Absurdity, Allegory and China

“The ultimate would be to compete in a couple more Olympics, hopefully break some world records and wind up my sports career with a couple of years in the WNBA.”
–Marion Jones

So much for dreams, Olympic or otherwise. Instead of attending the Beijing Olympics as a competitor, Marion Jones is serving six months in a Texas federal prison for pathologically lying about her use of performance enhancing drugs. Along the way she claimed a string of incidental victims, including her relay partners at the Sydney 2000 Olympics who are now fighting to keep their medals. Though her Olympic dreams have been altered, they have obviously not been totally abandoned. She wants out a jail (who doesn’t?), and she’s appealed to President George Bush for a commutation of her sentence less than three weeks before the beginning of the Beijing Olympics, whose opening ceremonies Mr. Bush plans to attend. By my calculations she only has about 6 weeks left to serve. It is easy to call this one a no-brainer if it were not for so many other ‘no brainers’ that Mr. Bush has haplessly fumbled.

In an open letter to President Bush, Douglas Logan, the new CEO of US Track and Field, has urged Mr. Bush to not commute her sentence, seeing a potential early release as an undermining of the current efforts to keep drugs out of track and field. It’s in Bush’s court now, and though this seems like an obvious slam-dunk no, if recent history is any indication, this one could go either way. It is, after all, sports, politics AND Texas.

The airspace over my neighborhood is loud with helicopters. Haven’t seen so many in one place in a lot of years. Their mission is, as all things are here, not entirely clear. I live, literally, across the street from an Olympic venue, the Tianjin Olympic Center, a new purpose-built football (soccer) stadium that was christened last September when it hosted several Women’s World Cup matches. It will also be the site of a dozen group stage and quarterfinal football matches in the days leading up to, and the first week of, the Olympics. It’s a pretty safe bet that the racket has something to do with important security business and/or the running of a specialty shuttle service between Beijing and the boonies for the very well-connected. The last thing you’d want to do is take a car to Tianjin, then get caught in traffic jams that are swelling around the newly unveiled, Olympic-sized security checkpoints project. The Great Wall, next-gen. Better to know someone and get a thrilling ride over the very un-thrilling coastal factory sprawled and disappearing countryside, rather than muck about in it. So, we have helicopters engaging in what appears to be nighttime touch and gos on the practice field next to the stadium, outboard the eastern moat beside the Sports Hotel, which may very well be one of the only venues in Tianjin that will be hanging out the no vacancy sign when the Moment is, finally, upon us.

There was one more scenario I entertained for just a moment, though, in retrospect, it was a critical moment, as well as an uncomfortable revelation. I can almost dismiss it as nothing but fun speculation but, truth be known, I actually, seriously considered it as a legitimate option, which is what living in a world without proper news allows – rumors, speculation and the following of any light, dim as it may be, to lead us through the fog and blur. Let me explain: the only other bit of Olympic news concerning Tianjin I have managed to remember is that the Jamaican Olympic team was planning to harden off to the Olympic environment by coming early to practice in Tianjin. (Nobody asked me, so I wasn’t telling.) So, as all this whirring racket began on Thursday afternoon, my initial thought was, “Maybe they’re bringing the Jamaican Olympic team in on helicopters, giving those folks something to really remember.” And then I thought, “Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute. If you’re going to really consider that as an option, you’ve been here way too long.” But whatever the reason, the helicopters are a real deal. And last tonight they were doing touch and go’s across the street, thwacking and thwonking about until after 9 PM.

Some of the passes were so close I was sure they were prepping to land on our roof. We live on the tenth floor, the top floor of our building, and landing on our roof would be easy enough to do, on either a dark night or a dull, smoggy morning. But if they actually were to land on my roof I’m not sure what I’d do. Perhaps, like Thomas’ Miss Prothero, I could offer them something to read.

