Saturday, June 28, 2008
Friday, June 27, 2008
My dentists have been bugging me since I was about 10 to get braces to improve my bite. I use about four actual teeth in the chewing process and as I have gotten older and these molars have decayed, gotten cavities and fillings, gotten crowned, it's become more of a concern. So I picked up my first set of Invisalign braces yesterday and am talking with a mild lisp like the King of Spain, or David Sedaris, pre-speech therapy. This becomes a major vanity issue as I can't imagine reading poetry to an audience with these plastic devices in my mouth. The fact that they are made of plastic concerns me too, but I am trying to keep in perspective that I wore thin plastic lenses on my eyeball for 15 years in order to see. I have just made a year and a half commitment to this course of treatment. That just seems interminable... Like Sedaris in his essay in "Me Talk Pretty One Day," I am re-imagining my language - avoiding words with the letter "s" and "f." It's not that easy!
I had a dream last night that I had to relocate cities again and was still packing up my bookcases on the day that the airplane was due to leave. It was raining inside the house and the shelves were 3/4 still full, books falling on top of one another, 1/2 of them not mine, but K's and having a difficult time with spatial arrangements in packing boxes. I felt panicked that I should be stuck with the responsibility of packing up these books and symbols of knowledge and where we have been on the path and overly encumbered by these belongings.
Last week I had a dream that my mother died and I found out long after the fact.
I'm cleaning out my 07-08 journal and found this dream:
Kevin Killian comes to pick me up in a towncar with three scruffy looking men - including a driver in black clothing and chauffeur's cap, circa 1980. They arrive at my parents' house and as I am about to climb into the car, my Dad comes all the way out into the frontyard and begins to ask me questions about a labor union and his mail. I am impatient and tell him that I didn't request to have anything sent to him and that I am late to get to a poetry reading. I sense his discomfort but don't address it. He asks what's so important about a 15-minute reading - but it's my last one in Dallas (this is strange, because we're at the house in SoCal). My father sulks and the guys in the car try to maintain their composure and not laugh. I am embarrassed but aware that I ought to be compassionate and help my Dad work through his problem, but I am unfocused.
Last week I had a dream that my mother died and I found out long after the fact.
I'm cleaning out my 07-08 journal and found this dream:
Kevin Killian comes to pick me up in a towncar with three scruffy looking men - including a driver in black clothing and chauffeur's cap, circa 1980. They arrive at my parents' house and as I am about to climb into the car, my Dad comes all the way out into the frontyard and begins to ask me questions about a labor union and his mail. I am impatient and tell him that I didn't request to have anything sent to him and that I am late to get to a poetry reading. I sense his discomfort but don't address it. He asks what's so important about a 15-minute reading - but it's my last one in Dallas (this is strange, because we're at the house in SoCal). My father sulks and the guys in the car try to maintain their composure and not laugh. I am embarrassed but aware that I ought to be compassionate and help my Dad work through his problem, but I am unfocused.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Olympia Reading
I went to Olympia last night with Kort for the Olympia Poetry Network Lohmann Prize Reading. We hit a lot of bad traffic but rolled into Olympia in time to eat some Thai food and make it over to the venue with time to spare. Here are some pics of the evening:
Valerie Berry, who is part of the Sixteen Rivers Collective in the Bay Area and who helped to judge the competition, opened the program ad read a series of poems about the moon. She writes one poem a month - related to the lunation.
Jeanne Lohmann, who the competition is named after, also read a handful of poems. Jeanne is 85 years old. She read a poem about Gregory Orr which was also an homage to Edna St. Vincent Millay. I had never heard Ms. Lohmann's work before, but it was deeply moving and carefully crafted.
Seattle poet and percussionist David Rizzi followed. David is doing a gig at the Hugo House in July with John Burgess and several Pacific NW poets.
I read for about 14 minutes and then Sean Brendan Brown, a retired marine who resides in Olympia, wrapped up the program with a strong set and a fabulous poem about survivors of the Hiroshima bombing.
