weekend notes

Hope all goes well… “My team stopped using WhatsApp,” he said. “Started communicating on Telegram – messages disappear,” he said. “Burner phones are the most secure.” We were discussing HK. I forwarded some tweets from @HuXijin_GT, my source for insight into how Beijing wants to portray the protests. Video clips show thugs beating a young woman, a cop under siege fires point blank in legitimate se

A“We move slowly here,” said the executive, chain smoking Seven Stars. “We have refined the art of flawless production,” he explained. “But there was a time when it was not so.” Two Asahi Extra Dry’s arrived, the thick foam head in each glass identical, poured deliberately, in perfect proportion, beautiful beer. “We once copied the chemical compounds designed in America,” he admitted. “As we amass

Hope all goes well… “A few of you came consistently, year after year, even before Abenomics,” he said, seated high in a tower, sipping green tea, fine porcelain. I sat with my back to Tokyo’s skyline, a mahogany table stretched right and left, the two of us alone. “But most of you came when markets started moving, policy was in flux.” He pushed a single sheet across the table – a chart of fo

Hope all goes well… “Guess what this weekend is Dad?” asked my kids Saturday morning as I headed upstairs to write. Sounded important. I panicked, wondering whose birthday I spaced, what anniversary I missed, these things have never been my strong suit. “Our school has a no-homework weekend,” they said, excited. And fresh back from Tokyo, in need of a break myself, a little time to reconnect with

Hope all goes well… “Tighten your seat belts,” instructed the pilot, as calm as calm could be. “Please make absolutely sure there are no heavy items near you that are not properly secured,” he added, in a voice so perfectly even that it induced sheer panic. And at that, the woman next to Mara joined the horrid chorus that had started like popping corn and built steadily as the turbulence intensifi

Hope all goes well… “What happens when two tribes each believe that theirs can do no wrong?” he asked, sitting on the bank, history flowing like a river. “Or what results when two tribes convince themselves that the other committed some sin first, and this then justifies an unethical response of similar proportion?” he wondered aloud. “And is there ever a point, where the members of one tribe refl

A“WeWork never had a fighting chance of being worth more than zero,” said Lithium, hands-free on Highway One. “It’s arguable that Uber and Lyft have a chance to make it – at least their business model should survive in some form,” he said, banking a turn, the Pacific to his left, Malibu’s dunes lit by autumn sun. “Softbank mastered the art of the sardine factory.” In legendary investor Seth Klarma

A“Let’s run Dad,” said Charlie, and off he went down the trail. We’d spent the day at altitude, climbing cliffs. Charlie is our youngest of four, which means we rarely return from an adventure without my little man bumping up against his limit. Mountains have a wonderful way of helping you find that pressure point. From there, you must decide where to go – climb or crumble. Charlie melted do

Hope all goes well… “We are all just prisoners here, of our own device,” said Charlie, my 10yr old, reading lyrics to his favorite song, Hotel California. We listen to music, discuss the lyrics, one of my great joys in life. “I think it means we can do things to imprison ourselves, to trap ourselves,” he explained, a little confused. I nodded, though of course, lyrics can mean different things to