Monday, April 29, 2013

Sze Man Chan


Tonight, after seeing a reading of a friend's play that I find interesting and genuinely good, I was standing around running my insufferable yack as is my general wont when one of the actors came over. She introduced herself and said that we'd met before at an audition (which is entirely possible, I have come to accept that I have already come across anybody in this city who is "of color" and an actor), though I wouldn't recognize her because her hair was straight at the time.

Then she stated that she remembered me because I was so pretty.

Now, I have been complimented for appearance in the past, and used to dress kind of nice and was likely referred to for at least some time as a pretty boy, but never quite in this was strange as a male....and..just strange.

She went on thought to explain that she meant I had a "pretty aura"....

The other lady I was speaking to at the time (whom I'd just done a reading with) agreed.



A pretty aura. Interesting.

I guess I'd had a good audition? I try to be encouraging regardless of my relationship to the audition room on that particuarly day. Performers go through enough. I feel like if I'm going to not get it, let me not get it because someone brought that fire: so let me radiate some heat.

You know?


It's difficult for we self-deprecative curmudgeons to accept praise, particularly when it might suggest we are anything but wholly curmudgeonly creatures.

So ... "pretty aura".




Friday, April 19, 2013

Random Re: twowheelistry

On in-permanence and the ephemeral nature of wonderful old people who you wish would be there forever

(Below are a couple long e-mail responses sent a few years ago to a friend who had just graduated to that part of life when she became a member of her middle generation - her parents are now the oldest generation, a bit of the details about my experience during my progenitors' lastdays/moments & a bit of my ramblings about us as a species, just-sort-of-come-across-without-looking while doing this morning's email survey. Italics indicate additions for clarity.)

I'm unsure if I ever laid out this timeline, but...

   In February of my second semester at college, the phone woke me up
   one morning. It was my mother who called to tell me that my Aunt
   Gwen was dead.

   Out of the blue

   They came and got me for the funeral, and I went. I flew back to
   Houston - it was the only time I flew while in school...actually
   it was the first time I'd been in a plane since the single digits
   and the last until I was in grad school many years later....

   I know I talked to my grandmother during that, but I've no idea
   what I said or what the last thing she said to me was,

   but I know that was the last thing she said to me, or least the
   last time I heard the voice that I recognized...

   Two weeks after my aunt's funeral, she had a stroke and never
   regained the use of more than half of her body. It probably wasn't
   even half.

   The last time I spoke to her and she was at all lucid, it was at
   my aunt's house . At that point I think she could utter sound, but used a block
   (a kid's letter block) to indicate responses and a basic hand signing
   system that she and her daughters had worked out. She could use
   one hand enough to wipe her face a little - she could (not) close her
   mouth fully, so saliva would run down her cheek. I don't remember
   what I said and didn't really know what to say...much as I doubt I
   knew what to say the last time I saw her standing...

   Something blandly encouraging..I don't know.

   I didn't stay in the room long. I leaned down and hugged her a
   little or kissed her cheek; I think I was worried about making her
   feel self-conscious of her getting my face wet. I think she
   reached up with the arm that wasn't paralyzed.

   That was probably 3 months after the stroke.

   She'd go on to have another two strokes before passing as the sky
   was becoming dawn-colored on the first day of the following year.
   She was 3 weeks shy of turning 66 (according birth records).

   A few months later, my other grandmother, who'd lived for a few
   years after having her first stroke and being taken care of by her
   (numerous) daughters passed in Illinois. The last time I saw her
   she was in a  wheel chair...I doubt she recognized me.

   The only grandfather I've ever known was her husband. He'd passed
   back in October of 1991. The last time I saw him was in a hospital
   with my dad. I remember my dad handing him his urinal so he could
   relieve himself. I thought of that later when I had my night's stay
   for my knee surgery. I tried the urinal. I failed. I had to change
   beds. He had a better handle on his situation than I did*.

   That gaunt, tired face is what I see on my father more and more.

   Along with his mother's bowed, stubby, African forest, super-calf

   (I assume that's where he gets it from anyway).

   I never really knew any of them. I think I tried to talk to my
   maternal (Annie M.) once while I stayed a couple weeks with
   her before college. Don't remember (much of) anything about it. My paternal (family)
   (Marie B.) I spent far less time around. They lived
   farther away.

   My mom's grandmother actually outlived my grandmother. She died
   while I was up here. No excuse for not trying to talk to her more.
   My mom tried to find out about her biological father from her, but
   didn't really get anything.


(friend: But what does one do with all of one's grandparents passed on?)

correction - Marie B. was a year after Annie M. I had one family death near me for each of my first 3 years of school.

