I've found my dream tattooist. That's the good news. The bad news is he lives in France. Of course, since I'm unlucky, he just left Williamsburg a few months ago. He comes to the U.S. once in awhile and works out of a shop literally two blocks from where I subletted earlier this year. I'm gonna stalk him until he shows up again. Or to go France, whichever is less logical.
I was looking at Picasso and Miro sketches, and stumbled upon Noon's work. His style is so unique and the work is so detailed. Some people donate their body to science, well, I'm donating my skin to Noon. He's got this one tattoo that has everything I'd want: stars, rockets, fish, robots. And I am obsessed with his clouds. But I don't want to dictate to Noon what I want, I'll just let him do his thing. You don't go up to artists and say, "Hey, gimme this this and this." No, I believe in just letting them do what inspires them.
In the meantime, I found this other fantastic artist in San Diego. I think I'm going to give her my forearms. I hope she can work with the spindly canvas. Her stuff is wonderful patterns and sort of mehndi-like. I absolutely love her use of shading and negative space. She's out of the country until late September, otherwise I'd be camped outside her shop this week. Instead I'll just go surfing -- something you can't do with fresh tattoos -- and wait patiently for her return.
It's been four years since I've gotten a tattoo. That's utterly ridiculous. With luck, I'll rectify that ten fold by the end of the year.
My friend Wendy has the most drool worthy tattoo, done by Yann Black. It's a minimalist bird and the simple lines that stretch down her arm to tie the piece together blow my mind every time I see it. Turns out Yann and Noon worked together to develop their styles. Of course.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Draw Back Your Bow
Listening to: Sam Cooke, "Cupid." Me and this track, this track and I, are going to be amazing friends.
I hopped out to the city for the first time in two weeks. Since returning from my mini East Coast tour, I've been holed up house sitting and writing. Going from trees and solitude to traffic and buildings took some readjustment before I settled in. It's bad but I can't decide which I prefer right now. For my sake I hope it's the traffic and buildings.
The lounge I ended up at on Thursday night had a retractable roof made of glass that was pretty exciting while in motion. When going out, anything different is suddenly an attraction. "Did you see those inverted bathrooms? Wow!" I'd like to think I'm above it but I'm really not. I mean, I'm still curious about an ice bar, even though I already know they're stupid.
Despite downing only a handful of drinks, I was gone before midnight. Maybe I should have stayed longer to dance it off, but on the taxi ride home, it was all I could do to concentrate and not throw up. When I got to my friend's apartment, he was not in top shape himself and while normally I'd offer my assistance, there was no getting around the fact that if I didn't lie down immediately, my world would end.
After this near miss, I'm holding off on alcohol until the Labor Day wedding. Then I will order shots but surreptitiously pour half of each down someone else's throat. I've been getting hangovers recently when I drink, even in the slightest amount. They are so decapitating that it shocks me people are willing to subject themselves to this over and over. Wouldn't the world be a less painful place if we read more about alcohol rather than drinking it?
On Friday, my plans to go to a friend's art show was literally washed out, as New York got pummelled with rain and everyone was trapped indoors. Watching my friends gather and hang out in their apartment, I realized a few things. One, it's really just so much easier to date within your ethnicity grouping. This particular group of friends rolls mono-ethnic deep, and half the girls from one state ended up dating or marrying half the guys from another state. Seeing the familiar interactions the group had -- not all attributable to shared backgrounds of course -- it made it very clear how hard it might be for an "outsider" to slide in. If you value your ethnic social circle, it's much easier to find a similarly shaped peg for that particular hole.
Later that weekend, I had talks about this exact same topic with another friend. He's semi-dating this girl whom he can't quite convince to go serious because he's not her desired ethnicity. We compared notes on how sometimes people date one contrary type (i.e. not their ethnicity) or whatever for awhile, but then once they hit a certain age and readiness, they settle down with a person that fits the mold. Bam, game over. So my friend fights the fight, being an ethnic ambassador. I'm supporting him from the bench.
