Daily Xpress - Almost.

Almost two months have past since the launch of The Daily Xpress - Thailand's first ever freesheet - and an offshoot of The Nation. And I really think we've done a good job in somehow making it work with whatever little resources we have and half of the budget of The Bangkok Post, which isn't even close to us in terms of audacity - or sheer madness - and editorial chutzpah.

The Bangkok Post too has come up with a weekly supplement, called My Life, to compete with Daily Xpress.

Still who the heck would wanna read about "pre-nuptial" "preparation"? Those were the words they used in the headline - ruining the lovely stock photos from, let me guess, Getty Images.

I bumped into the guy who edited My Life recently. His bragging about graduating from Boston (Polytechnic?), dubious parentage (He likes hanging out at the Conrad's bar) and ditching high-flying financial job to work for Bangkok Post, Wall Street Journal and Dow Jones.. blahblah convinced me that he doesn't know nuts what he is doing.

They need someone who knows how to "sex" things up tastefully - and I mean a la Delacroix (see below), not The Sun - and, definitely, not "nuptialise" stuffs. That sounds to academic. Trying too hard even. If you know what I mean.

See, xenophobia, racism and colonialism can all be done tastefully!

Daily Xpress is not flawless - mediocre reporting and awful subediting. But we're getting there. I am happy to see people - janitors and self-important "C-level" execs - people who otherwise won't pick up a real newspaper - reading them.

It was interesting to see Mario Garcia, the newspaper design guru who revamped WSJ (I'm not going to include a link here since you're going to pay for its content anyway) and Die Zeit, designed Daily Xpress up from scrap.

Anyway, this is coming from a reader who has Bangkok Post delivered to his house everyday.

The Evil Toad: Monday Morning Blues (on a Sunday)

This is Faust the Toad, a mutated distant cousin of Kermit the Frog.

Faust and his friends are everywhere in my newsroom. They are our regular visitors depositing whatever toxic PR junks everyday.

He appeared in my nightmare this morning.

I woke up today thinking that it was Monday. 8:30 - it said "I'm late" on the alarm clock. My brain began to processed all the appointments and to-do lists like penta-processor super-fast microchip. Then in a blink of an eye, I just realised that it was Sunday.

A swift u-turn with a screeching brake.

But the feeling was great. This epiphany. That's probably the best high, albeit lasting only until this evening, I've had for a while. Not since I peed on the roadside among Pembrokshire wild flowers in a glorious summer day that I have felt this good.

But I'm not an idler, mind, or an uncouth rogue. There just wasn't any public toilet around.

Stamps: The Lost Art of Correspondence

Email is kind of boring. Don't you think? Something for a change. Thanks to an old bro who sent me this package from Wales.

Favouritism

Two of my most favourite people have got me two of my most favourite stuffs: The latest issue of Monocle from Changi (Bookstores and newsstands here in Thailand have only got to the March issue!) and Gambrinus (chilled from good ole Praha). Yums... Lovely combination.

Magazine Series: ANA Inflight Mag - Wingspan

Discovering a new magazine is quite exciting, particularly if it's in a foreign language. It's like a window into the minds of these people. You are like an anthropologist, who will probably find new ways to eat, drink, dress, make-merry and live. Every month, I will scour the world for a magazine to profile. This would be the first in the series for a fanatic magazine collector.


While I was waiting to have my haircut in Bangkok's Little Japan, I came across ANA's inflight magazine in the waiting area. And I have never felt so truly excited about seeing and browsing through a new magazine since Monocle came out last year or the now defunct Zembla, while I was in uni.

What struck me the most was the art direction. I mean, this is not Nylon or any of the more design(er)-conscious titles. It is meant for passengers of an established air carrier - some grannies or self-important executives.

Lots of white space is tastefully laid out. The level of experimentation is impressive. And the illustrations show that not only the New Yorker can pull graphics off with its own characteristics.


The articles too are not the usual picture-perfect photo essays you'd see in a more boring inflight magazines such as Lufthansa's or, worst, Thai Airways'. There's this article about jumping sheep in Australia. Its circulation is actually the largest among inflight rags - 740,000 copies per monthly edition. The covers too are nice.


The Japanese title means "The Emperor's Wings". Or so I think. Again, good use of illustration.

Bravo!

City Dweller

As much as I would like to dream of a house next to the sea a la Jack Johnson, I can't really imagine not living in a city. Andy Warhol once said that you could have the country in the city, i.e. parks, but you couldn't necessarily have a city in the countryside.

That could only happen if the city is well-planned, especially transportation-wise. My only qualm with city living is that I am living in Bangkok.

Many would find this city fascinating. I remember this Irish pop singer Ronan Keatings (He's such a stellar star that you might as well read about hin in French) telling the local newspaper that Bangkok is a big carnival. But from a Bangkok dweller's weary eyes this carnival is too much of a daily sensory overload.

And if you have ever been driving, you would have noticed how the normally easy-going folks turned into beasts once they were behind the wheels.

The Problem With Porn

One Sunday afternoon, I chanced upon a jewelry store with a very explicit name in a ran-down hotel. I wonder what these tourists, mostly semi-backpackers, would think. Would they know that "porn" actually means "blessing" in Thai? If not, these tourists would be looking for the wrong thing in the store. No hidden door leading to a roomful of opium smokers and sins, mate. That you could find at Nana a couple of streets down.