I had a lovely time - possibly the most relaxed that I've ever felt at a reading for an audience of strangers. We had a great turnout - 30 to 40 people at the Traditions Fair Trade Cafe where everyone sits together with strangers family style due to the seating layout. And the MC, Juniper, gives unorthodox introductions of her readers which breaks down that distance between presenter and audience, making everyone human. I had a great time chatting with audience members afterwards and felt that my work was heard on a really deep level - Olympia seems like a fairly crunchy, activist-oriented place - which I also felt on my trip out to Evergreen College last year - a very relaxed but engaged vibe that provided for a great audience. Also, people bought books! A city definitely worth re-exploring in the near future...
Valerie Berry, who is part of the Sixteen Rivers Collective in the Bay Area and who helped to judge the competition, opened the program ad read a series of poems about the moon. She writes one poem a month - related to the lunation.
Jeanne Lohmann, who the competition is named after, also read a handful of poems. Jeanne is 85 years old. She read a poem about Gregory Orr which was also an homage to Edna St. Vincent Millay. I had never heard Ms. Lohmann's work before, but it was deeply moving and carefully crafted.
Seattle poet and percussionist David Rizzi followed. David is doing a gig at the Hugo House in July with John Burgess and several Pacific NW poets.
I read for about 14 minutes and then Sean Brendan Brown, a retired marine who resides in Olympia, wrapped up the program with a strong set and a fabulous poem about survivors of the Hiroshima bombing.
I had a lovely time - possibly the most relaxed that I've ever felt at a reading for an audience of strangers. We had a great turnout - 30 to 40 people at the Traditions Fair Trade Cafe where everyone sits together with strangers family style due to the seating layout. And the MC, Juniper, gives unorthodox introductions of her readers which breaks down that distance between presenter and audience, making everyone human. I had a great time chatting with audience members afterwards and felt that my work was heard on a really deep level - Olympia seems like a fairly crunchy, activist-oriented place - which I also felt on my trip out to Evergreen College last year - a very relaxed but engaged vibe that provided for a great audience. Also, people bought books! A city definitely worth re-exploring in the near future...
Poem for the Feb. 08 lunar eclipse
Moon-viewing
a confusion of moths collide
in the brightness of porchlight
cobrahead grinning diffusers
outshine earth’s penumbra
in the backyard his cereus cactus
withers instead of blooming
the night sky dotted
by spotlight & helicopter
the moon, another starred
& striped conquest, light’s trespass
upon a public skyscape &
man’s claims to open space
on the night of the last lunar
eclipse, the alignment of moon
moving into earth’s outline
overshadowed by the blare
of headlight, brake-
light, blinking red stop-
light, a beaded choker
of lamplight
a confusion of moths collide
in the brightness of porchlight
cobrahead grinning diffusers
outshine earth’s penumbra
in the backyard his cereus cactus
withers instead of blooming
the night sky dotted
by spotlight & helicopter
the moon, another starred
& striped conquest, light’s trespass
upon a public skyscape &
man’s claims to open space
on the night of the last lunar
eclipse, the alignment of moon
moving into earth’s outline
overshadowed by the blare
of headlight, brake-
light, blinking red stop-
light, a beaded choker
of lamplight
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Revision
The early draft of this poem didn't quite capture the difficulty of trying to stay on a higher path... this version still rough but getting closer to the feeling ..