The other realization I had was that all the problems I encounter trying to get my friends to have united fun by playing games are basically universal -- especially when half the crowd just wants to talk, watch television, or are anti-games. I think in the future I'm going to forgo trying to make a group of people move the same way, and just retreat to the confines of my electronics. That's actually the opening number to one of my book projects right now. A young girl lamenting how she wishes all her friends could be replaced by robots. It's not autobiographical, not at all.
I hopped out to the city for the first time in two weeks. Since returning from my mini East Coast tour, I've been holed up house sitting and writing. Going from trees and solitude to traffic and buildings took some readjustment before I settled in. It's bad but I can't decide which I prefer right now. For my sake I hope it's the traffic and buildings.
The lounge I ended up at on Thursday night had a retractable roof made of glass that was pretty exciting while in motion. When going out, anything different is suddenly an attraction. "Did you see those inverted bathrooms? Wow!" I'd like to think I'm above it but I'm really not. I mean, I'm still curious about an ice bar, even though I already know they're stupid.
Despite downing only a handful of drinks, I was gone before midnight. Maybe I should have stayed longer to dance it off, but on the taxi ride home, it was all I could do to concentrate and not throw up. When I got to my friend's apartment, he was not in top shape himself and while normally I'd offer my assistance, there was no getting around the fact that if I didn't lie down immediately, my world would end.
After this near miss, I'm holding off on alcohol until the Labor Day wedding. Then I will order shots but surreptitiously pour half of each down someone else's throat. I've been getting hangovers recently when I drink, even in the slightest amount. They are so decapitating that it shocks me people are willing to subject themselves to this over and over. Wouldn't the world be a less painful place if we read more about alcohol rather than drinking it?
On Friday, my plans to go to a friend's art show was literally washed out, as New York got pummelled with rain and everyone was trapped indoors. Watching my friends gather and hang out in their apartment, I realized a few things. One, it's really just so much easier to date within your ethnicity grouping. This particular group of friends rolls mono-ethnic deep, and half the girls from one state ended up dating or marrying half the guys from another state. Seeing the familiar interactions the group had -- not all attributable to shared backgrounds of course -- it made it very clear how hard it might be for an "outsider" to slide in. If you value your ethnic social circle, it's much easier to find a similarly shaped peg for that particular hole.
Later that weekend, I had talks about this exact same topic with another friend. He's semi-dating this girl whom he can't quite convince to go serious because he's not her desired ethnicity. We compared notes on how sometimes people date one contrary type (i.e. not their ethnicity) or whatever for awhile, but then once they hit a certain age and readiness, they settle down with a person that fits the mold. Bam, game over. So my friend fights the fight, being an ethnic ambassador. I'm supporting him from the bench.
The other realization I had was that all the problems I encounter trying to get my friends to have united fun by playing games are basically universal -- especially when half the crowd just wants to talk, watch television, or are anti-games. I think in the future I'm going to forgo trying to make a group of people move the same way, and just retreat to the confines of my electronics. That's actually the opening number to one of my book projects right now. A young girl lamenting how she wishes all her friends could be replaced by robots. It's not autobiographical, not at all.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Triple Double
Frozen with fear that one day I'll lose my laptop, I spent most of my day creating a system for my email. I'd been using Mail on my Mac for the longest time and relied on folders and draft boxes to keep all my shit organized. However, as pointed out to me by Ameer, that puts me at high risk for losing everything should my laptop not be around. And since I'm such an advocate for cloud computing, I had to get my Gmail all configured up. Then I cleaned up my contacts list.
I could regale you with more details but that would just be too much personal info divulged. Suffice to say, my goal is now to master all the Gmail shortcuts so I can play my email like Rachmaninoff. "Look ma, no mouse!"
A year ago around this time I was chilling out in San Diego, having a slump of a summer. Now I'm housesitting in a very similar manner, but across the country. The good news is that I've being productive and consuming vast quantities of sweets -- cookies, chips, Skittles, something amazing called "Rocky Road pudding cake." The bad news is that the summer is already over. Not technically but I know exactly where I'll be a month from now and it won't be here. In fact, I'm not settled in New York any more than I was twelve months ago. I don't need to remind you that that's not exactly progress.
