My cat is on anti-depressants. Portland has driven me from reasonable California transplant to an off-the-rails-hipster.
Read MoreCh. 51 Auditory Cocaine
9/23/15
I’m hopelessly addicted to stories. Most of you can agree that a good story is worth hearing. Some find their favorites in the form of gossip, maybe even reality TV, but I prefer the purity that is podcasts. One just needs to listen. You can be driving from A to B and simultaneously be transported into a series of spellbinding tales made by the world’s most talented storytellers.
Podcasters have been around for longer than you think, and in that time they’ve really honed their craft. Whether you’re interested or not, I’ve decided to give a list of recommendations because music can get old and I’ve found extreme satisfaction through Podcasts lately. These things are gold when you're traveling or commuting or both. I used them while packed in the Metro under Shanghai, or thousands of miles over the Pacific flying to Australia in a tin can, and I especially tune in when I make the constant drive from Portland to Seattle.
As you go through these, keep an open mind and I sincerely hope you get the same level of satisfaction that I did by listening. These podcasts help me turn my mood when times are tough, they can also elevate an inquisitive mind, expand on existing ideas, and introduce new ones. Happy listening!
If I can only recommend one podcast, this is it. This show is a compilation of stories on each week’s theme hosted by Ira Glass. The theme changes every week and it touches on very relatable stuff, from road trips to racial tension. Some shows are hilarious, some can be intense and challenge your perspective. The staff on this show is so talented that they made Serial as a spinoff of this show—the most well known podcast ever was literally a side project to this one.
This used to be my favorite, branded as “Storytelling with a beat,” the MC puts together tasty tunes to intro each story. If you’re on the fence about it at all, listen to a recent episode called Legendary. The first story in that episode is about Yellowstone’s most popular wolf – if you don’t enjoy it, then you’re kind of dead to me.
This one started it all. An NPR radio show that I grew up listening to on Sunday morning’s following Click and Clack, thanks to my Dad. Perfect for any dork who enjoys a good pun and can stand a panel of chirpy comedians while the host, Peter Sagal, takes a live audience through a news quiz. The best part of this show is that each episode has a celebrity guest who is interviewed and then asked a series of ridiculous questions that have nothing to do with their profession. Guests of the past include President Clinton, George Clinton, Chance the Rapper, Dave Barry, Alice Cooper, Tina Fey, etc. the list goes on. This podcast is great for Monday mornings…or any morning for that matter, their energy will bring you to a humorous sweet spot that makes any monotonous job bearable.
You’ve all heard Terry Gross’ voice at some point in your life, it’s soothing, intellectual, and most often mirrored by another timely voice that she’s interviewing. Her guests span the media from forward thinkers to famous actors and directors. If you’re jonezin for some instant interest, Fresh Air has a treasure trove of notable guests to sift through.
Marc Maron is a generally surly comedian who found that he can really connect with people one on one. He interviews his guests in his garage – mostly comedians but once in a while he’ll branch out. Obama boosted his rep significantly by visiting his garage a few months ago and his guest list has only gotten better since. One thing he does that I’ve yet to see in other interviewers thus far is that he gets down to a level of understanding with his guests where it becomes nothing more than a freewheeling conversation about life. If you fancy yourself a creative, this podcast is a must. I’ve never finished one of his episodes feeling as if I didn’t get to know the guest on a personal level. He even interviewed Terry Gross – the things you’ll find out about her in said episode, you can never un-hear (hint: it will shake whatever preconceived notion you had of Terry).
These guys are classic. They follow what interests them and have a team of great producers to do so. Sometimes they delve into science, other times culture. Not much more can be said because every show is different. Sample their Football episode that came out at Thanksgiving last year. It made me feel not only patriotic but actually proud of America for inventing football – the latter has never happened in my book.
Others worth noting:
Serial – if you’re new to Podcasts it’s worth starting here – the Netflix of Podcasts in regards to addictive quality. Only one season out thus far.
Strangers – if you can live with the host’s voice then you’ll enjoy this. More emotional than most but worth the while.
Invisibilia – intriguing but not much available from this as of late.
TED Radio Hour – same as TED talks but in pure audio formats and mixed per topic not per speech.
Here's a handy how-to for anybody who isn't sure what the purple app on their iPhone actually does - hint: it plays Podcasts.
