Archive for the ‘personal’ Category
First Annual Zhonglish / Chinglish Conference
October 17th, 2008
Coming to Beijing exactly one month from today: November 17. Mark the dinnertime.
What is it?
A gathering, a feast (or at least minor indigestion), a chance to meet some BJS regulars.
The guest list will include Sima, of lír, línr, língr fame, Randy, of Chinglish and Echoes of Manchu renown. Both are coming all the way from 东北 for this great event. There will also be a Beijinger (well, since 1993) who has worked on the Mandarin speech recognition technology for a major software company.
If you’re going to be in the area, please don’t be shy. Event Security will NOT permit syz to record any Zhonglish/Chinglish without guests’ permission.
What do you get?
1. Grub
2. T-shirt? (if the production floor can get set up in time)
3. Possible cameos by Mrs. BJS and PBS (in sure-to-be-incredibly-shy form)
What’s it cost?
Nothing, if we don’t get carried away. (I’m docking the wages of the BJS staff to pay the bill.)
What’s the catch?
You gotta email syz (bjshengr -at- gmail -dot- com) to rsvp and find out the exact time and location. Blame the reviled paparazzi for ruining public event planning for everyone.
Why?
1. Overdue birthday for Beijing Sounds
2. Syz’s first visit to Beijing in many months (want unrelenting depression? try November in Minnesota)
3. A quarter century since Nixon declared he wasn’t a crook.
Seriously, I’d be delighted to put faces to some of the names and pseudonyms around the studios. Shoot me an email if you might be able to come.
The rearview mirror
October 10th, 2008
On Beijing Sounds’ first birthday, the year’s stats, wasting time, and the fastest recitation of 千字文 ever recorded
Read the rest of this entry »
Self-indulgence
July 27th, 2008
Princess and Mrs. Beijing Sounds sent text as soon as the wheels touched ground at PEK last night. By 10:30, they’d entered the Beijing Sounds studios in Shàngdì (上地 in northwest Beijing) and managed to include your editor (who they’d left holed up in Minnesota) in most of the evening rituals: the book-reading, the talk about instant noodles for dinner — pretty much like home.
No, separation isn’t what it used to be. How quick you forget the days of shouted greetings over dollar-a-minute phone calls. You can hardly even recall anymore what it’s like to wait for mail.
All the same, today you still have to disconnect, eventually . And then you listen to the refrigerator hum, uninterrupted. You start feeling sorry for yourself and dig up whatever annoying sound clip you can find.
一个老头上厕所
yīgè lǎotóur shàng cèsuǒ
An old man goes to the bathroom一摸兜儿，没带纸
yī mō dōur, méi dài zhǐ
feels his pocket — didn’t bring paper擦完屁股一手屎
cāwán pìgu yī shǒu shǐ
after wiping his bottom, one hand of poop*
“Yeah,” you think, “that’s me — the hand of poop.”
C’mon! Pull out of it already. Get yourself together. What do you need? A beer? No, some bon-bons then, maybe? Still not right? Well what, then?! Oh sure, of course — I mean, who wouldn’t need to prop themselves up by scouring every last corner of the internet for some sign that you’re cool? Sure, here you go, critical acclaim: your very own refrigerator, fully decorated.
–
* Maybe someone can do better with that translation? Inelegant, to say the least.
[Update 8/1/08: Yes, indeed there was a better translation -- yet another sound clip I found in which PBS (princess beijing sounds, age 5 at the time) translates the work herself. The existence of the recording only further documents my continued and inexplicable fascination with child culture, especially of the potty-humor variety.
]
A bird flaps its wings near 工人体育场
December 25th, 2007
[Sound files are all at the bottom of the post]
Wallowing is a vile, unworthy habit. You inevitably get sucked into it from time to time. But too often and you become, as GB Shaw put it,
a feverish selfish little clod of ailments and grievances complaining that the world will not devote itself to making you happy
It’s a choice you make every day. Whatcha gonna do: wallow, or create something? Your social environment strongly influences the decision. Conversations about life tend to go in one direction or the other, but not stay in the middle, whether you’re talking with your coworker, or your brother, or your barber, classmate, spouse, childhood friend… You end up on one side or the other of the continental divide, either wallowing in self-pity and loathing, or fired up to create something, do something, fight entropy.
But what pushes you one way or the other when you’re on the ridge? Read the rest of this entry »
