"norwegian wood"

the other day sara and i laughed about ducks covered in ants while waiting for jam.

architecture leads me home somewhere in the way late am and i don't have the energy to make it to my bed - my futon looks too seductive (especially with the hello kitty doll on it.) during our critique, i compose sonnets about elephants. i cook dinner tonight with jason as we watch family guy episodes, not once, not twice, but thrice (and a half.) i look forward now to reuniting myself with the futon, along with haruki murakami and a bowl of ice cream. but, before that, dishes.

you gotta play it cool, even through those days bruised in black and blue.

a song: bright eyes' if winter ends i dreamt of a fever once that would cure me...

"rah rah rah"

friday, i see ishle perform and sing her heart out. i am reunited with good people at the event, even if it's only for a moment. architecture eats away my poetry time so i'm sorry for the delay and lack of input. monday i am a free man, even if it's only for a moment. parties find velocities of voice emotions and reaffirmations of love, curious frenzies of choruses to old school hip hop songs, crazy chickens, and a drunk dog who may or may not have peed in my bed. creativity continues to climb, i'm feeling more and more lightheaded as the days go by, a rush is in me.

thank you.

a song: radiohead's kid a

"so hot"

it's so hard to write on hot nights. but if you really have to write, you will... just close your eyes and let your fingers do the dancing.

a song: eels' skywriting what i've been doing...

"a tea party in space"

"bruce... why is your head in the clouds?"

"if not me, then who will keep the moon company? the cocky stars? the shy comets? the braggart sun?"

"but then... who will keep the earth company?"

a song: handsome boy modeling school's sunshine

"i try"

i try to rock the creativity in my apartment but a crushing stuffiness grips me and turns me cold. i blame the fung shui for the writer's block. i blame the fung shui for the sudden lack of confidence. i turn to my blog not to complain but to cry for help. i think it is time to go out into the sun and have a walk around the block with my shadow. architecture goes well. i sense good karma there. i sense good fung shui. well, for me, at least. sorry kathy bach, sara, and jamie who complain and whimper about their first days. jean and i are in the same section and that should spark good conversation. i went to luca's last night and said the word "fuck" too many times. the "eye" is a beautiful movie, but you won't wet your pants. i'm trying to spend less even though i ordered an old rare eels cd at the cd store today. alex who gets the coolest dvds and books is always gracious enough to share. i have to burn a billion cds for all my friends. i promised one cd too many and now i'm indebted to too many people.

do i sound like a pussy in my blog?

a song: medeski, martin, wood's bubblehouse funk-jazz to tingle your spine to

x.

in a bar, he with a slurry hand scribbles on a napkin, "when you sing, bodies unbutton, skins unzip, and souls strip to showcase." he leaves without another word. no one else hears what he hears at night as he walks home with a ghost in his head.

sometime later, in another place, she finds a napkin on the floor with a strange sentence from one corner to the other. she wonders who the note is for and imagines all the possible "you"s in the world and is sadly convinced that the "you" is none other than her neighbor with the pretty peach cheek.

"msucial mayhem"

this weekend, a wonderful rush of musical mayhem comes and goes. saturday, i find myself at an api multimedia bash in oakland that features the skyflakes and dealership, a bunch of cool comic zines, and some beautiful films including our humble little "regret." recognition comes strange when i get called out as "hey, theatre rice guy" by a stranger. i meet dude named dino who made a great 3d animation music video for the skyflakes. cool cool event. i'm in awe in inspiration that renews my aspirations. and, plus, andinh and i get paid for it. woohaa. we're getting new shoes.

surprise tickets from good ronnie allowed sara and i to see beck at the greek. beck's set tantalizes, heartbreaks, and makes you wet your pants as he slides the electric. his party songs pump you and his breakup songs dump you. he graces us two encores. i think that i'm going to blow up. he renders the flaming lips' "do you realize??" beautifully. his "it's gettin' hot in here" is swank too. beck, i applaud you, sir.

