11/27/2021 #42
ACE, Improbable Island (Text), Writing (Memoir), Art, Lit Expo (Old Capitol Books), Pearl Works/EAAM, Sissay, Sison (Rappler), Hoseini, Khorramanian, Cave, Puro Flamenco.
OUTPOST UPDATES
I’m feeling very thankful to have a quiet and peaceful holiday at home, away from job pressures and social pressures. The morning started with blueberry pancakes. No need to say more.
Asian Cultural Experience (ACE):
I’m testing out another newsletter on Substack. It’s for the nonprofit, Asian Cultural Experience (where I’m currently the Programs Manager). ACE’s mission is to preserve, promote, and enrich the history and multicultural identity of Salinas Chinatown, historically the home of the Chinese, Japanese, and Filipino communities of Salinas. Take a look: The Fall 2021 Newsletter is now up.
Improbable Island:
After a hiatus of several months, this afternoon I visited Improbable Island, where I prepared for an arduous journey to visit a site quite far away in the mysterious “North.” I had to gather up a lot of weapons (after several nasty encounters with beasts in quick succession) and use my monster-repellant spray. Improbable Island is a text-based game. With all the visual and multi-sensory fireworks of today’s video games, a text-based game must seem incredibly old-fashioned, and perhaps even boring. But believe me, once you’ve encountered the “Malfunctioning Rice Cooker,” or even worse, the “Completely Rational Monster,” you’ll know you’ve been attacked. But don’t worry, after a night in the FailBoat, you’ll be good as new—well, that is, if you survive the FailBoat.
Sometimes you just need this kind of silliness. But on a slightly more serious note, in a world where reading and writing skills are eroding, and our brains are full of emotive and polarizing images and info planted by corporate social media AI, I love the subversiveness of a game with not a single ad or image---except the one created in your own imagination, spurred on by brilliantly funny and ironic prose scenarios (some of which are created by veteran players). I dare you to play this game. It’s free. It’s silly. It’s involving, but not in an exploitative way. Significantly, veteran players also contribute to the narratives in the game; there’s even a library containing stories and poems written by them, and occasionally there are online (text) events, such as improv, readings, and meetups—in-character, or as yourself.
Naomi Alderman writes in “A Personal History of the Text Adventure” (in Readonlymemory.vg):
“Text adventures are the poetry of videogames. They were there first, but they’ve been superseded by the flashier, the faster, the more showy forms. You’ll make no money at them – only a handful of people ever do. They require thinking; they won’t zone you out like Candy Crush. They don’t deliver the cheap, blood-splatter thrills of the first-person shooter or, in general, the sweaty anxiety of the timed challenge. Like a book, they take their time and they demand yours.”
These games can be silly and witty, like Improbable Island, or quite scary, as in Infocom’s “Suspended.” But there’s always an adventurous aspect to the text games. I just thought I’d share this improbable side of my life with you.
WRITING
Speaking of text, I’m continuing to take notes for my mss. Although I’ve written plenty in my life, I’ve never consciously set out to write a memoir, and it’s a bit daunting. Yes, I’m writing about my mother, my father, and I (I was an only child). Yes, there’s something there to do with my parents’ migrations to the U.S. Something having to do with WWII, and my post-war childhood. I’m not sure, at least consciously, where this is leading. But in my notes, I can already see that there is some untapped emotion coming up for me. Well, that’s what writing is supposed to do, right? Like when you tap on a keyboard and hit a certain note or chord that echoes a feeling.
The Ilongot’s answer: “We need a container for our grief.” --Renato Rosaldo
(thanks to Leny Strobel for the quote).
I don’t have much to say about the mss. at this point, because it’s early in the process. We’ll see how this goes.
If you are in Monterey on Dec. 3rd, do stop by Old Capitol Books’ Holiday Lit Expo! Two of my poetry books (Corporeal and Marcelina) are on sale there, and I will be speaking briefly about them, as will other local authors about their own books. I look forward to seeing you! The event starts at 6 pm.
ART
A couple of bedtime drawings where I tried to loosen up my lines and add some figuration:
Below are two collages I made last year when we were all beginning to hunker down for the pandemic, and we started ordering things for delivery, even groceries. After a few months, the boxes were starting to pile up, and I thought I’d better make some art out of it. I got curious about all the codes on the cardboard, a secret postal language. I also started to really appreciate the folks who deliver our mail and drive the trucks to deliver our packages.
Anyway, I’ll be framing “A1,” to be displayed at the Pearl Works Monterey and co-sponsored by EAAM (Emerging Artists Alliance) in a juried group exhibition in Monterey, this December. More info, TBA.
LINKS
More about Lemn Sissay and his moving story in the UK Guardian.
Filipinos and America’s Thanksgiving, by Shakira Sison in The Rappler.
Iranian artist Maryam Hoseini’s Every Day Abstractions:
Laleh Khorramian’s Epic Animations feel like some of the drawings I’ve been doing lately:
Regarding Nick Cave (not the singer!): In 2019, an article in the New York Times (Megan O’Grady) called his work “joyful,” but in the video below, Cave says “I don’t ever see the sound suits as fun; they really are coming from a very dark place”:
SOUNDINGS
More on Nick Cave’s Sound Suits (with music and movement):
Puro Flamenco | Buleria. I can’t understand what they’re saying. But I don’t really need to, because so much is in their gestures and in their eyes. This feels like a family thing. Or maybe performers performing for each other. I love the way they look at and encourage each other — their attentiveness, feeling, and joy.
Have a peaceful weekend. More next Saturday . . .
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