The Diamond Path
the stone of my engagement
ring escapes from its setting
somewhere between
deboarding the plane
at midnight in the Inland
Empire & arriving
at my girlhood home in Highgrove
where the county's motto is still
homicide, suicide, Riverside
when I wake on the first
day of my stopover,
a yawning loss where light
once winked, the attachments
I’ve fixed upon in my
misunderstanding of
the dharma: there is always
suffering & something lost
so I’ve grown skilled at trading
attachments – a father’s affection
for a husband’s, the creative
fire between conspirators who
make a world together,
the healing touch
of my naturopath’s hand
I can never get it right
speech, mind & livelihood
the confusion of desire
that demands I feel
everything, to always give
over all of this heart
I contemplate
my wedding band
remembering the vow
a circle of gold,
the engraved Indic script
of Avalokitesvara’s mantra,
a promise of recovery
& a dream for the real
wish-fulfilling jewel
The Diamond Path
the stone of my engagement
ring escapes from its setting
somewhere between
deboarding the plane
at midnight in the Inland
Empire & arriving
at my girlhood home in Highgrove
where the county's motto is still
homicide, suicide, Riverside
when I wake on the first
day of my stopover,
a yawning loss where light
once winked, the attachments
I’ve fixed upon in my
misunderstanding of
the dharma: there is always
suffering & something lost
so I’ve grown skilled at trading
attachments – a father’s affection
for a husband’s, the creative
fire between conspirators who
make a world together,
the healing touch
of my naturopath’s hand
I can never get it right
speech, mind & livelihood
the confusion of desire
that demands I feel
everything, to always give
over all of this heart
I contemplate
my wedding band
remembering the vow
a circle of gold,
the engraved Indic script
of Avalokitesvara’s mantra,
a promise of recovery
& a dream for the real
wish-fulfilling jewel
Saturday, June 14, 2008
My friend Gao Ping is stateside for the Cincinatti Festival of New Music GP is a wonderful performer and composer and he performs next Tuesday at 8:30 pm. I'm sad that I can't be there....
My acupuncturist (the practitioner I see that I'm not married to) asked me to keep a 7-day food diary this week which I have been having a lot of conflicted feelings about. Our dietary habits reveal a lot about our addictions, our relation to the sensual, cultural information, and personal choices. Eating is an intimate act. My acu guy is also a personal trainer and former marathon runner, and perhaps on one level I fear that I may be in for a tongue lashing, or at the very least some sort of behavioral/dietary intervention. At the same time, the things that I have eaten in the last two days have been hardly typical of a normal week - I'm done with school, went to a party, have been somewhat indulgent. I'd never in my life eaten a bratwurst and/or sauerkraut until we drove out to Leavenworth yesterday. I try to refrain from dairy... but...
Here's a running list so far:
Thursday, 6/11 (dinner only)
-lasagna with ricotta cheese and marinara sauce
-3-berry pie with scoop of Earl Grey sorbet
-spinach salad with strawberries
-mini-sandwich with mozzarella, basil and tomato
-mini-spinakopita (dairy)
-1 glass white wine
-a few sips of a champagne cocktail with blood-orange infused vodka
Friday, 6/12
-1/2 ginger/currant scone
-1/2 cup organic apple juice
-10 dried cherries
-curry bratwurst on a roll w/ chipotle mustard, relish, & sauerkraut cooked in apple cider
-5 pieces of Turkish locum
-handful of blue corn chips
-bara-chirashi (raw salmon, tuna and whitefish with shitaki mushroom and egg omelette)
-2 scoops of green tea ice cream
-1 cup of green tea
- 5-6 glasses of water
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Saturday, 6/13
- 1/2 brown rice cake with almond butter and 1/4 of a banana
- 1/2 cup organic apple juice
- chickpea salad/cucumber salad
- basmati rice
- ground lamb
- three small pieces of butter chicken
- aloo mutter (potato, green pea, onion)
- one fried small potato cake w/ mint chutney
- small serving roasted broccoli and zucchini
- mango popsicle
- jasmine rice
- homemade chicken curry
(chicken breast, red peppers, carrot, zucchini, potato, pea, parsley, cashew nut)
- 4-5 glass of water
