On New York

On a plane back home to los angeles, seat 30B, surrounded by two women, one terribly older than the other, both religiously on their ipads.  

Coincidentally I’m writing on one as well. Kudos to Tony Tran.  

If however, I told the middle eastern tripod that they couldn’t sit together in row thirty-seven as a family of three, I would’ve enjoyed my transportation back to Los Angeles comfortably in an aisle seat.  But being sandwiched by Apple products, while acknowledging that I perpetuate the technological advances of Steve (rest in peace), is offering me some amusement.  

 

I am not perturbed, considering I enjoyed myself thoroughly the last four days making adventure with Christina Glur in a city where America’s melting pot is much more apparent than in the west coast.

 

Let us recap, trace my monies, and understand why, mathematically, the ability to fork out rent for the rest of 2012 may not come as easily as it seems, due to a city called New York that takes your hard earned cash mercilessly.  Let’s not.  

 

Our self destructive natures however, want us to go back regardless.   

 

Despite its transportation costs, the city’s ability to expose my idiocy, solely humorous to me, in addition to the loss of two cellular phones, I had a great time, but not enough time, to experience the unforgiving city of New York.

 

Thank you Glurfriend, NIcole the unabashed DJ, Tones, and a peculiar cocker-spaniel for sheltering me in such a place where danger lurks.  

 

The place is harmless. 

If you are in the area check out Christina Glur & Tamara Levinson in a show called “Fuerza Bruta”.  It is…  

http://www.theatermania.com/videos/dancing-in-the-rain-at-fuerza-bruta_292.html

 

I will return to New York and justice will be served on the side of chicken and rice.  Praise the Islamic culture for permitting the preparation of foods allowed under Islamic dietary guidelines to exist on trucks and stands throughout the city.  Halal food is devastating.  

 

Although they were short-lived, a shout out to these special cameos is necessary: Kristina Bui, Janice Kang, Jeffrey Chou, Allison Vicencio.  Gracias.

 

There is much more to say  

 

like I’m not a super-hero aficionado and the Avengers was okay.  Go watch Raid-Redemption.  

 

 

My Father’s Baptism

It took me twenty minutes from my apartment to home.
As I pulled up, my dog, according to my dad, was helping him put on his shoes. I threw a sincere compliment at his haircut as I walked in to hug my mom, who held onto an odd energy of nervousness and pure joy.

We made three attempts to leave, having to turn the car around each time to grab things my mom leaves in the house. Camera, cell phone, a change of clothes.

My mother and I sat in the first row. My father, dozing off 10 aisles back to the right behind us, along with 79 others wearing white t-shirts.

Fast forward the message that was completely not in English and I’m holding a plastic bag with my dad’s shoes and wet clothes.

As my dad prayed at the dinner table, my God just made some shit go full circle, an ongoing process that has taken eleven years to complete.

And I’m at peace, thinking of creative ways to iron out my creases.

finding freedom, or lack there of, in thought

There’s this energy within me I’m not really fond of.
I’m using it despite how self-destructive it makes me feel.
The more older I get, the more power it has over my freedom and positive thought.

Sense of liberation seems foreign to me, when it was second nature a couple years back. I’ve been eating words I create for myself that I want to throw up.

I need a guidebook.
Something with a calender in the back that organizes my intentional thoughts, deciding for me when and where to think the things that I do, appropriately.

My hands are callous from moving these bricks.
A wall that is taking a humorous amount of time to remove.
Contradictions of me building it in the first place are tickling me to death.

I need that chalk-board she recommended……

Make me laugh, write me some jokes.

Runyon Canyon

A prayer box sits on the top of a mountain on Fuller.

It takes a good amount of will power to run to the top.

You can buy bottled water for a dollar at the bottom or muster enough strength to run up without.

It’s difficult to get up there if you don’t want to.

It’s tough to sit down and write some shit on a piece of paper and put it in.

But people do….

 

and it works.

Napolean on “difficulty”

5 cats surround my house at night, taking shifts around my cul-de-sac, each feline, specifically designed by God to terrorize Napolean, a black and brown wiener dog (human to my parents, more like my miscarried brother) whose “Napolean” complex refuses to throw out any signs of weakness.  To him, this is his destiny.  Stealing a few tear drops from these mammals means the world to him.  And if one cat lets out the slightest scream, he gets off harder than the top two best dry humping sessions he’s had in the past, combined.  His kamikaze acts of selflessness, if recorded at high shutter speeds, would be deemed synonymous to the fortitude of the Japanese during WWII.

I told him the other day that throwing his body against the sliding doors, although courageous and different, was probably not the brightest thing to do.  He turned around and said:

“Sometimes you have to fight for what you believe in.”

and I snapped back:

“That’s fucking cheesy.”

