Can you mosh to poetry?

Kearny Street Workshop's 5th Annual APAture was a sound success as it wrapped up with it's 12hr and counting mega-performance day on Saturday 1pm - 1am. (Officially it ended 2:25am)

I left around midnight after Asian Crisis. There was the gallery, theater stage and hall with tables and rocking bands and poetry. It was great! By the end of the evening, I had pledged for a sorority, T.P.'d a room, and was the follow up act to a punk rock band. More on these things later.

Must have been several hundred folks wandering in and around the different performances and exhibits in the SoMarts (South of Market Art Gallery) that sits just under the freeway. I wish I had gotten a chance to write down some of the artists names in the galleries. Much appreciated was the bedspread made of checks and the pillow case from receipts. There was the large mechanical dragonfly and the light shadow sculpture made of light bouncing on two mirrors with pieces of broken crystals. I also liked these images made of resin. The images are made with chlorophyl then the image created is cast in resin. I don't know how that works, but the image of mother and child on a large leaf reminded me of finding fossils and I wondered what other things the leaves and trees record about our lives.

The performance schedule moved back and forth between the theater and hall which conveniently allowed people to walk past the bar to quench their thirst.

I finally found someone who had a precious program guide. I was on at 10:37, they said they were running 30 minutes behind so I had a few hours and then some. Ran into helluv fools I hadn't seen in a while. Good to catch up with them. I stopped by some of the zine tables and comic book tables. One of the comic books was about a geek superhero. The guy had also done work in a comic book on how to pray the Rosary. Mother Mary had more of a Virgen de Guadalupe look which I appreciated. I thought about buying a copy, then decided not to.

Passing by another table, a woman stops me and puts a wire necklace on me, a mix of beads and a metal disk of black concentric circles that would make anyone who looked at it mesmerized. I had to pass, no cash.

At another table, another comic book about the lives of workers who work in toxic situation at work from the Silicon Valley Toxics Network, working to improve working conditions at manufacturing plants. Make your own button for a $1 and miniture display at another table.

I would have liked to talk with people but the band was playing and all I got to do was hand signals. But I understand why people like to socialize at loud clubs, cuz it means you have to lean in and talk directly into someone's ear. You would think I would have figured that out when I was single? ah well.

After the band, the audience migrated to the stage and the hall quieted down. I found filmmaker Matt Abaya next to the Kero Kero Pi table. Pausing momentarily brought up a Kero Kero Pi sister to tell me all about it while Matt filmed the way he always does. The sign in the back said it was for Asian Sisterhood unity. The back wall showed folks who were accepted as pledges. She handed me an application. When she told Matt guys could enter too, he picked up a clipboard too.

Name: Michelle Bautista
Favorite Singer: Sharon Cuneta, Golda SupaNova (I figured picking Asian singers would get me bonus points.)
What does Asian Sisterhood mean to you?: um....folks to eat late night dinner with?
Why do you want to pledge Kero Kero Pi?: to connect with a greater community of Asian wo(men)
What can you contribute to Kero Kero Pi?: wine (when in doubt, sororities/fraternities always go for liquor), Jedi Mind Tricks (gotta add a splash of pseduo-stardom), and rides to BART (you can't beat rides to the train station.)

I let Matt turn his application in first. They interview him, ask him who his heroes are (he dutifully named Jose Rizal and Larry Itliong). Then they made him do push ups while screaming Kero Kero Pi as loudly as he could while being smacked on the butt with an inflatable bat. (what one does for art!) After he screamed to a sufficient level, they conversed amongst themselves. There were only two prized pledge positions left. They return. He gets denied.

Now I'm nervous. It's my turn. I haven't done a push up since junior high! They ask me why I want to join, what I would give, I feel like the interview portion of Miss America or maybe Miss Chinatown. They go and converse. (whew! no pushups!) The head Kero Kero Pi person comes back, she sounds kind of sad. "it doesn't look good," I say to Matt's camera.

Then, drumroll, they accept me as a pledge with a nametag with the kero kero pi mascot. Jello shots all around!

