first and foremost, i want all yall to welcome one of my best friends in the world and one of the best goddamn artists i know to the vinhhua.com staff… give a hand to geoff ’sheeptang’ kim. geoff has a new york city hipster sensibility with the heart of a yay area hippie. he has an artistic style and flava that is like almost no one else’s, at once dismorphic and magnetic, transformative and transgressive. in addition to formidable visual talents, he has a unique way of looking at the world that is more often than not just a slight bit slanted. he’s seen the west coast, he lives on the best coast, has tripped from midtown skyscrapers and downtown dormitories, brooklyn dumps and every place in between. he’s a hella valuable edition to the team, and i’m hella grateful to have him on board.

‘but i don’t want to take your heart, and i don’t want a piece of history, no i don’t want to read your thoughts… anymore’ – the heinrich maneuver

kismet. fate. destiny. serendipity. all names for the same phenomenon, that sense that things are the way they are, that events and people come into confluence, not out of some random luck of the cards, but because it was ordained to be such.

hell, we had an entire movie about it recently. if you didn’t get that slumdog millionaire was about a fated love, then you weren’t paying attention… or only paying attention when freida pinto was on screen.

as a poet, it would be easier for me to just say that i believed in it, use it as a piece in my writing and act hella mysterious about the entire thing, but that’s too simple, too reductive. it takes freedom and agency out of the question, because if everything really is fated and pre-scripted, we have no real choice, we are on train tracks. it furthermore takes responsibility out of the equation, because hey, it was meant to be. so if i cheat on this girl, then it wasn’t meant to be, we weren’t meant to be together. if she says she loves another man, and comes back to me later, the pain that i went through, the alcoholism, all of it meant nothing, because in the end, it was ’sposed to happen that way.

we all know this shit ain’t true. or if it is, it shouldn’t be.

but at the same time though, i’m not lying when i say i’ve felt the occasional nudge in some direction, that moment when everything feels so perfectly right and you just KNOW this is how it is because it should be so. the smile on a lover’s face that makes you feel like this is what was meant to be. the crazy chain of coincidences that created the chance for smiles to touch in midwinter. times when, in desperation for some sense of meaning, you trace back time and realize it could not have but happened this way.

i’m not as quick to dismiss these moments as some people are, because i figure, something that i feel this strongly about has to have some validity in it right? yes… i know it’s a logical fallacy.

but love’s one hell of a logical foul up if you really think about it. and if you haven’t had that feeling of serendipity in your life, that moment where the strands of your life and another’s meets in such a way as to feel inestimably primally right, then i feel sorry for you. because no matter the heartbreak that it brings, no matter the drama it summons, it’s worth it.

then again, i’ve always been the peculiar sort.

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so it’s a snow day, beautifully so. especially because i am sick as heo. i feel it in my nose and my throat and all over, just the weakness of it all.

it’s wack. but hopefully the extra day of rest, away from my long day, will fix me up. at least somewhat, i hope.

it did give me some time to think though… which is always good. actually, probably not in my case, but hey… i’m writing this section after watching tonight’s episode of chuck, which definitely plays into two themes i’ve already been thinking about previous to all this…

‘everybody talks’ and we all fall in love with the most inconvenient people at the most inconvenient time.

‘everybody talks’ is the idea that everyone has their limit, has that point within themselves that says they can’t take it anymore. it’s kind of a scary though, and something i’m not completely able to talk to about right now, because i realize how important it’s been in my life. and not even in the typical emo way that is easiest to interpretation. but hey.

the second one is much more obvious in its meaning, but it’s something i’ve been thinking about hardcore. both because of my ass getting broken up with on valentine’s day. as well as the general run of my relationships with women in general, everything from the girlfriends, to the flings, to the mistakes i’ve made along the way. it’s always the most inconvenient thing to happen to everybody involved… which kind brings this full circle, because it sure as shit makes me believe in fate or kismet. expect to see this theme in a lot of my poetry from now on.

oh and i forgot to say, the chapbook is being worked on hardcore… expect to see it soon.