sunday night sees us not just headbobbin', not just finger-snappin', but straight-up happy-go-crazy jumpin', dancin'. jammin', screamin' along to "taaaaaaaake me to another place, taaaaaaaaake me to another land, make me forget all that hurts me! let me understand your plan!" arrested development!!!!! damn! now if i get to see the digable planets grace the stage, i may die a happy music enthusiast.

top 3 concerts i've ever been to: sigur ros, spearhead, arrested development.

good bye, i'm late for lunch.

a song: arrested development's mr. wendel

"hulkish thoughts"

i was going to write a bitchy blog entry about "the hulk" but i decided not to because there are more important things to think about, like family (i'm gonna miss yall), the trailer for the new "peter pan" movie (wow, it looks pretty cool), brian nguyen (happy birthday brotherman), girlfriend (allo there), architecture projects (i choose you over sleep), children's books (we'll make some magic), eels concert (yes!), radiohead concert (yes!!), rilo kiley concert (yes!!!), arrested development concert (YES), los angeles (tata), berkeley (haha), and i dunno, some more stuff i guess, but i'm pretty sleepy so i'll stop thinking... now.

a song: the clash's london calling

"dragon dream"

i promised myself i would write a lot more this week but i guess la just dehydrates my creativity.

los angeles traffic makes me dream of flying cars. or, in my wildest dreams, flying dragons. if i had a dragon, i would name it either "herman blume," "herman hesse" ... or "hot wings." if i had a dragon, i would fly to berkeley to say hi to people, and then fly to new york to ride the subway in the early hours of the morning (fuck the bart that closes at midnight!) if anyone tries to jump me, i'll let my dragon go berzerker on punk buttocks. if i had a dragon, i would travel, and sketch, and compose wherever we go. my dragon and i would sing our hearts out all across the world. eventually, scientists, capitalists, and alligator hunters would try to hunt me and my dragon down. we would fly, and fly, and fly so high into the sky, past the clouds, past the stratosphere, and into space. we would die in space but at least we won't die alone.

a song: mars volta's cut the city bloody brilliant.

"james' dog"

i am convinced that james' dog and i knew each other in a past life. and something tragic happened. that's why she's reincarnated as a dog and i as a human.

a song: rilo kiley's my slumbering heart i still have a musical crush on jenny lewis.

"radio fucking head"

bruce: oh RADIOHEAD is coming to SHORELINE
bruce: in september
tan: WTF
bruce: are you a radiohead fan???
tan: WTF WTF WTF
tan: YES!

let us all "WTF" in unison. who else wants to go? september 23rd at mountain view shoreline.

dope song: radiohead's subterranean homesick alien "ok computer" is one of my favorite albums of all time. i have a strange luck with my radiohead cds, i lost my "bends" and "kid a" quite mysteriously.

"yo la fucking tengo"

bruce: do you know yo la tengo?
bruce: they're making me depressed
bruce: depressed in a good way
chris chen: yo la tengo's one of my fav's
chris chen: which album?
bruce: and then nothing turned itself inside-out
chris chen: ohhh shit, that's the best
bruce: man it's gorgeous
chris chen: peeps gonna be saying I Can Hear the Heart Beating as One is their best yo, but them niggaz fools
bruce: those niggaz deserve to get jumped
chris chen: yo yo checkit, this nigga killa d's all sayin shit like Fold your Hands Child You Walk Like a Peasant be Belle and Sebastian's worst album yo, and i'z like bitch! Imma shoot you in da neck muthafucka!
bruce: gangsta, gangsta... that nigga be beggin to be bitched, like dis other nigga who dissed on my homie elliott smith's either/or, i ran him over with my low rider while bumpinh "needle in the hay"
chris chen: yo this foo said tony bennet's left my heart in san francisco was better than frank sinatra's stranger's in the night
chris chen: i ripped his heart out and killed his family
bruce: fuck you, dog, tony bennet's a pussy

a song: yo la tengo's you can have it all

"bruce"