While the audience is occupied in the theater, we take rolls of toilet paper and TP the room in time for Charmin's performance. It's harder than it looks. The toilet paper can't just travel over the light rack, it's gotta unravel and stream paper behind it. We were obviously not delinquent enough in our youth to know how to do this, so it took a few tries. Charmin rocks the house with a mini-mosh pit in front of them. Photographer Jay Jao is a brave man with his expensive camera equipment as I watch his camera flash bounce through the pit.

You know, I love Charmin, they've got good music, but I've never had to read my poetry after a band complete with mosh pit and hoola-hooping women on tables. They finish their last song and I get introduced.

As I take the mic, toilet paper is torn to shreds on the ground like the gray slush of old snow. Most of the crowd has dispersed for fresh air, the band packs up behind me. There's a sparce crowd left, some old friends, some new folks, others sweeping up. Thank GOD for those people! I didn't plan anything special, just me reading words. I did happen to know most of the photographers, so I got a lot of pictures out of it. I read a few poems, some of my newer work letting some of my old friends know where I've gone in my writing. It was good. One of the hardest follow-up gigs I have ever done! I realized it doesn't matter about the size of the crowd. It's often said poetry is not a popular genre. It's about being able to connect with folks. You read where you're invited, you read when you can, and if you're lucky, there'll be a few folks to hear you talk.

hmmm....now if I can only generate a mosh pit for poetry...

Take a look through the APAture

Kearny Street Workshop hosts the 5th Annual APAture festival that features Asian Pacific American artists 35 and under. Thursday is Film night with featured artist Michael Wilson, Friday is the literary night with feature artist Barbara Jane Pulmano Reyes, Saturday is the main event 1pm to 1am with Golda Supanova, Frances Sedayo, Jane Chen and Gene Chang.

Yours truly will be making her APAture debut that night as well, in and around 10pm performing after Charmin.

of playgrounds and baseball

I'm away at a training for work living in a hotel room for the week. It's not so bad, the hotel caters to those long terms residents, it has two burners, a mini-fridge a sink and microwave, not to mention a jacuzzi for a bath tub in the room. PLUS it's cheaper than most of the regular hotels around here. (Thank you Orbitz).

Anyway, I turn on the TV and flip is to the A's game against the Rangers. There pitchinging in the 7th inning for the Texas Rangers with the game 2-2 is Ryan Drese. And suddenly, I'm 12 years old playing strike-out at the elementery school playground during the hot summer days.

His face is fuller, the solid jaw of a young man. He's much bigger than when he was 11, but he still has the same eyes. He pitches through the 9th inning. He does well, gets 11 pop up outs. I know he's not playing for the home team, but part of me cheers for him.

Ryan grew up down the street from the elementery school. I remember he had a paper route. [I remember because me and a friend did his paper route when his family went on vacation once.] During the summers there was a group of us that hung out at the elementery school and spent our days playing tag on the play structure, basketball, strikeout against the school wall, Uno card games, and occasional water balloon fights.

On the playground we dreamed of being Michael Jordan on the sloped basketball courts where the 3-pointers were shorter on one end of the court than the other or Nolan Ryan pitching tennis balls against a worn painted rectangle on the school wall that was our designated umpire. Strikeout was a one on one game, one pitcher, one hitter, sometimes two on two with an outfielder. We designated lines on the playground to determine singles, doubles, triples and foul balls. Singles up to the basketball poll, doubles over by the play structure, triples to the fence, homeruns over the fence. We even disputed calls against the painted rectangle, whether the ball touched the line or not, strike or ball.

There were only two girls in the bunch me and the younger sister of one of the guys. We would all go to the same junior high where we continued to play baseball and basketball for the school teams. In high school we separated to different schools, some public some private. I would run into the different guys later on at basketball games, track meets and baseball games. All of them exceling in their different sports.

Ryan would later play for Cal. I didn't see him play there though I ran into him on campus once. After college I read in a local paper how Ryan went to the majors. He bounced up and down between minors and majors for a bit, then when Major League Baseball expanded their roster limits, he was brought up to majors.

The tv shows his ERA 6.37, the lowest amongst the active pitchers. The commentators are kind to him, say he pitched well during the 5 innings he was in. None of his innings reach the highlight reel which is good. The game ends, A's win 4-3 in the 10th. A's win the American League West, but hometown boy does good.

