Word-whore. I write 'em. I talk 'em. Information, politics, media, and the cybers. I drink. I use bad words. All publication is a political act. All communication is propaganda. All art is pornography. All business is personal. All hail Eris! Vive les poissons rouges sauvages!
For just one day in Thailand, we got out of the 10-million-person wonder that is Bangkok and headed East to Rayong. We had lunch with ’Pong’s parents. Over a mountain of ultra-fresh seafood and a bottle of rum, we watched this view. Need I say more?
This post is part of my series “Unreliable Bangkok”. Why not explore the others?
I really like what Alex Willemyns has said in response to Guy Rundle’s article about Australia’s search for an identity. “Who are we? Who the heck cares? I’m Alex Willemyns, and that’s all I need to worry about… How we define ourselves to others doesn’t have to be based on anything else apart from who we are, at any one point in time.”
If 2006 was the year of Web 2.0 then 2007 is the year of social media. For individuals anyway. Australian businesses and politicians generally don’t get it
Social media is mainstream. Two million Australians have Facebook pages and 3.5 million read blogs. MSN Messenger has 7 million users here, and even Ja’mie King says “I’ll MSN u 2nite” without explanation.
But few businesses use social media. Why? I suspect there’s two reasons, apart from an endemic inability to adapt and change. One is about the tools, the other is about business culture.
Continue reading “2007: Social media goes mainstream (except for business and politics)”Overheard at a King Street, Newtown pub this afternoon:
Chap #1: So how rat-arsed should we get tonight?
Chap #2: I reckon about 10 drinks now, then 5 pills, and then cocktails after that.
Chap #1: Excellent. I’ll be a memory gap to remember!
I don’t think I could match that stamina.
Having read Mungo MacCallum‘s acidic commentary on the federal election in Crikey, I was eager to read his newly-released “campaign diary” Poll Dancing: the story of the 2007 election. The first sentence tells me I’m in for a great time:
One morning in his tenth year as prime minister, John Winston Howard awoke in the master bedroom of Kirribilli House to realise that he had become not only omnipotent but invincible.
Ah, Mungo! I think I’ll be spending a relaxed Christmas afternoon with you, once I’ve finished reading Judith Brett’s Quarterly Essay, “Exit Right: the unravelling of John Howard”. Yes, I’m making sure I learn the lessons that are to be learned.
One hint to Black Inc Books, though. Please provide an obvious permanent link to your current titles, so the links I’ve just created won’t need to be edited down the track.
In the Old City of Bangkok, on the afternoon of Wednesday 28 November 2007, this barber (pictured) gave me the best haircut I’ve ever had.
It wasn’t because I looked particularly handsome afterwards, though it was an improvement. It was the meticulous care and attention shown.
’Pong took the photo with a proper camera, not a telephone. He’s got a better eye than me, too, and he’s certainly captured the mood.