Blogging addiction?

recently I’ve been blogging whenever I’m free. This happens after work and is sort of a resting point for me to meditate and recap what I’ve been feeling about a litany of things: job, money, school, blogs, passion projects, people, the past and more. Never-ending fodder for the blog.

To be honest I don’t know what I’ve been doing for the past few years. Sometimes I feel strongly about the future. That’s what I’m obsessed with. Long-term changes. I think in an essential way the small stuff touches hands with the big stuff, embraces and leaves me wondering all the whys and whos and whats, whens, wheres and hows. I guess the ssomettimess small things evolve into bigger things which were always small things to begin with. Evolution is stasis on a relative scale, and I manipulate myself kidding what’s changing is ever going to not be different from before.

I wrote a long time ago that school was supposed to teach us about life – and used the imagery of Alexander the Great, chopping Gordian’s Knot in half. The complexity is so simple though. I wonder why I equated a school to a sword. I would think almost eugenically: a sword shorn by duller blades, a shard sharpened and dulled by other shards. Sharp sharp sharp brought into a brazier (read: armory) of glistening LVL 100+ swords. They’re simple and they shine. I can’t get this out of my head.

dissolution is a barrel in the sea

dissolution is time in a barrel in limbo in the sea

It’s hard to see it.

Moving on.



How to Become a FULL Cube of Plexiglass

Manic chicken operatives: is this actually the font I’m using right now? Oh yeah. I want to move into the door next tO me.

I’m in Bosnia here it’s here. Loose endorphins
misremembering all the start dates to my obsessions
everything is so
twitter on instagram on tumblr on fb

Time, models of thought

Tonight I talked to Bryan, a friend I met on SQUAD (Subtle Queer Asian Dating). Across empty bowls of dan dan noodles Bryan made, they’re a food vendor @ The Mighty Manatee, I talked about time and some other stuff. The earliest memory I have of time comes in the form of fireworks at Disneyland, where my parents took me and my sister when I was a toddler. In it I remember seeing my first fireworks, eruptions of light that then fizzled downwards. In the byproduct of their explosions, fireworks leave drifting sparks that float and disappear with gravity. Against wind resistance, it looks as if time has interrupted the motion of these explosive detritus. This, I think, was my first experience with slow-motion.

second week beginnings

I’m back into the groove of things. Each semester that means something different, but inevitably, by the second week, I’ve either fallen into a rhythm or seen the end at the very beginning.

I didn’t know how to feel after Bubble T on Saturday….it was their Lunar new year’s Party and I’ve…never been in a room of so many QTPOC all at once. I felt overwhelmed in a good way. I was dead, I was alive, it felt like I had found home.

I saw the wonderful Michelle Zhu on stage dancing with a dragon head on! It was incredible. I’m excited to reply to her Write / To Heal newsletter. Hopefully there’s a zine too.

And then Untitled Queen lip synced to Your Best American Girl and I ceased to exist. I don’t know anything anymore. How I’ve been feeling about classes – feels sort of like the gif I posted. It’s all natural now. Floating along basically. I’m definitely still exerting myself though. It’s serene busy-work basically – the exciting (and sometimes boring) thing is that I’m definitely learning, although I have gripes with the process as always.

I feel like sometimes my classes go too slow and like I’m hearing the same thing over and over again – not that it’s not needed. The practice is kind of what’s the most beneficial. For example, I’m only writing a “consistent” blog now because I have to actually read and write on a consistent basis for my 21 credits..! Really wild how things have happened so quickly and so smoothly.

I’m excited to see how I’ll progress with my various classes, skills, projects and internship / job this semester.

For my Data JRNL class – since we’re all co-creating what the class will become going forward – I’m still figuring out what I want to do for my final project. Today we learned how to look through our tweets – a process that took my professor 2 months to learn!

Advanced Social Media should provide me with some tools to implement in my career going forward. I don’t really know where it might go….but the fact that we’re trying to develop and ascertain what our brands are is interesting already.