Flipped out flag at the flea market

Driving along 880 in Oakland between High Street and the Coliseum exits, you'll see the drive-in theater/flea market. There are flags from countries throughout the world. They have the flag from the Philippines. It's hung upside down with the red on top, the blue on the bottom. This is a sign of distress or being at war.

Bureaus, biceps, and babes

But Eileen, you have that fabulous wave that makes your hair tips flutter giving your hair a soft cascade.

For the record, our men did ask us if we needed their help to move the bureau. Are ya takin' notes fellas? Good men ASK women if they need help and their manliness is not hurt when they are refused. They don't insist, or decide that this is their work as oppose to women's work. They just ask. Very simple, very easy, very gentlemenly.

But we had to refuse considering that the truck, though a good size was not going to anything else except me, Dana, and the bureau and an office chair. So we had to tell our good men that we did not need their help this time, but thanks for asking, which left them both time to conquer their electronic gaming universes at home. It also gave me and Dana a chance to catch up and have that girl talk kind of stuff.

But yes, it's true, between Dana's truck and my hand truck we finessed that beast of a bureau down and out of the place on a tiny elevator that barely fit us.

[blowing on and admiring fingernails] Girls ROCK!

A Day of Ray

I was travelling half way across the world when it happened. When I returned home from the Philippines, my email inbox was filled with news of memorials and spontaneous celebrations of the life of Ray Gatchalian.

I have been searching his name through websites as if the light of a crystal was shattered. He was a Green Beret in Vietnam as a medic, an Oakland Firefighter Captain, but more notably of recent years a documentary filmmaker, peace activist, and children's advocate. He had died in Chile traveling in a remote area. He had a car accident and had survived it. But later died in the truck that he hitched a ride in, which fell over the ravine. He had dodged many bullets in his life, almost like a cat and mouse game with God. With each bullet he dodged he was given a free pass to touch and affect and give his gifts of love to as many people as possible. In some ways the world was not ready for a man like Ray, in many ways the world needs more people like him.

I met Ray 9 years ago or so when I was an undergrad at Cal. I was just getting to know the Filipino community and a friend introduced him to me. We were at an event at La Pena cultural center and Ray was reading his poetry. He was strikingly handsome, fit, these buff arms, with streaks of white, black and grey through his hair. He was an Oakland Firefighter Captain. Me being born and raised in Oakland, that fact struck me, mostly cuz well, I didn't know too many other Filipinos in Oakland beside my family and a handful of classmates. I was like WOW firefighter AND poet AND Filipino AND from Oakland.

[Oakland is one of those cities that has enough visible tarnish that you may or may not be proud of. Yes, we have the Raiders. Yes, we rioted when they loss. Yes, we have ebonics. Yes, we have some of the highest murder rates in the country. See what I mean? Yet it's the few and the proud who make their home here, who know what heartbreaking love it is to be an Oaklander.]

I would continue to see Ray off and on at various community events. I would greet him like any one of my uncles. We were from Oakland. We were Filipino. We were family.

I watch the crystal spin in my window, watch how the light breaks into rainbows, note how I can never really see the crystal only how it sends its rays throughout the world. Ray was this crystal. I had seen him play music, but I didn't know how involved he was in documentary filmmaking or his other community activities. I hadn't met all the other people whose lives he touched. I had never had a chance to stop to ask him who he was and what he was about. But that didn't matter really, the legacy he was able to live was his autobiography.

Ray was a man on a mission. While most of us run around in this world trying to figure out what to do with ourselves and ask whether we want to get out of bed or not, he understood what he needed to do every single day of his life. After going to Vietnam as a Green Beret medic and seeing his own face in the Vietnamese, he decided to come home and find out more about his people. He knew that his mission in life was to help people and with any and every opportunity he got to do that, he did with tremendous passion and gusto.

There are a handful of people I have gotten to know better in death than in life. It's a sad way to get to know people, but sometimes, that's the way it is and in either case dead or alive they have messages to deliver. This one website, a black and white photo of him stares at me, his eyes are soulful and a bit sad, he's wearing the full firefighter gear, his fingers held in the sign of peace.

