I can think of no better way to kick off the weekend that with the incredible esperanza spalding reminding us to celebrate the black gold in all of us. it is a beautiful song with a message that is hard to believe we still need to hear in 2012. bon voyage all!
as i listen, everyday, to all those who talk and write and gripe and whine and joyfully express themselves, it is apparent that the divide has never been greater, at least in my humble opinion and short lifetime, between what people say and what they want to mean. whether your particular area of assumed expertise lay within the industries of music, metallurgy, homeland security, electronics or simply your parents’ basement, among many human activities, you, as much as i, have surely been plagued with the tyranny of spoken platitudes… if, but once in your life you have, with little consideration, quite excitedly uttered any of the words below, you are guilty:
that was the best!
worst feeling in the world!
right back at ya!
if you think about it…
you didn’t have to do that.
trials and tribulations.
let’s touch base.
this is not your father’s…
what’s up?
tell me about it!
to be honest…
can’t complain!
perfect!
in the eye of the beholder.
let me be devil’s advocate for a second.
boys will be boys!
the buck stops here!
innovation.
it took blood, sweat and tears!
hang in there.
sky’s the limit.
that’s a catch-22.
i’ll stop at nothing!
let’s circle back by tuesday!
the company’s dna…
yes and no.
(and many, MANY more!)
what you are guilty of is to rely, not just on the old man’s money, but also on the pre-fixed meaning of certain areas of language which you trust to convey what you mean, which, by and large (see, i did myself!) is not such a terrible linguistic shortcut. the problem is that we have outsourced meaning to the expression because it happened to fit the occasion without specifically figuring out if it was what we actually believed to be true. jargon has become an epidemic suffered by most who have been somehow persuaded that a feeling we all agree is reasonable is better for us than an original thought, originally put. that makes me sad.
but on the plus side (dammit!) all we have to do is be conscious. a considered life, as opposed to a reasonable one, does not take anyone else’s opinion into account in order to act. a considered life is risky. a considered life is one during which obstacles are examined at face value and then either triumphed over or put aside but they are not ignored for fear of failure, which is what a merely reasonable life tends to lead us to. we must not be afraid to let our children see who we are and we must not be afraid to let our parents know who we are and we must not be afraid of the mirror on the wall. the only repercussion is knowledge. and we need knowledge because too long we have acted without it. and without knowledge there is no understanding.
i’m pretty sure…
to that end, have a wonderfully conscious week!
well, that’s it for this week. now let’s relax, take in the last two days the lord of the dance gave us and live them to the fullest! that means pressing play on this here opening dj set by frenchie breakbot to a chrome concert last fall in toronto and letting the beat be your guide. enjoy!
it has been said (too) many times but we here at the apartment creative agency strongly pursue the notion that design is indeed not how it looks but how it works. to that end, when we take on new projects, we heavily involve ourselves not merely with matters of colors, layouts and door handle choices but how a business works. that is especially true when we are tasked to create that business from scratch as was the case with one of the jewels on our chintzy crown, yelo spa. when entrepreneur nicolas ronco came to visit us, back from asia after courageously dropping off corporate america’s radar, he had an epiphany about an industry we seldom question, that of “the people we pay to feel better“: he judiciously wondered why it was that mindful rest is considered a boost to productivity over there and a shame over here?
we agreed with him that what was needed first and foremost was not to make a logo but rather to find ways to convince americans to seek better productivity, not more as they have been tasked to by protestant ethics this side of martin luther. to accomplish that, his strategy included creating a physical space where people would feel safe to compose themselves, with the help of a highly and specifically trained staff who understood and cared for personhood, not just wallethood, and worked to soothe each of its facets. and so we dug deep to understand social and behavioral processes, to understand the science of stress, the science of natural recovery, the science of well-ness. and through studying different forms of reflexology, chromatherapy, aromatherapy, skin care and more, we arrived at a cogent vision: that help, different than mere service, was what the launch city with a sleeping disorder needed.
