Wednesday, October 29, 2008

Jocelyn Lieu Interview

Jocelyn Lieu Interview: Another Concept of Journalism



"If you are going after the news, you're working 60 hours a week, you're drinking hard. I think I burned out a little bit. But I took away the feeling that the news was useful. . . . I knew more and more of the truth but I couldn't quite convey it. The news became inadequate to me as an artist. That is how I came to fiction writing. . . . That was the beginning of my writing life." -Jocelyn Lieu on becoming an author

She strode through the doors of the Mission Cafe in the Lower East Side of New York City like an un-gated racing horse: she was full of spunk, confidence, and smiles. Her name was Jocelyn Lieu, the author of Potential Weapons, What Isn’t There, and other great works of fiction. She recognized me immediately and flashed me a huge smile followed up by an even bigger hello.
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Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
in Brooklyn, New York City- October 29, 2008
Travelogue -- Travel Photos
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I was sitting in the back of the cafe with my interview regalia fully set up: a reporter's notebook, a tape recorder, pens and pencils, a huge mug of steaming coffee, and bottles of beer sat upon the table, ever ready to do their part in recording the story of this creative author and wild-west journalist.

Jocelyn walked up to me quickly and shook my hand with a start. "I assume that you are Wade," she rhetorically questioned as she ordered some kind of weird drink and sat down next to me. She carried herself with a cheerful presence, and I was nearly taken aback by her charm.

I had previously only known Jocelyn through her books, internet photos, and the bits of information that I strained out of the anthropologist, Kathleen Modrowski, who served as our mutual contact. Jocelyn had a Chinese father and a white mother, and therefore had long, straw straight black hair, tan skin, East Asian eyes, and smile that could not contain her mouthfuls of joyful laughter. She appeared pretty culturally ambiguous, and would have looked at home amongst the indigenous people of Mexico, Alaska, China, or even Hawaii.

After making a few jokes into my tape recorder to break the ice, we jumped intothe interview smoothly.

The Becoming of a Writer:

"I want to know about your life as a writer, how you began writing, and how you became successful," I told her.

Jocelyn smiled and began speaking without pause or delay.

"I had pretty much always wanted to write," she said, "and by always I mean since around seven [years old] or so, because that is when writing really becomes interesting and fun. But I think it began earlier because I'm a daydreamer, and you dream up stories. So I can't really remember not imagining things. . . In elementary school I began to write little stories. I called them novels . . . and I would never finish any of them." We laughed at this and Jocelyn went right into talking about how she completed her high school course early and then began her wanderings and, in time, university studies.

"I went for a year to the New School, which at that point was very wild [and] resembled a stationary Friends World. We [the students] were screaming at each other from across the table. There were a lot of crazy young professors who had been outcast from other institutions. From there I went to Yale. I don't know what I was thinking, [but] I got my degree in English from Yale."

"This was right at the cusps of change of mainstream and Ivy League education, and there was a cultural shift. We were still riding the 70's but it was turning into the 80's. What that means is that some of my friends were wild, acid dropping, poetry writing hippies [and others] were wearing ties and dresses and went off into the business world. It was strange to see what happened."

Upon graduating from Yale, Jocelyn took to the Road and ended up in New Mexico. "I went on the other path," she explained, "I went off to New Mexico with my then boyfriend, and we didn't have any money. We lived out of a car. I became a journalist. It was the first job I got, but it was certainly one that I think I wanted."

Wild-West Journalist:

Now in New Mexico and working for the Rio Grande Sun, Jocelyn began to etch out a life for herself writing newspaper pieces, tramping through the southwestern desert, and fighting corruption:

"The editor [of the Rio Grande Sun] was a Southern Colorado white man who had been trained as a journalist with the populous newspapers of the south. He really passed on that training of the populous division: the job of the newspaper is to hold the public officials accountable as to how public money was being spent. He said, 'Get the story, the full story. Stop at nothing to get it.'"