His quote sits next to the picture: "What has inspired me is that one person CAN make a difference. that is basically my theme. I can make a difference and together we can make a difference."

Ray's personal website too is still up. His words about 9/11, Gallery, Bio, personal words are still up. He still has things to say. He still has things to tell us. He signs them "Raymundo." Raymundo - in it I see a Spanish play on words "Ray's world." I can't even fathom what Ray's world might have looked like through his eyes and through his heart, but he spent his entire life doing things in our world that allowed us to get a glimpse, enjoy a small taste, of what his world looked like and what our world could become.

Ray died on May 11, 2003. He was 56. I didn't feel sad about his passing. I believe he knew that any day he could have died. In all of his careers he risked his life to save others. In many ways his life really didn't matter, because it was all about saving the lives of other people. It's living life with a certain abandon. When you don't care about your own death, you have that much more of your life and love to give.

On Sunday October 12, 2003, there will a celebration at Oakland's Jack London Square with various bands and groups that reflected Ray's life like so many tiny rainbows around the room. The crystal has shattered, yet somehow, it had to, so that each of us can have a piece of the crystal, if only to create more rainbows to bring light and beauty in this world.

Debut Review

Considering I've gone to three debuts in the last two years, I felt compelled when the opportunity came up to write a review about "the Debut" a Filipino-American movie that recently came out on DVD.

Here is what I posted to a mailing list I'm on:

I watched the Debut in theaters. I suddenly felt compelled to write a review.

I thought it was a decent film. Good quality production. It was a simple plot of the lead character, Ben (Dante Basco), trying to understand his Filipino identity in his American life. There's the generational struggle with his father (Tirso Cruz III), a postal worker who wants his son to be a doctor as opposed to being an artist. Ben, who mostly acquaints himself with white friends, tries to hide his Filipinoness from them as he struggles to both let his friends see this part of his life as well as understand how this Filipino side is a part of him. Much of this of course climaxes around the 18th birthday of his sister Rose.

The movie also attempts to include and mention different aspects of Filipino American identity: the hip-hop heads, the community activist, the gangster delinquent, the immigrants, the american born, the Tagalog speakers, the American born, etc. Though they seemed to be trying to represent different Filipino identities, and thus show the breadth of Filipino America, I found that they were a bit too glossed over and were almost caricatures, which may have been the point since many of those scenes are used to add comedic breaths in the drama. In the end these parts were too much too little.

The basic line of the story has a certain level of "boy-meets-girl" when Ben reacquaints himself with his sister's best friend Annabelle (Joy Bisco), who shows him that being Filipino is nothing to be ashamed of. But what truly shines is the relationship between Ben and his father. We are allowed to see the experiences in his father's life that bring him to wanting his son to be a doctor yet share a love for arts rather than leave him to simply be the "angry immigrant father." Excellent acting by the supporting cast, many of whom are Philippine movie veterans: Eddie Garcia, Fe de Los Reyes, Ernie Zarate. The movie certainly gave room for many of these seasoned actors to shine.

For those who have gone to Pilipino Cultural Nights (PCNs) at college campuses in the U.S., you may find much of the plot old hat, since many PCNs have dealt with these same issues and similar characters. In this way, the movie feels "safe" and does not leave too many questions unanswered.

Certainly in terms of the Filipino American cinema breadth of work, it was a film that had to be made. And really it sets the stage to allow other filmmakers to explore these same issues in deeper and different ways, such as Rod Pullido's Flipside, American Adobo, and to some extent Justin Lin's Better Luck Tomorrow, whose lead character is Filipino. It is certainly nice to see movies about Filipinos with Filipinos reaching more of a mass market since most of the films still only go through limited release at Asian American film fests and sponsored screenings in very very select areas, the latest one making the rounds is "Lumpia."

The North American DVD of the Debut came out this month. Certainly a keeper for your fledging Fil-Am movie collection. Better Luck Tomorrow is out at the end of the month. Flipside is still looking to find a distributor for the home market.

Karmic slappity slap, part deux

I call up AAA. Apparently, they have a new service, not only can they come and jump start your car, give ya extra gas, etc, but you can buy a brand new battery from them and they'll install it right there and then.

