for those times i forget

LA gots the best beaches

“simply believe–don’t doubt anything. let go of the idea that the path will lead you to your goal. the truth is that with each step we take, we arrive.” -Paulo Coelho

sometimes i get caught up in emotions and can’t see what’s in front of me or what’s behind.  i neglect the fact i’m blessed.  i got folks in my corner and we’ll lift each other up through trying times.  i’m loved.  it’s important to show appreciation and give thanks when it’s due.  thank you.  you know who you are.  all love.  mo yes.  no regrets.

closed door

i got this in the mail,

Dear Pathanapong,

Thank you for interviewing for employment with ___.

Unfortunately, you were not selected for the current position.  Your application will be retain on file for two years.  Should there be an available position in the future, which matches your qualifications, you may be contacted.

Your interest in ___ is appreciated.  We wish you every success in the future.

sigh…

another setback.
let’s rewind to a year ago
i was convinced spoken word poetry was my calling.  all the positive feedback i received everywhere i performed re-affirmed my belief.  i was excited at the possibility to be on slam teams, travel and share my stories/perspectives.

i moved back home after college.  i went through alot alot.  i allowed myself to revert back to old habits of chronic depression.  been in denial about it.  been in crisis mode for months.

i cried every night for several weeks.  and as much as i challenge/struggle w/ concept of masculinity, i still see myself as “weak” for bein in this position.  why can’t i be stronger to handle the situation?

being at home evokes lotta things left ungrieved.

i didn’t feel safe at home.  it climaxed when my bro wanted to beat me up, like in the past, on new year’s eve.  still not on speaking terms.  my mom getting surgery on both her hands.  my dad not workin/not supportin financially.  feel like givin up this spoken word ish and just grind.  i didn’t talk about it.  not even with close friends.

and as my friend Marcia poetically puts it, i’m being torn apart by all that is and all that is not.

i do recognize my growth in allowing myself to feel these emotions that i otherwise suppressed for years growing up.  i struggled w/ this contradiction where i was hurting/crying/feeling all sorts of emotions yet i wasn’t receptive to other people’s kind words to me.  i can’t feel it.  and i’m still pretty closed off and didn’t let people in, didn’t let people get close.  i pushed people away.

i’m only scratchin the surface.  this past year has been the darkest and most difficult for me.  i lost my fire.  i’ve performed less and even stopped at one point.  i put up this blog to get me to just open up more and i still haven’t.  until now.

my experiences in Microphone Sessions, discovering Grace Lee Boggs and Sonia Sanchez, combined with what i’ve been through, i knew i gotta do more than just spit.  and i met an elder at a community event who referred me to the place that mailed me that letter.  i’d be working with teens on probation at a residential treatment center.  guess not.

breathe.

i’m regainin my fire.  little by little.  not where it should be but that’s okay.  i don’t have any original positive words at the moment.  this will do.  from the same friend.  In Acts of Faith: Daily Meditations for People of Color, Iyanla Vanzant writes

The moment we have a negative experience we get stuck in what was done and how it was done to us.  We must learn not to take life so personally.  People are not really out to get us.  Events are not waiting to befall us.  We are all moving to get where we want to be.  As a result, we will sometimes step on each others’ toes.  When we find ourselves in a conflict or confrontation we must know how to love ourselves out of it.  Love means recognizing fear as an operand condition that sometimes makes us do and say things we really don’t mean.  Love means opening our hearts and minds to our best, regardless of what is going on.  Love means not attacking but supporting, not defending but seeking clarity.  Love means knowing that, in the end, we will all be okay even if it means we have to give up a little something.  Let us learn to give up anger and fear by replacing those things with love.

I Am loving you and me out of this situation.

be.here.now.

it’s a beautiful day to be alive.

nuff said.

where i need to be

i had plans to move back to Oakland earlier this year, to work and perform poetry but mainly to grow and get away from unsafe situations.  i heard lotta advices from fam and friends.  i was rarely receptive of it, for several reasons that will be discussed at a different time.

my homie shared this w/ me recently, part of a High School graduation speech by comedian Patton Oswalt.  great read.  some highlights,

Telling me about the 5 Environments and urging me to travel?   That was advice.    It wasn’t a lesson.   Advice is everywhere in this world.   Your friends, family, teachers and strangers are all happy to give it.