- 1 cup of limeade
- 1 cup of raspberry lemonade
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Sunday, 6/15
- cashew Larrabee bar
- cup of organic apple juice
- basmati rice
- 1 cup of limeade
- egg curry (with hard-boiled egg, chicken, red pepper, carrot, zucchini, potato, pea, parsley, cashew nut)
- 1 plum
- 1 piece of Turkish delight
- 1/2 ginger/currant scone
- mango popsicle
- 4-5 glass of water
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Monday, 6/16
- hard-boiled egg
- 1/2 a blueberry scone
- two slices of cantaloupe
- two strawberries
- rice
- tofu/chicken w/ raspberry
- spinach salad with mango
- 1/2 slice of wheat bread
- lime/tangerine seltzer
- 4-5 glasses of water
- two pieces of Turkish delight
- 1/2 Needle sandwich (focaccia, brie, spinach, tomato, turkey)
- cup of vegetable soup
- mango popsicle
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Tuesday, 6/17
- hard-boiled egg
- piece of toast
- glazed donut
- rice
- chicken w/ raspberry
- raspberry seltzer
- 4-5 glasses of water
- rice crackers
- 1/2 a pistachio Larrabee bar
- sukiyaki don (rice, egg, cabbage, beef, mixed veg)
- veg sushi roll (rice, seaweed, avocado, asparagus, oshinko/daikon pickle)
- miso soup
- salad (lettuce, carrot, purple cabbage, ginger/carrot dressing)
Wednesday, 6/18
- 1/2 ginger/currant scone
- leftover sukiyaki
Here's a running list so far:
Thursday, 6/11 (dinner only)
-lasagna with ricotta cheese and marinara sauce
-3-berry pie with scoop of Earl Grey sorbet
-spinach salad with strawberries
-mini-sandwich with mozzarella, basil and tomato
-mini-spinakopita (dairy)
-1 glass white wine
-a few sips of a champagne cocktail with blood-orange infused vodka
Friday, 6/12
-1/2 ginger/currant scone
-1/2 cup organic apple juice
-10 dried cherries
-curry bratwurst on a roll w/ chipotle mustard, relish, & sauerkraut cooked in apple cider
-5 pieces of Turkish locum
-handful of blue corn chips
-bara-chirashi (raw salmon, tuna and whitefish with shitaki mushroom and egg omelette)
-2 scoops of green tea ice cream
-1 cup of green tea
- 5-6 glasses of water
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Saturday, 6/13
- 1/2 brown rice cake with almond butter and 1/4 of a banana
- 1/2 cup organic apple juice
- chickpea salad/cucumber salad
- basmati rice
- ground lamb
- three small pieces of butter chicken
- aloo mutter (potato, green pea, onion)
- one fried small potato cake w/ mint chutney
- small serving roasted broccoli and zucchini
- mango popsicle
- jasmine rice
- homemade chicken curry
(chicken breast, red peppers, carrot, zucchini, potato, pea, parsley, cashew nut)
- 4-5 glass of water
- 1 cup of limeade
- 1 cup of raspberry lemonade
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Sunday, 6/15
- cashew Larrabee bar
- cup of organic apple juice
- basmati rice
- 1 cup of limeade
- egg curry (with hard-boiled egg, chicken, red pepper, carrot, zucchini, potato, pea, parsley, cashew nut)
- 1 plum
- 1 piece of Turkish delight
- 1/2 ginger/currant scone
- mango popsicle
- 4-5 glass of water
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Monday, 6/16
- hard-boiled egg
- 1/2 a blueberry scone
- two slices of cantaloupe
- two strawberries
- rice
- tofu/chicken w/ raspberry
- spinach salad with mango
- 1/2 slice of wheat bread
- lime/tangerine seltzer
- 4-5 glasses of water
- two pieces of Turkish delight
- 1/2 Needle sandwich (focaccia, brie, spinach, tomato, turkey)
- cup of vegetable soup
- mango popsicle
- herbal supplements from SIOM x 2
Tuesday, 6/17
- hard-boiled egg
- piece of toast
- glazed donut
- rice
- chicken w/ raspberry
- raspberry seltzer
- 4-5 glasses of water
- rice crackers
- 1/2 a pistachio Larrabee bar
- sukiyaki don (rice, egg, cabbage, beef, mixed veg)
- veg sushi roll (rice, seaweed, avocado, asparagus, oshinko/daikon pickle)
- miso soup
- salad (lettuce, carrot, purple cabbage, ginger/carrot dressing)
Wednesday, 6/18
- 1/2 ginger/currant scone
- leftover sukiyaki
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Someone asked me if I was going to the combine derby this weekend? I asked, "Is that a band?" And then I discovered the photos. K and I were planning a short trip to Leavenworth, i.e. the Bavaria-town of the Pacific NW, but may have to detour to catch the restored farm machinery smash-up.
