Dead End -ands

You know what dead end "ands" are? One night stands- those are usually headed no where fast, hence the name. And then there are one man bands. This is the TV term for reporters who shoot and report their own stories without the advantage of a professional photographer- or videographer as people outside of the TV business are quick to point out. We call them photogs even though they shoot video.

Anyhoo, I spent much of my so-called vacation in the homeland working. Every day I was off to get interviews and footage for a documentary I'm producing on my own. A lofty task but even more ambitious when you decide that you're going to shoot everything on your own. Usually, I shell out for a local crew but this time I opted to go the more expensive route of purchasing my own camera and equipment so I could pose as a tourist as I covered a controversial story on media censorship.

I've been back for about three weeks and even though I was pitching the documentary, I wasn't making any headway in terms of the creative process. A part of me wondered why I was reluctant to start logging the video and transcribing the interviews. Now I know why. I'm not a cameraman! There's a time/date stamp on half my footage which would be great if it were the correct time and date. It's off by 12 hours- at least. But even worse than that is the journalist who gave an incredible interview only to have it taped over by yours truly. When I ejected the tape and realized the irreversible error, I wanted to throw myself into oncoming traffic. In the homeland, that's almost certain and instant death. If only...

I'm probably being too harsh but I really sense that I've gone out on a limb and there's some apprehension about whether it will all pay off. If it does, more people will be aware of the challenges faced by reporters in an emerging democracy. If not, well, if not, then this blog entry about one man bands being a dead end will have been accurate. And you thought I didn't know how to look for the silver lining?

Gut Check

Stop me if you've heard this one: it's raining freaking sideways. WTF? We went from a gorgeous weekend with low humidity to relentless rainfall and 60 degrees. I'm trying to make the best of it, namely by scouring opentable.com for several meals this week. It's restaurant week when fine dining establishments scale down their menus and offer it to the proletariat class at prix fixe, that's French for, "Now you can eat here."

So tonight I'm having dinner at China Grill, then lunch at a Daniel Boulad restaurant tomorrow and at least two more meals will be at participating pretentious places if I have anything to say about it. All this fine dining is hardly the path to leaner pastures. I've gained back all the weight I lost after my trip to the homeland. It was so nice to not have to suck in my gut and imagine what a flatter stomach looked like. Now it's back as an ugly reminder of what happens when I give in to carb cravings.

It's Been A While...

Since I've blogged. It's something I was inspired to do sometimes a few times a day. But in the last couple of months, it's lost its appeal. And, quite frankly, I wondered if I had anything worthwhile to add to the blogosphere.

But to update you, things are pretty much status quo. No fame, no man and consequently, no mayhem to speak of. I went back to the homeland which is partly to blame for my hiatus. Electricity would go out without warning often when I was in mid-email. Composing. That was kind of irritating and the idea of perpetuating my annoyance by losing blog entries wasn't helping my reluctance to put pen to typepad.

I bought my cousin a Gucci wallet for his high school graduation gift... from Chinatown. Of course it wasn't real! But he's 17 and I figured, what the hell. But I wasn't expecting the reaction I got. Bless his still-in-the-closet gay heart if he didn't literally jump for joy and start running around the house with fake Gucci in hand exclaiming, "It's real! It's a real Gucci!" I of course was mortified. I mean I guess I should have figured as much but it made me feel guilty to be a fake gift-giver. Then, to my horror, the wallet started to fall apart during my visit. Morose and stricken at the sight of his beautiful bounty going bad, my cousin came into the bedroom as I was attempting to recuperate in the AC from the stifling heat I had endured by just walking downstairs. He sat down on the bed next to me and put his head on my shoulder. "I don't know what I did but the leather is coming apart," he said, sighing. Again, me: mortified. So I did what any honest person with an ounce of integrity would do, I feigned indignance.

"Let me see that! I can't believe they have the nerve to sell such an expensive wallet with such shoddy craftsmanship!" I went on for a few minutes expressing outrage at my extravagant purchase falling apart. But before you judge me, let me add that I brought the wallet home to "exchange" it on his behalf. And I intend on replacing it with an authentic wallet. It's called paying the stupid tax and I do it often.