You prepare your self to be the vessel to pass what they had on to those who never knew or barely knew.

I think more and more that we are far more like ants than we think...humanity is a colony. Like mold >:)

We all birth, we all live, we all die.

But we exist as a whole...each individual life is not so important as we like to make it in the "West".

As one of us is born, we are all born,

so on with life and death.

We are nothing without the connection. I used to think that greatness justifies the connection, but it is the connection that inspires greatness ( I think ).

Thus, we come and we go.

WE come and WE go.

The only way to deal with the loss, is to perpetuate them.

And I don't mean "they'll always be alive as long as we remember...."

I mean pass them on in spirit as much as they passed on their DNA. Understand what they wanted to give. Eventually you understand it the way they did.

About that time is probably when it will be time for someone to pass it on for you (us).

Human life really is a blink. You have your eyes open for a while,

and then blink.


*(it is only now, 3 years later, that I recognize this unintended pun and insert a posthumous rim shot)

Sunday, April 14, 2013

Yesterday/Today/Just now I -

- let time get away and drove into Manhattan to be on time, got stuck behind a kerosene truck, was late....decided to take a shot by taking a right on Mercer and saw a delivery guy getting in his truck parked right in front of a long line of blocked to go home early and was tipped $15 in cash on the spot to "help with gas".

- realized there was MUCH more work to do on the Trek, realized I need to get some pictures of the Raleigh so I could at least get it on eBay before the week started, decided to check craigslist for "bike wanted" - responded to the only there which happened to be asking for exactly what the Raleigh is, offered to come into the city before dark, realized that I had somehow misplaced a necessary part, decided to just be honest about it, ended up more than what I wanted despite all that...

- walked down Columbus trying to make the bus in time to use my transfer, saw a tourist family being oblivious and yelled for a teen to watch out who (of course) responded that she wasn't in the middle of the street (she might as well have been), barked back that she was and that it was her choice if she wanted to die, kept stepping, heard some run trot up beside me and say "thank you for saving my daughter's life" and was thanked by daughter daughter herself a few steps later ("thank you for saving my life").

Then I made the bus.


Censhorship y Azucaaaaaar

I am currently having trouble controlling the potty mouth.

I have also gone from craving pancakes to donuts.

The former, I believe has to with waking up @3a and watching nerdflix constantly since.

The latter, I blame on Leslie Knope.

Friday, April 05, 2013

I will purr and bounce

at just about any song that incorporates a synth vamp/pitch bends.

May you use this knowledge wisely.

Thursday, April 04, 2013

Wednesday, April 03, 2013


I've thought about therapeutic things in the past few months, both in terms of giving and receiving.

I've thought about needing mental therapy and my (completely unschooled or licensed) ability to give it.

I've thought about meditation. I've participated in it a few times. On rare occasion I've tried it by myself. I think I've only managed to achieve what I would think of as a meditative state accidentally.

(which is prolly  how it works).

I have recently noticed that I respond strongly to music that puts me in a meditative state....though this isn't music I listen to for that purpose. I listen to it because I like it, it helps me focus.

But, recently, I'm really noticing how strongly I react - how much of a change takes place with meditative music.

It's like:

"oh, that's ----- OH, that's!

Ohhhhhhhhh - > mmmmmmm.


So, I think this is my self showing me what I need.

Recognition of purpose, notwithstanding:

Tuesday, April 02, 2013

there is suddenly

so much happening right now.

 Today I heard a song that caused me to feel so much I was left speechless. I still feel different for having heard it. Some 12/13 hours later I have yet to listen to it or any other music....perhaps out of subconcious fear of being pulled out of somewhere I need to be, or a new place that I just want to be in.

 Thursday, I reached out to someone. Saturday I heard the voice of someone I've thought about nigh daily for 12 years for the first time in ... I can't even quite figure it now, but close to the same amount of time. The sound was jarring. Expecting something down-to-earth, soft yet pragmatic. I heard something matter-of-fact and urgent, immediate, pragmatism born of experience, indignant, hardened, hurt - a lot like what I've heard many times up here and thought "this is what this strange life does to you -- thiis is why I can't have a life from anyone raised in this... too hard, too much pain to beat up against,".

 Friday, I thought there was an inconvenient truth. Today, I understand that what needs to be is not scheduled according to my timeline.

 Sunday, I related to someone's pain. A little while ago I remembered that I once asked God to "make me a healer".

 Monday I asked a leading question....and today the respondent had already made it to the next step .

 A few weeks ago, I said something that I had to say to move on. And today I am here.


so, much is happening.

apparently, it really is spring.

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