At the moment I feel the need for a Master Po/Grasshopper moment, though even if the Master were to grace me with a bit of firecrackered wisdom, for the life of me I can’t come up with any single question to ask that would generate a very wawa-ed parting of the present veil to reveal the greater purpose hidden within the day-to-day mysteries of this unfolding historic moment. And I’m not sure that the Master could even deal with the notion of night helicopter buzzing. But I’ve got to believe that somehow, somewhere - even in a Kung Fu rerun - this all makes sense. And that shows you how much I know.

Though it is highly unlikely that anyone hasn’t yet heard, the latest issue of the New Yorker with it’s trademark cartoon cover shows the Obamas in the Oval Office kitted out as rad-Muslims, a burning flag in the fireplace and an Osama portrait hanging on the wall. The Obama camp has called it “tasteless,” and the McCain camp heartily agrees (though you can almost hear the arm-pumping “Yes!” in the background).

I am a New Yorker reader and have been for the last twenty-five years, and I’d hardly call it “tasteless,” given the way that weekly magazine - arguably the best in America - has portrayed the current administration: Bush as Nero; Bush and members of his team in the flooded Oval Office in September 2005 after Hurricane Katrina destroyed New Orleans; and the classic side-splitter in February 2006 of Dick Cheney blowing smoke from the end of a shotgun barrel with George’s head – both of them in cowboy hats – on Cheney’s shoulder mimicking a promo poster for the film Brokeback Mountain. This one appeared shortly after Cheney sprayed his hunting partner, Harry Whittington, in the face with buckshot on a Texas weekend bird shoot. It was chosen by the American Society of Magazine Editors and the Magazine Publishers of America as the best magazine cover of the year. Tasteless? To neocons, I suppose. And maybe George’s mother, if she got it, though she probably had to ask her husband who, no doubt, gave an answer something along the lines of, “Just the boys kickin’ a lil ass.”

It’s tough being at the top and, to some, it can be tasteless. I hope the Obamas relax a bit and take it in stride. Imagine what would happen if the leaders of China were parodied on a New Yorker cover in the current cultural climate. Hard to even imagine that one, though I am curious to see the cover during Olympic week, and if it will precipitate a boycott on all-things-New-York. If the New Yorker isn’t careful we baseball fans may not be seeing the Yankees or the Mets in Wukesong any time soon.

From today’s NYT Nikolai Ouroussoff’s In Changing Face of Beijing, a Look at the New China highlights the gap between the ideals of the architects who are transforming the face of Beijing and their client, the Chinese government. Regarding some of the higher profile projects, namely the Bird’s Nest and the CCTV Headquarters Building:

Yet a conflict over the stadium’s future underscores tensions over how the new China will be defined. The stadium is in the center of a sprawling park surrounded by regimented rows of housing towers. After the Games, Mr. Herzog and Mr. de Meuron hope to transform the building into a vast public forum and a visual anchor for the community.

The government prefers to build a fence around it, which would eliminate the parklike openness that is one of its most attractive features. A local developer has proposed creating a subterranean shopping mall at one end of the structure, further undermining the design’s public spirit.

“The building is made to be open,” Mr. Herzog said. “It is a work of public sculpture.” Still, as the architect, all he can do is press for flexibility. “Even if they put up a fence, they can take it down again one day in the future,” he said hopefully.

Mr. Koolhaas faces similar strains in his headquarters for CCTV, the state television authority, several miles to the south in Beijing’s new business district. Long negotiations have unfolded over how much public access will be allowed: to the architect’s distress, CCTV’s directors have threatened to close off two public roads that cut through the site. An enormous plaza will also be restricted to the company’s employees.

None of this is really a surprise. That it could or would have unfolded any differently than it is unfolding is the only things that could possibly have been a surprise. One has the sense that these major projects were always quietly earmarked as privileged spaces with conceptual and electronic walls as high as the one that surrounds the Forbidden City. And those “regimented rows of housing towers” which Herzog and de Meuron hoped would be anchored by their stadium will, no doubt, meet the same fate as other regimented rows of housing have met in Beijing.

It remains to be seen where this will lead. For centuries, architects have aspired to create buildings that enlighten or transform civilization, only to see them remain isolated splendors, with little impact on society at large. That may prove to be the case in China, too.

