For the past week I've been going to sleep at daybreak, which is the official sign that I'm no longer "freelance" and I'm now just unemployed. I'll blame it on my inability to read fiction during the day. This is a look outside my window at 5am or so.
I don't mean to harp on about magazines (even though I can do so for hours), but I was cleaning through my magazine shelf tonight and I found this: three issues of Vanity Fair within an eight month period, all with the same freaking cover layout. Jennifer Aniston in Sept. 05, Naomi Watts in Jan. 06 and Teri Hatcher in April 06. It's ridiculous. All have the same red "Vanity Fair" text. White background. An actress dressed scantily in white, touching herself. Hair out, no pants and we assume, bare feet.
In the Aniston and Hatcher cover stories, both women are baring their souls, exposing secrets and inner fears (to the same writer, coincidentally) so they were made to look clean, organic, naked and pure amidst all that white. Jen was opening up about her divorce, so naturally her shirt is unbuttoned; and Teri was sharing the secret she's "tried to hide her whole life", so she's looking half-shocked and covering herself up as if the photographer just burst through the door of her changing room. How terribly deep.
This bugged me almost as much as the shameless unoriginality of Australian Vogue last year when they used the same cover photo of Nicole Kidman as Vanity Fair had used a few months earlier. And to make matters worse, they reprinted the same article written by VF regular, Ingrid Sischy. I was so bugged I had to write an email to the editor.
And just to contradict myself in the same post, notice how VF's cover is a lot more eye-catching than Australian Vogue's. (Jesus, I buy a lot of magazines.)
Great read: The Decline of Western Magazine Design, an interesting comparison of the cover designs of magazines such as Esquire, Fortune and Playboy, both "Then" and "Now".
GQ: I love you, man. There's no better magazine on the magazine rack, and there's definitely no better cover than the one this month (September issue) because guess what, it's Clive freaking Owen. When I first saw it, it felt like my eyeballs had been zapped by an electric shock. (I'd actually been zapped by Clive's "buy this issue" eyes. Let's just say I'm a fan of his work.)
But before I write about what makes this issue and this magazine so great, I'd like to first point out that it's a thick one. Magazines these days are getting thinner and thinner, so I'm glad that a consistently good publication like GQ (US edition) is getting the advertising support it deserves. And I applaud its decision to make selected content available on its website. Even the feature articles. For weirdo magazine freaks like myself, it's an effective teaser and a no-brainer way to grow reader loyalty. Just as music freaks will go out and buy a CD after hearing the single online, a magazine freak will happily spend the money for the privilege of lugging home a small tree.
So Clive's handsome mug aside, I'm astonished at the quality of this issue. Of course every issue of GQ kicks the asses of all other magazines out there, but I think this one is phenomenal. Yes, phenomenal. And I'm not in its target market! I'll even go so far as to say that it's a pleasure to flip through the ads. (There's a double-page spread for Nautica with Ed Burns! In one picture he's casting a fishing line into the sea! In another he's wearing metal-framed glasses! And his skin hasn't been Photoshopped to look like wax!)
Hands down, the best thing about GQ -- apart from the fact that it's a funny, intelligent and well-written mag -- is that I can't finish reading it in one sitting. Other magazines I can be done with in around 30 or 45 minutes. Women's magazines in particular, and also Details. I'll get bored and consequently regret buying the stupid things. The feature articles can be as short as a dismal page-and-a-half and lack interesting images. But GQ can take me hours. To the point where I'll actually save articles to read for later. That's value for money. And I stress, I'm not even GQ's target reader. Maybe that's why I find the point of view so refreshing -- it's not trying to sell me anything.
I'll quickly run through some of the brilliant content in the September issue because I can't imagine another title beating this. Ever. Here, I should point out that I absorb just about everything -- even the stuff about men's grooming -- except for the really sporty stuff.
- The Clive Owen profile and photo shoot
- The 10 most important buildings of the 21st century
- How to watch 'Grey's Anatomy' like a man
- GQ's guide to the 20 best books of the season
- Quitting Time: It's scary, it's traumatic, and it ain't easy. Here's how to know when you're ready
- Q&A with Snoop Dogg and his wife
- The first interview with the American soldier who blew the whistle on the Abu Ghraib prison scandal
- A GQ Primer: How to be a 21st-century gentleman
- How to buy a suit: You're about to make a serious investment
- "Meals of Fortune": The best restaurants in Las Vegas
- 50 things a man does not have to do before he dies
- The final comeback of Axl Rose (Yeah exactly, where the hell has he been?!)
- Photo spread of Zach Braff looking cool in suits in Amsterdam with a mini Q&A
- And an entertaining profile on K-Fed (I actually find this guy endearing. I think GQ does too.)
This list doesn't even include the sporty articles and loads of other stuff, which is exactly why GQ is the only magazine that's capable of over-delivering, instead of tricking impulse buyers and magazine freaks with misleading covers and taglines. (Of course, I'm often a victim to this sneaky tactic.)
