OOJ: Chocolate Penguin Flock

chocolate penguins, L.A. Burdick, Cambridge, MA

god, these guys are gorgeous. dark + white chocolate with a limoncello ganache inside, 

plus almond wings. but at $32 for 9 of them, i'm happy to just ogle.

i splurged on a bag of single source ecuadorean drinking chocolate powder instead.

OOJ: Fancy Water Cooler

not quite sure why this tickled me so much, but i busted out laughing when i noticed this in my chiropractor's office. it seems so sad it's funny, that someone came along and forcibly decorated this humble little water cooler, as if dispensing water without festive clothing was somehow not enough. i guess you could say the same about pine trees, children, and pets- all are things that look just fine as they are, but we insist on dressing them up in artificial materials just because it's that time of year. on the other hand, i think houses do *not* look fine just as they are, and should be draped in lights and luminarias all year round. 

OOJ List

it's been a while since my last OOJ. december is rough going for me, so most likely i haven't been looking around me closely enough to notice beautiful things in my path. but in my constant effort to stay mindful of the many gifts in my life, here is a list of everyday OOJs:

• putting on a clean pair of underwear every morning (ok i won't lie- most mornings)
• friends who call/txt me back even during times when i'm not especially fun to be around
• my down comforter- it's cold in ABQ! these nights i sleep under a pile of blankets: flannel, quilt, 2 sleeping bags, 2 down comforters
• my friends' kids- how did they produce such amazing little ppl? i can't wait for them to get old enough to come visit me on their own
• the endless expanse of blue sky in ABQ + the crystal sharp stars at night
  
• black lace on beige satin; i'm loving this combination right now + wish i could wear it every day, but it's not exactly school appropriate
• performing with a tango band every friday night- there's something otherworldly about the sound of shoe soles swooshing across the floor in time to music coming from me
• every day that i don't have any car drama- no one hitting me, me not hitting nobody, no break-ins 
• my sense of humor- i'm damn funny!

OOJ: Dumplings Unite!

is there a more perfect form of food than gobs of meat stuffed inside dough??? i ate them pan-fried for dinner last night, and boiled for breakfast today. i think i can get 2 more meals out of them...

Beach Boardwalk Babe

this is a story i've been carrying around in my head for a while. i resisted putting it to paper because i didn't know where it was going, but i finally forced myself to sit down and start typing. here's what came out:

Guys hit on me a lot. I’m not bragging; it’s a fact that comes with my job as a sales clerk at a beachfront shop. The manager warned me about it during my orientation.

“Guys will hit on you all the time,” she said, tugging at the roll of white receipt paper jammed in the cash register. “Why?” I asked. She never answered because just then the paper started spooling freely again, and she kept going with the training as if I hadn’t said anything.  

She was right. The first guy looked middle-aged: pastel yellow polo shirt, khaki cargo shorts, Teva sandals. He wandered in after two golden-haired girls between 6 and 9 years old, and a golden-haired woman, presumably their mother. The afternoon sun high above the ocean poured into the store behind them, framing them all in its glow. The three females immediately flocked to the straw hat carousel and began modeling floppy hats for each other. The man stood at the entrance for a minute, briefly glancing around the racks of sunglasses and board shorts- then he noticed me. I ducked my head down, busying myself behind the L-shaped display case that also housed the cash register. I could feel him approaching through the top of my head.

“Slow day,” he commented, from the other side of my glass fort. I muttered something, refusing to make eye contact. He continued to make small talk, in spite of my awkwardness, and even asked for my phone number while the rest of his family was in a far corner of the store comparing beach towels. He stepped away only when the blonde woman arrived at the counter to pay for her items.

He was followed by many others, all male. I now believe that most guys are super bored and constantly looking for a distraction, with one or two being hopeless romantics who sincerely expect to find true love with a shopgirl.

I’m not used to getting this kind of attention. In high school, I was pretty quiet. I guess you could call me shy, but really I didn’t know what to say to people, so I kept to myself. I didn’t know how to be like the other girls, who spoke a flirty, bouncy language that felt clunky on my tongue. They called me skinny, made fun of my clothes. The boys mostly ignored me. It didn’t help that I got braces when I turned 19 (they’ll come off later this year). Even after graduation, living in my small town made it feel like high school would never end. I kept seeing the same kids, on their way to beach bonfires or someone’s house, partying without me.

