A June that dreams are made of // part 1

My spirit has been nourished to near-bursting this month.

A small attempt to capture it. 

Upon beginning to write this, I realized it would take two posts to even briefly talk about each of the things. So this is part one of two.

GirlVentures Staff & Sea Kayak Training

After having worked community courses and one summer course with GirlVentures since 2014, I was finally able to attend an official summer staff training in Point Reyes. We hiked to Sky Camp and Coast Camp, built relationships as a staff, practiced curriculum, and delved into discussions of equity and inclusion. Such conversations are not easy or comfortable, but it is wonderful to work with an organization where we can step into that discomfort and find support.

Another reason I love working with GirlVentures is their commitment to developing staff skills. The weekend after staff training, a number of staff were taken on an overnight sea kayaking trip in Tomales Bay, where we participated in an ACA Level 2 Coastal Kayak Touring Workshop. It was my first overnight paddling trip, and I was so nervous about it that I contemplated not going until the very last minute.

Being out on the water seems so unpredictable, and I'd never had to pack or dress for submersion before, so for the first time in a long time I was getting ready to do something completely new to me. It was a good reminder of how difficult trying new things can be and reaffirmed to me how amazing young people are to face new situations all the time.

TNP Wellness & Solidarity Workshops at Khmer Girls in Action 

I co-facilitated a series of writing workshops with tra for Southeast Asian youth at Khmer Girls in Action in Long Beach. To witness their stories, creativity, eloquence, and their commitment to justice and community was humbling and inspiring. I don't often get to work with Khmer youth and being part of the process of them giving themselves permission to tell and to explore their stories, to tell them that it is okay to make up spellings for Khmer words, to hear echoes of my own story in theirs, to have the opportunity to learn and grow with them-- I am beyond grateful for that.

I loved being able to learn from tra's presence and creativity in facilitation. To be reminded to let go of any insecurities I may have about my abilities, because facilitation is about the participants, not about me. That the job is not to perform, but to listen and to elicit. To draw forth the story. To give authentic responses, to encourage.

Some of them will be sharing their writing at KGA's 20th Anniversary Gala tonight. I'm so excited for them and wish I could be there.

Queer Road Trip with Audrey Kuo at Tuesday Night Cafe

Audrey and I do not usually write or perform with other people, but were invited to do a set together for the June 20th Tuesday Night Cafe. A major event in our friendship was the roadtrip they agreed to take with me to Lander, Wyoming for my NOLS fellowship in 2014. For our set, we decided to make up a podcast called Queer Road Trip to tell the story of that journey and to share the great tenderness we've nourished in our friendship.

We shared "A Minute of Tenderness," during which we took turns sharing things that made us feel tender.

The weekend prior saw the murders of Charleena Lyles and Nabra Hassanen, more tragedy to add the never ending list of tragedy. In our set, we created an altar for Charleena and Nabra and invited everyone to speak the names of those lost to police brutality, to racism, to anti-blackness, to transphobia, to islamophobia.

We invited our dear friend t.k. lê to the stage to share her poetry with us. We spoke of grief, of mourning, of rage, and of possibility, of hope, of joy.

Five years after I moved out of LA, Tuesday Night Cafe still feels like home. I'm so grateful.

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To be continued.

National Poetry Month // Tuesday Night Cafe (and Los Angeles) for always

I was invited to collaborate with Shin Kawasaki for Tuesday Night Cafe's Season Opener on April 5. He's a talented musician and I wasn't sure exactly how our collaboration would work, considering I can't carry a tune nor play an instrument, or even keep time very well (I am usually that person who starts out clapping on beat, then off-beat, then stops clapping). But I said yes anyway, because I'd never worked with him before and was intrigued at the opportunity. The last time I'd read poetry with a musician on stage was years ago, also at TNC, with my good friend Cyril. 

Shin and I met for lunch before my trip into the San Rafael Wilderness (again, with Dunn School) and got to know each other a bit over tacos. It turned out that we had things in common that we'd never realized, and that there was a synchronicity to things that I've been writing about and things that he's been thinking about. We then worked on song lyrics together over email until we could get together in person again-- the Sunday right before TNC.

We met at his rehearsal space in Downtown LA (which he shares with other musicians to swoon over) to refine the lyrics to the song. It was magical seeing how he took the words we wrote together and put them to music. And the process of writing together, too, was new and really cool for me. I learned how a song breaks down into chorus, refrain, bridge, verse. I don't think I've ever collaborated so closely with anyone on a piece of art before-- with spoken word, I would come together with other poets, each of us with our own words. Somehow having the addition of music helped in that process. Or, it was just Shin. Shin is awesome. 