"Every story was investigative journalism," Jocelyn continued, "We were an anti-corruption newspaper."

"A lot of the journalist then were characters. Something of the wild west was still alive in Santa Fe. We moved from job to job, it [journalism] wasn't the sort of ... career that it is now. We'd get tired of working and say, "Fuck this job, lets go down to Mexico for three months." We would do that and then we would come back. . . There was a group of really dedicated journalist who were also people who didn't like bosses saying anything to them, and we would gravitate to the good editors, and the editor had to earn our respect somehow or we would quit."

"You're a quasi-public figure when you are a journalist," Jocelyn Lieu continued, "So we would sit at the bars, and the people that we would interview may walk by, and we would heckle them. They might join us, or they might cross the street to get away from us. You were definitely kind of a quasi-public figure, and I think we did consume a lot of alcohol. We couldn't be in a bar after 10 o'clock because someone would throw a chair at us."

These stories about being a wild-west journalist, running for the border, fighting with editors, digging deep into stories, exposing corruption, and being, in a very real sense, a free-running outlaw, stimulated my imagination. Jocelyn's story was very much one that I wished to tell, although the world of on-the-table journalism that I have been exposed to seemed to be a far away from that life that she described.

"Has journalism gone sterile?" I asked bluntly.

"Yes," Jocelyn replied, "I have seen an erosion of the news for too many reasons to go into now: the corporatizing of the media, the lack of independent media. You don't see that type of hard hitting print journalism so much anymore."

Transition to an Author:

"If you are going after the news, you're working 60 hours a week, you're drinking hard," Jocelyn spoke these with exasperated hand and facial gestures, "I think I burned out a little bit. But I took away the feeling that the news was useful . . . [but] the news became inadequate to me as an artist. That is how I came to fiction writing. . . . That was the beginning of my writing life."

"One of the things that I would do when I would quit [a newspaper job] would be to go to Central America or Mexico or some other cheap place [where] you could get an adobe house for 100 bucks a month. I would write; I would write fiction or I'd travel or I'd do both. And then my money would run out and I'd get a job. So I think the transition [between being a journalist and a fiction author] was gradual because it [journalism] was a very hard-burning job."

Jocelyn’s stories of populous journalism, of traveling on the written word, and living and dying by the pen danced upon my imagination. Writing again seemed exciting to me as I listened to her speak, and the world of sterile copy-editing, unimaginative editors, and the rest of the confines of modern journalism seemed far, far away.

Jocelyn Lieu showed me the other concept of journalism that I was looking for.

Related Pages:
Full interview with Jocelyn Lieu
David Lida Interview
Vagabond Journey Travel Articles and Interviews
Another Concept of Journalism
Editor Eats Article
Travelogue Journalism Label

Links to previous travelogue entries:
Travel to DC and Richmond VA
Multicultural Multi Ethnic New York City
Independent Study and Multicultural Education

Jocelyn Lieu Interview- Another Concept of Journalism
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Sunday, June 22, 2008

Czech Republic Beautiful Women or Short Skirts

Czech Republic: Beautiful Women or Short Skirts?

According to legend, it is said that the Czech Republic has the most beautiful women in the world. But, after a first hand inspection of this legendary tale, I am unsure if the women of Czech Republic are exceptionally beautiful or if they just wear very, very short skirts.

I am sure that the flash of the un-cloistered legs of a female stranger and the welcoming anticipation of a surprise “peak” can severely alter a man’s perception of beauty. The skirts of the feminine Czech Republicans put up little obstacle to the imagination. And as I walked down the maidens of Prague, smoking my pipe and enjoying the sunny day, it became overwhelmingly apparent that an enterprising gentleman could easily spot the gingerly hidden in-betweens of many a slimly shrouded young lady, as they sit with legs under-clenched upon the park benches and sidewalk bistros of the capital city.

I am only a slightly enterprising gentleman.

