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.

---

To be continued.

I don't make a living but apparently, I'm still alive. // Selling pottery this weekend

Flyer for this weekend's pop-up.

A couple of weeks ago, I had the following exchange:

New friend: Do you make a living from your ceramics?
Me: No... I don't really make a living. Turns out I'm still alive.

It's a statement I laugh at, but it has real relevance today. Our technological advances have necessitated a reimagining of work and of life and of economy that we haven't really engaged. I live outside of many of those norms, but I still have to negotiate rent and debt.

I agreed to have a pop up at Kostüm this weekend because

1) I was flattered to be asked
2) I have a lot of pottery that I'd like to to be out in the world being enjoyed instead of crowding together on my shelves and in boxes
3) I need to make a lot of pots to be as good at making pots as I would like to be, so more will be coming soon
4) I was raised and still live under capitalism.

What do we really need to stay alive? What's the value of an hour? What would we make and how would we feel if we could focus on the difficulty of feeling?

Okay, I'll pause the abstract thinking.

I'm really happy that I'm beginning to build relationships with POC-owned businesses in Oakland, because ultimately what it's all about is relationships with people, and how intimately intertwined our survival is.

Below is a repost of some questions I answered for Kostüm's blog.

The pop up is Saturday and Sunday, February 11-12, 1:00-6:00pm.

Address:
4020 Piedmont Avenue
Oakland, CA 94611

Access notes:
Kostum is located on the groundfloor, has a tight layout that may be difficult for a wheelchair to navigate. Store uses Glade plug-in air fresheners.

***I'll have a Square reader to take credit cards, but cash and Venmo are also welcome. If you are a maker and haven't started a Square account yet, use this referral link to give us both free transactions.

------

1. What do you do for work?

My usual answer to this question is “this and that.” Since 2014, I’ve worked seasonally as an outdoor educator, teaching young people wilderness skills from day-hiking to backpacking to rock climbing. It’s taken me from Pinnacles National Park in our own backyard to the Gila Wilderness in New Mexico to the Southern Talkeetna Mountains in Alaska. I’m also a freelance video and audio transcriptionist. I’ve been able to work on footage for some incredible projects, the first of which was American Revolutionary: The Evolution of Grace Lee Boggs, way back in 2009. I also recently joined the Bridges Rock Gym staff and am excited to deepen my relationship with their community.

 2. How did you get to this point in your career?

Before 2014, I worked primarily in nonprofit administration. My gateway to becoming an outdoor educator was a program called Girlz Climb On, run by San Francisco-based GirlVentures. I was a volunteer mentor in the 10-week program, then worked as their part-time Admissions Associate, and then the Program Director at the time invited me to be an instructor on a 4-day backpacking course in Point Reyes in 2014. I was hooked. (Enrollment in Girlventures’ summer programs is starting now, by the way! They have courses for 5th to 12th graders.) I took my first ceramics class at Laney College in 2014, using the Segal Education Award I received after serving as a Los Angeles Public Ally 2011-2012. While this path is not easy, I must acknowledge the privilege I have as an able-bodied, cisgender, college-educated person whose parents do not depend on me financially, which affords me more mental and emotional space to manage this life.

 3. What are you passionate about?

 The idea of intimacy— with objects, processes, people. Nurturing interdependence. Supporting folks in articulating and actualizing their desires and possibilities.

4. What feeds you creatively? (If different than number 3)

Coffee!!!
Conversation.
Observation.
Quiet contemplation.

5. What is one of your favorite aspects of Oakland (or area of the Bay in which you live)?

I love the smallness of Oakland, which is a contrast to the sprawl of Southern California where I grew up. To be able to move is a privilege I don’t take lightly, and I’m grateful for the people around me with whom I can grapple with questions of displacement and gentrification— familiar questions to me from my 5 years in Downtown Los Angeles.

6. How do you feel most connected to Oakland (whether it’s the people, culture, environment, etc.)?

I love that there is a large community of queer and trans people of color here. I love the energy around political and social engagement that exists here, the sense that many people are in active investigation of what might be possible to make our world more just. And that there are many people who, like me, cobble together lives of “this and that” and art and activism.