And he went at it again.  Harder, faster, and stronger than Daft Punk. Throwing himself into the grueling surface of the sliding doors in front of him, leaving the cats unmoved, but him one step closer . . .

and then I saw what he was doing.

so far so good

The last two years of my life have been about me crawling in a counterclockwise circle, making several adjustments to the placements of my feet.  Sometimes I’d take a moment to sit down because my back would hurt or that my arms didn’t have enough strength to hold the rest of my body up.  And sometimes I’d think about whether or not I should turn around and crawl clockwise.

But I never took a resting moment to think about standing up.

I remember when I was younger, about six years ago, when each step I took was innately one after the other.  I walked fast and my left foot knew immediately to surpass the right whenever it hit the floor and vice versa. Sometimes I’d run and sometimes I’d trip, but I’d never stay crawling, especially in a circle.  And if I took a few breaths, I’d be standing within a matter of seconds.

I’m relearning how to run again, visualizing what it was about myself that I had, and recognizing what I’ve lost.

I’m relearning how to be creative again, creativity spawned purely from myself and not from substance abuse.

Everyone has a struggle and no one really can help you stand up except yourself.  You can crawl or you can choose to fuck the hiatus in the ass.  It’s those who choose to get up and start running again who find the extra excerpt in their self written novel.

Let’s write some more stories and share them with each other.  I’ll crawl with you if you’re willing to stand up soon.

sense memory

When I was younger my mother sat to my left.

On a small chair with a cushion and two arm rests.

This is where I learned patience.

Of all the things in life that I treasure the most, it’s these beginning moments that I remember as a child that all lead up to specific events, events with requirements.

For some reason, I’d always fulfill these requirements.  Which helped me complete each event, which in turn helped me jump over some river bends, climb several mountains, and leap off cliffs.

I’m only twenty-four and sometimes I feel like I’ve learned all that there is to learn by sitting next to my mother, who taught me all the tricks.  Fancy ones that gave me the ability to learn tricks from other people.  And the ability to rediscover how my dad carried me.

When I was younger my dad carried me.

On his back through swap meets in Pasadena.

He taught me the beauty and destruction of selflessness.

And how the manifestation of unconditional love is painful but rewarding at the same time.  Triggering memories of myself as a child, I find my dad’s role as a father superhuman.

To feel without words, to express without action, and to understand without tangibility.

Am I capable of performing?  Am I up to par?  These are the years that test whether or not I’m going to even come close.  Close to being able to make sacrifices that they’ve made that allowed me to think the way that I choose to think today.

liberating others

So many people find  it necessary to hide who they really are in order to impress those around them.  Everything becomes a powerpoint presentation, prepared and ready to exhibit to the public.

It’s a constant search for personas and make believe identities.  This race, perpetuated by judging eyes, creates facades strong enough to successfully hide insecurities and imperfections.  This eventually forces people to forget who they are, the things they want to accomplish, and the goals they want to set.  Instead they ask: What do others want to see me as?  What should I accomplish for them? What goals should I set according to their standards?

How liberating would it be if we stopped lying about ourselves, embraced our faulty qualities, and understood.  The more we hate, the more we judge, the more people hide and the less we know eachother. Let’s liberate ourselves by accepting eachother as people capable of mistake, and understand the individuality behind everyone’s actions and words, whether they be negative or positive.

Liberate people by letting them know how unique their bad qualities are and how their decisions, although looked down upon by others, may seem attractively maverick to you.  This way we’ll be more confident as ourselves and less narcissistic about who we pretend to be.

Happy Birthday Mrs. Kao

So many things can change in 365 days.  Your wardrobe, your levels, your connections with the people around you, who go through these changes similarly as well.  Adjusting is probably the most difficult thing to do, but we’re blessed with the ability to mold into our surroundings if we choose to.  Things change, but there are always constants.  Plug in the right numbers into these life equations and your resulting outcome will be nothing less than exceptional.

I look at my mom and she takes hit after hit.  But she stands there with a smile on her face knowing exactly what I knew six years ago.

She makes no mistakes and she’s one bad ass bitch.

“Be patient Lawrence”

Happy Birthday Momma Kao

Blame her for all the things you hate about me  (happy face).

thanks

There has been many pivotal moments in my life.  A lot of these moments have the potency to alter.  Hopefully I’m putting the puzzle pieces next to apposite counterparts. There is so much potential for failure, but I’m excited to play this omnipresent game of the universe.

I am thankful for those that continue to keep me alive.  Alive in a sense of my freedom. My ability to be me wherever and whenever.  Thank you God for surrounding me with peers that liberate me and continue to foster my growth.  May this growth be stepping stones towards a narrow one.

Merry Christmas bitches