I booked my air ticket to NYC this morning for the Haiku Not Bombs book party on July 9. The event is that same night, from 8-10 pm at Think Coffee at 248 Mercer Street. Filmmakers Tom Gilroy and Jim McKay will project some film stills and Rick Roth, Patrick So, Tom, Jim and I will read from the book. If you're in NY, please come and celebrate with us.
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Lovely fancy pen company is running a fee-free poetry contest.
The Franklin-Christoph Poetry Contest
Submission Period
Entries accepted June 1-Nov 30 (postmark dates), 2008.
What to Submit
Original, unpublished poem of any theme. Limit of 2 entries per contestant. Entries should not exceed 100 lines each.
Prizes
First Prize, $1,000 cash and publication on Franklin-Christoph.com
Ten Merit Award Winners, each to receive a $150 Franklin-Christoph writing instruments, and publication on Franklin-Christoph.com. Winners announced by February 14, 2009.
Deadline
November 30, 2008. Your entry must be postmarked or submitted online by this date.
Preparing Your Entry
Submit one copy of your poems online or by mail. Provide your contact information within your email, or on a separate cover sheet if submitting by mail. If your poem contains complex formatting, such as centered text or italic type, we recommend submitting by mail. Please make your entry easy to read — no illustrations, fancy fonts or decorative borders.
How To Submit
Email to clientservice(at)franklin-christoph.com
or mail to:
Franklin-Christoph Poetry Contest
7511 Mourning Dove Rd. Ste. 104
Raleigh, NC 27615
The Franklin-Christoph Poetry Contest
Submission Period
Entries accepted June 1-Nov 30 (postmark dates), 2008.
What to Submit
Original, unpublished poem of any theme. Limit of 2 entries per contestant. Entries should not exceed 100 lines each.
Prizes
First Prize, $1,000 cash and publication on Franklin-Christoph.com
Ten Merit Award Winners, each to receive a $150 Franklin-Christoph writing instruments, and publication on Franklin-Christoph.com. Winners announced by February 14, 2009.
Deadline
November 30, 2008. Your entry must be postmarked or submitted online by this date.
Preparing Your Entry
Submit one copy of your poems online or by mail. Provide your contact information within your email, or on a separate cover sheet if submitting by mail. If your poem contains complex formatting, such as centered text or italic type, we recommend submitting by mail. Please make your entry easy to read — no illustrations, fancy fonts or decorative borders.
How To Submit
Email to clientservice(at)franklin-christoph.com
or mail to:
Franklin-Christoph Poetry Contest
7511 Mourning Dove Rd. Ste. 104
Raleigh, NC 27615
Friday, June 06, 2008
UW has chosen Luis Alberto Urrea's The Devil's Highway as its common book for the 2008-2009 academic year - every incoming UW freshman will read and study this book on Mexican immigration. My boss at UW is on the committee that chooses the book and passed along a copy of it to me to extract words for a key/glossary guide for students. This book is deeply affecting - it's not the kind of story that you can read and be the same person at the other end of it. Urrea's book is a nonfiction account of the "Welton 26" - a group of illegal Mexican immigrants who were left to die by their guides in the Arizona desert.
Copper Canyon Press, a nonprofit arts organization dedicated to poetry, is seeking a Development Director to oversee contributed income programs and serve on the management team. Qualified candidates will demonstrate excellent writing and verbal communication skills. Effective leadership and supervision skills a must, and experience in nonprofit management and executive team structures is strongly preferred. Fluency with FileMaker Pro and QuickBooks strongly preferred. Application deadline is June 16th. Send resume and cover letter to Hiring, Copper Canyon Press, PO Box 271, Port Townsend, WA 98368 or poetry@coppercanyonpress.org.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Dzigar Kongtrul Rinpoche to visit Seattle
Contemporary master and Pema Chodron's teacher presents a weekend on
Madhyamaka: The Shentong View from the 3rd Turning of the Wheel of Dharma
Friday, June 20, 7 pm
Saturday and Sunday June 21 and 22, 9am-5pm
Examine in-depth these vast and profound teachings on emptiness, compassion, and Buddhanature with this versatile and dynamic master.