7. How is fashion a part of your daily life?

My aesthetic for daily wear is on the scruffier side. I love wool sweaters and comfortable jeans. My hiking boots make foot travel around Oakland’s concrete much more bearable. I’m tempted to attribute my scruffiness to being a climber and outdoor educator, but I was scruffy long before those activities came into my life. When it comes to clay or chapbooks, I have strong feelings about proportions, texture, lighting, angles, curves. I meander through Instagram quite a bit for inspiration (daily… hourly…) and take note of what seem to be aesthetic trends in pottery and also in poetry. Some of it is similar to what I like to make and write, and some of it vastly different. There is so much wonderful work being made in the world.

8. What do you hope Kostümers walk away with after seeing or purchasing your poetry and/or pottery?

Simply put, I hope they feel good after seeing, touching, and/or bringing my work home. I’ve found such magic and healing in making; I hope they’re inspired to make things with their own hands if they don’t already. I hope that they’ll perhaps find new or greater value in what they do make, whether it’s art or craft or food.

New Year, New Chapbook, New Shop

It appears that I never wrote about completing from somewhere along the way, my 2015 collection of writing. Better late than never?

make / mend came into the world on December 31, 2016.

Since 2013, I haven't finished a chapbook earlier than December. A part of me scoffs at the fact that I clearly procrastinated, and another part of me is relieved that I've actually met my annual chapbook goal, albeit by the skin of my teeth.

I also opened an online shop, with all of my chapbooks from past years on it, at discounted prices. I may include my pottery on it someday, but for now they are objects I believe need to be touched before they are purchased.

The last weeks of the year were stressful, with an unplanned return to car-free life (a somewhat inaccurate description because I still have access to friends' cars), and with the impending sense of doom hanging over the coming administration. Our government has never felt, in my lifetime, as blatantly corrupt as it does now. My illusions of America as the land of the free have been stripped away and replaced with a painful awareness of how ruthless capitalism is, and how deadly it is, interwoven with structural racism and neocolonialism.

And yet, the mundanity of life, for many of us, carries on. There are banks and businesses and manufacturers some are trying to stay away from moreso than before.

Those of us who fear for ourselves and our communities are each trying our best to do what we can in the face of what's to come.

It is strange, this feeling that terrible changes are taking place, but that the concerns of rent money, how to support myself, my community, and, someday, my aging parents, are still very much present. It feels like we are fighting for our survival, and at the same time, life does not feel so much different.

There is a sinking feeling in the air, we are wary of the coming administration-- and the fact that this country has not encountered this situation before. Another country meddling in our election rather than the other way around. A reality show figure elected despite the many marks against his character.

Is this what it feels like to live under a failing government?

Meanwhile, I am trying to cultivate change, in what small ways I can. Gardening projects. Making pots. Writing.

To be honest, it sounds a bit ridiculous.

Violence-Free Begins With Me

Last month, before heading out to instruct GirlVentures' Transitions course, I was a guest speaker at Violence-Free Begins With Me, an API Youth Forum held by the Center for the Pacific Asian Family.

I spoke about my experience growing up queer and Khmer American, what it was like coming into my identities, and talked about becoming an outdoor educator and explaining the work to refugee parents.

To stand in front of a group of Southeast Asian youth who were from the same places I'm from and tell my story to them was an incredible opportunity.

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. 

'mangos' in Oakland Asian Cultural Center's new zine, I AM HUNGRY

A poem from my first chapbook (Tracing Steps) has been reprinted in a zine by the Oakland Asian Cultural Center. I'm glad that pieces from that chapbook continue to be distributed, as I'm out of copies (audiobooks are available).

You can read the zine online, and hard copies can be acquired from the OACC for a $2 donation. The center is located in a shopping plaza above the Oakland Public Library, at 388 Ninth Street, Suite 290, 94607.

There was a zine release party last Sunday at the OACC's space in Chinatown, where some of the contributors (and a contributor's grandparents) shared their work with supporters. I read a piece from my newest chapbook, from somewhere along the way.

I was glad for the opportunity to connect with other writers, though I did not get to speak to everyone I wanted to. I can only hope that as I get more intentional about building community here, we'll cross paths again.