There's no applicable visual for Podcasts but the make me happy, so here's some two tone glee.
Ch. 50 Sharks and Peepee
7/22/15
Most of us have a lie that has followed us for our whole life. A story that has been told so many times it creates a life of its own, growing larger and more outlandish with each public appearance. It feeds on awe and excitement and is never satisfied.
The prototypical example is the Big Fish. You should have seen it, from here to that door I kid you not. These days it’s not easy to carry around the big fish; smartphones, GoPros, and selfie poles have made these stories lose their credibility.
That’s why my big fish comes from the late 90’s when I lived for the thrill of a gnarly boogie board ride. The thrill that brought me face to face with a great white shark.
It was the summer of ’98 in Marin County. With 9 years under our belts, my best friend Nick and I were the bees knees. We played with walkie talkies, held regular nerf slam dunk sessions, even snuck up to kitchen after midnight to snack on forbidden candy. We were young and reckless.
Unfortunately at the ripe age of nine we had to rely on parental units to get to the beach. This was paramount because in order to be real California youth we needed to be at Stinson Beach daily. These boards weren’t gonna boogie themselves.
So we dragged any combination of parents to the beach at every opportunity. We had our shortie wetsuits and regularly peed inside them to stay warm. Any agreement to come in from the waves at a certain time was routinely pushed as far as humanly possible, after all, we had our 98 degree peepee to stave off hypothermia. Our parents often sent sentries out to tell us it was time to go home.
The goal was to push the limits in any way possible, get out past the other beachgoers and catch bigger waves. Pee in your wetsuit, then high five.
One day we were doing the routine white water wrestling far beyond the crowd, and something caught us off guard.
A seal was moving fast and it appeared to have a cut on its nose—then it was gone. I turned to Nick, “did you see something?” he nodded and we babbled rapidly about shapes and phantom fins that may or may not have been then definitely were because if we said so then it’s definitely true cuzwewerebothsayingit SHARK! Escalating fears in perhaps our first real life-endangering scenario brought the most extreme conclusion we could come up with.
We caught the next wave in and demanded to go home.
Nick's dad laughed. We explained everything and he didn’t believe us but we were scared enough not to argue, as long as we went home.
He berated us and poked fun along the windy drive back. Sitting in the back seat I too questioned what I had seen, the superior brainpower of an adult had me doubting the radical conclusion that Nick and I had agreed was fact.
The next morning our local paper reported shark sightings and all my doubt vanished. After that, a teenage boogie boarder was attacked by a great white in the same waters that Nick and I so frequently soiled.
It turns out that Stinson Beach faces the Farallones, a small island cluster 30 miles off shore that is a popular great white feeding ground. For some reason or another, there weren’t enough elephant seals to go around so some desperate sharks were expanding their palates.
My Big Fish flourished.
With no cameras or developed brains to corroborate what we did or didn’t see out there, the story grew larger each time it was told. I got used to describing the seal getting eviscerated 10 feet away from me before an incoming wave rushed me to safety. Sometimes I'd add a haunting bit when the shark turned to me just before the wave brought me in.
I knew then as much as I do now, neither of us probably saw a shark, but what kind of a story is that when you’re not mature enough to admit it? Especially when that story is right on par with a miniature zeitgeist. We peed ourselves regularly, who's to say we didn't see a shark?
Big fish are fun to catch, but some would argue that they’re more fun to talk about. If you ask Mick Fanning, it’s really not fun to discuss, more fun to live through it.
It feels good to get the record straight, and in the age of GoPros, I can show you that I’ve caught some actual big fish in my day, but the biggest ones came around when the camera was out of batteries.
Maybe it's about time you told the truth about your Big Fish, then ask yourself how and why it got so damn big.
Ch.49 Neptune's Call
1/29/15
I’m screening your calls, Neptune. It’s been a while since you’ve dialed but all the same, I can’t come to the phone right now, too busy keeping the ground beneath me.
This is a pull most often felt by those with close ties to the water. Whether you’ve had an aquatic job or suffer from a general love of the ocean, you’re subject to hear the watery cry when close to a coastline.
This used to be a dangerous affliction when I lived in Mill Valley after my summer seasons on the Middleton. Driving over the Golden Gate was a trying task—trying not to stare out the window at the roiling current. I may have swerved out of my far right lane from time to time but overall left the Bay Area accident free.