For more information (.pdf file):
http://nalandawest.org/NW_DKR08.pdf
Just Friday night: $5
General admission for the whole weekend: $150
Nalandabodhi, Nalanda West, and Shambhala members: $120
One day: $75
Prices are negotiable based on need. Work-study and volunteer options available.
We don't turn anyone away!
Limited seating - pre-register now: info@nalandawest.org
or leave a message at: 206.525.6925
Madhyamaka: The Shentong View from the 3rd Turning of the Wheel of Dharma
Friday, June 20, 7 pm
Saturday and Sunday June 21 and 22, 9am-5pm
Examine in-depth these vast and profound teachings on emptiness, compassion, and Buddhanature with this versatile and dynamic master.
For more information (.pdf file):
http://nalandawest.org/NW_DKR08.pdf
Just Friday night: $5
General admission for the whole weekend: $150
Nalandabodhi, Nalanda West, and Shambhala members: $120
One day: $75
Prices are negotiable based on need. Work-study and volunteer options available.
We don't turn anyone away!
Limited seating - pre-register now: info@nalandawest.org
or leave a message at: 206.525.6925
I am finished with my 20-page anthropology paper that is worth $5,000 of UW out-of-state tuition money - hard-earned funds from a year of employment to the school. I am dropping it off tomorrow morning in Denny Hall. This paper was supposed to determine whether or not I advance to the second year of the anthro program, which is completely irrelevant. On Wednesday, I signed the paperwork to transfer to the Museology program and filed the form with the Graduate School. Onwards!
I went to the CD Wright reading at the SPL last night, in part because her book "One Big Self" is part of my anthro research paper that I've been slaving over, and I needed a break and a reason to remember why poetry matters. The Allen Auditorium at downtown library is a weird space - a metal door seals the audience in for the duration of the program. Last night it was an interesting amalgam of the local literati - Michael Wiegers from Copper Canyon introduced CD Wright and in the audience I saw Mary Jane Knecht, Jeffrey Cantrell, Paul Nelson, John and Christine of Open Books, several creative writing profs and scores of MFA students from area colleges. Wright read about half of the long poem/title track from her new book "Rising, Falling, Hovering" - an epic piece about "Mexico and the war" (in Iraq) which seemed very reminiscent of some of Susan Briante's writings. I wondered what the Spanish speakers in the audience thought of the work. Wright was introduced with language that included "WPA project" and "political resistance" - yeah, I can see the ideology of resistance behind her works, particularly in the One Big Self project, but when it came down to it, her reading left me unaffected and disinterested. The reading was lackluster, Wright herself seemed aware that she was giving a monolithic atonal delivery and rarely looked up from the podium, though she did become self-conscious at several moments that it was almost over. The transitions from poem to dialogue to signing also seemed less than seamless. I felt bad for the MFA students in the audience who put Wright up on a pedestal in terms of asking her about the social role of the poet and where poetry has to go from here now that the new gen of creative writing students are more fluent in film than in literature.
My best friend has been blogging online about her experiences of public transportation in Austin, which has made me think consciously about some of the racially charged exchanges I've had on public transport.
This week, an aggressive mentally ill man harassed me on the 48. I'd see him before. Balding, middle-aged white guy in clean, but torn clothing. Spaced out shen-disturbed blue eyes. The first time I noticed him, I was riding the 48 down to the Burke Museum and he was sitting a seat in front of me, jabbering away at a Asian foreign exchange student he had pinned against the window seat. He ran off at the mouth about sex, Asian girls, politics, and illness at this poor girl who looked like she was about 18 years old and 90 pounds. It ran through me head that I should tap her on the should, pretend that I knew her and tell her to sit next to me to get her out of that situation. I was enraged and did what I thought I could in that circumstance which was to say to the female bus driver - that man is sexually harassing that young woman, please help.