The song that we came up with was inspired by our mutual friend and longtime TNC Resident Artist David Tran aka Applesauce. David was actually the first person who ever took one of my poems and turned it into a song (which I like much more than the original piece) called That Kind of Love. I have to admit that my music listening habits haven't changed very much in the last five years, and that song (along with many other Applesauce songs) are still very much in my usual music rotation. Shin and I both visited David in Vietnam at different times, and those experiences made their way into our song. I left our Sunday session feeling inspired and wondering when I might collaborate with a musician again. And then we filled up on delicious tacos again, this time from a little spot on 1st Street I'd never been to before. There is always more delicious to be found in LA. Always. 

I dressed for radio.

The next day, I had a climbing date at Malibu Creek with one of the other Dunn School instructors. I appreciate Malibu Creek and the accessibility of climbing in LA in general so much more now that I live in the Bay Area, where few 5.10 sport climbs are to be found within an hour's drive, though, yes, Yosemite is just 3.5 hours away.

After climbing, I went straight to (In N Out and then) to KPFK, where Quincy and I spoke with Saba Waheed on Flip The Script about TNC. I read a couple of poems, talked about what the space has meant to me as a writer/artist/community member, and touched on family and Khmer American identity. You can listen to the show here.

And then, the day came. The Tateuchi Democracy Forum was packed to the brim. I wasn't as nervous beforehand as I usually am before getting on stage. Even with all the different faces in the crowd and behind the scenes, the space still felt like home-- there were so many wonderful familiar faces, still. Also, as I said to fellow poet Audrey Kuo, it was a queer Asian American poetry quadruple decker sandwich on the stage that night! In addition to the two of us, Jenevieve Ting and Jess X Chen each graced the stage with their poetry.

Shin and I got to close out the night. I read a few pieces while Shin played in the background, and then he got ready to sing our song. I walked offstage to sit and enjoy, but was urged to get back on stage. I was offered a mic, but I declined. I also insisted that Sean get up there with me for moral and pantomiming support. I was so happy when others joined us, (around 2:40).

My sleepy introvert tendencies had me leaving soon after the show ended, but it was a lovely, lovely night. I'm so glad to still be a part of this community after having left the staff and then the city years ago. 

American Revolutionary at Laemmle Pasadena this month!

In 2010, I was fortunate to become connected to American Revolutionary: The Evolution of Grace Lee Boggs as a transcriptionist. I got to listen closely to quite a bit of raw interview footage as well as interviews with some of the people whose lives she's touched in her long, long involvement in civil rights and community organizing in Detroit.

I missed the Los Angeles premiere last year because I was in the midst of my transition from LA to Cambodia to Oakland. I finally had the opportunity to see the film when it came to the Bay Area as a Gala Presentation for CAAMFest 2014.

Having done quite a few hours of transcription, and knowing that it was only a small portion of how much footage there was in total, I have a new depth of appreciation for the amount of work it takes to produce such a film. I enjoyed recognizing some of the bits that I'd transcribed, and was astounded at how much is left on the cutting room floor. 

Before my involvement with the documentary, I had little awareness of Grace Lee Boggs beyond knowing vaguely of her from the Blacklava "roots" shirt on which she appears alongside Philip Vera Cruz and Yuri Kochiyama (I got to share some Asian American history with the Executive Director of GirlVentures recently when I wore the shirt in honor of Yuri Kochiyama's recent passing). 

American Revolutionary provides a glimpse into her early life and her journey, the evolution of her ideas, but still left me with similar questions that her autobiography Living For Change left me with, this yearning to get a sense of who she is beyond the theory and practice of activism, her emotional life. I don't think she is intentionally evasive to those questions, though; she has been a student of philosophy all her life, centers her thoughts around activism and the theories behind them, and her discourse is framed around that. 

And ultimately, perhaps that is what makes her such a compelling subject-- the thoroughness of her commitment to social change, that she seems to live and breathe movement, that she seems constantly consumed with gathering and synthesizing ideas to create revolution. It is a way of being and way of living that I respect deeply; by the amount of critical and community acclaim the documentary has received, I am one of many. 

If you are in the Los Angeles area and didn't get to see American Revolutionary at the Los Angeles Asian Pacific Film Fest, see it in its theatrical run June 20-26 at Laemmle Pasadena. 

The Return of That's What She Said!

We've released the first episode of That's What She Said Season 2!

Over the three years since we finished Season 1, there have been so many life changes. People got degrees. Changed jobs. Moved. Nested. We've each taken turns leaving the city/state/country for brief and long excursions. We began having near-weekly Google Hangouts to coordinate amidst our busy schedules and cross-state/county locations. 