I don’t want to stay here forever. I know there is a big world outside of this place, but I don’t know how to get there. I live one hour away from San Francisco, but it might as well be several continents away in terms of logistics. Where would I stay? How would I support myself in a notoriously expensive city? Who would I hang out with? At least I’m not the only one who feels too intimidated to strike out on my own; most of the kids from my high school also stayed, except for the few who had good grades and left us for far away universities.

The shop regularly gets visitors from San Francisco; I gaze at them as if they are ambassadors from a fantasy land. There was one guy this summer who came in to buy sunglasses. He asked whether I preferred the gold or silver frames, I gave him my opinion (gold, because it goes with more colors), and from there he began to ask me about myself. It was still before noon and the store was empty except for the two of us and his companion, a woman who flipped robotically through the sarong rack, as if new skirts would miraculously appear if she kept staring at it. He asked the same questions as all the other guys- Are you from here? What’s it like to live in this town? Do you like working at the store?- but he spoke softly and was easy to talk to, and he never asked about my braces. I found myself telling him about wanting to study fashion design in San Francisco. Turned out he taught fashion history at the Art Institute, and he encouraged me to come visit. We chatted for twenty minutes before he paid for his sunglasses and said he had to get going.

The next morning he came into the store soon after I unlocked the doors. The same woman from the previous day followed him in, but then wandered back outside. He just wanted to say hi, he said, and we talked across the glass counter for half an hour. He said he was on his way back to San Francisco that day and offered to give me his phone number, in case I ever made my way up to the city. I surprised myself by writing my own number on a yellow post-it and handing it to him. He thanked me, slipped it into a pocket on his gray cardigan, and said he looked forward to seeing me again.

I thought he was a sign that my life was about to change. Here was the push I’d been waiting for that would launch my city adventures, leaving my small town far behind in the rearview mirror. We began to text each other and I fantasized about living with him in the city. I pictured the two of us eating at his favorite restaurants, visiting art exhibits, going to shows at dive bars populated with young people wearing thick black-framed glasses, plaid shirts, and knit beanies. He would get me a job at the Art Institute, maybe a work study program so I could start working on my degree. My degree- those were words used by people who had a plan, who were not afraid to leave home.

He stopped replying to my texts after a month; eventually I stopped checking his Facebook page and rereading his texts. It was surprisingly jarring to have nothing to daydream about anymore. I had been so certain that my days in this town were numbered that I had mentally started planning my goodbyes. I’d been convinced that I’d be living in San Francisco by October, at the latest. I had to force myself to readjust to the reality that nothing was going to change for me anytime soon.

The other day, I was struggling with the cash register when I happened to look up and saw him walk past on the sidewalk. He was with a different woman this time, their fingers interlaced, her face animated in the telling of some story. He glanced inside the door and lifted his hand sheepishly before turning his head back to the woman, who hadn’t noticed anything. I kept staring at the doorway long after they had disappeared until someone else walked in, glancing behind her to see what was holding my attention. There were few customers that day- beachfront activity tended to slow as the weather got colder- which was a good thing, since I mostly just stood behind the counter, staring out at the ocean. When it was time to close shop, I clocked out, locked the glass doors behind me, and went home.

OOJ: LUSH Penguins

bubble bath penguins at the LUSH store, denver, CO

clearly, something unspeakably horrific happened at this little penguin colony.

Freddie the Falling Leaf

the last leaf on a tree in broomfield, CO (outside of denver)

it's cliché, but so true: no matter what shit goes down in our personal lives, the natural world just keeps right on doing its thing. and so here we go into another winter with nature's annual downsizing: trees strip themselves down to bare bones, animals retreat into the ground, daylight shrinks. seems like many of us are having bad luck and/or life troubles lately- here's hoping for a calm winter where the worst we'll have to worry about is staying warm and dry.

Marigold Parade 2013

happy dia de los muertos, everyone!

this year's ABQ marigold parade, arguably the most well-attended parade each year, had an immigration theme: "people are not illegal; our ancestors are our documentation". many floats featured slogans echoing this- "mariposas no tienen fronteras"; "la paz no tiene fronteras". in addition, there were the usual skeletons in various guises- on stilts, on bikes, on fire engines (left) + face paint galore. 

matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match

car shopping is a lot like dating.

now that i need to buy a (used) car, i get a lot more attention from men i barely know (i have yet to meet a female car salesperson; i wish i could, i'd trust her more- that's a topic for a different post). they leave me hopeful, optimistically vague voicemails assuring me they have exactly what i'm looking for. when i meet them in person, their faces are attentive and eager to please, but also tired in a way that tells me if i'm not "the one", they'll turn their attention to another customer before i can finish saying, "thanks for your time." typically, the car they have in mind is not really all that great for me- too old (2002), or manual transmission, or too pricey- and as i leave these men, i feel resentful that they've wasted my time.   