They use the higher grade batteries that have 5 year warranties. It costs a bit more but 1) it beats me figuring out which battery to buy and 2) from having to install it myself. The guy rides up with a truck and all the necessary tools. Otherwise, I would have had to go to Kragen Parts, look at the wall of battery varieties then stare at my car and the battery wondering which side is positive and which side is negative. I do recall from High School Chemistry that mixing these two things is not a good thing.

Suffice it to say, I ended my agony and shelled out the cash for the AAA guy to do it for me. I do know a bit about my car, I don't know a whole lot about my car. Like, I know how to add fluids and check them. I know how to check tire pressure and how to change a tire. I know the different parts. I know from looking at the engine that there was a big gaping whole where the battery used to be. See, I know enough, yet I don't know enough, which is why I'm willing to defer to the expert in the bright yellow truck.

The only thing I had to really do is go down to Kragen and get the thingys that hold the battery in place, kind of like battery seatbelts. You didn't know batteries had seatbelts? Well, now you know. Those were easy enough to install by following the pretty pictures on the back of the packaging.

So, thanks to the SO for reminding me that compared to most things in life this is not so bad and plus karmic cursing the hell out of the folks who did this and my sister for letting me borrow her wheels.

I really try not to curse people that often. I believe most people curse themselves kind of like tripping over their own feet. You reap what you sow. In addition, when things are lost, it opens up new opportunities, like me getting a new battery that AAA will replace for me for close to nothing within the warranty years. But it is a tad difficult getting over the feeling that, "hey, that was mine!" Which brings me back to ask, "what in this world is really 'mine'?"

Frankly, not much. Stuff goes in and out and back again. I exist in this space for a moment, give what I can, receive what I am given.

Do you want the belt or the slipper?

A big karmic tsinelas slappity slap for the folks who stole my car battery. I have one of those old 60s muscle cars, which is why I have a chain and a lock on the hood to keep people from yanking parts out of it. Well, they managed to stretch it up high enough to take the battery out.

Crazy part is that the car, though in the garage, is open and can be seen from the street. They didn't take anything else. For the most part I had been upstairs at the SO's apt hanging out. We even walked to dinner and I still noticed that my car hadn't moved.

A $30 battery. Not even. A used $30 battery. A friend tells me that when a friend of his used to work at the Post Office in West Oakland, that's all guys would do is steal batteries out of cars. WHY?

I'm not so much mad as I am annoyed. Many thanks to Flux and the Watcher for coming out on short notice to head to 24 hr Longs to buy a new cable and lock for the hood and with a ride home. AAA can't do battery work until the next morning, so thought it would be good to replace both lock and chain just incase said hoodlums come back for additional late night shopping.

sigh.

Computers are so fast, I have no more time to daydream

There was a time when installing software involved the juggling of 20 1.4MB diskettes. You would sit there, the drive would grind, it would ask you for the next disk. To be a computer tech, you needed to learn the slight of hand of remembering which disk you were on.

Then came CDs, which made the world a whole lot easier, but then the computers were slow that you would sit there for several minutes again watching the drive grind away as the software publisher showed ads of how great their software was and advocating the benefits of registering your machine.

It wasn't too much faster than diskettes, but it would take numerous minutes of watching a time bar fill to capacity, which made it a very opportune time to day dream. I would just sit read the titles of books on people's shelves, marvel at the innovations of office supplies, examine in detail the postcards from around the world contemplating my own travels. It's like watching grass grow, but in an office without windows.

One time when I was fixing a client's computer, I was sitting there watching the machine process and he says, "Is this what you do all day? Stare and watch computers?" Slightly joggled from my daydream, "uh, what? oh, yeah. well, no, not really. but sometimes." (I didn't want to look like I'm a total waste of university funds so I made a joke of it.) "well, yeah, basically. It's not a bad life." Then I tried to justify it saying, well, you have to watch the machine cuz something might happen in the middle and mess the whole thing up, you can't just walk away and take a coffee break. I don't think he bought that. But fortunately, his computer was working now and well, even if I do just sit there watching a computer screen entertain me with graphics of flying sheets of paper traveling from one folder to another, something in doing that made the computer work, which it didn't before. He couldn't really complain.