Since living in Portland the salty calls of Neptune are heavily diluted by the slim waters of the Willamette. City runoff and water treatment doesn’t carry the same weight as a heavy ocean swell. Regardless the summer was filled with frequent dips.
Just when I thought it was safe, my salted senses fired full boar. I’m beckoned from a ferry out of Hong Kong to jump in. Sitting in the passenger seat clacking away at my keyboard, looking at my boots of Spanish leather, I feel like some sort of reverse Odysseus, having travelled the throws of landlife only to return and find myself woefully unprepared to meet the ocean.
Seeing the deck of a passing boat strewn with coiled line and purpose-oriented equipment makes the fisherman in me salivate. These sirens drive a demonic metaphor into my head – the maintenance of a deck is far superior to that of an inbox. Simple, direct, and instantly rewarding, boat work carries a man’s passion with a gentle sway. His goals kept steady by the even keel of the boat, flowing with the satisfaction of a big catch and ebbing with the disappointment of a jellyfish haul.
Part of me thinks that the best thing about fishing is the secret it holds. Talk to anybody about a 9 to 5 and they will be able to fully grasp what you do with the right questions and answers. Fishing on the other hand carries a heavy requirement of experience to truly be understood, that’s a currency that no salary can match.
Neptune, bro, I hear you. So sorry but I ain’t got on my fishing shoes.
Ch. 48 Inner Child at Play
Part 1 Written 8/9/13 - Part 2 written 12/9/14
I used to dread running into anybody from any past that I don’t intentionally stay connected with. I dreaded it because I was still living in my Mom’s house. They’d be like “where are you these days?” and you’d have to look down and thin your lips just enough to allow it to escape your mouth “still at my mom’s place.”
I’d still hate to admit that, but now I live in my friend’s parent’s place. Booya. Dawn and Ed Kropp are Elliott's parental units, not mine, but because I'm living in both Spokane and Portland to make it work with a worthwhile lady, cheap rent is a must.
It’s the best. What offspring see as nagging, grown up people see as normal human conversation.
Mom: How was your day?
Offspring: Stop suffocating me!
Dawn: How was your day?
Me: IT WAS GREAT HOW WAS YOURS?
That’s what I call quality jib-jab.
Things I used to see as givens like a spotless kitchen or the lights turned off are now insane living bonuses. I woke up the other day with my coffee all set up, all I had to do was pour. I love living with parents!
- Begin Part 2-
Louis CK has a great standup bit about growing up. He says your inner child has died when you walk into Home Depot and get excited about knobs. I could care less about knobs but the above holds a similar connotation. Clean kitchens never mattered to Mac the professional Kid (I had a business card). Mac the Project Manager is likely to go on a cleaning warpath when he comes home from China and the kitchen is a mess.
Living habits can change and you might miss your childhood, but I’ll be damned if I ever stop watching The Simpsons past my bedtime.
...I have grown out of wearing goggles in the hot tub though.
Ch. 47 Global Warming is Sensual
11/14/14
Note: I wrote this in late October during the height of the Ebola frenzy, happy to report that Obama has shown some great backchanneling with China since this rant.
It’s painful to read the headlines from Beijing during their worst days of smog. EBOLA RIDDEN DOCTOR TERRORIZES THE HEALTHY AMERICANS OF MAHATTAN while day after day, Beijingers are hacking up lungs so their country can be a forerunner in the economic race. Granted this is better than an arms race, its detriments are more subtle.
On a day to day basis, we are overwhelmed with 10-second stories. Three sentences, maybe a headline, definitely a picture, and if you’re lucky there’s a video with some dude weathering a football to the groin. These are awesome. The power to distribute stories and attract a massive audience is arguably the biggest benefit of technology to date. As the audience you have infinite choices for where to gift 10 precious seconds of your day. Ask yourself this, when was the last time you read at least two paragraphs of a climate change article?
It’s not sexy, not funny, and least of all entertaining. Easy to forget, and frankly—way more fun to ignore.
What happened to the tearful Native American? We’ve come a long way since that pivotal commercial, the green wave that turned out Priuses and domestic solar panels has lost momentum. I blame the simplistic and undeniably attractive hip style that came with this movement, looking green is now just as good as being green—but that’s another story.