Fall Octofair 2013

another gorgeous ABQ day for fall octofair, featuring local artists, some killer

felt work (upper left), giant jenga, a sad astronaut (lower right corner), and a

mysterious poem in spanish, left in a vintage typewriter.

Haiti Recap

Cap-Haitien airport

friend: "Welcome back! How was Haiti?"
me: "........"

i haven't yet figured out the words to describe my 5 days in haiti last week. i could be lazy and fall back on generic words like "amazing", "interesting", "beautiful", which don't really say anything, but function just fine as an answer. or i can try to use lots of words to explain an experience that i'm still processing myself. here's me interviewing myself:

everything is so green!!

where did you go? 
i flew into Cap-Haitien, a city in northern Haiti that's a 2 hr flight from Fort Lauderdale, FL. i spent most of my time in the rural communities of Milot + Lambert, about a 30-45 min. drive from "Cap" (what the locals call Cap-Haitien). homes in this area typically do not have electricity or running water (they share public water pumps); some houses i saw didn't even have doors, just openings built into the walls. some people have cell phones, and most residents travel by foot or motorbike. the Dantus family knew someone with a Jeep, but i rarely saw other cars on the roads, which were pitted with deep potholes and minor gorges carved into the dirt by the rain. there was one puddle/small lake on the way from Milot to Lambert that spanned the entire road; i couldn't see the bottom of it, and every time we drove through it, i fully expected the entire Jeep to vanish into its depths, none of us ever to be seen again.

potholed roads

who did you travel with? 
my friend, tony- a baritone singer who lives in ABQ, but performs internationally and whose personal mission statement would probably include something about helping people bridge their differences through music; 5 members of the Dantus family, who are from Milot, but now live in Wichita, KS; and 2 white people from Kansas who have been joining the Dantus family on these trips to Haiti since 1995. The Dantus family built and now maintains a school in Milot, and are currently building a community center.

transporting a speaker via motorcycle

what did you do? 
tony was invited to perform in Milot + Lambert; he asked me to come along as his piano accompanist. i also got to jam with some local musicians, which was the highlight of the trip for me. they were all self-taught and crazy talented; they learn everything by ear (no sheet music readily available) so when we rehearsed, i'd start playing a rhythmic pattern to set the groove + chord progression, and they'd just join in. during those rehearsals, there were times i forgot we spoke different languages b/c we were so attuned to each other musically. incredible. we performed 1-2 times a day, mostly in churches, because (a) those are the only indoor spaces where large groups of people can gather; and (b) churches have generators (during church events, every outlet is occupied by a charging cell phone). when i wasn't performing/rehearsing, i hung out at a local school or tagged along on trips to Cap to pick up supplies for the school.

a classroom

where did you stay? 
i stayed at the Dantus family house. compared to other homes in the area, this house felt like a resort- we had a generator that we could turn on for electricity; toilets; beds w/sheets; a fridge; and running cold water (no hot water). 

do you speak the language? 
unfortunately for me, i only know how to speak French, the language of the oppressor. educated Haitians speak French, but in rural areas, everyone speaks Creole, which, while a dialect of French, sounds different enough that I can't understand it.

i've never been to a caribbean country before, yet somehow everything felt strangely familiar: the heat, the humidity, the shouting crowds clustered against the fence outside of the one-runway airport in Cap-Haitien. the school also reminded me of my schools; there were no fancy digital boards in the classrooms and the textbooks were printed in the 1970's, but when i walked on to the playground at recess and the kids came running up to me, it felt just like home. i didn't expect Haiti to be so churchy (churches everywhere, and an airport employee led us in prayer before our flight back to the U.S.), and would have preferred to have spent less time in churches, but in these rural areas, i didn't see any other possible venue that had electricity where we could perform. the worst part for me was the heat + mosquitoes; because there's no electricity, there's no way to escape it, not even at night, when i'd lie in bed, swatting at mosquitoes, real and imagined, and feel drops of sweat rolling off my forehead. it definitely gave me a new appreciation for ABQ's crisp fall weather.