If you want to go to Beida (Beijing [Peking] University), want something else. That, too, is now off-limits. Who’s next? Someone needs to come up with a list, start a pool and turn this into a contest. I’d do it, but my organizational skills are truly number ten. But I still think it’s a good idea. I’d take a chance for a hundred. And if I could pick a specific place rather than just a number, I’d throw in a whole lot more.

Back in China two days - Beijing and Tianjin - and have yet to see my shadow, though there seems to be a squint of hope this morning. I can see some blue skies peeking through, though it’s still quite early. I got a ride back to Tianjin yesterday on the Jingjintang Highway, and it was the fastest and least congested trip in my decade here. With all the overloaded and poorly maintained trucks seemingly sidelined, it felt almost safe. Perhaps China can use this time to understand just how much of a problem they have on that road, though I fully expect that come September it will be back to dangerous business as usual: a raft of dramatic accidents, long fuel-hogging backups and the always enjoyable thrill of high-speed on-the-right passing along the narrow and oft-cluttered shoulder. I still have a hard time coming to terms with the fact that the police haven’t tapped this gold mine in an effort to bring some law to that road. It’s TicketLand waiting to happen. A scale or two, a few patrol cars and, Voila! an instant pile of cash. But that shows you how much I know. Obviously there is an advantage to keeping it unsafe at any speed or volume. Some things are more important than the common good. Or perhaps the common good is quite a bit different than any that I can possibly imagine.

Another bit of news that keeps capturing the headlines is the new high speed train between Beijing and Tianjin, set to make its initial commercial run on August 1. The last I heard is that it will take 27 minutes and cost somewhere in the neighborhood of 70 RMB. No one is spending much time dawdling over the fact that the new Beijing terminal station is in the southeast part of the city. From what I’ve been able to learn, it will take two further train rides to get from the new station to Tian’anmen Square. Depending on where you plan to go in the city, the better deal and faster trip still may be to ride the current train and catch the subway at Beijing station. The much-advertised flash train route is akin to riding a bullet from Philadelphia to New York with the New York end-of-the-line somewhere in Newark. But 27 minutes looks good in the papers, even though it will be more than 20 RMB higher than the current ride. Twenty-six days to go and the machine is cranking.

And while we’re on the subject of trains, does anyone know the current status of the once-ballyhoo-ed luxury train to Lhasa? I’m still looking for a place to drop 5,600 bucks.

For those who can get the USA Network, tonight the American Film Institute (AFI) will air the 36th AFI Life Achievement Award: A Tribute to Warren Beatty. Since I miss everything else, this is one I won’t be sad to sit out. One of my favorite films is McCabe and Mrs. Miller – good acting, great soundtrack (Leonard Cohen), and amazing light, and there’s even a Chinese opium den to keep this post blog-topical – starring none other than Warren Beatty. I hate to admit that I like this film as much as I do, mostly because I detest Warren Beatty and love Robert Altman who made the film. Since Altman is dead it is highly unlikely that we will hear what he had to say about Beatty, though it is worth quoting.

Warren has never said a kind word about McCabe and Mrs. Miller even though he got the best reviews of his career from it. When I die if that egotistical bastard says anything nice about me, then you know he’s lying, but I’ll haunt him to his grave for the unprofessional way that he treated me and our cast and crew. Other than him I’ve loved every actor I’ve ever worked with.

And speaking of the dead, I spent a good part of today wandering through Cimitière du Père Lachasie, the most prestigious burial ground in Paris. So here are a few from the cemetery. Click for a larger photo. And once you get there and still want to see a larger photo, click ‘All Sizes’ on the menu above the photo.

Here are a few more photos from July in Paris, even a Mona Lisa.

I tried to get a photo of Nicolas Sarkozy packing his bags for his China trip, but his wife told me to come back in a few weeks. She was very friendly, though clothed. Disappointed. But I did get a photo of the ex-president of France, Jacques Chirac, who I spotted on the street near the Assemblee Nationale posing with a mom and her baby.

