Craziest Anxiety Dream Yet

I’m cast in a play, but don’t know my lines for the second half of the script. It’s a community production and rather modest in set design and costuming. There isn’t a stage, and the performance shares the same floor with the audience,  a simple curtain delineating the backstage.

It’s opening night, and the play has already begun. I’m meant to go on stage in a few scenes. I am trying to get a hold of the script so I can cram my lines for the second half. I know this is futile, but I persist. I rummage through my bags and ask my castmates to look at their copies. However, I don’t want to raise any alarms, so am doing my best to seem nonchalant. Inside, though, my heart is pounding. My mouth tastes like metal. I have to speak in a whisper so that I don’t interrupt the play.

When I do get a copy of the script, my fears grow exponentially. I’m cast in a sci-fi/horror piece, and my character undergoes some fantastical transformation in the second act. I become a transsexual were-beast with a new name. In fact, all the characters transform and take on new identities. From skimming, I have no way of telling which character I am portraying and which lines to learn. To make matters worse, there are cartoon panels throughout the script. I’m not sure how we are meant to portray these moments on stage. I don’t know what to do.

As I’m trying to cope with all of this, another castmate that is backtage keeps speaking in a loud voice, disrupting the play. I keep trying to get her to quiet down, but she’s oblivious. It’s almost time for my cue.

I’ve joined the Constant Critic team!

Though I’m a scholar, I’ve pretty much steered clear of writing poetry reviews in the past. I think it’s because I had some half-baked/foggy notion that I should channel my creative efforts into my poetry and my scholastic efforts into my studies. If you’re familiar with my work and poetic interests, though, you can see how this divide quickly disintegrated. Living is breathing is moving is all.

This is to say that I’ve joined Constant Critic, a Fence publication, as one of their circle of reviewers. I’ll be posting poetry reviews on a regular basis over at their site and through their email lists. For those of you who want to subscribe–it’s free! I am joining a pretty impressive group — Karla Kelsey, Vanessa Place, Jordan Davis, and Raymond McDaniel. Former CCers include Joyelle Mcsweeney, Christina Mengert, K. Silem Mohammad, and Christine Hume.

Keep your eyes pealed for an update in a few weeks when the review comes out!

Also, if you’d like your book possibly reviewed or want to suggest some titles for consideration, shoot me an email. You can send it via editor@corollarypress.org.

May-lee wrote a review of the reading and I had a crazy dream

Back from San Francisco–wanted to post a link to a wonderfully generous and thoughtful review May-lee Chai wrote of the event at Small Press Traffic.

Also, I’ve been having some incredibly vivid dreams. I thought I’d write the most recent (what I can remember of it, at any rate) down. It’s definitely an anxiety dream.

I’m driving in a borrowed/stolen mini-van. It’s incredibly rainy, the sky is a dull gray, everything is gray and brown. The road I am driving on is as steep as a ski-slope. Cars zoom past and towards me from the other lanes. I am trying very hard to maintain control of the vehicle. There’s a slight taste of sharp panic in the back of my throat, in my fingertips. My fingertips can almost taste; they have a particular acuity, an electricity about them.

The steering wheel is frustratingly small. In fact, it is something like a game-controller, a small track-wheel on a flat pad affixed to the dashboard. It takes all my focus/energy to make sure I am turning with the steep curves of the road. The trackpad is lazy. It refuses to turn with the necessary fluency I require. I drive over a small ramp separating my lane from the oncoming traffic.

The road falls away beneath me. It’s no longer a road, anyway, but a stream of rain and mud. I feel the car leap into the air. Everything freezes in time. I am suspended like this–eternally falling, dashing, just losing ground–until I wake up.

In another recent dream, I attempted to strangle something called a “blue tongued skink.” The one in my dream looked nothing like the creature in actuality. My dream skink (!) was half alligator, half very smooth lizard. As smooth as a newt. And it was literally in half–the right side was scaly alligator, the left side was smooth newt. And it was about 4 feet long. And had a neon green/blue belly.

What monsters have you tried to murder in your dreams?

I’m reading at Small Press Traffic

Wow! I’m in San Francisco, and I just wanted to give people a heads up that I’ll be reading at Small Press Traffic tonight (February 11th) at 7:30 pm with Maxi Kim and Jackqueline Frost.

I’ll be projecting some images and possibly playing a short video on repeat of some ambient sharks that I made a few years back.

The wonderful folks at Atticus Finch press have made a broadside to support the event! I can’t wait to see it. Apparently Andrew Rippeon has done something quite amazing with the text. He’s brilliant. Michael Cross’s write up for the event gives details on the broadsides.