OOJ: Moon over the Atlantic

fort lauderdale, FL

the moon was especially mesmerizing as it rose last friday night in fort lauderdale. 

OOJ: Standing Tall on Ocean Beach

ocean beach, san francisco

i love the body language of these two kids: strong, wide stance, arms open, ready to receive what the ocean has to offer. i watched them for about half an hour- they spent most of the time screaming, running from the incoming surf, etc., but there were moments when they simply stood their ground and welcomed the day.

R.I.P. Sweet Corolla #2

i tried not to get attached, i swear.

knowing the gods would be jealous if i loved my car too much, i avoided naming it, referring to it as "my car", nothing to imply its worth to me. i picked a blah color- gray- that neither inspired nor disgusted me. i adorned it with only 3 stickers and some pipe cleaners. 

but when you spend so much time with something, you're bound to form a relationship. my car was my second home- i ate in it, slept in it, stored toys, clothes, and tools in it. i stuffed it full of my valuables and drove it from SF to ABQ. 

here's a nice diagram from the police report of the accident.
my car is "Unit 2"

but you can only fool the gods for so long. my first corolla, the "MC", met its sudden death at the hands (rungs?) of a 16 ft. steel ladder lying across the lanes of 101-S near the Mountain View exit. this corolla had been resting, parked on the street at 10pm, when a driver plowed into it and sent it flying clear across the intersection. luckily, no humans were physically hurt. but i shook my fist to the sky when i said bye to my car today. i collected the pipe cleaners, 1 sticker, rocks, sage, and other odds + ends into my environmentally friendly cloth grocery bag, and sat in the driver's seat one last time. 

tattoos and memories and dead skin on trial

***WARNING: IF YOU THINK SCABS ARE GROSS, STOP READING RIGHT NOW.***

last week i got my second tattoo (the first 4 lines of Langston Hughes' poem "Island"). a tattoo is basically someone carving a wound into your body; after you get one, your skin has to heal, as with any other cut. much to my delight and fascination, my scabs starting falling off in entire letters, which i naturally collected and rearranged into this statement, which is pretty much my mantra these days. cool, huh?

OOJ: Ocean in the Sky

SAT-ABQ airplane view

do you see waves or clouds when you look at this? i see both: foaming waves lapping against the sunset, but also clouds b/c i know i was in an airplane flying from san antonio to phoenix (though i don't understand why i had to fly over ABQ to phoenix in order to catch a connecting flight to ABQ).

OOJ: Moon Goddess

view from airplane heading into San Antonio, TX

happy fall moon festival!!

abq has been uncharacteristically overcast for the past couple of weeks; i've been missing my nightly visits with my sister, the moon. but luckily for me, i got to see this from my window seat on the flight to san antonio, just in time for the moon festival (my favorite holiday). i wish you all a clear sky tonight so that you too can greet the moon goddess.

SOD: "Crooked Smile", J. Cole

today's song of the day, J.Cole's "Crooked Smile", has been getting lots of radio play lately, which is great for a radio junkie like me. but there are definitely days when i'm sick of hearing the commercial male rapper voice- so tired of listening to guys brag about money + b*****s. "crooked smile" is the oasis in the mainstream rap desert (ok, he does mention b******s. sigh.): j.cole recognizes how illusions of perfection in the media can make us feel small + inferior, and also calls out our nation's imperfections while he's at it.

On my way, on my way, on my way down
On my way, on my way, on my way down
You're the one that was tryna keep me way down
But like the sun, know you know I found my way back 'roundThey tell me I should fix my grill cause I got money now
I ain't gon' sit around and front like I ain't thought about it
A perfect smile is more appealing but it's funny how
My shit is crooked look at how far I done got without it

I keep my twisted grill, just to show the kids it's real
We ain't picture perfect but we worth the picture still
I got smart, I got rich, and I got bitches still
And they all like my eyebrows: thick as hell


Love yourself, girl, or nobody will
Though you're a woman, I don't know how you deal
With all the pressure to look impressive and go out in heels; I feel for you
Killing yourself to find a man that'll kill for you


You wake up, put makeup on, stare in the mirror
But it's clear that you can't face what's wrong; no need to fix
What God already put his paint brush on; your roommate yelling
"Why you gotta take so long?" What it's like to have a crooked smile
This crooked smileWe don't look nothin' like the people on the screen
You know the movie stars, picture perfect beauty queens
But we got dreams and we got the right to chase 'em


Look at the nation, that's a crooked smile braces couldn't even straighten
Seem like half the race is either on probation
Or in jail; wonder why we inhale
Cause we in hell already - I ask if my skin pale
Would I then sell like Eminem or Adele?

