody else's blog, either. However, I am able to log into the account, albeit in what appears to be the Spanish version of the site, to post these thoughts. And, hopefully, they will make it out of this country.

Tonight, I'm staying in room 706 of the above hotel. Can I say that I haven't ever experienced such luxury. Will be leaving for God knows where tomorrow, so you'll have to wait until I have a semi-permanent residence in Hong Kong in a couple of days before you can contact me. I hate tours.

I'm going to see if my 200 yuan will stretch to a Martini [or a glass of Moet] in the hotel bar before midnight. My sister, the bore, is asleep already. Look at me, drinking alone [Does God count as a person?].

It's cold here.

Oh, look, it's 2006 in Sydney. Happy.

Do you understand? I'm bored. I'm getting sick of my parents, my sister. Stuff isn't happening; I'm tired. And I'm just thinking of all the fun I'm missing out on, at this moment, in Sydney.

No, it isn't that bad. In fact, it's pretty good. I'm not in Sydney! I'm in China!

For a split second, I considered taking advantage of the hotel pool, but remembered I didn't pack my swimmers for this leg of the trip, due to the fact that it would be, and is, very cold outside.