A lesson is yours and yours alone.   Some of them take years to recognize and utilize.

My lesson was this – experience, and reward and glory are meaningless unless you’re open and present with the people you share them with in the moment.

Because now I understand how the miraculous, horrifying and memorable lurk everywhere.

word!  it hits me hard.  it’s nothing new since i wrote about something similar last year.  i just forgot.  it happens.

my homie tells me in our email exchanges that it sounds like troubling times for me from my writings.  and i haven’t wrote anything remotely positive or optimistic.  i’ve been restless and wantin to get away, not appreciative what’s in front of me.  i realize i’ve grown so much this past year. i’ve spent my formative years here but i’m just not attached to LA the way i am to Oakland and to a lesser extent NYC.

i’m lookin forward to explorin and lovin the city.  not simply live but thrive out here.  there is beauty everywhere.  it is here amidst the smog and pollution.  in taco trucks and boba joints.  in hidden places free from consumption.  endless possibilities.  it’s happening.  i got a plan and i’m manifesting it.  trust.  open up.  let love in.

part 24

yesterday i turned 24.
if i had to sum up the theme of this past year in a few words, it’d be things fall apart.
i see firsthand of who i dont wanna be. there is a lot of grief and suffering in my fam. culture and masculinity can be imprisoning.
the silence kills me a little inside.
as difficult and painful it was, it’s part of the process of me becomin who i need to be.
who i’m born to be.
walking a different path gets difficult and tiring.
sometimes i’d rather be suppressin feelins and puttin up walls like in the past. that’s what the larger society would want. i see: be an angry Asian man or a nerdy one. i hear: “breaking down” as opposed to “breaking open”. “emo” has become part of regular vocab among young people under 30. i hate it. it’s a dismissive term that undermines the foundation of bein human, to feel. it’s not coo to be a grown ass man but to be one in perpetual adolescence. “30 is the new 20″. gotta front like we hard. all day.

why should we be surprised that many do not know how to love?

when all we know is how to fight. it seems.

in The Will to Change: Men, Masculinity, and Love bell hooks writes,

In dominator cultures most families are not safe places. Dysfunction, intimate terrorism, and violence make them breeding grounds for war. Since we have yet to end patriarchal culture, our struggles to end domination must begin where we live, in the communities we call home. It is there that we experience our power to create revolutions, to make life-transforming change. We already know that men do not have to remain wedded to patriarchy. Individual men have again and again staked a different claim, claiming their rights to life and love. They are beacons of hope embodying the truth that men can love.

pt. 24: things come together.
everythin is in place.
rebuild. reclaim. move sumthin.
to exclaim that we all deserve to live with dignity
while some call for more police
how bout givin people what they need
love of our people is what keeps me moving

to healthy living
and loving
as a young’n
an opening
more risks
more triumphant laughs
no more half-steppin
no regrets
yes

there is strength in sensitivity.

yes. i’m ready.

we’re all in this together

Ma had surgery twice in two months at the close of 07.  one for each hand.  no insurance so she goes to this hospital where ucla med students play doctor on poor people.  the first time went well.  but they fucked up the second time.  first they couldn’t find her vein and was pokin all over the place.  they didn’t do a good job w/ surgery neither, there’s a big ass bump on her hand, look all swollen and everythin.

she complains bout it but ends it w/ “at least they get to practice”.

she accepts it and keeps it movin.  fo real though, she’s the fiercest warrior i know.  the only thing she complains about is not being able to work and calculates the amount of money she’s not makin.  it’s crazy how she’s almost robotic in work ethics yet still able to show so much love.  unconditionally.

main reason she had to get surgery cuz her body’s deterioratin.  after 2 decades of carrying trays and shit, it caught up to her.  she broke her wrist a yr or two ago and still kept workin, thinkin it’s not a big deal and it’ll heal itself.  after 2 decades, America is not home for her.  she longs to retire in Thailand.

my cuz recently came from Thailand and lives w/ the fam now.  she’s a masseuse.  two hands ain’t enough to count the number of times she was expected to give sexual services.  she’s traumatized and disgusted by that shit.

hearing shit like “you’re a Thai girl, that’s what you do”.

and this is comin from men in every color.  she once told me that life’s too hard sometimes and she wouldn’t wanna live pass 50.  she turns 29 this yr.