'planting' published in eleven eleven // chapbooking

It's two months from the end of 2015. That means that the annual frenzy to meet my one chapbook per year objective is beginning in earnest. I'm hoping to do better this year than I have in the last two, when I was editing until late December. My goal for printing this year is November 22, one month earlier than the last two years, though 4 months later than my initial intention for a summer release. I've been "working on it" since early spring, but with outdoor education becoming an ever-larger part of my life and livelihood, I've been away from my computer for much of the last six months. 

Most recently, I worked as a wilderness instructor for Eagle Rock School, walking with heavy packs and wet boots around the Gila Wilderness. I got back to Oakland on Thursday, and am feeling that sweet end-of-the-year procrastinator's pressure for the chapbook. I managed to do a bit of ruminating and planning while in the backcountry, which is the most fun and easiest part. Now comes the writing and editing. 

The place I had my final editing frenzy last year was Philz Coffee in West Berkeley. Near closing time, I had sheets of paper spread around me, working furiously, cutting and taping pieces of poems together with plans to print within the hour. A fellow with thick dark-rimmed glasses and gray hair sat at the table with a friendly nod. As he prepared to leave, he asked me whether I was working on a manuscript. We talked briefly about chapbooks and he gave me his card; it turned out that he was the editor of Eleven Eleven, a literary and art journal out of California College of the Arts.  

Once what is precious was printed (by Office Depot), folded and stapled (by me), I sent him a copy of my chapbook, not thinking much of it other than that I wanted to share with him what I had been working on. Some time later, a different editor emailed me, having read that chapbook, and he invited to submit for Issue 19. I submitted a few pieces, including planting, which was in my very first chapbook, Tracing Steps, and which was accepted. The issue was published and mailed out while I was working. I was excited to come back from Colorado to find the journal and see the piece in print. 

I like that they didn't mind that it was previously self-published; one of the roadblocks to me submitting to journals is that I do much of my writing online and most publications want never-before-seen material.

I only have a couple of copies of Tracing Steps left. I've decided that I won't be printing more of them, and that I'll only print one run of future chapbooks. The mental and physical space needed to keep up with my annual chapbooking goal makes it unsustainable to keep printing new runs of old books.

Writing has become ever more a personal practice more than a professional pursuit, but maybe someday I'll find a publisher interested in editing them all together... or I'll do it myself through the magic of print-on-demand. Who knows.

Off to keep working on the next chapbabe! Or bake cookies.

You can get a copy of Eleven Eleven Issue 19 here.

Another Chapbook Was Born // earth things

In the final days of 2013, I was able to keep the vow I made to myself about making a chapbook every year, forever. I made this vow in 2010. I violated the vow in 2011. 2012 and 2013 have been kept. Three of four so far. Hopefully the ratio only gets better.

earth things, December 2013

Though it makes me a little nauseated after having just expended a lot of energy to complete earth things, I can't help thinking already about what I will put together for 2014. I haven't even taken the time yet to really sit with this collection that I've made.

At this point, I think it is safe to say that putting together a chapbook has become a part of my writing process. After posting so many pieces over a period of time, whether it's a year or several, it feels necessary to make something cohesive out of the mess. One of the initial reasons that I began making chapbooks was that I was reading poetry at various spaces often, and I liked the idea of putting together something that people can walk away with.

The process of making Tracing Steps helped me work through the writing I did about my experience traveling to Cambodia for the first time, interacting with being in the "motherland" as a member of the diaspora, and the reality check the experience gave me about the idea of home.

The process of making of cities and lovers was a way of thinking about moving away from LA, all the things I'd found here, all the things I'd be leaving behind. "drifters (perhaps not)" is a piece about my mixed feelings about being someone who simultaneously wants to build community while also being in different places often. And it was also a sort of love letter to LA. There are many love letters to be written to LA.

A lot of the feeling behind earth things came from a period of writing I did back in March 2010. It was around that time that I really began to embrace trying to grow things after the early college experiments. I had a photo album on Facebook called "Do you believe in magic?" that was dedicated to photos of my plant babies and sproutlings. Since then, I've spent more and more time with dirt and growing things and thinking about my relationship with the earth, our relationship with one another, how to create balance, how to grow. The pieces in the collection were written over the last few years, and edited most fiercely in the 24 hours before printing.