There are some things you do just because you do. And in retrospect you wonder why. Most Chinese weddings fall into this category. Visiting a relative on their deathbed just because you saw them once when you were five and they were, then, already older than dirt is another. Going to the Louvre in July will forever remain a mystery to me: why did I do such a thing? But it’s done, and though the first two-and-a-half hours was akin to wandering through the backalleys of Hell, it didn’t turn out to be a total waste, though for some it could be judged that way. The Mona Lisa? Didn’t see it. Venus de Milo? Missed that too. I did manage a glimpse at Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People, but I was in a crush of revolutionary art lovers and the crowd swept me away. Liberté, égalité, fraternité, for sure. It was more like a mass anxiety attack. I’ve never seen so many people bypass w/o a glance masterpieces by Fillipo Lippi, Botticelli and Paolo Uccello’s The Battle of San Romana on their way to see … the Mona Lisa? If I were the last man on earth and happened to stumble into the Louvre, I would not be surprised if I stumbled out again without laying an eye on the babe. She’s just not my type. Marcel Duchamp’s take on her is more my style. There you have it. Art! Spend some time with Sonia Delaunay for a real good time. But Mona …well, she’s become nothing more than a brand.

For a look at my look at the Louvre, here are a few to click on.

And just to keep this on the subject of Olympics and China while lounging in France, Nicolas Sarkozy has announced that he will join George Bush at ZhangYimou’s Olympic opening ceremony in Beijing next month. Now how’s that for … . Well, I don’t even know what to call it. How do you say “suck up” in French?

George Bush is coming to the opening ceremonies of the Olympics in Beijing, and he’s more than happy to tell us why:

“The Chinese people are watching very carefully about the decisions by world leaders, and I happen to believe that not going to the opening ceremony for the games would be an affront to the Chinese people, which may make it more difficult to be able to speak frankly with the Chinese leadership.”

Sadly, this seems to be about the depth of the Bush Administration’s foreign policy. “If we need to speak frankly to them, then we’d better go to their dance,” which is like pursuing state objectives at about the same level as the Sharks and Jets without, of course, a memorable score. So off pops George, doing all over again what he’s always done: brainlessly reading the cue cards that someone else has meticulously written for him so he knows just what to think. He has managed to ‘affront’ the entire world over the last 7+ years, and now he’s going to try to treat the Chinese people right? There’s a man who knows how to work an audience. But perhaps he ought to try with the Americans first, speak frankly to the leadership in America first. Oh, that’s right, George is the leadership. Not easy to forget that one, but sometimes I space out and think it’s all been a terribly long and equally terrible bad dream, something along the lines of ergotism.

You got to wonder if Hu Jintao made it to Athens? Or Jiang Zemin to Atlanta? Pretty certain Mao skipped Montreal. But George (aka Xiao Bushi) is going to Beijing so as not to offend the Chinese people? The only thing that I can figure is that he must need new fencing on the back 40,000, and this is the way to cover that bill. Look for a wave of temporary workers, perhaps from Sichuan, in Crawford TX over the next several months. This one could really be big.

But then, of course, there might be another reason. Back in 1975-76 when dad, George Walker, was envoy to China, young Dubya spent some of his seed-sowing days in the late-Mao capital, and only God knows what he did and who he met, much like his time in the flight-jacketed reserves. For all we know there may be someone special in Beijing. In the world of power and politics it is never a stretch to imagine that a beauty would lay down with Howdy Doody to seal a future deal. And in the pre-Viagra days of the late Cultural Revolution, there were plenty of young beauties lining up to bed a lot older men of influence than the goofy looking son of a future president: George Walker. I doubt even the Chinese of three decades ago could have imagined that W. would end up playing solitaire in the Oval Office. But it’s China, and you never know, what with all the feng shui, fat boys with fish and cracking oracle bones. There are rumors here just waiting to be exploited, perhaps a grainy video hidden away somewhere in a drawer in Zhongnanhai, a folder of yellowed implicating notes in very bad, though smart-ass English. Imaginations run wild. George Bush loves the Chinese people. Anyone know if Laura’s coming?

Anyone got any extra pain killers?