(the poetry of www.googlism.com)

bruce is here
bruce is not afraid
bruce is no friend of dorothy
bruce is dead
bruce is loose
bruce is one of stuart area's most
bruce is stockpiling radioactive materials
bruce is still boss but trick is the
bruce is ready for a great day
bruce is a goalkeeper
bruce is back with
bruce is back with iron maiden
bruce is hypocritical
bruce is not hypocritical and gpl is a license
bruce is dead by jonathan goldstein
bruce is still the boss'
bruce is dean pro tem
bruce is "stupid
bruce is teaching
bruce is finding his niche as a catalyst again
bruce is 1
bruce is correct
bruce is gone
bruce is lazy and hasn
bruce is led off
bruce is told to
bruce is doubtful
bruce is desperate for new
bruce is looking out for me
bruce is rams' moving target
bruce is 50 years old
bruce is a bad dad
bruce is out there
bruce is our
bruce is still boss
bruce is dead' well yeah
bruce is one of the finest editors this country produced
bruce is loose click on a thumbnail to see a larger image
bruce is a professional
bruce is da man
bruce is loose county hires former administrator bruce postil to bring health care and stadium management under control
bruce is still boss but trick is the daddy
bruce is back with iron maiden shop for iron maiden shop for iron maiden earlier
bruce is back with iron maiden shop for iron maiden shop for iron maiden earlier in the week
bruce is not hypocritical and gpl is a license like the prorprietary ones
bruce is dead by jonathan goldstein coach house books
bruce is still the boss' at last
bruce is dean pro tem of new college of public health
bruce is back
bruce is "stupid
bruce is a bright sparky
bruce is one year old
bruce is wrong
bruce is god
bruce is hiding on the backstreets by spraybottle
bruce is going
bruce is lazy and hasn't filled out his super cool� bio sheet yet
bruce is a native texan and a 15 year resident of spring valley
bruce is our youth pastor
bruce is the architecture students association of the university of queensland and
bruce is waaaay too good for the seafood here
bruce is told to leave the pitch by referee phil dowd against millwall
bruce is led off the pitch by an official against millwall
bruce is writing his second book and he needs your help with some ideas
bruce is neither a member of mensa nor a nobel prize winner
bruce is not afraid "i don't smoke pot
bruce is corrected on a minor point of detail by someone who actually played the sport
bruce is gay and loose
bruce is a judge for the 5k design contest 2002
bruce is sick
bruce is also active in the installation and funding of employee stock ownership plans
bruce is desperate for new faces by colin wood steve bruce faces more frustration in his attempt to reinforce a crystal palace defence
bruce is one of the uva vision group's robots
bruce is looking out for me posted by ron j
bruce is fully licensed to use all the music in this show
bruce is a remarkable book about a �cultural outlaw� and his first amendment struggles
bruce is rams' moving target eventually this wr will burn you the philadelphia inquirer new orleans
bruce is standing in front of the astronauts' port of entry into the shuttle "discovery" a week before sts101's launch to repair the hubble space telescope
bruce is dead but his ghost lives on and on never did get any golden globe award
bruce is a little thrown with how open april is
bruce is
bruce is sharing a continuing journey of discovery that began in 1992 at the monroe institute
bruce is determined to make a difference by using his knowledge and skills to better local government
bruce is an electronics technician at mit
bruce is back with maiden
bruce is a member of the district's administrative procedures/resolutions
bruce is responsible for the daily operations of the firm
bruce is a volunteer in the genetics section of the national fish and wildlife forensics laboratory
bruce is a bad dad entry
bruce is a louisiana state bar association member bruce is a baton rouge bar association member bruce is a community leader serving in a variety of charity
bruce is a graduate of the university of southern california and has a career background in software engineering having built some of the original personal
bruce is the owner and ceo of nu energy technologies
bruce is the man
bruce is born by caesarian section
bruce is one of new orleans' and louisiana's great musical institutions; and he has emerged as one of cajun music's finest cultural ambassadors
bruce is also a writer
bruce is owner of bruce h
bruce is a brilliant actor
bruce is one impossible ticket to purchase
bruce is a good fighter and that's why all the gangs got beat up by him
bruce is just a little bear bruce is just a little bear who helped whenever i was scared
bruce is also the chair of the nova scotia bar admissions appeals committee and a lecturer at the bar admissions course on the drafting of commercial documents
bruce is a sophomore first year member of acclamation
bruce is making
bruce is a blow
bruce is going at it alone musically
bruce is the author of managing generation x
bruce is also a contributing editor for macworld as well as a regular contributor for creativepro where he pens his �out of gamut� articles

a song: radiohead's exit music for a film

"B-612"

i sleep near the stars
but my brother sleeps upon the stones

i'm a dreamer who is perhaps too light
my brother is a realist is probably too right

my brother can beat almost any video game
sing-a-long to all of nwa
and surf the pacific ocean

maybe i can write fancy poem
or film a fancy movie
or paint a fancy picture

but who says my brother can't do that either?