The details:
Timken Hall,CCA SF
1111 8th Street
event begins at 7:30pm
entrance is $8-15/members FREE

 

North of Invention Conference at the Kelly Writers House

Hello! It’s 2011, and it’s phenomenal.

If you’re in Philadelphia this week, you MUST go check out the North of Invention Conference, hosted by the Kelly Writers House and organized by Sarah Dowling. It’s going to be fantastic–a celebration of Canadian experimental writing. Wow! Some incredible  writers will be participating, such as Lisa Robertson, Nicole Brossard, Norbese Philip, etc. I get to introduce Christian Bok, whose work always blows my mind!

It’s going to be a packed weekend (starting on Thursday) that spans two cities–starting in Philadelphia and ending in New York. The itinerary is below!

Thursday, January 20: Kelly Writers House, Philadelphia

Friday, January 21: Kelly Writers House, Philadelphia

Saturday, January 22: Poets House, New York City

 

  • 2:00PM Welcome with Charles Bernstein & Sarah Dowling
  • 2:30PM A Conversation with M. NourbeSe Philip & Fred Wah
  • 4:00PM A Conversation with Stephen Collis & Christian Bök
  • 5:30PM A Poetry Reading with Stephen Collis, Sarah Dowling, M. NourbeSe Philip, a.rawlings & Fred Wah

Sunday, January 23: Poets House, New York City

 

  • 1:00PM A Conversation with Jeff Derksen & Lisa Robertson
  • 2:30PM A Conversation with a.rawlings & Jordan Scott
  • 4:00PM A Poetry Reading with Jeff Derksen, Christian Bök, Lisa Robertson & Jordan Scott

I’m in NYC this weekend for 2 events!

Hello!

This week I’ll be speaking/reading with two astounding writers, Barbara Jane Reyes and Craig Santos Perez! If you’re around Saturday afternoon or Monday evening, please come out and join us. I’m a big believer and fan of Craig, having published his chapbook preterrain (which is all sold out!) last year, and am excited to finally meet and speak with him in person. I also own and love Barbara’s book Poeta in San Francisco. Both she and Craig are based on the West Coast, so this is a big treat to have them visiting out East.

SATURDAY November 13, 2PM
POETS HOUSE, 10 River Terrace
www.poetshouse.org

(Re)writing Culture with Sueyeun Juliette Lee, Craig Santos Perez & Barbara Jane Reyes

In this panel, three young poet-scholars investigate the intersection of research and poetic practice, including Perez’s interest in ethnography and poetry, Reyes’s practice of rewriting/retelling Filipino mythology and Lee’s exploration of geography, psychology and the textuality of nations (focusing specifically on the United States and North and South Korea).

$10, $7 for students and seniors, free to Poets House Members

 

MONDAY November 15, 7PM
Asian American Writers Workshop (AAWW), 110-112 W. 27th Street Suite 600
www.aaww.org/aaww_events.html

A reading of new work by poets Sueyeun Juliette Lee, Craig Santos Perez & Barbara Jane Reyes.

Holy Crap, the most thoughtful response to my work. EVER.

Thomas Fink has published a review of Underground National on Verse Mag’s blog. This review is hands down the most thorough, thoughtful, and detailed consideration of my work to date. This is not to denigrate the amazingly insightful and thoughtful reviews my work has received before, but Mr. Fink takes it to a whole ‘nother level. For real. He leaves no fragment unturned!

If you are at all interested in anything I do, you should definitely go read it.

A human line

The horizon is flawless, a new way of stating that the stars mean nothing to me now that my eyes are locked to land.

The formerly deadly sky, less than ominous now without teeth or eyes, holds nothing for me. Not a vestige of a name or laden glance.

Night is absolute. Daylight a condition of some presences that turn regardless where you look.

The blue sky is as endless as my consideration. I choose to fold myself away from you, your highness. I choose to pull myself deeply into the parched ground. Count me among the refuse lining the old trolley tracks. Not even a roach deigns lift its head among such a wreck.

This is a form of mercy, of self ablution. The sky churns overhead, regardless the season, negligent of human failures, shrapnel, curses.

The lesson is to truly be mortal. To see with yellowed eyes the earth that issues forth from what we build. Human hands. Human ardor. Human waste.

Review of Kim Ji-Woon’s The Good, The Bad, and the Weird (2008)

My friend May-lee was asking my thoughts on this film, so I thought I’d post this as a note to initiate a conversation with any other folks who have seen this.