But now, computers are running dual processors and the like and run through installations at blazing fast speeds. Stuff that took several minutes, now takes seconds. Damn. I think I can still kind of fake like it's taking a while, but not for long. I'll have to find some other time and place to day dream. But it was nice getting paid to day dream, well, not really, but you could see it that way.

the ballot

some 150 or so names for governor filled my mailbox today. I got the sample ballot for October 7. Ahnold lists himself as a actor/businessman. Larry Flynt is a publisher. It seems to be mostly filled by lawyers (including one civil rights lawyer and one marijuana legialization lawyer) and businessmen/entrepeneurs. I'm not exactly sure why lawyers like politics. I just figure the businessmen know what opportunity looks like and takes it. You can't beat getting an edge on government contracts.

There's one doctor and a firefighter/nurse looking to take care of California. Ariana Huffington listed herself as Author/Entrepeneur/Mother or something like that. Certainly, men are the vast majority of the ballot with all but a handful of women including "Mary Carey," adult entertainment star. Though she too understands a marketing opportunity when she sees one. Comedian Gallagher, who's first name is Leo, is running as an independent.

The ballot is by alphabetical order by last name. Well, first question is do you want Gov. Davis recalled. Second question and if he were to be recalled, who should take his place. In many ways this ballot is more a democratic process than usual without the party nominated/endorsed candidates. Put your name into the hat and vote. And as flawed as the electoral process can be, in which a candidate with the most actual votes can lose, can you imagine what a presidential election ballot would look like if anyone and everyone could just drop in their name? We'd be at the polling place for days! We'd kill forests worth of trees just to send out the ballots.

Frankly I think the Republicans may not want Ahnold as governor, at the least the conservative ones, cuz how can you control a guy like that. What kind of scares me about him is that he's been avoiding the debates, so I wonder if all he does is read scripted material. I don't blame Davis for avoiding the debates, he's still governor and I'd prefer him doing his job rather than campaigning, it's bad enough when it's elections.

What will be more interesting than whether Davis stays in power or not will be whether this recall fever will spread to other states. We are a trendsetter in very strange ways.

What I hate most about the recall is that it's wasting a WHOLE lot of my tax dollars. The second thing I hate about the recall is that they've also managed to put in two state propositions 53 and 54. They slip them in so I can decide on propositions that have had little airtime relative to the recall candidates. And these are big propositions. Prop 54 would ask the state to stop collecting data on race, except in medical research or if it affects federal funding. Problem is how do we know if discrimination is still going on if we don't count. It is a strange catch22 in that way, but we have yet to hit a race blind society and it's important to keep track. I'd rather the government collect accurate information than guess at who/what I am based on my name. Advertisers already do that with all the Spanish written junk mail I get.

Anyway, at the very bottom of the ballot is the spot for write in. A way to even circumvent the candidate registration process by simply getting enough people to write in your name. Wasn't there a campaign to write in Eileen's name for something? Oh wait, that was for president of the US of A, though I don't think she qualifies. But hey, maybe we can write her in for Governor.

PinoisePop 8: Pinoys making noise

This weekend only, THE LAST PinoisePop Asian American Band festival at the current Bindlestiff Studio on 6th street. Check the link on the left.

Thursday - Saturday $10 admission each day

I'm particularly fond of Friday's lineup with Bobby Banduria and the Skyflakes as well as a premiere animation music video from the premiere Dino Ignacio who elegantly captured Rex Navarette's "Marites and the Superfriends" bit.

There's also Saturday with hard rocking Eskapo, fan favorite Charmin (they're soft on your ass), and From Monuments to Masses.

The best part about PinoisePop is that it's cheap, and the other best part is that no cover songs! All bands must play original music, which really puts the creative pressure on bands to work their best stuff rather than fall back on someone else's oldie but goodie.

Bring your earplugs! I'll see ya there!

intellectualizing kali interpretations of poetry

Eileen sent me a comment/question from one of her 8 million peeps:

Recently I had the good fortune to watch someone demonstrate Pentjak Silat, an Indonesian martial art at the local Sunfest and it was most fascinating. The man actually had a smile while demonstrating the movements, which seemed like a cross between tai chi and dance, a combination of hard and soft. His physical control and timing was impeccable, and it was clear that he had been training in the art for quite some time. I would be most interested to see how Gura combines the Filipino martial art of Kali with poetry performance.