and even though i spent most of the day asleep, i still managed to get some measure of work done. which is why i have a poem for yall…

ouroboros

a wise man, buddhist without
the belly, robes dyed red
with revolution, told me that he’d lived
a hundred thousand lives before this one,
and you always die
only to return

i gave a bum my last
three quarters today, kissed
my friend on his grimy cheek, he was a little
freaked, manhood threatened
by the obviousness of affection, and ate
three hot dogs on my stoop
to chase away the cold.

i have so many random stories
to give away, like shiny bits
of change.

like how i gave the homeless wino
laid out in front
of the ritzy real estate brokers
what was left of my jameson
to warm him through the night

the girl who stole my heart
and sold it back to me
for the price of a dance
and my harlequin’s mask, our toes
bent and twirling through the twilight

the grandmother who collected
empty bottles and soda cans
rhinestones strewn on the street
and cigarettes, as offerings for the dead
soon to be her companions

moppy headed
and spiked topped boys their
bruised fist metaphysics
who choked back tears
and gave me my name

the fortune teller, or maybe
the doctor, the dreamer
who told me death was but waking
and my body’s premonitions
were but the stirring

to end, life’s a loveable mess and hateable order.

whoa, two blog posts from vinh back to back. something must be up. vinh must finally be getting his shit together… or maybe vinh has finally realized that blogging is a great way to procrastinate.

i guess i gotta say something about the superbowl, it’s mandatory considering what day it is. so let me simply say that it was a damned enjoyable game to watch… even with the refs halfway determining the game at points.

now with that out of the way… i figure i’m going to share with you exactly the music that i was listening to when i wrote the post, i’m going to be doing this from now on. so if you can, turn your browsers to vienna teng’s myspace. her crooning will hopefully put you in some semblance of the same emotional space that i’m in. it’ll be one of our little communions. don’t tell your significant other.

i wanta wax poetic on nakedness for a minute. yes, i subtly reminded you i’m a poet, i’m dope. but seriously.

we all build personas and barriers to protect ourselves from the world. great big heaping walls that prevent us from making connections, these preconceptions like durian shells to protect the soft inner core and the seed of human beauty that is in each of us. and by beauty to say, that sometimes viciously sublime and trascendentally ugly piece of ourselves that makes us truly human, as more than an animal, that connects us to the greater, for better or for worse.

we do it because we’re afraid, for a shitload of reasons, be it that we believe it to be ugly or not worth it, or because it’s tender from having burned before or whatever it maybe. i think the reasons are too multifaceted, too myriad to be listed in a boy’s blog.

i do it too, hella. i swagger. i have my hipster pretensions.

but i think that what allows us to keep moving the concept of humanity along, what allows us to connect with both others and ourselves is the effort to make ourselves naked.

but vinh, you say, it’s just a matter of taking your clothes off right? or maybe gently stripping off those we’re trying to connect with, peeling them like onions. don’t you know how to unlatch a bra?

it’s never that simple. human beings never are. if we do become reduced to such simplicity, we’ve become sheeple. or enlightened. one or the other.

i think, i hope, i pray, that i’m moving down that path to connecting with yall by ruminating so much, through my writing, through my performance. but hell, it may be one of my pretensions. i think i’ll make an effort to post more poems here, not polished finished pieces, but snippets and bits, those things from my day or from whatever i’ve read or whatever.

let me strip down for you.

…

are you blind yet? dude, i’m not that ugly, am i?

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so i’ve started working earnestly on the introspective musicology. thanks for the great response. i should be putting ish out there sooner than later.

but along the lines of my recent ruminations and my exploration of identity in general, i have another project, for which i have no catchy title yet.

it will come to me, i promise.

but as always, i need your help. especially if you’re an asian american woman. if you are, i ask that you send me, completely anonymously if you want, a few experiences that make you quintessentially you, no matter how you define it. i want formative memories and your thoughts on them, those life changing events that have become such a fundamental part of your character that, without them, you would not be who you presently are.

i know this can be a touchy subject, so if you want, please email me anonymously. or with your name, however you feel.