My Design and Visual Strategies class is learning Illustrator – which should be great. Unfortunately I learned nothing new today! But hopefully next time I find something cool to implement in my own projects. This is my most amazing class because my professor used to be an illustrator! He went to art college and is now a published programming professor. Also my only As/Am professor!

For the Chronicle, the school newspaper, we’re doing a lot of new things! I’m excited to see how social media develops this semester and maybe learn how to integrate newsletters and automatic sign ups. QR codes for the newspaper newsletter will be in print next week hopefully.

Outside of college I have my internship where I’m contacting a zinemaker from San Francisco who makes zines on the internet. I’ll be helping consign her work in the magstore and making my own zine, about zines, that’ll also be held in the store. This is gonna require a lot of research, subtraction, more research, and more subtraction!

For Molasses Magazine, a POC music mag that I’m really excited about, there’s gonna be a lot of new things to be done…we’re getting a good amount of pitches that I’m really excited about. The social media, newsletter and other aspects of the mag is going to be a great way to learn and explore with people that I find really essential. I find myself exhausted around a lot of my white peers – especially when a 360 glance of my surroundings fails to find a single POC, queer, or anything but white, person around me. It’s alienating in an inexplicable way! I think for the most part it feels like I’ve been taken out of my home, Fort Bend County, that is so diverse, and put in a place where diversity as a concern is so present because of its literal absence…!

I’ve been having a terrible foreboding feeling of non-being consistently these past two weeks. Whenever I’m present I feel absent, whenever I’m alone I feel present. It’s not new, but the amount of people around me as the semester starts again strains this feeling more and more, and I don’t know what to do. I know the feeling is valid – all feelings are valid!

Finally, my own personal projects – that I’ve personally spearheaded – include a continuation of my attempt to make two zines a week. This week I’m trying to really crank out an accordion zine (4.5 x 3) of a Lunar New Year’s cultural knowledge type that can be tucked into red paper envelopes. I bought the li xi today at my Viet mart and also got 1000 dollar “Hell Bank” notes from the mart that’ll be fun to include and share with my friends.

Kinda relevant is my participation in HAPIA – the Hofstra Asian Pacific Islander Alliance! We’re figuring out what this semester will hold – a colorism event and LNY event. It’s mostly the E-Board right now, which has been great. Finding and building community has been an on-going difficulty.

My extremely short-term project that I’m most pumped about is the Queer Love Zine I’ve received lots of interest about….it’s my first truly independently curated project….I don’t want to talk too much about it here! Just keep a look out 🙂 And lmk if, whoever’s reading this, wants to contribute on the theme of queer love.

dumpster diving

On Friday January 22nd Hofstra University in partnership with an undisclosed artist revealed a new art installation in the vacant lot behind Breslin Hall and the Lawrence Herbert School of Communication.


The pieces are part of an attempted renaissance of Hofstra’s campus to address the university’s abysmal lack of sufficiently productive art installations.


Last semester students reported experiencing a mildly wet lacrimal occurrence only once every 33 steps

when passing the existing 55-odd “sculptures” across Hofstra’s campus.


The university’s newest addition to its otherwise insipidly barren landscape breathes fresh, sometime smelly, air into the desiccating corpse of Hofstra.


Mother, please stop farting. Mother you’re stinking up the whole can.


The provocative installation consists of two 8 x 5’ adjacent assemblies of spatial solids adorned with deviously simplistic illumines of green and grey. *


*Editor’s Note: They’re dumpsters.


By placing the two pieces next to each other, the artist throws into question the question. Like will this succeed? * Am I missing something? Will this deteriorating body attract Public Safety?


*As in fucking the dumpster. He is trying to fuck the dumpster.


Similar questions, of the necessarily erotic, of motherly affection, of motherly love, care, sickness and of bodily death, of timeless iniquity deprived infinite rage, of vindication, why the fuck won’t this trash bag open I know there’s a half-full Boosted bottle of Naked Guava smoothie in here I saw it I saw it thrown away by some bottle-necked glasses snicker-wannabe in Breslin’s second-story men’s Bathroom, of shoes, shit and of life after corporeal cessation are suggestions of critical insight by the piece’s reflection on late 1970s dialogue. *


*Here he is talking about reviving his mom.