POD: Kobayashi Issa

9/10/13, soft pastel, nupastel, charcoal

haven't had a poem of the day in a while. 
today i give you two, both by japanese haiku poet Kobayashi Issa (1763-1828):

the world of dew-
a world of dew it is indeed,
and yet, and yet...

(trans. lewis mackenzie)


all the time i pray to buddha
i keep on
  killing mosquitoes.

(trans. robert hass)

OOJ: Art in the Park

every fall, OFFCenter Community Arts Project organizes a folk art festival in Robinson Park, ABQ, complete with a giant puppet parade (center). here's a collage of some of my faves. i actually ended up taking the wooden bird (upper left) home with me; i named him francisco.

It's Chile Time Again!

i'm not one for traditions, but if i stay in ABQ, the Hatch Chile Festival might become one. this was my second time making the pilgrimage to the green chile capital of the world, and i ended up repeating many of the things i did last year: picked out a new ristra to hang from my door (upper left pic); bought a rusa (squirt lemon-lime soda + chamoy + red chile powder + salt + orange slices) from a woman who remembered me from last year (!!?!); and took home half a sack of roasted green chile peppers (this year we were prepared + brought a cooler). 

bonus: found this spray-painted on a wall outside of a bar in las cruces

i don't do titles

"Untitled", me, 8/25/13

"Untitled": just an excuse?
another word for laziness?
like "i'll call you" or
"we should (totally) get together sometime"
when you just want to end 
a conversation
when did it become so difficult 
to say what we mean
where is the definition, if not in the words? 
when did words become 
clouds in the sky?
i see a bunny rabbit.
i see bart simpson. 

OOJ: "My Superpower"

today's OOJ comes courtesy of a fourth grader from the classroom next to mine.
"My Superpower
"My power is to make people fall in love so people won't be single all the time if someone is single I will make a ball and throw it at them so they can fall in love with someone so they won't be sad all the time and if they are I will cheer them up so they won't be sad all the time and they will be happy with somebody so they won't be sad all the time so that is my superpower to make people fall in love so they won't be sad all their life and I will make them happy for life and not to live with their pets all the time that's how they will be happy all the time so they won't be sad all the time so they will be happy all the time so they won't be sad."
clearly, the kid wants us all to just be happy. incidentally, her teacher happens to be single with three cats.

Stop + Frisk Ruled Unconstitutional

The Boondocks, by Aaron McGruder

on monday, federal judge Shira Scheindlin ruled that New York City's stop + frisk policy as currently practiced violates the constitutional rights of people of color. she ordered several changes for the NYPD, including public community meetings, body cameras to record officer interactions, and a lawyer to further investigate NYPD's constitutional compliance. though i am skeptical that Judge Scheindlin's ruling by itself will actually reduce police harassment of POC, i appreciated that she explicitly called attention to the fact that POC are disproportionately stopped by NYPD: “Blacks are likely targeted for stops based on a lesser degree of objectively founded suspicion than whites.” In other words, your behavior suddenly looks a lot more suspicious if you happen to be a POC, especially a male POC. Charles M. Blow, a NYT columnist, writes: 

     "At what precise pace should a black man walk to avoid suspicion? And can they ever stop walking away, or running away, and simply stand their ground? Can they become righteously indignant without being fatally wounded?"

Judge Scheindlin's comments on racial profiling contrasted sharply with the recent Zimmerman trial, where race as a factor in Trayvon Martin's death seemed to be discussed only outside of the courtroom. To me, this comes across as a blatant refusal to recognize Zimmerman's personal racial bias as "hard" evidence. Ekow N. Yankah wonders how the trial would have concluded had Martin and Zimmerman switched skin colors ("The Truth About Trayvon"), pointing out that "...race and law cannot be cleanly separated". Yes, the role of race in our society can be multilayered, but prison population numbers seem to make it pretty clear that our current criminal justice system does not work in favor of POC (U.S. Census). in light of these figures, it seems ridiculous to attempt any conversation involving crime and/or cops without acknowledging the role of racism in our society. 