be as detailed or as vague as you feel that you need to be, but realize that i need to have some idea of what you’re talking about.

email experiences to vinh [at] vinh-hua [dot] com

the idea for this project came out of a discussion about what makes human beings who and what they are, whether certain experiences really do shape our lifepaths, and how big of an effect these actually have.

since i’ve been writing lots of two types of poems, either love poems or introspective ones, i figured it was time for a change, to explore identity once again outside of myself. that’s what the introspective musicology does. i intend for this project to do it another way, and hopefully with a more particular subject, it’ll be more enlightening. furthermore, “love poem to a vietnamese woman’ is still one of my favorite of my pieces, and it was an exploration of the identity of vietnamese women. i think it’ll be a challenge to do a series of poems that explore a larger subject, a ‘love poem to asian women (as an ideal)’ in effect.

and yo son, maybe i will finally understand asian women.

… probably not, but you knew i hadta make that joke for form’s sake if nothing else.
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random, but i made soup for the first time today. not stew, not curry, but actual soup, with noodles. i threw together a bunch of ingredients and it came out tasting pretty damned good.

to give this context, i’ve always been afraid of making soup, because it’s so easy to make it either uneatable or pretty much nothing but hot water. you gotta remember, i live in a single room occupancy with no kitchen, so i got me some ghetto tools.

but through hella swagger, it worked out. maybe this is a metaphor for life?

or i could just be reaching.

which reminds me, i need to buy a digital camera, anyone got an idea what i should be buying?

and lastly, sad to say, but the chapbook will be on hold for the next bit as i try to face my writing again, reflect on it and see how much it wass affected by the bad time i was having this fall. but i intend to continue working with geoff kim, maybe even working on a picture book, which is an idea i’ve had in my head for awhile now.

oh, and i think i’m going to start a band.

*edit* I am thinking about writing some vietnamese poems and songs, but since my grasp of the language is not nearly good enough, i was hoping someone could help me with grammar and vocab and spelling ad just the general vagaries of writing in a language with which i have the ability of a four year old.

peace and love till next we meet.

oscar grant is dead. oakland burned.

palestine and israel are burning.

obama is about to get sworn in.

cheery blog post neh? but as people, we take our pieces of hope where can find it, polish them brightly in the night and safeguard them, taking them out to light our ways when it gets darkest.

so let me move onto more lighthearted matters, because i am ever so awful at dealing with the weighty ones.

as we all know, i am epic fail at keeping a regular posting schedule. or even regular content, with the last post being a midnight rant about pubs for goodness sake. but let me just say that i’ve put the long break to some productive use. i’ve really started writing again hardcore, healed up from the kinda crazy lifestyle i was living in new york for awhile there with all the food in my mother’s kitchen. now, i’m fat and satiated, my body doesn’t feel as battered and i actually have a relatively sunny disposition on life. which is always a bonus.

and most importantly, i am getting together a chapbook with one of my greatest friends who is an even greater illustrator.

soon “pubs, pennies and profanity – poems and illustrations by vinh ‘tehkid’ hua and geoff ‘ship tang’ kim” will be at a merch table near you.

the dope folks at broadleaf studios will be doing our layout.

below you’ll see a piece entitled “media condiment” as an example of geoff’s really amazing work. this will give you an idea about the dismorphic and transformative, often hallucinogenic quality of his art. i think it’ll meld really well with my own work, giving it an extra layer of meaning and informing the path of the chapbook as a whole.

