charles lives in san francisco and works in marketing. he's a dragonboater and amateur marathoner. he drinks a lot of coffee, mostly because the caffeine doesn't affect him. he also reads a lot. he no longer plays video games because he fried his last three video cards. he also likes to use brackets and start sentences with lowercase letters. appositives are his favorite language tool. the more complex your vocabulary is, the more charles will like you. it also helps to be able to differentiate between There, Their and They're. his favorite colors are black and orange, mostly because they're the colors of the San Francisco Giants, and also, conveniently, the colors of his dragonboat team, Ripple Effect. speaking in the third-person isn't something he usually does, but he thought it would be interesting, at least for this gigantic paragraph.
the term "csix" was taken from his first ever aol screen name, "c6freejack," but since no one knew of the 1980s epic called "freejack," which starred such dinstinguished actors as mick jagger & emilio estevez, he decided to leave that portion behind. there is no relation to the social network of high tech professionals of the same name, which makes things confusing, but then again simplicity wasn't the objective.
It’s hard to maintain friendships with those you barely see. There really aren’t very many people who you can lose touch with for long periods of time and then suddenly pick up right where you left off.
So when I get a call from people I haven’t seen in a while, I go. College friends, people I could’ve known in high school, people from the east bay, old paddlers, I try to keep everyone relevant.
[These were all kind of a while ago, I'll admit, but a lot happens in a month.]
Pretty much every time you see these kinds of people it goes like “how have you been, it’s been hella long!” So you dig deep to remember everyone’s names, the enormity of the epic adventures you all had previously and whatever you’d recently heard about them on facebook. You string all that into some type of narrative to get past those awkward few minutes of catching up, and then you play it by ear.
When the catching up is officially done, you’re in the present and officially free to act like you’d never parted in the first place. Then you repeat the process when you see them again, months or years later.
And as much as I’d like to see everyone again, it remains impossible, what with budgets and schedules and workloads and babies and stuff. We’ve all grown up and apart, and those of us with the cameras are the only ones observant enough to take notice.
But if you don’t want to lose these people forever, you have to try.
So, if you haven’t heard, about a week ago I was with the dragonboat team in Vancouver. The team did well, we got a medal, lots of good food, all that.
But only after I got back did I realize that I really, really did need a vacation. I like to think that I never burn out, that I can slog through it day after day. But I’d grown a bit too cynical, short-sighted. Too local, even. I needed to get out.
So, besides all the places the team went, I made two very important stops on my own: coffee and a tailoring shop.
The first was, according to some obscure poll, Vancouver’s best cup of coffee at Turks/West/Milano [I've heard it called lots of different things]. I got up early on day two and took the skytrain over.
It was a pretty good view. And a pretty damn good cup of coffee, of which I imbibed several. Sometimes it’s all you need to calm your nerves, which tend to fray with the flow of ongoing projects or rounds of interviews. The view helps, too.
Later on I walked up towards North Vancouver, made the obligatory stop at the Olympic cauldron [which was having some work done but was impressive regardless] before going up Pender, through the Chinatown gate, through the urban oasis of Sun Yat Sen Park [now a mandatory stop on future visits] and, after doubling back, finally arrived at Modernize Tailors.
This shop was in a documentary I came across at the SF International Film Festival 2 years ago, whose employees were approaching their 90s and were looking for a younger generation to continue on the craft.
With a new $650 suit just a little out of reach, I was hoping to at least buy one of the family cookbooks advertised on their website, but the man who opened the door, who turned out to be Bill Wong himself, implored me to return the next day. The problem is i didn’t have any extra time to return, so off I went.
So, that concluded the Chuck-specific portion of this vacation. The team’s successes culminated in a gold-medal performance and meeting a ton of new people, with some highlights below, and the whole album here.
But at least I got to have my own adventure, even if my own personal version of “getting away from it all” didn’t involve an excess of trees and streams and the like.
I’ve always been an outspoken advocate of seeing the night through. You hang out, you eat, maybe get a head start on the hangover, and you talk about it. The ideas are fresh. The stories may be blurry, but they’re more focused than they will be the next day.You’re probably tired, but part of showing solidarity with your friends is getting through it, getting over yourself and contributing.
Besides, every good night needs a recap, or a reset, or at least some kind of analysis to ensure that subsequent nights are more successful, whatever that may entail. You get your cup of coffee, maybe some eggs and bacon, and you get to it.
We’re seen having that discussion in a window off of Geary or Mission or Market at an ungodly hour and that makes us “Nighthawks,” indeed, just like the Edward Hopper painting. Though idealized, I’d always envisioned, and experienced, that scene as a great way to end the night. No matter how the evening went prior to the scene, you’re with your friends having a meal or a brew and life is good and simple.
Maybe it started with my fascination with 1940s America (the painting was released in 1942), the very definition of simple. Axis & Allies, life in analog (the TV hadn’t caught on yet), cars with fins and people wearing hats & ties. A bygone era, to be superseded by the information & drama overload of the present day.
So on those nights spent out with friends, or when I’m just having a long night either working on a project or trying to get into a book, I’m trying to boil it down. Trying to relax and process what went on in the daylight hours. Trying to escape days and nights and weekends spent controlling crowds and managing expectations. Maybe trying to do so with some style.