a loved one once told me when she was visitin Thailand, a white guy groped her cuz he thinks he’s entitled to it.

in typical male fashion, my immediate reaction to all these stories is anger.  it’s a vicious cycle.  Sonia Sanchez said it best,

“what i have stumbled on in this country is a battle for us all to be human”.

it’s a fuckin battle to be human ya’ll.  all these isms (capitalism, sexism, etc), all interconnect in a giant fucked up web that serve to deprive our humanity, the way we perceive ourselves and others.  which is why some men claimin they’re down for the revolution but don’t ever question their own sexist/homophobic tendencies.  which is why some women believe sex can be power when they’re simply adopting the oppressive status quo values.  again, vicious cycle.

a loved one came to the realization that he’s never gonna go to a strip club. apparently the pool hall was next to a strip club (it was a sketchy area…). women who worked nxt door would come in and hang out at the bar in the pool hall.

at one point an older guy asked a young lady, “so are you happy with your life?”
she said, “yea…i am”.
she inhales her cig then turned her head towards the direction where my friend was.
they stared at each other for a brief moment.
according to him, they both shared a sad look in their eyes. from that brief moment, he saw her humanity.

as men we’re conditioned to be one dimension cartoon characters: drink/fight/fuck/consume/conquer-repeat.  it bleeds into every aspect of our lives, even our language is oppressive (?: how many people actually question the meaning behind the B word).  but we are human first and foremost.  and in this context, part of being human is reppin yo culture.  again from Sonia,

“when you begin a journey of identity for liberation, you find yourself and others who have been vanished too or who have hidden their eyes from themselves”.

we are essentially the same yet our differences make us beautiful.  and we are born ready.  it’s just modern society is set up to profit from our misery and suffering.  this shit’s set up to divide us, to blind us from seein that everythin is connected and everythin affects us.  everythin affects us.  iraq war ain’t endin anytime soon cuz muhfuckas makin too much bank to let it end.  US dollar is weak.  economy’s fucked.  global climate crisis.  genocides. list goes on.

even still.

i hope.  i continue dreamin of better worlds.  i still believe in collective action.  cynicism is bein complicit w/ the system.  so it’s important to find reasons to celebrate.  there’s always reasons to celebrate as long as you’re alive.  this poetry is secondary at this point.  gots to put in work first.  and it’s gonna take more than a new regime to change shit but hey it’s sumthin.  like every other person, i don’t got my shit together.  i have visions of how it could be.  and i’ve seen beauty in many others to let the ugliness of a few get to me.  it’s important that i always remember the past.  remember to laugh.  make every word count like it’s my last.  and mos def keep dancin.  it’s all a struggle but it’s all part of the process.  i do know this: i wanna love others the way my parents love me.  unconditionally.

until i get my words/thoughts together into a neat artist statement i just wanna echo Sonia Sanchez one mo time:

“one of my missions as a writer/educator has been to eradicate/erase the aura of the educated class while cherishing the creative power of learning…one of my missions has been to celebrate the red black gums, corn cob smoking, nodding, staring people who were never considered poetic but we gave them life, form, and beauty”

we’re all in this together.

Thai folks stand up! (and sing! and dance!)

Thai folks came from all over Cali (SF, Sac) to Minnesota to Houston,Tx and beyond, to gather in downtown LA. For one reason: Asanee-Wasan. A legendary Thai rock band, been around for 20+ years. i’m talkin the Beatles-status (in terms of popularity and lasting impact). i’m familiar w/ their music but i wouldn’t call myself a fan. i knew i had to go. knowing it’d be EPIC. The Nokia Theater seats 7,100 people. i’m guessin at least 5,000 Thai folks was in the building!

the two large tv screens had song lyrics, like kareoke, for people to sing along
people reactin after hearing their song come on (almost every song)
people singin to every song.
people dancin to every song.

for two hours. it felt like i was in my motherland. it felt like home. and i remember my friend sayin “there’s nothin like speakin in my native tongue with other Taiwanese people”. at the time (bout 3 yrs ago), i didn’t quite get it. now i feel him. i even got goosebumps hearin the Thai natl anthem bein played.

it’s just a concert.