i'm a dreamer
my brother's a realist

i sleep near the stars
but my brother sleeps upon the stones

do you see the north star?
now look slightly west
look closer
closer
closer
squint if you have to
closer
it's a tiny asteroid called B-612

my brother's asleep right there

a song: jack johnson's fortunate fool oh right, right, i hung out with jade today (haha if i didn't mention that on my blog she would have given me a hard time.)

"son of a..."

my dad is crazy

it's a sad night

a song: unkle's bloodstain it's a chilly thing to sing (you don't know the size of my heart)

"until a whisper"

stranger
it's a funny thing to say
but i wish i knew you better

someone hushes to his father
a secret into his shoulder

he cries without tears
and howls a sound that no one has ever heard before
he is mistaken for a sigh

he wants to fly
because there is no one here to stand next to
just a stranger
a loss who looks like a man
who sits in the dark by a television set
who hums sinatra in the car
who feeds the world with tired hands

a loss who looks like a man
who did the best he could to raise two kids
with a belt, with a hug
with a scowl, with a sigh
but not with a hello, a how do you do

he wants to fly
because there is no one here to stand next to
just a stranger
a loss who looks like a man

but if you whisper something into the darkness
you just might hear
an echo
from the unexpected

just whisper
until another whisper comes back home to you

hello
hello

have dinner with me
have dinner with me

oh
oh

happy father's day
happy father's day

dope song: beck's sunday sun so full of sadness

"life is too full"

"Thinking rap is just sex, sex, sex
And more flesh, flesh, flesh
robbing your soul of its precious sensuousness
most of these rappers are talking shit out of the side of they neck
what the heck?
It's more and more suckas gettin signed for less, less, less, and less
and lesson one: if aiming to impress, press, press
you gotta do it yourself, quiet as kept, kept, kept..."
- lateef the truth speaker

do it yourself art is the way to go. what did billy blanks say? there are three things that you need, patience, focus, and somethingsomething... whatever. life is just too full of artistic potential. a lot of exciting projects in the works. notably some film jazz and a creative book jimmy approached me about. too exciting, just too exciting...

dope song: latyrx' latyrx these two mcs lateef and lyrics born are just so insane... this is crazy song starts off with the two musicians rapping at the same time and it's just entrancing (the accapella version of the song is another beauty.)

ix

somewhere in egypt, she runs and runs while the sun yells at her to "STOP!"

"you can't keep up, huh?" she replies with a sweaty smile.

and somewhere in los angeles, he's stuck in traffic. an ocean of cars drift beside him. he gets out of his car and takes a stroll into the sea. the cars honk at him and he doesn't know why. a trucker yells at him to "GET BACK IN YOUR CAR, YOU IDIOT!"

"you can't keep up, huh?" he replies with a simple smile.

the sun melts her into the sand and the truck squishes him into the cement.

they get reincarnated. she into a rabbit with a missing foot, he into a kid with a furry lucky charm.

"online high school yearbook"

i'm fixed on friendster
and i spy
a drowy grin somewhere in the shadows of my monitor

do i swing a subtle grin at myself?
or is it to friendster that i flirt to?

is there even a difference anymore?

sara's all too right. friendster is like an online high school year book for grown-ups. and i hate high school.

this really gotsa stop. who's with me?!

anyone? anyone?

*sigh* ok i guess maybe i should browse my friends page again.

dope song: the flaming lips' in the morning of the magicians a beautiful sound is the cracking of an egg over a frying pan, another beautiful sound is the moment a guitar introduces itself in this song.