OOJ: Babies in Watermelons

i'd be pissed off too if someone dressed me in watermelon... but apparently all the kid wanted was some watermelon arm bands. for more pics, check out the post on 8asians.com.

OOJ: subletsf.com

today's OOJ is a blog: subletsf.com, written by valerie luu when she spent a year sublet-hopping in san francisco. besides her quintessentially SF pics, i especially like her post on how to celebrate birthdays: "The Trifecta". i envy luu and others like her who are enamored with the cities they live in. hopefully someday i'll find a city for me.

speaking of ppl who live + bleed SF, check out this track by SF rapper/artist/creator of beauty, emassin: "SF Out of Body Experience". 

OOJ: Plane View

SW Flight #1382 SAN-ABQ

even though flying has become a lot less fun over the years, you still can't beat the view from a window seat 10,000 ft up in the sky. on this particular flight, the landscape saved me from insanity, since the soundscape (toddlers screaming for their ipads), smellscape (someone kept farting, it wasn't me), and seatmate-scape (i sat next to a middle-aged white male with questionable boundaries) were not so great. 

OOJ: Cord Jefferson on Gawker

this is the first time an article has won OOJ designation. check out Cord Jefferson's commentary on "thuggish white youth". even the readers' comments (a section i usually skip because reading ppl's ignorant statements is depressing) were surprisingly entertaining. Jefferson went on to do a tv news segment with MSNBC's Chris Hayes about "dangerous white culture". behold the colbert-ization of 'serious' news channels. brilliant.

OOJ: Waraku Ramen

waraku, japantown, sf, ca

forgive me- i know taking pics of your food is so cliche by now, but it's been months since i had a decent bowl of ramen, and this bowl of tonkotsu broth was more than decent- it was decadent, rich + comforting, like drinking a good hug. also check out the yelp logo on the paper chopstick wrapper (lower right)- that's so sf/silicon valley!

OOJ: Ocean Beach

ocean beach, san francisco, ca

take from me:
food
sex
family
love

leave me with my memories
sharp-edged images of the ones i love most
flashing in front of my eyes in a looping reel

return me to the ocean on a night with a crescent moon
let the relentless waves claim me
rub away skin, tissue, bone until i am foam

then i can 
rest.

OOJ: Sign of the Times

Santa Cruz beach boardwalk, Santa Cruz, CA

Santa Fe International Folk Art Market

Nepalese woman sitting on the ground, painting, ignoring the crowd

every summer, during the second weekend in july, the Santa Fe International Folk Art Museum gathers hundreds of craftspeople from all over the world to display their work. i had a hard time choosing which pics to post here; the market seemed to be table after table of incredible painting (on cloth, mulberry bark, gourds- no canvas in sight), weaving, embroidery, ceramics, sculpture, musical instruments, metalwork, and textiles. overwhelming for some, but definitely a sensory feast for me.

the painted gourds deserve their own collage. these on the left are the creations of Esperanza Valomino, a woman who lives in cuzco, peru. she somehow manages to fit complex patterns of animals + people on these gourds, sometimes even writing accompanying story lines and panels, similar to a comic book. these pics don't do justice to her skill and artistry; you'll just have to go see it for yourself.

i like fish, so they also get their own collage. 

7.10.1981

another birthday without you
makes it hard to celebrate-- 
no easier than the year before
or the years before that.

OOJ: Tall Glass of Lulo

these days, as soon as i step outside, i feel drops of sweat rolling down my chest like kids sledding down a hill. in other words: it's damn hot. perfect weather for a cold fruity drink like this lulo shake i got with my friend laura at guava tree today (aw, who am i kidding- i'll happily down a lulo shake in any weather). (lulo is another name for naranjilla; it's a round tart citrus fruit). as i got to the end of my drink, laura pointed out that the layers in my cup looked beautiful, thereby earning my lulo drink the title of today's OOJ.

July 4th Parade- Arroyo Seco, NM

if you ever find yourself in NM in july, i highly recommend escaping to taos. at 7,000 ft (the ski valley is 9,000), my body was able to remind itself what weather under 80 degrees feels like (winter seems so very far away). and if you go during july 4th wkend, you might as well catch the parade through arroyo seco (a little village right next to taos). you might see the "great all american bbq" float, which features a live grill, roasting hot dogs, which were then chucked at spectators (take note of the kid wearing the squirrel head). political statement or gesture of good will? either way, it's great entertainment.