The other day I asked my friend how her new job and city was. She told me that she was working a lot. Ten years ago she said that she wanted to make director and would be happy there. Guess what her level is now? "Director." Goal accomplished I'd say. I wonder at what age you can just say "I'm good here, let's just stop." Whatever age that is, I'm pretty sure it's not your early thirties.
On an unrelated note, a few weeks ago I went up to Washington Heights, way up in the 160s, higher than I'd ever been. My friend does her weekly Internet radio show from there, The Failure Series. She was kind enough to let me and another friend talk about whatever we wished. We chatted about blogging and writing and I tried to read the short story I wrote the day before. I couldn't make it all the way through re-listening to my reading because it was so stilted but I'm thankful for the off the cuff practice.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Present Past
I got an email the other day from my aunt in San Jose. It was a forwarded email from a cousin in China. For a long time, I thought my father was the oldest sibling in his family. When we were late teenagers, I found out different. Apparently he had an older brother and sister who had been left behind when my grandparents fled to Taiwan. Now my Chinese aunt's son wanted to contact me about a project he wanted to do. His idea is to write our family history; he from the Chinese side, me from the American side. I think that's the idea anyway. I'm not sure exactly what his goal is, if this is intended for publication or just his own personal curiosity. Because he doesn't know English, I have to get his emails translated. Google does a lot of things well but going from Mandarin to English is still pretty dicey.
The idea is intriguing but I don't know a lot about our family history. My cousin Chloe is about half my age and knows twice as much. She's actually been to China to see some of the "missing" family. Although I guess we're the missing part of their family. It's a pretty common story, siblings from both my parents' sides were left behind when the Communists took over. From what I can tell, that's what this cousin wants to touch upon and capture.
Chloe and I constructed a rudimentary family tree based on what we knew. It only spanned four generations and I already found out that my grandfather likely had a sibling or two I didn't know about. I had just assumed that my grandfather and his brother were the only two siblings from their generation. In retrospect, that makes no sense. Chinese families of that era never had just two children. I guess we just never asked if they had any brothers and sisters. I feel like we grew up in a historical haze.
Our family history was never much discussed growing up. Even now my aunt is cagey with the details as to exactly who this cousin writing me is. From what I've pieced together, he might technically not be related, or there was something that separated him from our family timeline. I feel like I should say "yes" to him, just because he reached out to contact me. What would my response be otherwise? "No I'm not interested in finding out more about our family. Sorry."
For some time, I've had Alexander Chee's "Portrait of My Father" pinned on my browser tab. I keep meaning to write something similar about my father. One of the things holding me back has been my lack of knowledge about him. Slightly shamefully, I don't know his preferred drink, his candy bar, or what he read. I guess this potential project would be a good reason to find out.
The idea is intriguing but I don't know a lot about our family history. My cousin Chloe is about half my age and knows twice as much. She's actually been to China to see some of the "missing" family. Although I guess we're the missing part of their family. It's a pretty common story, siblings from both my parents' sides were left behind when the Communists took over. From what I can tell, that's what this cousin wants to touch upon and capture.
Chloe and I constructed a rudimentary family tree based on what we knew. It only spanned four generations and I already found out that my grandfather likely had a sibling or two I didn't know about. I had just assumed that my grandfather and his brother were the only two siblings from their generation. In retrospect, that makes no sense. Chinese families of that era never had just two children. I guess we just never asked if they had any brothers and sisters. I feel like we grew up in a historical haze.
Our family history was never much discussed growing up. Even now my aunt is cagey with the details as to exactly who this cousin writing me is. From what I've pieced together, he might technically not be related, or there was something that separated him from our family timeline. I feel like I should say "yes" to him, just because he reached out to contact me. What would my response be otherwise? "No I'm not interested in finding out more about our family. Sorry."