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Wade from Vagabond Journey.com
in Olomouc, Moravia, Czech Republic- June 22, 2008
Travelogue -- Travel Photos
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Short skirt on blond women in the Czech republic waving in the breeze, leaving nothing to be imagined.

But am I peaking in or am I being peaked out at? I must ask this half seriously, as it is a task and a half to walk through a Prague summer day without being eye-spied by a multitude of un-chaperoned pairs of bright whities. I claim absolute innocence in this matter. I am solely a passive street walker strolling by and doing my day. I do not invite the doors which unguardedly open before me.

Though I do find interest in where this all leads.

So do the women of the Czech Republic live up to legend? I cannot tell, as I am wrapped in the thoroughs of simple enchantment. This is the same strain of enchantment that gives rise to the extensive mating rites of the egret, the wolf spider, and even the lowly bannana slug. The great plume of the quetzal exists to enchant - to invite that holy feeling of sexual desire from potential mates. I am no different than any other animal; no different that any other man who walks the cobblestone streets of the Czech Republic. I am not the possessor of any specially contrived moral blanket to fend off the feelings that arise as a well rounded woman walks passed me with bright white legs flashing in the sun shinning day. I am not immune to a bright and feathery plume.

The women of the Czech Republic are beautiful. But beauty is as beauty is presented.

Short skirt in the Czech Republic. This is not what I mean by eloquence of dress, as my personal opinion is that too short skirts are a little odd. I show this picture to humorously illustrate the first part of this travelogue entry.

I cannot help but to notice that Czech women take time to make themselves beautiful. They cleverly attire themselves in clothing that accentuates, exaggerates, and discloses their natural attributes of womanliness. They know how to attract men my showing themselves as women.

I understand that women are a special breed of animal, in that the ugliest and squalid, squat, and dopey among them can make themselves into virtual Cinderellas with the slightest effort.

Given this, I am vastly unsure if Czech women are beautiful, or if they just know very well how to make themselves beautiful. Their tactics and visual senses seem so acute that I must assume that it is breed from some old world pool of knowledge. I have seen many women in many countries - this is for sure. And very often these women wear revealing clothing that is meant to show off their bodies. But there is something deficient in their approach: they seem to just be showing the meat straight up on the table, without class nor care. They tend to not dance in the bodies that they show. This is not as attractive, and cannot turn my head. But it seems as if the women in the Czech Republic know how to dance - that they know a special strain of eloquence, movement, and approach that can clench the jaw of a man with only a passing glance.

“Sex begins long before the bedroom,” my mother would tell me while dropping subtle hints of how I could learn to better pleasure a woman. She is correct, not only in her assumption that I need instruction in this matter, but also in the fact that sex begins at first sight.

I must say that women in the Czech Republic have mastered the “first sight.”

Sign board of the short skirts that women really wear. I just saw the other day a lady walking with her underwear hanging our of her too short skirt. I just thought it a little odd, and not very attractive. I have never identified women's underwear as haveing any particular "hanging" qualities before coming to the Czech republic.

I have bitten my lip on more occasions than I can care to recall as I casually walk through the summer time streets of the Czech Republic. My reactions are normal, male, animal, perfect, and free. My sexual desire is masked and covered with pure and innocent admiration. I look with awe upon these powerful paintings of women as they walk upright with neither pomp nor pretense.

They are beautiful because they make themselves as such. This seems to be very usual here. It seems to me as if Czech society has imbibed itself with the shear confidence of women who do not need a mirror to know that they are beautiful.

Beautiful as in feral.

Beautiful as in animal

Beautiful as intuitive,

Beautiful as in free.

It is normal to be a man and to admire woman.

I am healthy, and I say long live the “plume“ and the art of “first sight.”

Long live the dance of sex, and the passion of enchantment.

Long live good days when being human means that you can also be animal.

Beautiful women, eloquent dress, attention to beauty, and the dance of self-assurance all goes hand in hand.
Czech Republic: Beautiful Women or Short Skirts?

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