but it means a lot to me. i used to HATE thai food. seriously. sushi was my fav food. i didn’t know at the time that it was rooted in self-hatred. like how i was ashamed to say my birth name aloud, even in the rare times where people’d ask how to pronounce it. so it was always Mike(y). i assimilated. i have always been the only Thai person in my circles, in classes, in clubs etc. don’t get it twisted, i know i’m blessed to be around other Asian folks…but it ain’t the same. to be in a room filled with some 5,000+ Thai folks in AMERIKA was incredible. it was people of all ages. my mom works in a Thai restaurant and she said hella folks gettin off work early or missin work entirely.

there are folks like my mom that have lived here for 20+ years but will never call Amerika home. and for two hrs they felt like they belong, it felt natural. they weren’t strugglin w/ a second language or servin racist pricks. they can just celebrate. singin and dancin to songs they’ve known since they were growin up. peep it, a love song about finding that special person and tellin em that s/he’s the last person that you’ll love (foreva eva type love)

[vimeo= http://www.vimeo.com/1174395]

i swear almost everyone had smiles on their faces the entire night. i know i did.

and it was great seein my mom enjoy herself. she was wavin this glow stick thing the whole night.

i’m more conscious and appreciative of the times i spend with her.

my mom heard the poem!

this is an old blog from a yr ago.

Da Poetry Lounge is the most popular spoken word venue in LA, 9 yrs strong. here’s an idea.

folks be chillin on stage, leaning against walls, and all that. we get there at 8:30, show starts 8:45, and there’s a lonnnnnnnnng line that stretches til the end of the block. by the time we get through the door, all the seats are taken and half the stage is filled up.

it just so happens my mama knows both Shihan and Poetri (co-hosts, both of Def Poetry fame). They used to eat at Denny’s every Tuesdays after their show. They like her so much that they’d ask her to be their waitress every time she’s there. we get seatings on the balcony. tiiiiiiight. and of course the list is filled up, they also had some special slam promoting “facebook diaries.” good thing there’s the 2nd half of the show and Shihan got me on the list, it was guaranteed when I told him it’ll be the first time she’s hearing the poem for her.

so i get on the mic at around 11:30pm i think. probly half of the folks left during break.

i read from the page even though i have it memorized. i wrote it in 2006 and i’ve performed it many times but i knew it was gonna be emotional. and i usually don’t get nervous anymore before i spit. this was different though. i get on the mic, point at her direction “this is for my mom, it’s the first time she’s hearing this.” everyone claps. i smiled, “surprise!” then do my thang.

by the time i was done, folks stood up, looked at her, clapping. it was beautiful. i could just feel so much love in the room. it’s like everyone understood this is an amazing and strong women and her stories aren’t told. this is why i write. i dunno how else to describe it, i write poetry but i’m not good w/ metaphors…not yet at least.

i walk back to my seat and she’s sobbing. she wipes her tears. i wanna tell her not to wipe it cuz if you do you’re telling your body to stop crying. so when tears fall, just let it. this is not the time. instead i put my arm around her, said “i love you” in Thai and we held each other for awhile. it was getting late so we left early (almost midnight!). Shihan was on the mic booing folks that were leaving but when he saw us, “now i can’t booo Nong.” Poetri even came up to her and showed love.

she was embarassed and said i shouldn’t have mentioned Denny’s by name. she doesn’t even wanna go back. riiiiiiiiiight. but i know she will be there again to support her youngest. frickin amazing night. i wrote the poem over a yr ago and wanted to share w/ her at the “right” time. by “right” i mean w/ lots of folks in the audience so she can see how it impacts others too. worth the wait fasho.

on the drive home, i learned that she got As in classes related to speech or public speaking back in Thailand. whoa. i def. get it from her. she agreed and takes the credit. go head ma you deserve it and my goal remains: to love everyone the way she loves me. she embodies unconditional love. i’m fortunate to simply bear witness to such grace and beauty. and yup she’s mos def proud.

how i got into poetry

from my old blog 12/10/07

My dad came to America shortly after my birth. Up until I was 4, my two aunts and my mom raised me. From 4-8, i lived w/ my grandma. It planted the seed of the kinda person I am today. But like most boys, I grew up following typical male roles especially when I started livin in America in 92.