The topic at hand is easily forgotten, that’s the core of it. The quality of life for our great grandchildren’s grandchildren will never be at the forefront of our mind, but maybe Kim Kardashian’s left butt cheek is. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the marketing game, it’s that sex sells and people like free stuff. Let’s use that:
Channing Tatum is Captain Planet – and he’s in the new Avengers flick wearing hemp and recycling his way to victory.
Scarlett Johansen is Mother Earth – talk to any astronaut our planet is a straight up knockout. If she went to the club, she’d never have to buy a drink. Maybe someone leaked nude photos of Gaia’s sweet bod, you’d think twice about littering.
Worldwide agreement is worldwide holiday – every country agrees to an economic forfeiting of high pollution mass production. When that agreement goes through, the entire world gets a permanent holiday for the books. Like a worldwide labor day. At little cost, and hey, we could all use a day off.
All car prizes are Teslas – at halftime shows and sweepstakes, all the giveaway cars are electric. This is the easiest win we have at our fingertips. Let’s grow the foundation in every way possible.
Legalize it – not just for a mellow like Washington and Colorado (now Oregon too). Powers beyond our control in the past curbed a giant industry from growing in the past, let’s reinvent the future and get some serious bang from this cash crop. The only downside is that we might forget…our keys. Damn it I know they’re here somewhere.
Hemp money builds solar roads – well that was a gimme.
Frank Underwood for Green Party – this is the key. We need a murderous viper at the head of state who hugs cedars in his spare time (thanks Obama). He votes like Nader, talks like Kennedy, and operates like Kevin Spacey on Netflix—but for Mama Earth.
If all of the above comes to fruition, there’s no guarantee that 10 generations from now the world will be a better place. But there is a guarantee that if we continue with business as usual 10 generations from now, it won’t just look like this on a sunny day 40 miles out of Beijing.
Looks like the 2014 UN Climate Summit took my advice, albeit Leo is no Tatum.
Ch. 46 Easty Boys
8/25/14
I’ve been avoiding this. I’ve been instructed not to write about China but if you can keep a secret, there’s some definite stuff going on over there. It’s amazing what can change after 11 hours in a plane. Everything is different in China…even the air.
Think of something you expect in the US. Imagine running a stop sign and then looking around the corner and seeing a cop. Your heart drops into your stomach and the adrenaline begins, thumping through your veins for a very difficult conversation. Don't expect that in China. The police in there are not known for hitting the pavement with citations, in fact they don’t even bat an eye when witnessing traffic accidents. Seems like a broken and terrible place, no?
Open your mind Westerner, there are two sides to the coin. Although they don’t do much, China’s finest don’t really need to. There is not much petty crime in the large cities; the punishment far outweighs the benefit. You can get 8 years for stealing a pair of headphones. Plus, pedestrians are secondary to cars, it’s actually against the law to stop for cross walkers.
If the police do have a purpose there, it’s a much darker secret than I care to learn. I’ve seen them arguing with civilians, it’s similar to watching anime—expressions are your best bet for following the plot. The Chinese language is nothing like Spanish, not a cognate to be found. One thing I do know in Chinese, a police man with weapons means an armed guard, which means steer clear, their citations are given physically and irrationally (for a real story you’ll have to ask me in person).
Lots of words get lost in translation (shout out to my man Bill Murray). A prime example being the word “line,” a colossal misnomer in China. The word funnel is more appropriate when in the Chinese queue. People are cutting like it’s a collage party. A stupid K-Pop collage party. The worst part is that if the tall white dude with the mustache decides to cut, it’s painfully obvious. The white elephant in the room follows me everywhere in China.
Therein lies another big difference in the far east, Matthew Hansen. He gets his passport punched and then comes out of customs to see his name printed neatly on a white piece of paper in Times New Roman. He then gets driven, by a driver, to his 5 star hotel. Orders 30 dumplings and gets to bed for a big day in the business world.
Not many of you know me to be a business man, but if you grow a fine facial hairs and talk pretty enough, polluted sky is the limit.
Ch. 45 Tallest Man on Earth
4/7/14
I walk the belly of the Earth and stand atop a sea of black hair. Pushing, shoving, spitting at times, the general populace wears a permanent set of blinders. Everyone's problems are their own in China.
My problem is I lack the time to follow through on my promise to you, but that is my own. Please use these pictures as a hap-hazard apology.
Also, if I haven't answered your calls, it's not you, it's me.