Hmmm...that's a very interesting point...I never really thought about how I go about doing that.

Pentjak Silat is a beautiful art form, very closely related to several Filipino martial arts. Actually there's a Filipino variant of it around somewhere.

Now the reason I haven't really thought about it, even though I've done it so many times (I recently did a collaboration with poet maiana minahal that she took to NYC for a show.), is because when I'm doing the kali I'm not really thinking. Hell, half the time I feel like I'm not really there, it's like I'm watching it from a third person position. Like when I talked about hitting that other guro in the nose (in the "because you understand the fight in me" series of posts), I saw it in slow motion and really couldn't keep myself from doing it. It's like autopilot.

Now that begs the question, "then how do I stay connected to the poet if I'm not really there?"

hmmm....[i sit listening to the bell chimes rotating around the water fountain clearing my thoughts]

It is necessary for me to prepare and give myself cues and anchors to grab for. I'm not really there, but I am kind of conscious and if I concentrate enough I can find those anchors I set and grab onto them in the moment.

First I listen to the reader/poet read the piece. I'm listening to story, emotion, cadence, rhythm, etc. Sometimes while they read phrases and words pop repeatedly in my head and I note them. I'm trying to understand the music of the words so my body can match that beat and hopefully land distinct movements on those beats. And while I listen, I'm imagining what I might be able to do.

I also have to keep track of time. There are limitations to my physical body. Kali is very intense emotionally, physically and spiritually and so I have to create a arch for the kali as well, give myself breaks to rest a bit. The breaks also allow the audience a bit of breather. So those phrases that hit me during the initial reading, I'm thinking hey slow down here, rest, then bring it up again, change direction, etc.

Lastly, in knowing what the poet/poem brings and what I can bring with the kali, I'm trying to calculate the arch of the audience as they follow along. I want them to be mesmerized, I want to hit them in ways they didn't think they could feel, I want them to watch then replay moments of it in their heads for the rest of the day. I want a lasting impact, something that makes people think and feel and wonder. I've been fortunate enough to be able to come close to that on several different occasions.

In all, it's one big dance between me, the poem/poet and the audience. It's an experience I'm presenting.

But all of this prethinking is not so intense. It comes to me as single words here an there, a feeling, a pause, etc. But I remember to look for these things when I go out there.

whew!

so what is the real moment like? None of my movements are planned explicitly. I create a physical structure on the ground, like I mentally map that I'm going to go to this section then that section then over here, etc. So I know the general direction I need to go.

It starts, I draw my circle of protection, open myself, meditate with a prayer for a moment, then go. From here on out it's like riding the wind. I start with a few simple moves to warm up, then progress to other ones. In the meantime, I'm listening for the words that I remembered and timing more visually distinct strikes and pauses for those moments. The poem is my music and I am merely expressing my reaction to it through the kali.

Then as I'm going, enemies start to appear (I have to pretend I'm hitting something) that help me turn and move and pull different techniques out of me. Of course, it's all in my head. When a demo goes particularly long, fatigue brings me out of the trance which is a problem. When I think too much, I don't flow as well, which means I'm more apt to err, which is not a good thing when you're holding a knife. That's what happened in Sonoma at the demo with Eileen, I lost my balance and fell back. It's not noticeable on the camera, it all looks intentional. When it happened, I was pretty scared I might fall, but allowed my body to continue and my body caught itself. Falling out the trance in the middle is hard because for a moment I'm not sure where I am. Fortunately I'm experienced enough to ride it out.

At PAWMA, I was trying to connect to Gabriela's spirit. I called to her during my meditation. This is both exciting and scary because there's a chance Gabriela might not like me or she may be too intense for me to handle. Yet, that's the risk I take.

Well, back to the poetry. Once the moment starts I give myself up to the moment. Whatever my body creates, it creates. I just have to hope my body is able to follow the flow and hit the right spots on its own. Thus far, it's done a fine job of it. The pauses and accented movement during key phrases/words/emphasis in voice are meant to give the audience a snapshot of the moment. watching watching watching FLASH watching FLASHwatching watching watching FLASH. And these moments hit them. Very often these moments are emphasized with stabs or strong poses while the in between is carried through with long sweeping motions. Sometimes I know exactly what I want to do for a certain moment and sometimes I hear myself scream, "now!" and I jump to that pose on the phrase.