The Good, the Bad, and The Weird is the 2008 film by director Kim Ji-Woon. He also did A Tale of Two Sisters (2003) and A Bittersweet Life (2005). The Good, The Bad, and The Weird is a re-imagining of Sergio Leone’s The Good, The Bad, and the Ugly, this time with 1930s Manchuria set as the Wild West. Three money-driven outlaws–a Bandit (the Bad), a Thief (the Weird), and a Bountyhunter (the Good)–face off over a treasure map that allegedly details where an ancient Qing dynasty treasure is buried. The Japanese (funding the Bandit) want this map to fund their failing war efforts. The guerilla Korean Independence movement have hired the Bountyhunter to also steal the map so they can thwart the Japanese and fund their own independence efforts. The Weird happens to foil all these efforts when he robs the Japanese banker with the map while on a train. He later makes a short-lived (and unwilling) allegiance with the Bountyhunter, who seems vaguely sympathetic with the Independence movement but is ultimately driven by some unnamed desires–in a scene where the Bountyhunter is about to tell the Weird what he fights for and what he wants out of life, the Weird cuts in with a loud snore, leaving us forever in the dark about The Good’s motivations.

To illustrate just how bad the Bad is, **SPOILER ALERT**, he executes his Japanese handler in order to go after the map himself. When he finds out that the Weird possesses it, the film implies some previous bad blood between the two men in order to justify the Bad’s obsessive fixation with beating the Weird. At the climactic moment of the film, the movie devolves into a three-way Mexican Standoff/pissing contest to see who is the best gunslinger around. Just as in Leone’s film, the Weird really wins out in this movie. His goofy posturing, earthiness, and bumbling heroics make him a focal point of almost every scene. He also serves to deflate the grandstanding, uber-action antics of the Good and the Bad. A favorite moment of mine was when the Weird dons an antique undersea helmet during a gunfight, illustrating his common sense wits, whereas the Good soars like Tarzan on a rope over the action, reloading and shooting his shotgun with one arm. The Good might *look* good, but as far as surviving a gunfight goes, I think the Weird has it right.

There were some glaring anachronisms, like the fact that The Bad was dressed like Prince, the Good was dressed like a cowboy, and neither seemed to have any actual roots in the 1930s. Overall, the movie took itself too seriously to be just a comedy, but as an action flick was kind of goofy and didn’t hang together very well. The action sequences were a beat or two too long, and the epic chase scene, in which Manchurian Bandits, the Japanese Army, and the Bad’s goons are all chasing the Weird across the desert, felt like it lasted for years. The film also made insistent Korean claims on Manchuria–though those moments were meant as plot devices, they seemed quite earnest, and betrayed more about the film than the film perhaps intended. Lawless Manchuria, where all this takes place, represents the hopes and desires for two national imaginations–the Japanese and the Koreans (the Manchurian barbarians don’t have any dreams in the film). The “richness” of this space seems to lie in its possibilities–the way its desert spaces withhold secrets rather than fulfill desires. The ocean can appear over a ridge without any warning, just as oil can gush up from an abandoned well, only to recede again, inexplicably. As a contested territory, Manchuria doesn’t seem, well, worth it. It’s dirty, dusty, and dry. It’s true value, the movie suggests, is underground, unrecognizable, and ultimately forgotten by the film’s heroes, who are more interested in fighting for fame and prestige rather than material or spiritual reward.

I think the good reviews this film received were in part due to the novelty factor–of how it imagines Manchuria as the Wild West. It IS doing something interesting with its lack of emotional substance/mythic posturing, yet *insistent* historical context. Some critic called it a “cartoon of a cartoon,” and I think that is quite apt, in both good and bad ways. I loved the old Spaghetti westerns for their mythic handling of something as base as human greed. There really isn’t anything mythic here, just a lot of grandstanding over emptiness.

One STANDOUT aspect of this film, in my opinion, was the actor who plays The Weird–Kang-ho Song. Mr. Song is now certifiably one of my favorite actors. I’ve seen him in The Host, The President’s Barber, Sympathy for Mr. Vengeance, Thirst, and now this. He is really QUITE transformative. I just watched Thirst a few weeks ago, and seeing that and then this film in quick succession just made me marvel at how he really became two different people for these films. In Thirst, he prowls about the screen with a guilty restlessness. In this film, he bumbles about with earnest self-interest. Wow and Wow.

Steven Karl reviews Underground National for Sink Review

Steven Karl has, unbeknownst to me!, written quite a review of Underground National over at Sink Review. I appreciate how his sensitive readings connect the book to other texts and lives. Thank you, Steven, for the critical attention!

http://sinkreview.org/review/the-stain-remains/

And for those of you who haven’t checked out his chapbook, you should check out (Ir)Rational Animals (Flying Guillotine Press), a delirious exploration of human (s/t)exuality.