Copernicus, my late-night editing assistant.

After having already put together two chapbooks, some of the logistical concerns for earth things were lessened. I think I stalled a bit on completing the collection because I was dreading the formatting part. The editing happened in earnest when I let go of attachment to creating a new aesthetic for the book and let myself stick to what I found worked in terms of font/size for previous chapbooks.

A few notes if you're looking to create (a half-page 5.5"x 8.5") chapbook:

• Your final page count should be divisible by 4 to ensure full use of both sides of each sheet.
• Size each page to 5.5" wide by 8.5" tall, adjust margins to .25"
• CreateBooklet is what I use to put the document into proper PDF printing form. Saves me the headache of trying to figure out what page goes where.
• It can be based on a theme, or a time period, or anything you want, really. Mine are thematic because that's how my brain works. 
• Printing and laying everything out helps.
• Taking time between editing sessions (days, weeks, months) also helps.
• Do not underestimate the power of a glass of wine and a soak in a hot tub.

Excerpt from earth things:

Happy new year.

Letter to the Local Police by June Jordan

Who gets to belong in a neighborhood? Who can get hunted down and pushed out? Who decides who has the right to live?

Read this poem a collection of June Jordan's poetry called Naming Our Destiny. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Saratoga Springs, as of the 2010 Census, is 90% white. I couldn't find what the demographic was in the 1970s when this poem was published, but I can guess it wasn't much different then.

Letter to the Local Police
by June Jordan

Dear Sirs: 

I have been enjoying the law and order of our
community throughout the past three months since
my wife and I, our two cats, and miscellaneous
photographs of the six grandchildren belonging to
our previous neighbors (with whom we were very
close) arrived in Saratoga Springs which is clearly
prospering under your custody 

Indeed, until yesterday afternoon and despite my
vigilant casting about, I have been unable to discover
a single instance of reasons for public-spirited concern,
much less complaint 

You may easily appreciate, then, how it is that
I write to your office, at this date, with utmost
regret for the lamentable circumstances that force
my hand 

Speaking directly to the issue of the moment:
I have encountered a regular profusion of certain
unidentified roses, growing to no discernible purpose,
and according to no perceptible control, approximately
one quarter mile west of the Northway, on the southern
side 

To be specific, there are practically thousands of
the aforementioned abiding in perpetual near riot
of wild behavior, indiscriminate coloring, and only
the Good Lord Himself can say what diverse soliciting
of promiscuous cross-fertilization 

As I say, these roses, no matter what the apparent
background, training, tropistic tendencies, age,
or color, do not demonstrate the least inclination
toward categorization, specified allegiance, resolute
preference, consideration of the needs of others, nor
any other minimal traits of decency 

May I point out that I did not assiduously seek out
this colony, as it were, and that these certain
unidentified roses remain open to viewing even by
children, with or without suitable supervision 

(My wife asks me to append a note as regards the season but
nevertheless seriously licentious
phenomenon of honeysuckle under the moon that one may
apprehend at the corner of Nelson and Main 

However, I have recommended that she undertake direct
correspondence with you, as regards this: yet
another civic disturbance in our midst) 

I am confident that you will devise and pursue
appropriate legal response to the roses in question
If I may aid your efforts in this respect, please
do not hesitate to call me into consultation 

Respectfully yours,

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.

National Poetry Month Begins Tomorrow

And with it, National Poetry Writing Month. 

As I did last year, I'll strive to write a poem a day at Long Cool Hallway. A little nervous about this as I'm also occupied with my transition to Oakland, but I remind myself that there is always time. 

Reading at common ground OC Tomorrow

I'm so happy that the common ground space exists, and I'm thankful that I've had the good fortune of being invited to read there a few times since it began in 2010. 

common ground is organized by progressive Vietnamese American community members, artists, and activists committed to cultivating a positive and safe healing space for artistic growth and community empowerment. The common ground collective builds collaborations across communities and supports the work of social justice spaces.

I remember how happy I felt at Tuesday Night Cafe when the first organizers made the announcement about starting the space, how exciting it was that something like this was starting in Orange County, a place that is as inundated with a reputation of stodgy conservativism as Los Angeles is with a reputation of glitz, glamor, and shallowness. More proof that it's always possible to find what you need wherever you may be.