I listen for the words that mark the ending of the piece or my part, then I close myself, close my circle and leave.

At this point, I am totally spent and just get offstage to the nearest chair to breathe. I have no idea what it looked like. I remember one woman coming up to me at the PAWMA demo and she asked what this hand movement was, and I was like, "I don't know exactly, it's just how the energy expressed itself."

The best and worst part of it all is that I can't repeat it. It only happens once. Even if I try to repeat it, it's never really the same: the moment is different, the audience is different, I'm not the same person tomorrow, the poem feels different. It's also hard for me to do so many halads/offerings in a short span. As I've gotten stronger, I can endure more, but it still sends me on a bit of a rollercoaster since it's a very intense emotional/physical/spiritual ride. Doing too many in a short span makes me ill, throws a lot of stuff out of balance.

Reading this, it seems hard. But it's really a lot less thinking and more a feel of everything. In general, I have a rough idea of what I might do with a general framework, then I let the moment fill in the gaps.

Life Unscripted

My life is strange. I get strange phone calls. The other day I got a call to teach a private kali class. I said ok.

So on this laborless labor day, I taught a class to a couple on one of those reality programs. I was their "adventure" date. They were both part Pinoy, so why not swing a few punches while they figure out how to score with each other.

I'm a guilty-pleasure fan of reality tv. I admit I was mesmerized even by, "get me out of here, I'm a celebrity" and I even cruise by episodes of "the family" and "paradise hotel," even though I don't even understand the rules of the game, except that most reality show are people in their 20s. Oh, the adventure reality shows like Survivor and others have a wide range of folks, but dating shows or relationship shows, well, they're all the 20somethings.

As a 20-something myself, I wonder about my generation and somewhat wish to hurry up and get to my 30-somethings.

This couple were 20 something. I wondered why they decided to let the nation watch as they piece together their lives followed by camera crews. Then again, they did get free food, limo and hotels. When you're 20-something, you'll do just about anything for "free."

So, being a quiet fan of reality tv, I kind of jumped in just to see how it all works. I found out that as there is a certain amount of denial needed to "watch" reality tv, there is a whole lot more denial when you are "in" reality tv. We had to "pretend" that there was nobody there, yet change where we stood depending on where the cameras needed to be in order to "capture" the moment. We could not at any time mention the show or what folks were really here for nor that the crew even existed. At times the onsite director would ask us to say stuff again. I greeted them 3 times and acted like hey I've never met them before. There's no room for sarcasm in reality tv unless it's a cat fight. I felt like I was being rewound like the tape, forced deja vu.

Anyway, I did it to get a chance to expose the world to kali and what malongs and kubings are and who Filipinos could be. We filmed in front of Santiago Bose's large canvas montages. I did it too because it was a new experience. I don't know if I'd do it again.

A friend of mine used to work at Jerry Springer. His job was to make sure the guests were dressed in decent clothing. I remember him talking about these guests, college students stripping for money. My friend said they seemed like good people, but they always kind of worped them out in front of the camera. Maybe that's just the convex of the lens that creates the distortion, seeing the world through a lens.

Certainly reality tv is only what they give you. The crew said they already shot 19 hrs of film. And the show is only 30 minutes. Life might be unscripted but it's certainly not complete. They edit it down to give the best of the drama, you know.

I did the best I could to ignore the cameras and be the teacher I know how to be, to focus on each of them and not the situation we were in. In many ways, it's a sad place to be. Life is stuttered and stopped, so unlike what I was trying to teach them in the kali, to flow to glide to learn about each other, to give and receive.

When they left, I wished them well. I'm not exactly sure how their relationship will end up, but I hope they find what they are looking for and that it will bring them happiness. It was an odd odd world we had stepped in. I get many students who take my class once or only a handful of times. There are only a few handful who stay with me for years and continue the practice. And I always hope that I'm able to give them what they needed. Whether they stumble in or are brought there by camera crews, there's something for all of us to learn.