We've each had to go on various journeys in the last few years, and we are still very much figuring out how make the production process smoother, more streamlined, how to bring on additional support and involve those who are interested. It's tough coordinating an independent venture like this, but we're working to get better at it together. 

Being far away means I have to be careful about getting complacent as a producer. One goal for 2014: Be a badass co-producer/friend.

I see piles of dirty dishes and I get calm. Because I was the dishwasher at my college. I did it with my best friend—two years washing dishes together three nights a week. We talked the whole time. We made a system where we’d let everything pile up and then blast through it in a half hour. Which means we got paid to eat dinner and talk. I have never loved a job like I loved that one. 

The best memories I have in college are of the warm soapy water and great conversations in the small quiet room at the end of the conveyor belt. I didn’t learn much in college. I never took a writing class. I never figured out why people date except to get married. But I learned about work. Any job is a great job if you do it with a friend. 

I’ve had amazing jobs at high levels where I felt alone and it was not nearly as nice a memory as I have of washing dishes. I am at a stage of my life where I have to make decisions about what is most important about work for me. And it’s having friends. The experience of working with friends is so powerful that it can even calm me down in a roomful of purging ballerinas. 

- Penelope Trunk 

Support Generosity // #keepTNfree

Tuesday Night Project's fundraising campaign, KeepTNFree, has been extended for another two weeks: 

Keep TN Free has been extended with a special challenge to folkds 35-and-under: To encourage you to donate (and get into the mindset of giving), any contribution you make will be effectively tripled by an elder community member! Your $15 can become $45! Just leave your age in the notes when you donate online! 

Last year, I wrote the following testimonial:

My involvement with TN as a performer, volunteer, co-stage manager, and co-producer 2008-2012 made an indelible mark on me. I would not have spent five years living, learning, loving, and growing in Los Angeles if I had never met the ever-expanding Tuesday Night Project family.

1st & 3rd Tuesday Night Cafe may seem to run like a well-oiled machine, but behind the scenes, the process is deeply human– there is a strong commitment to openness, trust, transparency, integrity, and self-care. While I worked with TNP, the organizations that populate the Asian American community in LA (and beyond) became more than institutions: they became faces, stories, friends. Tuesday Night Cafe is part of a collection of stories that begin long before the first show in 1999 and stretches out far beyond Aratani Courtyard. I feel blessed to have been a part of that story, and I hope that many more will get the same opportunity for years to come, whether as an audience member, volunteer, performer, or staff member. 

If you love Los Angeles, if you love outdoor spaces, if you love community-building, if you love music, if you love poetry, if you love theatre, if you love spam musubi and Sapporo on a warm summer night, please donate.

Additionally, here are a few things I learned as a co-producer and stage manager with TNP 2009-2011:

1. How to properly tape cables. Always across, never parallel. 

2. The joy of Fugetsu-Do strawberry mochi with crunchy peanut butter filling. Until these, I was a creamy peanut butter fan. I've seen the light. Oh, how I yearn for these soft little pillows. 

3. There were spaces which I got to watch in their beginnings, in their growth, and in their blossoming: Break the Silence Open Mic in Long Beach. OUTspoken Sessions. Common Ground OC. 

4. Places that I got to know because of Tuesday Night Cafe, Tuesday Night on Tour, and the interconnectedness of people doing work in the Asian American community in and around LA: Aratani Courtyard. Señor Fish. Lost Souls Cafe (gone now). Remy's On Temple. A house in Gardena. GoGo Boba (also gone now). Oiwake. Monrovia Library. Scripps College. Renato's Coffee. Cafe Metropol. Cafe Dulce. Rascal's. Las Galas. Fugetsu-Do. East West Players. Visual Communications. Equal Action. There is so much love in Los Angeles, I am overwhelmed. 

5. What I witnessed most and try hard to carry with me: the spirit of generosity-- so much of it and all the more beautiful for how natural it seemed for so many people to give of themselves, to give their time, their attention, their sweat, their monetary support, their creativity, their art, their food, their laughter, their willingness to connect. It is that generosity that made me fall in love with Los Angeles. That generosity is necessary to survive in a city like Los Angeles.

I donated to Tuesday Night Project this year because I know how important it is to have spaces which help anchor people to one another, in real time, in shared space. TNC was and still is that kind of space for me, wherever I am in the world, and I hope that it will continue to be that for others. 

So many sweet memories. (From TNP's website. Info's from 2010-- they need donations to help update it!)

Three Great Events I Won't Be At This Week (also, Videos)

Woke up with Quincy's "Summer Days" song in my head the other day, which of course made me think of Los Angeles. I'm always thinking of Los Angeles. 

This week is thick with events! Some of which Audrey Kuo has recorded me performing at.

