Yeh, ok, I realize that. I said ok, ok? I know I do not write often enough and I know that when I do write, I write too much. There are always other more important things to do than to sit to write; put suet out for the birds, the birds that somehow disjointedly figure into what I was going to write about, weed the part of the garden that has the plant that I was going to write about, take a picture of the plant I was going to write about, collect its seed, remove a dead branch, clean the refrigerator because it had absolutely nothing to do with the subject I was about to write about. You know the drill. And then, when the dogs are walked and asleep on the banquette and the most up-to-date election polls are examined, I begin to write about what I was meant to write about, at last confronting that bridge to nowhere while attempting to create a reality that someone will be sufficiently naïve to believe. And then I write too much because there generally is too much too say, especially so when I am saying it, and you end up on a long bridge that leads to nowhere. And sadder still, I know precisely what all of you must be shrieking when you attempt to decipher my infinite, yet I must say ever so thoughtful and witty musings; thanks but no thanks.
So. For the next 10 weeks, I am going to attempt to get my head around blogging, if I understand at all what blogging actually is. I believe it is somewhat like emailing my mother. I can’t use vulgar language, nor too much latin nor dwell on disingenuous, transparent choices of running mates from Alaska. I must be concise, the language clean, the pictures pretty. Sounds easy enough.
My disheveled mountain of raingear, polypro underwear, Ziplocs, sieves, Starbucks French Roast and protein bars have been compressed into numerous cases and boxes, each assigned to either China only, China and Vietnam, Vietnam only or Vietnam and Japan (you might notice an improvement in my writing already; in the past I would have told you that I had packed Atkins Peanut Butter and Chocolate net 2 carb bars, but in my nascent approach to clean writing, I have referred to them refreshingly as simply protein bars). These boxes will be cached across SE Asia for subsequent retrieval and restocking if all goes as planned. One must be never be deprived of Starbucks French Roast nor an occasional Atkins Peanut Butter and Chocolate net 2 carb bar.
So, here I am in San Francisco, awaiting my flight to Hong Kong, wondering what it is I have forgotten, what it is that I will find. In a little over 24 hours from now, I will be reconnoitering with good friends Scott McMahon and Ozzie Johnson at the Min Shan Hotel in Chengdu, Sichuan Province. It was from this same celebrated lodging, nearly four years ago to the day, that we had last parted company in China after one of the most exciting collection trips I had ever participated in. I am hoping for a repeat performance. So, here we go again. Stay tuned.