Bananas I ate early in the quest for the right home space feng shui came in use later, but I never knew where to put those peels so I settled their uses as duplicate: for the nervous digestion and the preparation of self-destruction ready to receive. *




Never quite got that banana peel pile placement right…


The art! The art surpasses boundaries of modern discursive thought with its remarkable handling of form… a sentient structure active and still-born in modernism’s embryonic fetus bag. No, no I’m sorry, amniotic sac. I meant amniotic sac.


Time has gotten away from me…

My final moments with my mother came with a rumor that she had expired now and her brain had latched onto the loveless bond of a hospital waste basket.


My mother’s body never meant much to me, but it provided physical comfort, however shallow, in the days after her soul’s untimely departure.


I mean the mortal sequins of existential refuse kept me busy for a couple days before the men in squatters’ uniforms* came in their greenish-tan-greenish tan band skin suits looked me up and locked its copy crying man tears but I’m not no man I’m a continuous reversal of excrement and its suit is only of green and grey back metal.


*Public Safety found former Hofstra sophomore Tommy Gretchen, a film major with a minor in philosophy, living in the dumpsters behind Breslin and Herbert after an alarming smell drew crowds of Hofstra cats, a raccoon and senior faculty from the Fine Arts Department. Upon discovery, Gretchen, like the raccoon, fled in a scurry of shrill screams and frantic movements. He left behind a collection of Naked Juice bottles semi-formed into a shape resembling a giant plastic dildo, piles of banana peels and the rotten remains of an unidentified body. Gretchen first went missing in the days following his mother’s untimely death on January 22nd, 2016.


@majortom That nail-rod shitter brought un-famed techno-gofers to the grape farm one day, January 22nd, and they stunk up the whole breach not much like these two fecund greyish greenish grey lollipop incubators which happened to be just the right size for charging my banana poppers… *


*Penis? Penises? Unclear.


And I did, oh yes I did, I charged those banana poppers.



Warholian containers of stilted green and grey metal shouted,



to me yesterday, January 23nd, and it stood up too, opening the wide sky to shine its glancing venereal juicer down on my poor mortal eyes. *


*Fucked BY the dumpster? Unclear.


My feeble salt and paper cracker mind split right down its meridian axis to vacant loose ghost holes now open to the entrance of my loosely plagiarized experiment- the art can of macro-seeking genesis peeled inside itself past to deposit my poor mother’s soul into me* -and I became pregnant with her eternal essence .it came like a flood into my causal statis-chamber, my I belly belly


*Here he is being fucked by the dumpster.


Now six months in I’m still on the miraculous train lavishing the Newest Hofstra Installation, but from afar it doesn’t look too good, I Can barely track the carnal doings of metal waste baskets from my telescope twenty two feet about the watchtower* it’s obligatory with all the tans skin suits runnin around, but the man is still running and I’m keeping the saint alive, oh my poor old Mother’s soul.


*Gretchen’s current whereabouts are unknown.



I was angry before in the dorm- with my clothes and warm sheets piled on top of the springy bed cushion. I had dreams that were dynamic, disorienting, recollections of the day placed in settings that were real but amplified. I paced in the small space, one sock on one sock off, the sound of my room mate’s Chinese action films to the right of the room. When I sat down to draft the messages I felt some boiling heat that existed around my body’s peripheral space, an outline of red. Looking in-to the screen, I felt anger, not the obfuscating logical oblivion of temperamental rage, but a clarity in anger that felt objective-pure even (?). So I rode on this strange feeling for a while, not identifying it until now, just experiencing the strangeness, and taking the time to reveal to myself some of the similar feelings I’ve had in the past during this circumstance.

So I’ve already mentioned clarity. Next, merciless direct self-criticism. Imaginary ~If I was a government~ the bureaucracy of this brain allocates continuous and copious amounts of funding to confusing the heck out of its internal structures of moderation. The effect: a painfully detracting habit of avoiding sticky things. I’ll have to end the analogy here because I don’t know the governmental equivalent of it- a self-perpetuating cycle of incompetence! That might just be Peter’s Principle then. Avoiding having to deal with weaknesses exacerbates the habit of avoidance. It’s like I have giant mental cavities and I never ever brush or floss.