For some time, I've had Alexander Chee's "Portrait of My Father" pinned on my browser tab. I keep meaning to write something similar about my father. One of the things holding me back has been my lack of knowledge about him. Slightly shamefully, I don't know his preferred drink, his candy bar, or what he read. I guess this potential project would be a good reason to find out.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Riding for the Feeling
The dress code said no white t-shirts. My friend worried that I wouldn't be let in, on a Monday for lunch no less. Seacrets is a place with packed sand floors, eighteen bars on the inside, and people floating around on inflatable tables out on the ocean. If you own a boat, you can pull it up and they'll come bring you drinks and food. It's the kind of place that is utterly ridiculous but to my surprise, I quite liked it. Of course, we didn't go at night, where the mid day tourists would be replaced by trashy clubbers.
Looking again at the dress code, it was obviously made to keep certain types of people out. No sports jerseys, no doo rags, no over sized clothing. Actually the list was uncannily similar to this one showcased on Racialicious. Is it racist? Not necessarily. But then again, when it's enforced against one group of people versus another, then we're right on the doorstep.
My friend showed me this white rapper from the Bay. Her name is Kreayshawn and irrespective of whether you think she's talented or not, there's something knee-jerk irksome about her appropriating black culture. Then again, isn't this what moving forward means? Hip hop isn't just for one type of person. A hipster-ish white girl spewing (bad) raps is sort of progress right? Much to my mortification, I kind of dig this song. I mean, it's super catchy isn't it? Kreayshawn and her sister, V-Nasty, lead the White Girl Mob. There's probably a fan club for us all to join.
Lately I've been offended by a variety of things but I can't decide if I'm justified in any of them. Given the choice, I would try to curb hooliganism in my beachfront club too. And from what I've heard from friends who work in nightlife, there is a lot of basic -isms about who gets let in and out, all in an effort to create or preserve a "scene."
bluishorange posted recently about dressing like how she wants to job interviews. I've been struggling with the same problem. They say to dress for the job you want, not the one you have. Outfitted in my casual clothes, I'd say I dress exactly for the job I want. A few months ago, I took out my earrings for a job interview. It was a corporation and I figured that taking them off for a few hours wouldn't mean much if I got the job. Years ago I had decided that I wasn't going to hide my tattoos or earrings anymore, not for work. But that was when I wasn't job hunting. After reading Alison's post, I've decided to stick to my guns again. I mean, you're supposed to put your best foot forward but I didn't get this far -- or get nowhere rather -- by doing it the conventional way.
They offered Alison the job. She turned them down.
Looking again at the dress code, it was obviously made to keep certain types of people out. No sports jerseys, no doo rags, no over sized clothing. Actually the list was uncannily similar to this one showcased on Racialicious. Is it racist? Not necessarily. But then again, when it's enforced against one group of people versus another, then we're right on the doorstep.
My friend showed me this white rapper from the Bay. Her name is Kreayshawn and irrespective of whether you think she's talented or not, there's something knee-jerk irksome about her appropriating black culture. Then again, isn't this what moving forward means? Hip hop isn't just for one type of person. A hipster-ish white girl spewing (bad) raps is sort of progress right? Much to my mortification, I kind of dig this song. I mean, it's super catchy isn't it? Kreayshawn and her sister, V-Nasty, lead the White Girl Mob. There's probably a fan club for us all to join.
Lately I've been offended by a variety of things but I can't decide if I'm justified in any of them. Given the choice, I would try to curb hooliganism in my beachfront club too. And from what I've heard from friends who work in nightlife, there is a lot of basic -isms about who gets let in and out, all in an effort to create or preserve a "scene."
bluishorange posted recently about dressing like how she wants to job interviews. I've been struggling with the same problem. They say to dress for the job you want, not the one you have. Outfitted in my casual clothes, I'd say I dress exactly for the job I want. A few months ago, I took out my earrings for a job interview. It was a corporation and I figured that taking them off for a few hours wouldn't mean much if I got the job. Years ago I had decided that I wasn't going to hide my tattoos or earrings anymore, not for work. But that was when I wasn't job hunting. After reading Alison's post, I've decided to stick to my guns again. I mean, you're supposed to put your best foot forward but I didn't get this far -- or get nowhere rather -- by doing it the conventional way.
They offered Alison the job. She turned them down.
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