Ch. 44 Mother Nature is Drunk
2/18/14
Unless you’ve been living under a well-barricaded rock, you’re aware that the weather gods are testing us. It boggles the mind to think that they are unhappy. I for one have been doing my part since I learned how to use the stove, making bacon the greasy backbone of every meal.
Yet despite these obvious ploys to please, snow is wreaking havoc in almost every place except Sochi. Airports on the East coast are now as dependable as an alcoholic father, Atlanta recently achieved post-apocalyptic freeway status, and I’m fairly certain Northern Minnesota has declared a state of perma-permafrost.
Many people have been justifiably frustrated by this but let’s be optimistic, this is an opportunity to prove your worth as the human race. When others cower at the sight of a storm and whine about getting wet, be the person who shows off survival skills and laughs at the site of a downpour.
Too many people have been stranded in cars and stayed home from work due to the weather conditions of late and it raises some concerns about our credit as a species.
Having graduated 3 credits short of an environmental studies minor, I’m an expert in all relevant climate studies published before 2011. I’m sure a lot has changed since then but my overall conclusion has not: we’re screwed.
After sitting through four semesters of very depressing data, it became apparent that there’s no turning back. Humans are not sustainable, end of story. Our grandkid’s grandkid’s grandkid’s etc will basically be dodging floods, hurricanes, tsunamis, and squalls (one of the best words ever).
What’s happening right now is the domestic Olympic trial. This is the precursor for hundreds of years from now when our descendants have to step up to the plate and survive in something fierce, the future.
The good news, we have lots of time to transition from the dweebs we are to the badasses our ancestors will have to be. Our situation isn’t so dire that we need to learn how to skin an elk in five minutes, we can be the generation of baby steps.
Start small, get a raincoat and have it on the ready. Maybe trade in your fifth pair of heels for some serious boots (Xtra Tuffs if you mean business). If you’re thinking about buying a car, it is beyond me why anybody would avoid 4WD. Come on dumb dumbs, make good choices.
If none of that sounds appealing to you, another tactic is your local Bear Grylls. Everybody has a friend that is a go-to for survival scenarios. Mine lives in Alaska, go figure. Find that friend and study them, notice how they never leave home without a water bottle, ask them about their gear and I guarantee you will get a worthwhile lecture. Evolutionarily speaking, they are your superior, regard them as such.
We need to stop bandying around like bipedal pansies and get down to business with Mother Nature, she’s been drinking as of late.
Ch. 43 Bromiscuous
1/25/14
Watching a couple in public can be very revealing, it’s easy to tell if things are melding or not. When the relationship is good then interactions between the two look to be seamless, as if there’s a different channel upon which they are communicating. Such a display of obvious affection and compatibility often elicits a most unwelcome response “Aww, you two are so cute together!”
Lately I’ve been getting that reaction more and more—but not with my girlfriend—with my bros.
In college we all lived together, and life was simple. High fives, hand-shakes, and shit-talking were just a walk down the hall. When we graduated it was thought that things would deteriorate, connections would dwindle, and the sky would forever be covered with the grey clouds of lost friendships. That is not the case, not if you’re a promiscuous bro such as myself.
When you travel constantly between Portland, Spokane, and Seattle, it forms a triangle of evergreen trees, smiles, and facial hair. The Pacific Northwest Trinity is a real thing. Every week I work 4 days in Portland then spend a 3-day weekend in Spokane and reside in my lightly treaded apartment to spend time with my lady friend. Seattle comes into play once in a while because our main client is Microsoft.
It just so happens that every one of my favorite roommates from the glory days live within the PNW Trinity. Lucky, slutty, me.
The result of this constant travel and occasional merrymaking is that I get around. Don’t get me wrong I’m a one woman man, but I never swore celibacy to one dude. A different bromance in every city, I share inside jokes, grins of pleasure, and genuine conversations with multiple friends across state lines.
People often poke fun at me and whatever bro I’m with, saying we’re dressed the same or marveling at how adorable it is that we open each other’s beer. At that point all I can do is sigh and think about my other bros, and how if they were here we wouldn’t be criticized for looking so damn precious.
If you have any friendships like that then you might sympathize. Travelling constantly and having two rents makes home seem like a foreign concept, but when there are likeminded people in every city waiting to say “crash here tonight, we’d love to have you” then home is omnipresent.