Top 3 Most Annoying Excuses for Racist Comments

not sure if any of you have been paying attention to the Paula Deen kerfuffle lately. she's a Food Network southern food chef who is under investigation for discriminatory practices at her restaurants (a white former employee filed the lawsuit). in her deposition, she openly admitted to using the n-word, and also to planning a plantation-themed wedding for one of her sons, complete with well-dressed black servants (wtf!!?!?!). consequently, she lost her FN contract, in addition to spokeswoman contracts and a book deal w/Random House. of course, her fans rushed to support her. her defenders' comments not only annoyed me, but also reminded me of countless other people i've met in my life who have excused similar comments from their friends and family. i've distilled these excuses into the following list, heard from the mouths of both white people and people of color (but most often white people):

1. they didn't mean it.
2. they don't know any better.
3. that's just how their generation is.

oh, if i only had a dollar. i think we'd all make a lot more progress in our conversations about race if we started out by acknowledging that many people who make racist comments are not evil, just ignorant. these excuses allow us to continue being idiots, as if asking us to change our language and understanding of oppression would be, well, just too much trouble.

i believe people who continue to speak ignorantly demonstrate a refusal to (a) use their imagination/common sense; and (b) seek out ways to educate themselves. yes, imagination- if you are not a person of color, take a moment and imagine how you'd feel if the people you interacted with mocked or treated you as "other", simply based on your physical appearance (this does not even have to involve language; picture someone pulling back the corners of his eyes to make them more "slanty" as you walk by). imagine these occurrences happening not just once, but many times over the years. imagine how you would wish to be treated with respect; imagine how sensitive you might become to other people's language and actions. 

and then education: as an asian-american, it is not my job to teach you that it is not ok to call someone "china man" (though i once wasted 10 minutes of my life trying to do exactly this with a white canadian girl; i say "wasted" because i failed to get her to understand why that was offensive). a follow-up NYT article described other chefs' reactions to Paula Deen's words: Nathalie Dupree, a 73-year-old white chef in Charleston, SC, basically said she resented excuses #2 + #3 (see above) because it lumped her in with a group of people who had not made the effort to learn what is offensive to people of color. for me, excuses #2 + #3 hurt the most because i hear the implied meaning as: your feelings are not worth being heard nor validated, and we (the speakers of ignorance) will not change our behavior because you are not worth the effort and thought that would require.

Happy ABQ Pride!

Nightwalk

Wanderlust, Dan May, acrylic on wood panel, 2013

in the forest, there is no other animal like myself in shape, smell, or stance. every night, i stride through the trees, silently carving narrow paths into the moss, crisscrossing my way from one perimeter’s edge to another. 

the others leave me alone; they think i am strange. unlike the other animals, i require little by way of food, shelter, or sleep; as a result, i find myself with hours to fill and no purpose with which to fill them. the others scurry past me with arms full or backs piled high, sparing little more than a suspicious glance in my direction as they hurry to build their homes and protect their young. for them, everything is driven by survival, whereas i continue to thrive, regardless of how i spend my waking hours. i used to feel guilty about the ease of my life; these days, i wonder why i exist at all, since i seem to hold no place in any of the life cycles that constantly renew themselves around me.

it has been so long since i interacted with another creature; it is difficult to believe that i used to talk nonstop. years ago, there was another like me, two of us in the same forest. together, our focus narrowed on ourselves, leaving no room for questions of existentialism or purpose, each one simply existing for the other. back then, we made plans that became projects that in turn birthed new plans. we were so busy, absorbed in our own world. i didn’t understand that i was living a miracle, spending my days with another who spoke my language and shared my history. because that was all i’d ever known, i assumed that was how it would always be- the two of us, never wanting for more.

it took years to get used to being alone. at first, every cell in my body strained to wish us two back into existence, as if i could harness all the energy in the universe to make it true if i tried hard enough. When that did not work, i began to expect my own demise. our lives had been so closely linked- with one gone, surely i was soon to go too. Yet here i am, still.

OOJ: Eoin Duffy, "On Departure"

Eoin Duffy, "On Departure"

typically i have zero patience for movies with no talking ("WALL-E", i'm looking at you). when it comes to appreciating film, i'm embarrassed to admit that i'm all about fast-moving action; i have the attention span of a flea. which is why i was surprised to find myself riveted to this short film; this beyond perfect intersection of music, minimalist art, and mood transported me into another world as effectively as any "Fast + Furious" franchise.