Tuesday, June 4 - Tuesday Night Cafe

From last July, my last time featuring as an LA resident. Holding of cities and lovers, which doesn't contain the piece I actually read: "morning glory."

Thursday, June 6 - [common ground oc]

CG is the first and only reading I've done this year. Perhaps with the coming of summer I'll find myself reading in a public (or, more likely, public-ish) setting in Oakland. No hurry. Marinating on my 2013 chapbook, which I've declared will be done by late summer.

Video taken, again, by the dear Audrey. This is my entire CG reading. Someday I'll actually watch it.

Friday, June 7 - OUTspoken Sessions

I remember Equal Action's first announcement at TNC back in 2009, my first year as stage manager. A queer youth of color open mic. I was delighted. I'm so glad they are still going strong as an organization, and that I've seen them transition to having youth take on more and more of the leadership and facilitation roles. No video of myself there. Their theme this show is intersectionality, which they've posted this quote to help define:

If you're in LA, pick at least one. If I were in LA, I might go to all three.

Beautiful Things At & After Mr. Hyphen

I went to Mr. Hyphen recently. It was my first foray to an Asian American event since beginning life in North Oakland in late March. The magazine and event have been on my mind since college, and it was a little surreal to be there. For some reason, this event just seven hours away felt very far from me when I was an undergraduate at UC Irvine all those years ago. I take it as a good sign when it feels like things are coming full circle. Which brings me to the winner of Mr. Hyphen: Sean Miura, curator of 1st&3rd Tuesday Night Cafe, among other things. 

Photo by Intwined Bows

Beyond dancing and wrapping cable with him in Aratani Courtyard, I recall midnight forays for carne asada fries in Gardena and long talks about each of our histories in consciousness of Asian Americanness and the Asian American movement. We've talked about our processes of politicization, and shared passion over the music of the API movement-- artists who came through TNC, artists on other coasts, artists from thirty years ago. He shared a wealth of MP3s with me and I fantasized about him leading a TNC dance crew. We talked about history. A lot.

Photo by Vincent Trinh

At Mr. Hyphen, I got to see an integration of everything Sean is on stage at Brava Theater: his humor, his sincerity, his passion, his (sigh) puns, and all of it rolled up into his dance:

Watching Sean made me wistful for Los Angeles and moved me to write poetry of questionable quality. It was evident that he had put a huge amount of effort, care, and energy into preparing for Mr. Hyphen, fueled by a deep commitment to Tuesday Night Project. I'll be celebrating in spirit with everyone at tomorrow night's TNC for all the gaff tape the $1,000 prize will buy.

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Photo by Vincent Trinh

I was inspired by Niño-Pierre Galang's discussion of the importance and power of knowing our mother tongues. Thinking about my fluency in Khmer has always been a big part of my struggle as a poet and writer-- it is so strange to think about how such a big part of me has always felt in a way separate. He talked about how important learning Tagalog has been to him. What place does language have as we reconcile our Asian/American identities? Is it a novelty? How do we make a place for language?

Last week I went to have lunch with family for a cousin's birthday. One of our relatives has an adorable baby daughter. Conversation around the dim sum table veered to the other parents telling her to read to her daughter every night. She recently immigrated from Cambodia and English is her second language. She joked that her daughter would be reading to her soon enough. A feeling boiled up in me and I asked her whether she also had books in Khmer to read to her daughter.

I could have cried when she said yes. I was relieved that this little girl will grow up with a different relationship to language, to Khmer, than I grew up with. She's second-generation as I am, or maybe she's 2.5, and she's growing up in a different emotional climate; one in which the echoes of war are farther back in time, and in a different socio-economic status. I know this doesn't mean negotiating her Asian American or Khmer American identity will necessarily be any easier, but it's comforting that perhaps she'll be literate in Khmer and will able to relate to her parents in a healthier way than I did growing up.

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Not being fully employed and also not yet receiving paychecks means I hesitated to buy the $30ish dollar Mr. Hyphen-plus-magazine subscription package, but it felt good to spend money supporting a community institution-- and realizing that thirty dollars is less than I would spend on gas for some climbing trips. And now I'll get stories of Asian America delivered to my doorstep.

Happy Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month!

Music for When I'm Lonely for LA

My friend wrote about songs that define his LA after reading this BuzzFeed article. Here are a few of the artists who are LA to me.

Bambu:

David Tran aka Applesauce:

Skim:

I have playlists that remind me of driving up to Oakland the first time last year, and of my first trip to Owens River Gorge, music that conjures images of winding through Los Padres National Forest and down Tioga Pass out of Yosemite.

I'm in the process of planting some roots in Oakland. I'm more committed to making the transition now than last summer. I wonder what Oakland will sound like to me.