I'd been planning on attending the March 7 show since I was in Cambodia, long before I was invited to read and before I knew that the theme would be "Food for the Soul" in honor of National Nutrition Month. That theme feels good. When asked what "Food for the Soul" means to me:

“Food for the Soul” is: plain rice porridge with artfully spoiled fish; a tiny, sweet tomato plucked from a scrappy, well-loved garden; a long conversation over tea or coffee about all that is serious and/or silly; setting foot on the land your grandparents raised your parents on; sharing a favorite poet with a new or old friend; lengthy email correspondence; receiving letters by post. In short— all that nourishes, whether through vitamin content or sentiment.

My body and soul got a lot of nourishment from the three months I spent in Cambodia. I look forward to sharing some of the writing that came from it.

See more info about CG on Facebook and Tumblr.

Wanna learn to keep chickens? // Earth Day South LA April 14

I blogged about the 2nd Annual Earth Day South LA in 2010 with great excitement (because I love this earth, it is so good to me), but this is my first year actually volunteering and attending the event.

Earth Day South LA
Saturday, April 14, 2012
11am to 4pm 

Normandie Avenue Elementary School
4505 S. Raymond Ave, LA, CA 90037
At the corner of Normandie and Vernon 

This event is FREE! Suggested Donation $5+
*No one turned away for lack of funds

Last weekend, I joined CSU with other volunteers to pound pavement to spread the word to the community surrounding Normandie Elementary where the festival will take place. This meant knocking on doors, talking to business owners, approaching anyone we saw on the street, and handing out the beautiful Earth Day flyers. I learned to invite people to the event in Spanish (very rudimentarily), which was great. It reminded me that I told myself to take a Spanish class a couple of years ago and never did.

It's National Poetry Month!

March was an experiment in daily blogging here. I told myself that I would attempt to post every weekday for the entire month. It was a success! The practice of writing daily (which sometimes means scraping together a post of questionable quality) can be messy, sloppy, and inelegant, but because we're trained (and perhaps naturally compelled) to revel our milestones, it still feels good to have made my goal. 

Because it is now a month for poetry, I'm concentrating my efforts this month (through June) at my online notebook, Long Cool Hallway. Of course, much of my writing in the last 5 years has been about Los Angeles, wherever I was writing.

I've listed the site at NaPoWriMo.net, and if you're writing poetry anywhere on the internet this month, I encourage you to join. I've come across some wonderful work perusing the site. I like knowing even more people than usual are scrambling to write poetry this month. And Tuesday Night Cafe returned from winter break. And it also happens to be my birth-month. So much to celebrate! 

14th Season of Tuesday Night Cafe Kicks off April 3!

It's April! That means 1st&3rd Tuesday Night Cafe is starting back up again, which is good news for all those who have gone through the winter pining for the intimate, (mostly) outdoor, art+community space that's been gracing Aratani Courtyard since 1999. 

I first started going to TNC in 2008 and I spent a great deal of time with Tuesday Night Project from 2009 until last year when I started Public Allies. I attended my first TNC wearing my Empowering Women of Color Conference 2008 "Decolonizing creativity" shirt (another event in 2008 that was pretty formative for me).

Los Angeles really wouldn't have been the same if I hadn't stepped into Lost Souls Cafe and up to the mic that night. I'll be stopping by at least the beginning of the show. I look forward to seeing the new faces and new energies that both grace the stage and manage it.

Some Facebook Musings & First Reading of the Year

Taking my lunch break to share that Patty Chung, the composer/singer of the TWSS opening theme song, is having a dual show with her friend Nadia, and graciously invited me to read. (If you're curious, here's what I sound like.

HELLO 2012

Do you need a break from work? School? Internship?
Do you like a nice hot, pressed panini?
Looking for a deviation from the clubbing/pounding drinks, and feel like you may want to spend Fri night in a quiet, cozy cafe, engaging in only legal activities (watching music, drinking lattes)? Don't feel like taking a chance on an open mic, only to be trapped into many, many Eagles and "Stairway to Heaven" covers? That's what I thought.
Then come join us as we share our original tunes and poems for a night @ The Spot Cafe in Culver City. 