Anyway, here are a few of my favourite GQ articles from the previous months and then the GQ lovefest will be over:
- An ingenius fill-in-the-blanks interview with Will Ferrell
- "The Incredible Buddha Boy" by the fantastic George Saunders, about a Nepalese teenager who meditates under a tree for months at a time
I woke up a couple hours ago from a coma-like sleep. (Okay fine, it was noon.) At 13 hundred hours, the phone rang. It had been ringing all morning, but since I've become really excellent at integrating the sound of a ringing phone into my dreams, I subconsciously ignored every single phone call that came through. ("What's that incessant ringing?" said Mischa Barton in my dream. "It's nothing, forget about it. So what's happening with you and Ryan?" I replied.) There must have been four or so today. The person who called at 13 hundred hours was Naomi, a nice girl from Dad's office. She said she was coming over in 30 minutes to take some photos of our apartment for insurance purposes. I hung up the phone and looked around. What a gross mess. This is potentially embarrassing.
Breaking every rule of the freelancer's handbook, I showered and got changed out of my PJs. Then I tidied up the apartment and made breakfast. Right now, I am dressed. Like a normal person is. Jeans and a t-shirt. Clean hair. And I'm eating regular food instead of random crackers I found. There's even natural light coming in.
...
Okay, Naomi just came and left. All she needed was a photo of our front door with the apartment number plate at the top, and a photo of our entrance hall. She didn't even come in and see the natural light coming through the windows. Dammit.
Photo Breakdown: This is a photo taken from the French restaurant I ate at with my grandparents, aunt and uncle on Friday night. The wall of black and white Parisian photos was the only good thing about the place. The food sucked and was overpriced. I'm serious.
When I was 18, I seriously thought to myself, "I want to have my first kid when I'm 25." Well, today I am 25 and I'm pretty far away from that. What a dork I was at 18!
Thanks to all the friends who've called, emailed and MSNed today, especially the ones from overseas. No quarter-life crisis to report yet, but with my current "freelance" situation -- both emotionally and employably (yes I made that up) -- you'd think I'd be knee-deep in it! But no no, I'm good. It's great to be in Taipei and it's nice to look back on my year being 24, since it was a breakthrough year in a lot of ways. And lastly, birthdays are always a good day to remember: "Be glad of life." And I am.
I had an early birthday dinner tonight with my parents since Dad's leaving for New York tomorrow morning and won't get back 'til Sunday. We went to try out the new Mitsui location on Dun Hua S. Rd and had a great, great meal. This place is possibly the nicest restaurant in Taipei, with high ceilings, really cool interior design and fancy dinnerware. I finished off a big Asahi while my parents shared a little bottle of cold sake.
That hand in the top photo is Dad's. And here's one of my parents...
I've been bitching quite a bit lately about how great Taipei is and all the things I'll miss once I move back to Sydney. After tonight, I know that I'll really miss frequent dinners with both my parents at great (and not stupidly-priced) restaurants so close to home.
Dear Bowl of Dou Hua with Yellow Chewy Stuff and Little 'Pearl' Balls:
You are so delicious. I'm really going to miss eating you at the food courts of Breeze Center, Taipei 101, New Eslite and Living Mall when I'm back in Sydney. The fact that you're so yummy and yet only NT$45 should be criminal. And the fact that something similar but less delicious will probably cost three times as much in Sydney is a disgrace. Sigh, I love you so much.
In Other News: Yao Ming is never eating shark's fin ever again.
Also:
Taiwanese Yankee Pitcher is profiled in New York Times.
Dudes, this is a game of Literati on Yahoo Games. It's a great game. I'm playing it right now actually (and I'm totally kicking ass), and when I'm done, I'll probably take a short nap before dinner. Horray for freelancing...
Matt asked me today if anyone actually comments on my blog. Well yes, people do leave comments, but it's just that no one has bothered to for ages. It's like freaking ghost month on my blog.
(Note to non-Taiwanese readers: it really is Ghost Month here. For more information about ghost month, ask my dad.)
Sorry: This photo came out really bad. It's all Typepad's fault.
This is the 100th post! I want to write about something more interesting and less disgusting than freakishly long fingernails, so building on a recent email exchange with a friend, I'm going to set in place a couple of the dominoes that I'll tentatively call my 5 Year Plan. I hope by the time I'm 30, I'll look back and see that I've knocked them down. You'll notice it's all family and travel related, because frankly, I don't know what I'll be working on for the next five years. (Crap.)
Long term:
- An eating trip to Japan with Mum and Dad for Dad's 60th birthday and my parents' 30th wedding anniversary.
- A trip (to anywhere) each with my cousin Tim and my cousin Christine.
- Rope someone into going to Tasmania with me. (Possibly Charlie.)
- Um, get married and have my grandparents be there.
- Er, have kids (2) and have them be there for it too.
- See Roger Federer play live in a grand slam tennis tournament!
Short term:
- Go to South Korea with Lillian and Lien.
- Drive to Canberra with Simone to visit Priya.
- Convince Janice to go to the U2 concert in November.
That's it for now, I guess. The photo is from 'Nuit Blanche' in Paris either in 2003 or 2004. It's when all the museums were open throughout the night. This picture shows people lining up outside the Louvre...
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