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furthermore,

i just want to say. snow is wack.

and the chinatown bus is wacker. but i’ll be trekking back to the city that never sleeps soon, to get my education, my crazy living and my jiujitsu-ing on.

but i gotta give big ups to boston before i do, and all the folks i saw and the culture-ing i did. it was what i needed, that break in the whirlwind. and for that i am immensely grateful.

also… boston has reignited my love of listening to music that i would never normally listen to while i write. the discordance actually helps my process along but raises some important points in my head

yo what the hell is it about vietnamese pop music that we do hella covers? furthermore, what the hell is with the disco sound? especially with like 20 sommat artists. some of the original songs actually have good elements or lyrics (so my father tells me) but are mixed in such a way as to gut them. i feel like i’m listening to vietnamese abba.

why is there such a dearth of vietnamese rappers? ive actually been listening to a lot of korean rap and while alot of it is WACK as HEO, some of it is actually really dope. i think i’m in love with Tasha. i wish there were more vietnamese heads in the hip hop game, i know a few like the magnificent t-vu, but she doesn’t rap in tieng viet. which i find to be trippy enough to be entertaining.

and jesus christ, it’s both hilarious and enlightening hearing korean covers of stan.

on top of that, i’ve discovered that i have an abiding love for vietnamese rock music… especially the band microwave. now if they actually played music like this for paris by night or the asia dvds, i actually might watch ‘em for anything else than a lame excuse to bond with my father.

now this is music i can actually get behind.

which consequently hurts my process… guess back to the therapeutic pain that is trish thuy trang and thuy huong, at least until i’m done with my work.

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i also wanted to update ya’ll that i’ll be doing a show at umass amherst for their vietnamese students association on Feb 21st 09 at 730. its to benefit VOICE, an anti human trafficking organization and ya’ll should definite roll through.

i would love to see your beautiful faces and hear your harmonious voices.

i love touring, seeing faces and meeting folks. if you want to see my pug-face or like my poems, send me a hollah.

keep tuned as to the release of 3P.

peace, love and happy new year.

ps i know no resolutions, you should think me some, maybe i’ll write a poem about ‘em. and i’m assembling the links i should be getting together, please hit me up if you think i should be linkin’ to you.

Which is one of the best things about coming home, the availability of food. As someone who lives by himself, one of New York’s many lonely, I just don’t have the same availability of food at home as I do when I’m in my parent’s house. It’s amazing to have 24 hour takeout, but sometimes, it’s just amazingly nice to have momma’s cooking right there, in the fridge, outside your bedroom door.

Yes. I will admit it, I am becoming gloriously fat. Food, how I love thee.

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I figure I might as well ask all of you this because I seem to be asking everyone around me: what should my next haircut be?

I’ve done bald, crew, mohawk, fauxhawk, reversehawk, weird shit shaved into my head. I’m thinking of maybe doing a mullet or a horse mane, or even hipster hair and just let it grow out.

Suggest what you will, with these caveats…

no really long hair. i just can’t do it. it takes too long and in the process it just annoys me. i would end up shaving my head before i could get something like a ponytail or a top knot together.

no weird colors. i like my black hair.

no braids. my hair is hellllla soft. i don’t think it would braid, and even then… i don’t wanta have to grow out my hair as long as i would need to.

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congratulations to all my roninathletics brothers who’ve received their promotions. hellllla more color on the mats. all the promotions, overdue and well deserved.

i recently went back to boston for the holiday and when i was there, i got to train with my black belt, Dave Ginsberg. after my usual arsekicking, i was surprised with a promotion. i am now a one stripe blue belt. dope.

i am forever talking about jiu jitsu, i know. but i really do you think that all of you should try it at some point. the kinesthetic meditation allows for is just one of the many benefits that makes you understand why so many of us put so much time and effort into playing this sport.

it takes a long time to get your blue belt, your first belt in jiu jitsu. it takes a lot of grueling work just to slowly advance to the point where you have any idea of what you’re doing, much less to get your blue. i’ve played jiu jitsu for two years now, just about, and i can honestly say, without jiu jitsu, i wouldn’t be the person i am. i think i’m a stronger, smarter, calmer and healthier person because of this sport become passion.

now… if only i had more time to play. but such is the life of a student in nyc. but it makes you think, what is dope about jits that it makes, hella busy, want to spend all my freetime playing it.

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Last minute edit,

I’m thinking of putting together a chapbook, both as merch and as a way of physically having a chronicle of my journey as a poet.

How many of you folks would buy it if i priced it at ten? at five?

how many poems do you want in it?

finally… are they any poems that you especially wanta see in the chapbook?