7:15 - 7:30 Narinda Heng, reading
7:30 - 8:00 Patty Chung, music
8:00 - 8:15 Nina Ki, reading
8:15 - 8:45 Nadia Kent, music 

Cost: No cover charge, but the owner is asking each person for $7 worth of food/coffee purchase.... which is good news because the drinks and sandwiches are a delight!
Parking: There is limited parking in the back; street parking also is available. 

DIRECTIONS - PLEASE READ CAREFULLY:
The place can be easy to miss, it's quite tiny. Driving south on Overland, the cafe will be on your right hand side, just after Farragut Dr. You will be able to tell where the cafe is because there are white benches and large umbrellas outside.

Preview the tunes:
www.thesixtyone.com/only1patty
www.thesixtyone.com/nadiakent

I'm amused that Facebook is still a part of my life even though I deactivated my account last summer (read an interesting article about the deactivation page here). Sometimes I don't know about events to which I'm supposedly invited, and people exclaim "You're not on Facebook!" like an accusation, like I've done something terribly wrong.

There are a few reasons I deactivated. One was that I just couldn't deal with managing my own life in real time and managing it on Facebook any more-- not saying that everyone goes through this, but that's what it felt like for me. The whole mix of friends, colleagues, and acquaintances and wondering what to post and when to post was so much to manage. Just not posting or doing anything with the site was an option, rather than deactivating, but if I weren't planning to use it, then why leave my profile detritus on the internet?

Being "deactivated" means that I've probably dropped off the radar for some people I'd rather still be in touch with, and some have dropped off my radar, but I have faith that we'll cross paths again. And when we do, we'll re-exchange phone numbers and email addresses and hopefully still remember each other.

I recently talked with a friend about the way Facebook tricks us into thinking that we're keeping in touch with people when we don't even interact with them. I told her that I found myself browsing friends' profiles, finding out what was going on in their lives... and never actually talking to them. I got uncomfortable with that. Now that I'm off Facebook, I still don't catch up with anywhere near all the people that I'd like to catch up with because I'm a homebody hermit, but at least I'm not spending time pretending to catch up with them.

If you're reading this and we're out of touch and we once kept in touch via Facebook, drop me a line. I'd like that.

Pearl Girl at OUTspoken Sessions // Allison Santos

I remember when I first heard about Equal Action and OUTspoken Sessions at Tuesday Night Cafe back in 2009. Skim (who will be at J-Town Summer Sessions) was the inaugural featured performer. I attended for the first time in November of that year, when traci was the featured performer. Until this year, the queer youth open mic was held at the Solidarity Hall on Washington Blvd. It was a cosy, intimate space.

The next OUTspoken Sessions on Friday, July 22 will be at KIWA on 8th Street and is featuring visual artist and Pearl Girls Productions That's What She Said co-conspirator Allison Santos:

She plays "Rae" on TWSS and is one of the most recognizable cast members. Maybe it's the hair. Or her boyish charm. Or her magnetic dance moves. 

For clarification: OUTspoken Sessions' intention is to provide space for queer youth age 19 and under, but older folks are encouraged to show up and support! Inter-generational solidarity, yes, please.

TNC Tonight: Comedy, Cocks, Opera, Poetry

It feels like forever since the last time I heard The Fighting Cocks play. I think it was November, at applesauce's farewell party. (And oh yeah, the frontman is also The Park's Finest bbq master & TNC Resident Host Johneric Concordia.)

This is also going to be the last time in a while that I'll get to hear Mary Rose's sweet soprano live since she's going off to grad school in Santa Barbara. Ah, so much is changing.

Also, along with the tide of theatre that has come to Los Angeles this month (including the 3rd National Asian American Theater Festival & Conference) came Laos In The House from the Midwest. 

Too much good stuff, as is always the case in LA. 

Gardening Schemes with Colorish Dreams // 1st&3rd Tuesday Night Cafe

My friend A'misa (artist, writer, and creator of Colorish Dreams) and I have been sharing our growing dreams and schemes-- from future claimed public spaces to throwing all sorts of seeds into the moist earth to see if they grow. She and her mother have been incredibly successful with their saved seeds. Particularly cantaloupe seeds.

baby melons

She gave me this little pot of half a dozen seedlings (which I have no idea where to plant), and has a bunch more that she's trying to find homes for. We're on the lookout for a good spot for a guerrilla melon patch.