Well this week, crazy man was jabbering away about baseball scores at homeless man riding the bus who've I've seen before. As soon as the homeless guy got off, he slid over three seats towards me and demanded to know, "Ma'am, are you from China? Are you from China or Taiwan?" Interesting, if not a precise guess, but I did not appreciate being reminded of a difference that I am only semi-conscious of at any given time. He kept needling and I finally asked to please be left alone. This sent him into a fit demanding to know why I would say that, and whether or not I would say that to someone who wasn't who he is. He concluded by saying "You're tough, but you have no compassion." That stuck in my head a little bit, because I was contemplating being on the bus in light of my anthro class getting cancelled because my prof was hit by a car. (NB: She was hit by a car while jogging but had the werewithal to send a LENGTHY email to the class telling us she wouldn't be meeting us.) When I read that news, I just thought, hmm... karma. Back to crazy man - what I really wanted to say to him was, "Yes, I refuse to talk to you because of your white privilege and who you are (of course this would strike him as nuts b/c as someone suffering from mental illness, how could he be privileged, etc.) - you're picking on me because I represent a docile Asian stereotype to you which is someone you think you can exert your control and power over - would you be trying this shit on a black man? So would I ask to be left alone if it were someone besides you, no, it's definitely you." I should add that a male busdriver watched this whole interaction play out thru his rearview mirror, but never volunteered an intervention. I hopped off the bus at 65th and Brooklyn to avoid any further torture.
This bus moment ranked up there with riding the red line in Dallas and being asked by a trashy cross-eyed olive-skinned woman if I "do nails."
This week, an aggressive mentally ill man harassed me on the 48. I'd see him before. Balding, middle-aged white guy in clean, but torn clothing. Spaced out shen-disturbed blue eyes. The first time I noticed him, I was riding the 48 down to the Burke Museum and he was sitting a seat in front of me, jabbering away at a Asian foreign exchange student he had pinned against the window seat. He ran off at the mouth about sex, Asian girls, politics, and illness at this poor girl who looked like she was about 18 years old and 90 pounds. It ran through me head that I should tap her on the should, pretend that I knew her and tell her to sit next to me to get her out of that situation. I was enraged and did what I thought I could in that circumstance which was to say to the female bus driver - that man is sexually harassing that young woman, please help.
Well this week, crazy man was jabbering away about baseball scores at homeless man riding the bus who've I've seen before. As soon as the homeless guy got off, he slid over three seats towards me and demanded to know, "Ma'am, are you from China? Are you from China or Taiwan?" Interesting, if not a precise guess, but I did not appreciate being reminded of a difference that I am only semi-conscious of at any given time. He kept needling and I finally asked to please be left alone. This sent him into a fit demanding to know why I would say that, and whether or not I would say that to someone who wasn't who he is. He concluded by saying "You're tough, but you have no compassion." That stuck in my head a little bit, because I was contemplating being on the bus in light of my anthro class getting cancelled because my prof was hit by a car. (NB: She was hit by a car while jogging but had the werewithal to send a LENGTHY email to the class telling us she wouldn't be meeting us.) When I read that news, I just thought, hmm... karma. Back to crazy man - what I really wanted to say to him was, "Yes, I refuse to talk to you because of your white privilege and who you are (of course this would strike him as nuts b/c as someone suffering from mental illness, how could he be privileged, etc.) - you're picking on me because I represent a docile Asian stereotype to you which is someone you think you can exert your control and power over - would you be trying this shit on a black man? So would I ask to be left alone if it were someone besides you, no, it's definitely you." I should add that a male busdriver watched this whole interaction play out thru his rearview mirror, but never volunteered an intervention. I hopped off the bus at 65th and Brooklyn to avoid any further torture.
This bus moment ranked up there with riding the red line in Dallas and being asked by a trashy cross-eyed olive-skinned woman if I "do nails."
I'm ruminating on an idea for a new long poem - it's called
first-born son / second-born daughter
At first, it was just going to be called "first-born son" which is apparently the emotional role that I've always been assigned within my family. But as I was talking to Rick about it and the changes that have happened in my life this year, it seems more in order perhaps to finally honor the feminine reality of who I am.
first-born son / second-born daughter
At first, it was just going to be called "first-born son" which is apparently the emotional role that I've always been assigned within my family. But as I was talking to Rick about it and the changes that have happened in my life this year, it seems more in order perhaps to finally honor the feminine reality of who I am.
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