I started writing as a means to grieve in late 05. Grieve = a natural human process in response to any kind of loss. I was in a relationship for four years. In many ways, we brought balance into each other’s lives. And I can’t front, she’s the reason I’m the man I am today. Before her, I assimilated and didn’t give a fuck about culture.  I didn’t respect my parents. She never changed her name and I didn’t understand it at the time. My identity was so closely tied to her that I didn’t know what it meant to be lonely.  I didn’t know I needed to heal myself.

When it ended, I went a whole year thinking I was okay and moved on.

It hit me during training with the suicide prevention hotline where one of the first things we learn is to be direct, open, and honest with callers. I realized I wasn’t that way with myself. The topic was grief and as the facilitator talked, tears kept comin out. A few things was goin through my head, one of which was her.  I raised my hand, “I can’t stop crying”. She told me to let it out and I did…in a room of about 40 people. A fellow volunteer came and hugged me, which made me cry even more. And that night I wrote my first poem. I didn’t have to think, it just flowed out onto the page.

I slammed for the first time with my first poem on campus and scored pretty low. I didn’t care I was on a journey to heal. And part of it is being okay to talk about it.

I hella love Oakland.  I moved there for my internship in Summer/Fall 06.

This was when I really got into poetry. I had this habit of not opening up to folks and sadly I stay guarded for my time there. Even though I was with Youth Together for 6 months they hardly knew me. And even though they got to know me through poetry at Mouth Off (hottest wkly open mic in the Bay!), I didn’t let folks get to know me outside of poetry. Ahh, past defense mechanisms. They know me as a serious/sensitive guy when that’s partly true. I was and still am a class clown, straight up. And a big dork, ha.

Then I went back to Santa Cruz and started hitting up open mics and slams.

Got to the finals and didn’t make it on the collegiate team cuz the white judges didn’t feel my mama poem. I later found out that it’s not a good slam strategy to spit something serious/emotional the first round. Fuck that. At least the featured poets (people of color) that night was feelin it. And there were two big events on campus where I tried to get on but they didn’t know me and never heard me spit so I was ignored. I think all these were crucial in helping me appreciate when folks ask me to spit. I wanna be heard.

This past summer I went to NY for the Asian Pacific Islander American (APIA) spoken word summit. My first time in the EC, didn’t know anyone going to the summit but when I first heard about it I knew I had to go. The first night was a family showcase, only participants. And it honestly felt like some High School ish at first. It was bit awkward being the new kid and not knowing anyone. But it quickly faded as I sat and listened to APIA folks share their stories. I felt home. It was the first time being in a room full of APIA artists doin big thangs. It was beautiful.

The next night was a community showcase, I was one of the performers. Now I’ve shared my mama poem many times in Santa Cruz and Oakland. But this was the first time where the audience was practically all APIAs. And the place was filled with so much love and positive energy. It was the first time I remained present throughout the entire piece. And it was the first time I cried after sharing the piece. I sat down and tears just kept coming out. The responses I got was overwhelming, got lotta love.

Let’s be real though. Some people only talked to me after they heard me spit. And that’s a damn shame. The first night was difficult during breaks and afterwards where folks got into cliques and things like that. Why can’t we be excited to build and meet someone new? It’s lame that I gotta “prove” myself before folks show love and wanna talk to me. I’m still new to all this, I hope I don’t ever lose this enthusiasm to “get love and give it right back” –Geo. Especially when there are so few APIA artists already, we gotta support each other.

And I got MAD love for NY. Folks was really feelin my words at the Nuyo and LouderArts (Bar 13). It was humbling. We’ll meet again New Yaaawwwk!

Now I’m finding balance on my own terms. Learned to stop holding hurt in my heart and honor the pain. What started out as a personal thing has expanded to something bigger than me. I’m not a teacher, I’m a reminder cuz what I’m saying is what you already know. It’s been an intense start. I’ve accomplished more than I hoped for, not in titles or whatever but writing ish I deeply believe in and think it’s necessary for the world to hear. I’m thankful for all the love and encouraging words.

I ain’t got no ego about this so big ups to folks that paved the way and inspired me: Rupert Estanislao, Bao Phi, Piri Thomas, Martin Espada, Adriel Luis, Proletariat Bronze, Yellow Rage, D. Scott, Edy & Fritz “Shut the F up”, Ise Lyfe, Amir Sulaiman, Carlos Andres Gomez. Above all, I’m a student. This is only the beginning.