And then realizing the clarity and un-withholding state of mind, I sought to capitalize and write! The main barriers to writing, for me, are the two that were just ameliorated or mollified by the angry man in my dorm chair. I wasn’t taking time to clarify, or be “OCD” about every single selection. With writing being composed of several minute decisions one after another, being indecisive is tantamount to paralysis. Not that one should launch into your writing without a moment’s thought, but that sometimes it can be more important to get the thought down with un-choice selections then not get it down at all.


So I’m still dealing with having to rewrite. Rewriting is against the “fragile perfect” grain I’ve been used to as a model for excellence. If you’d prepare beforehand, you wouldn’t have to do it again. I’ve got the before the scenes obsession down, and it takes me forever to put ink down, but not the rewriting part. Together they will take the worry of mistakes in the initial writing process, and strengthen research and revision. Help! *


*No final revision was given to this overall blog post.


There’s no way it’s actually August 15th. Less than 10 days now! I am so scared and happy. The last few weeks have been a lot of undisciplined cowardice to say the least. I’ve been physical at least in the last couple days. Matt and I hiked this trail called Sleeping Giant (apparently that’s what it looks like from above) and there was this huge 4 story old castle-tower thing at the top. Kinda crazy. We took a weird route and ended off trail. It was a lot harder but way worth it b/c in the valley with all the trees it felt like you were in a fantasy land. There were rock outcroppings and small streams and lots of fallen moss-covered trees. Short bushes sprouted in almost decorative swaths underneath all the greenery and the shade brought such startling coolness it felt like an airy baptism. I swear Robin Hood or Tinker Bell could’ve been behind anyone of the hollow trunks or fallen logs. This was all really appropriate because right now I’m reading a fantasy book about a primeval forest that holds all the legends and mythical characters from our ancient stories and myths, shaped by our collective unconscious. “Mythago Wood” it’s called, and if you wanna try a mysterious, slightly creepy, but completely captivating fantasy novel anytime soon-check it out. I’m sure Half Price Books has it for cheap, the book was published in 2003.

Anyways- During the climb I was reminded once again of what it means to sweat. Like seriously sweat, the sweat that makes you feel like you’re a freaking faucet or a disgustingly damp towel being wrung out. HAHA. But the views were pretty decent, and the rock climbing reminded me of that huge rock in Atlanta, GA.. Near the top of the blue trail, apparently the hardest one, there was a hollow tree branch that Matt found. It had a bunch of other hiker notes in it, some from pretty recently, July 22nd, July 21st, etc. Some notes were written on receipts and some were larger pieces of paper that seemed to have served as correspondence for a group of hikers. One note said something like “Persian Prince and Princess whatever had sex up here with the view LOL.” Yup, they added LOL. I added a note and Matt added one before we went on. I wrote “Fat man and dog climbed up here before jumping” or something surreal and illogical like that. When we finally reached the top the sun was setting and Matt wanted a time-lapse, so we went up 4 stories of ramps in this supposedly centuries old castle-tower. At the top Matt almost immediately went up to the ledge where he took his gf’s thousand dollar camera and tried to find a good spot to film. During this he remarked on how Christian (gf) would have really balked at his actions, but Matt is quite familiar with precipices and danger so I didn’t question him. It took a bit more till I got up there but eventually we were both standing on top of the castle leaning against one of its four turrets-gazing at the horizon. Thunderclouds loomed in the distance and every so often lighting flashed across their nebulous masses. It reminded me of when I would go stand outside and just stare at the thunderclouds so close above-waiting for the instant when lightning would light up the sky with their sprawling roots so quickly grown and vanished. That was electrifying. ba-dum-tsss…Anyways, so there we were, standing on top of this super old tall stone castle on top of a sleeping giant staring at thunderclouds and the fading light with the city lights to the back and west of our gaze..

And once again on this trip I wondered what I was doing in my life..