"watch"

the old man with no memory cried, and laughed, and cared, and loved, and lived, until he couldn't remember what he was crying to, or laughing about, or caring for, or loving with, or living without...

so he cried.

the pianist reminds me to stay humble and hopeful.

watch him.

on dvd or vhs. available now.

dope song: radiohead's we suck young blood yes, the new album really is beautiful.

"chins up"

i drink to the fish, the birds...
(...no, who cares about them?)

i drink to the yawning night, the universe...
(...no, too vague, too typical of me)

i drink to the delayed harvest of our calloused hands...
(...no, don't be melancholic, not now)

i drink to forget...
(...no, then i won't have anything to write about)

i drink to you...
(...no, this is about me)

i drink to me...
(...no, this is about you)

i drink to ...
(...yes, let's drink to words.
the words that i can't find
the words that can put the infintely big life in the infinitesimal l-i-f-e
the words
that keep me from taking this drink)

chins up.

dope song: cibo matto's sci-fi wasabi

"jimmy diggin' cat"

CAT
jimmy, tell me, tell me what being a human is like.

JIMMY
when you're human, you can ride the night winds.

CAT
jimmy, teach me, teach me how to ride the night winds.

JIMMY
don't sleep, but dream. don't say, but do. don't close, but open, open your heart so when you ride the night winds you'll catch all the stars.

CAT
jimmy, don't tell me, show me.

and jimmy wrote a play for the cat, read a poem for the cat, sang a song for the cat, cooked a fish-steak for the cat, drew a picture for the cat, told a dirty joke for the cat, danced with his shirt off for the cat, did impossible things and laughed about it for the cat, and cradled the cat onto his shoulder, held his breath, and hopped onto the westward winds into the sky.

they rode the night winds together and got married somewhere over the sahara.

what happened next is a secret.

the end.

dope song: cunninlynguists' mic like a memory

viii.

it's june.

he sings in his sleep.

but she can't sleep, so she sings.

the song of the sleepfull is beautiful, so is the song of the sleepless. if you listen to their songs in unison, you'll discover something exceptionally beautiful... but only if you're careful enough to hear it. it's like the sound of moonlight in the morning.

you learn to hear with more than just your ears.

"the jest in the jazz"

don't forget to listen for the sigh in the smile
the hope in the hello, the regret in the goodbye,
the jest in the jazz, and the laugh...
that last laugh
in the blues

and that man with the grey beard
who writes books with his smile
who doesn't need to shower to feel clean
who doesn't know where he'll sleep but he knows (or bravely thinks) that he'll be just fine
yes
that man
the man at the bus stop with the cigarette
by the coffee shop with the empty cup
next to you in line at the grocery store

(don't forget to listen to him)

no one listens to strangers anymore
and that's just not right because that means
no one listens to poets anymore
and if no one listens to poets
no one listens to anyone
not even our mothers
and aren't mothers the first poets we know?

(oh, don't forget to call your mom)

(oh, and why don't you call a friend you haven't talked to in awhile while you're at it)

because it's a shame
that no one knows anyone anymore

it's such a shame
that someone so alone and so sad is secretly so funny and so beautiful
that someone so smiley and so friendly is secretly so lonely and so afraid

it's such a damn shame
that someone so big is so small
that someone so small is so big

so
can i offer you this one advice?

buy that man with the grey beard some coffee
be with the people who won't judge you (fuck fake people!)
be with the people with the open hearts
fall madly in love with them
and never ever turn your heart
on what you know is right

don't forget to listen for the sigh in the smile
the hope in the hello, the regret in the goodbye,
the jest in the jazz, and the laugh...
that last laugh
in the blues.






ps:

vii.

"you remind me of someone i can't remember," he says.

"how can't that be? how can you remember someone that isn't there?"

"maybe you never really learn anything new. maybe you just...."

"...re-discover old truths?"

"you remind me of someone i can't remember."

"now that's just silly," she replies.

and they talk about herman hesse and jack kerouac and noam chomsky and ashton kushner and demi moore and moliere and elvis and john coltrane and memphis in junes and autumns in new york and furry little dogs and old baby turtles and all the big fat stars singing over their heads...

dope song: the eels' ps: you rock my world i love the eels... i'm going to their show at the filmore with ronnie... anyone else wanna go too!