As for me, I have at least four dozen chamomile sprouts that I foolishly sowed into an egg carton. I have plans for places to plant them, but I doubt I'm going to find enough homes for them. They don't take much care, though, once they get established, and apparently even flourish with a little bit of neglect.

just-sprouting chamomile 

So we're going to bring our extra seeds and little seedlings to the next Tuesday Night Cafe and share them with any takers. I'm sure there are seed bartering/exchanging events around LA, through the Seed Library of Los Angeles and the like, but it's always nice to be able to incorporate new things with old stand-bys. And, there's going to be music, poetry, live art, vendors, and general community goodness at TNC. So why not add some living green things, too? Not sure where we're going to put them, but we'll figure it out.

Guerilla plant exchange/giveaway
1st&3rd Tuesday Night Cafe
Aratani Courtyard
120 Judge John Aiso St, 90012
Show starts at 7:30 so come by at around 7:00 to check out what plants make it to Little Tokyo.

"To My Asian Brothers" by Pat Sumi // LA Asian American Poetry

From 1969 to 1974, a group of Asian American activists in Los Angeles published a monthly newsprint journal, Gidra. I came across the following poem by Pat Sumi in my reading in Asian Americans: The Movement and the Moment:

To My Asian Brothers

Clarity of vision            
           of perception            
           is a color not possible            
           in Los Angeles 
To the far horizons                  
                the city slumbers                              
                smoulders                             
                in its brown chemistry                              
                of Babylonian chains
Chains             
           bind my feet                     
                  my eyes             
           as I stumble along the yellow mosaic 
Carefully, I search for the missing pieces 
There...             
            a glittering piece             
            a sparkle of discovery 
My family sword is found             
              to strike my chains of sorrow 
But the chains merely part                                           
                                       then re-form 
In despair             
               I stumble
Brother!             
             Now I see you so near             
             You give me strength to rise again 
But why are you so still                           
                          so stoic                                        
                                     brother?
Chains of Babylon             
               bind us together             
               but we do not touch 
With this sword             
              I would free you 
But where are your chains?                
                They are not like mine 
In your eyes             
            I see your spirit             
            bound by chains                         
                       by burdens                       
                       by weight                      
                       by heart                                   
                                   so heavy             
             the sword cannot free you                                                   
                                                     yet 
As you stand so still            
            your eyes                          
                          steadily mirror                          
                          a painful past 
Do you see                 
                  grandfather    back bent                 
                  worked to the ground? 
Do you see                 
                  father        barb bound                 
                  concentration sent? 
Do you see                 
                 brother       Asian death                 
                 Vietnam sent? 
Do you see                 
                 the unshed tears                 
                 the unavenged humiliation?
Do you see                 
                 as you stand so still                                    
                                     so stoic?
To be a man
               to be free
               to love
               to walk proud
               in a clear night
                                     to be a gentle lover
                                     to a home
               is a life not possible
               in Los Angeles
But history is not defeat
                          weakness
                          sorrow
The back is bent           but unbroken
The spirit is bound        but unbroken
And you, brother,
               are chained   but unbroken
Strength is will
             is spirit
             is soul
             is love
             is unity
As we speak
             the world has turned
             a revolution
             a great victory in the East
Clarity of vision
           of perception
           is a color possible
           by a new light
           by a new day dawning
The burdens of grandfather
                        father
                        brother
            become light by this new day
The sword glitters and sparkles
                                   with piercing red fire
                                                             smokeless
                                                             pure
                 to shatter the chains
Yes!
           We are free!
Yes!
           You are free
                             to be a man
Chains
          are to be thrown away
          so we walk freely
Eyes
        are to be free
              to see us and the world
              in the light of a new day dawning
Brother!
             Come join hands with me
             we have been separated too long
A home of revolution
             of love
             for us is possible
             in Los Angeles 

--Pat Sumi, 1970

I've heard that the original Gidra was put together in a sort of co-op house somewhere in South Los Angeles. It was a political journal that was sometimes an inch thick. Inspiring.