i’m back in boston for break, and it’s… been an experience. especially as i’m also writing a midterm and my thesis. what fun. thank god for copious amounts of ca phe sua da. goddamn have i missed easily available, high quality vietnamese food. i’m gon’ get hella fat, but that’s what zhoo zhitzu is for. which reminds me, first day i’ve been back playing for months and months. yall should be proud. and i’m even writing again. bounties will never end.

i’m lying of course. they always do.

i’ve already talked about the issues i’ve been having and ain’t gon’ rehash it. so les leave that aside.

the night after i came back, East Meets Words, an asian am open mic series in boston had its fourth anniversary, which was trippy as hell, because i was there for the
first one. way back when, it feels like ages, because at least in my development as a person, it has been.

coming face to face with the changes within myself over the years, because i see it within the space and the people that have defined east meets words for me, was at once one of the most traumatic and one of the most hopeful experiences of my life.

it’s crazy to say but it’s a beautiful thing to see change, to see people growing and developing… especially as i am unfortunately one of those people who is not as good as i should be at the whole keeping up thing. too often, it really is out of sight out of mind for me, so seeing these people that i really do and truly love, with all the depth of emotion that i have, seeing how they’ve grown and how they’ve developed, even as i have, is…

there are no words for it. it’s heartbreaking because i wasn’t here to see the changes, i wasn’t here to see them at their weakest or there for their triumphs, i wasn’t
there to halve the misery or to double the joy. and on some level, it’s trippy seeing everyone developing their own separate lives, pairing off and becoming grown ass folks, while i’m still a kid more often than not.

but at the same time… what a fucking great night. even with my issues, what a goddamn great night. what a huge, happy, appreciative crowd. it’s events like this that made me a poet in the first place, that got me in love with performance, with crowds, with that affair between artist and audience that is at once symbiotic and parasitic… and which is too often likely to break your heart.

the beat collective rocked it. there’s no empty words for me to use to describe how bloody amazing they were, how much they saved me from myself.

now i wish i didn’t stop learning the violin all those years back.
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can i just say… fuck needing a car.

i realize now that part of the reason that i love new york city is because there’s an inherent, unquestioned freedom in a city that never sleeps, where there’s always a bar or a club or adiner or a fucking bodega that is open. there are always people out there. no matter how alone you are, and nyc is the loneliest city in the world, there’s someone out there to drown your misery with or something to do to forget for that little moment. there’s space to run, run so that you know that you’re alive, run so that your demons can’t catch up with you, at least for a little while.

i don’t have a driver’s license, so whenever i come back to boston, i regret it ever the more. it might even make me get a driver’s license. which is probably not going to happen, both because of laziness, but also because i do have my principles.

but sometimes, i just wanta run off and wander, and it’s so difficult in this city. it’s annoying to say the least. i love having trains that allow me to get anywhere in the city whenever i need to get there. it makes life so much easier.

maybe there’s a woman out there, a boston girl with a car, a romantic’s heart and an eye for the beautiful. a girl who likes long drives, late at night, philosophical discussions over whiskey and black humour who can love a poet boy with a paunch from good food, good drink and merry making… who has his demons and his darkness, his bad times and his sardonic jokes and has a propensity for wandering, in all senses of the word.

epic lulz.

btw, can i just say… i miss my mohawk. and i’m not drunk on saint patrick’s day, i’m not sure whether to be proud of or ashamed of myself. but goddamn do i miss my hair. shaved heads are nice and all, but goddamn and i know this i’ve said it twice and i’ll say it again, goddamn i miss my hair. time will heal even that wound, won’t it?

also, i am soliciting descriptions for that banner on the top right of the page. if you want to contribute, ten words, + or – 2. i’m keeping the ones that i find to be clever and just insulting enough to fit my ‘unique’ sense of humour. if you can call it that.

life is one of those jokes you just don’t get until it’s way too late.

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?