and so we got to work, inventing new paths, procedures and YeloCabs™ along the way so that said help would be available in ingenious ways, even available to come to you when you couldn’t come to us. so deeply entrenched we became in the new brand that their success depended on ours, at every level of the company. and now, after 4 years of successful operation, having profits go up at the same time that competitors’ stagnated, it is time to go deeper still… as alan kay so rightly advanced, “the best way to predict the future is to invent it” and it is paramount, once in a frequent while, for companies to take stock, keep all the good ideas and clear one’s brain and inventory of all the ones that didn’t work in order to stay ahead, not of any competition, but of our own ambitions.
and that is why i am delighted and feel extremely fulfilled to have accepted nicolas’ offer to help him do just that and become yelo spa’s chief creative officer (on top of my job here, of course) and expand on all matters that impact the brand and its beloved customers. i could not be happier or more proud to be able to shepherd this amazing concept into roads heretofore undiscovered, especially in a field that rarely takes the kind of risks we at the apartment have built a reputation on! when a business understands design to be a strategic cog and not mere marketing gloss, it allows its entire hierarchy to function holistically and take its cues from very simple, customer-oriented goals and it is to nicolas’ credit to trust me to play thus with his baby and i hope not to disappoint.
it is then my pleasure to invite you to visit our website and make a reservation at yelospa.com, visit our location at 315 W57th street, get acquainted with our specials on our Facebook page and get involved in YELOlife on twitter @YeloSpa! there will be MUCH MORE in months to come as we continue to imagine the YELOfuture, be part of it and have a wonderful week!
(theaptBROADCAST novelist-in-training divad q. nead is back from his year in shanghai. his return ride is worth the trip…)
complimentary scotch is the only way to lubricate an international extraction. this particular journey “home” necessitated more than my usual two nip share. at some point in the fourteen hour flight from pudong airport in shanghai, the flight attendants quit charging me for the bottles as long as i stashed them out of sight. they stopped giving me ice, as i just sipped from the bottle. by the time the wheels had touched down in newark, i could have made a nice candlepin lane arrangement of dewars white label screw tops.
it was three hours till new year’s eve when i hit customs for my connection. the agent was pit bull built and my jersey shore stereotype generator began winding its springs.
“what was the purpose of your visit in china,” he asked, not making eye contact, staring at my chinese visa. it still looked fresh in its place on the page. had i aged?
“drinking,” a disembodied voice replied, while my mouth said “teaching.”
“welcome home, mr. stone.” he handed my passport back to me, again without making eye contact. i could have stuck my tongue out at him, but this is jersey.
as i walked the concourse, i thought about the six cuban robusto cigars i had in my carry-on luggage. i wanted to be searched. i wanted to lie to the authorities.
america, i have nothing to declare!
apparently, on new year’s eve, nobody in the united states wants to be working at an airport. six months of staring contests with the greater peasant population of shanghai and now nobody in this empty american airport would curiously glare at me, check out my shoes. my chinese fashion show was over.
at my connection gate, an airline employee was telling a group of confounded chinese tourists to back up, step back and give him some room behind his largely empty desk. they had their passports and tickets out, waving them like they were on fire. america wants to see your papers. show us your papers.
“what is with these people tonight,” i saw him say to a patiently waiting first class white traveler.
i desperately wanted to walk over and shoot my mouth off about freedom and liberty. instead, i made a call to grandma on a pay phone.
“if you go away again, then i’m going too,” she said, definitely referring to death, in her 92nd year. she’s a dry, depression-era humor kind of woman.
“don’t worry, grandma, there’s no way i can go back again.” was i lying? yes, i was lying. lying over pay phones feels easier than mobile phones. the slam of the receiver validates the transgression, like in the movies.
three police officers met me at the airport. sadly, i wasn’t being arrested, but taken to a bar for celebration. i had my gray don draper suit in my luggage, but no cuff links.
“did you remember the cuff links,” i asked my brother, one of the three cops.
“no, i can’t even find my own,” he said as i handed him three cigars.
he sort of looked around like some omniscient customs officer was watching the handoff.
“these are perfect grease for the captain,” he said, referring to my contraband.