"fancy pantsy"

i hang out bookstore. i listen to el-p's fantastic damage. i browse through poetry books. nikki giovanni reminds me of june jordan, and that's just beautiful. i find a connection with garcia lorca, who loves the stars as well. i enjoy some graphic novels, particularly the ones starring wolverine. i head over to the cd store. i buy the new radiohead. and a radiohead dvd. and a bjork dvd. and finally finally the mountain brothers joint "triple crown." the other night i got bourgeois coffee and beer at a fancy pantsy jazz joint. i spend too much money, but at least i get some peace of mind.

dope song: el-p's deep space 9mm creepy... some real sonic shit. does anyone out there have the instrumental cd? we can trade some cds... i got lots.

"ode to bad poems"

this is an ode to bad poems

a bad poem
is full of words like abyss
unicorn
hegemony
since such words don't grace our everyday
("school is my abyss, may a unicorn deliver me from this hegemony!")
bad poems share them
to make our modest days seem
as meaningful as the moon

a bad poem
so desperately wants to be beautiful
endearing
breathtaking
no matter what
no matter how
a bad poem wants to woo the audience
be like paris in all seasons
and swat the spelling bee, drink all the honey

but a bad poem
no one remembers

when a bad poem cries, it cries alone
when a bad poem wants to die, it never tells anyone
when a bad poem has love to give, it doesn't have anyone to give it to

never be ashamed of a bad poem
let it sit next to you on the bus
let it have a light when it wants to smoke
let it lead you this next dance

let the bad poem love love love
let it love alone let it love with friends let it love in the abyss let it love on a unicorn let it love in a hegemonic state let it love love love please
let it love
so, at least, it can say... it lived.

dope song: j-live's yes

"friendster"

friendster is just too damn trippy.

dope song: latyrx' aim for the flickering

"firefly"

i cannot never really know this city, nor will i ever know this state, or this country, or this planet, or this universe. i'm a firefly in the dark, and i wander out when the only light i know is in.

dope song: white stripes' it's true that we love each other

"once we had a dream..."



... to live each moment to its fullest. in my furious haze to start a webpage (i tell brian i'm making one and he replies "yes! yes! yes!") i decide to scan some of my pictures. i uploaded them too. you can find them HERE. expect more photographic updates soon. as well as webpage announcements. speaking of announcements, happy birthday jade and mike! i had a splendid weekend in berkeley. i drive up with brian, celebrate cookies, party at phatrick's, sing at the shoreline, play in sf, eat fancy food, find fish, drive a lot, read tarot cards, talk good talks, have good bbq, kidnap screaming girl, get caught by cops, bake a pie, eat a pie, drive home with luca. yes. woohoo. good weekend! thank you all for the hospitality (in my own home) and good times. you are all much loved.

dope song: the skyflakes' things to do

so mr. baobab boy and i had quite the venturous weekend. i think i shall become a professional chef or open up my own patisserie as bruce ate the most scrumptious cookies made by myself. they were so good, in fact, that they had no particular flavor and tasted kinda like soysauce. we did a lot of neat-o fun stuff- gallopingcoldplay concert, a secret phonecall from Detective Jerry Gerry Tsai, augmented raspberry reduction duck and crab cake in the shape of a pear, tarot card readings by andinh and denise except me because i'm superstitious and scared, creepy Twilight Zone stories, 1 am rice pinkies, non-surprise birthdays and dancing/prancing hamsterponies.. merrrrryayalalalalalbehhhhhhhhhhhhh

o yes and the pear pie was revoltingly splendidforicious.

- Sara

Hi. Wow... I'm blogging on Bruce's blog. Wahoo! Man. Here's a poem, Bruce-style written by me. Enjoy! =)

I reach for the twylight blue sky
in search of love and comfort from the distant stars
staring down with sympathy
and grab nothing
but the cold sorrow loneliness

It's Bruce-style cuz I'm reaching... for the sky. Yeah.. Bruce likes poems where there's reaching and skies =) Keep on reaching for them skies Bruce! K. bye! =)

- Jerry