1557 Noe Street, San Francisco

Mimi and I got together this evening for dinner and discussed the website. We had a great talk and she contributed a lot of great ideas. It’s funny how when something hits close to home, people can come up with great ideas off the top of their heads.

The problems in implementing this are not minor, though. More than half the family don't speak English, and I don't speak their language. I don't know how to build a webpage. Who's going to do it? I'm not qualified to be a central person in this. Besides, how much of this idea is "Western"? Is this something I can sell to the Taiwanese members of the family?

Mimi asked point blank about cutting. I answered. I don’t care if she knows. She knew anyway, she’s not an idiot. Whoever doesn’t know is an idiot. Anyone who can’t tell within five minutes of meeting me that there is something wrong with this picture must be an idiot. Besides, I've found that everyone I tell conveniently forgets in time, so why not just tell them?

1557 Noe Street, San Francisco

I got in touch with Audrey on Wednesday for the first time in over a year, and as coincidence would have it, she was just about to fly to the Bay Area. We don’t know why we haven’t been in contact, I think it was her, she thinks it was me, so it must have been both neither of us and both of us. We got together this morning and I hatched my idea to her about creating a family website.

The idea is for a story-driven website, not just historical and biographical facts, aimed at a descendent 200 years from now who might be interested in his or her ancestors. The stories will be by other family members, and they would try to convey some essence about the person through the story; what they were really about. It is partly archival - a family tree - so the facts will be there, as well as pictures.

It will start with grandfather and any information Audrey and I can find on his family, parents, siblings, etc., and from there it will document the various families and the members, and each person will have a page if they want. The main website will have basic information and the individual pages will be personalized.

I saw a film tonight at the Asian American film festival called “Love/Juice”. When you really, really love someone, you can’t live without them. I couldn’t live without Amina, and I haven’t lived since we broke up, except during the times I was alive with Josephine. I’ve just been existing. I’ve been numb since Amina. I really touched love. I appreciate that. And I feel the continuing pain of losing the one I love the most. That is life and that is still good. Bad, too. Depends.

1557 Noe St., San Francisco

In the end, when the 'rents are shoving cash into my face, it's hard to resist and refuse. But at least I made my principled stance that I don't need their money. The interesting thing is that Tom gave me money, too, and I consider that a gift. That's because Tom totally doesn't have to in order to maintain our relationship. He's showing love by giving me money because that's what he has learned, but giving me money or not has no bearing on our relationship. Nothing happens as a result of him giving me or not giving me money. I accept that expression of love from him.

But if the 'rents don't give me money, I don't visit them. I would put down my own money to visit Tom, but not the 'rents. The 'rents made it hard because they used, abused, manipulated, and controlled with money, and tried to call it love. I still don't accept their money as love, except on paper. The reality is that they've always wanted something back for all the money they've invested in me. Not entirely unreasonable if you think about it, but I'm not a business. I'm not an asset.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

The month is finally over. All the things that happened, all of it connected. From the convergence of all those things running down at the end of July, to Ritu's meltdown, to Chris's departure from Fiction, to the office politics about which team I would be on and the subsequent transition of cases and attorneys, to the trip to Tahoe and the ride around the lake, to my back injury and recovery with Dr. Wonson.

Dr. Wonson knew that there was more to my back injury than the physical aspect. If she only knew the whole thing. Now I exit the month in New Jersey, away from all that in the Bay Area, symbolizing a passing or a passageway into what's next. What's next? What is awaiting me when I return. Do I dare guess? New boss, I know. What about Josefa? The work environment will change. The band is changing. It all happens in September.

Every time I visit New Jersey, I come here feeling like a stranger, like a completely different person than these people know. I feel like I've gone through so many changes and that I have grown so that being here has no relevance. They have no idea who or what I am or what I'm about. These people are the same, no growth, no progress, still mired in their petty, predictable, ordinary existences.

But it's inevitable that the longer I stay here, the more I revert into seeing myself the way they see me, even though it's totally inaccurate. Deep family grooves, you think you can run away from them, but it's so hard to shake them.

email - Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Dear yu-feng,
This is my last day here and I haven't done Sompong's exam yet. I've wasted the whole week here.

I visited my brother in Philadelphia on Sunday, but as I was getting into the car, I learned that my parents changed their plans and were also going. That really ruined my trip. Visiting my brother with my parents is completely different from just visiting him myself.

But family is just not worth getting mad or defensive about. With family, everything is set in stone and no one is going to change, so there's never a better way to handle problems. The only alternative to getting mad and defensive is ignoring it.

superficial lives they lead, empty, lifeless. They've spent their entire lives making money money money so that they can enjoy it now in their old age. NOW they're starting to have fun. They travel twice a year, they have their entertainment center at home, sing karaoke, do dancing, and it is just so pathetic. I don't know about the dancing, but the singing and the music is just so empty, no emotion, no heart. What you do your whole life is the center of your life. For them it was making money, and it shows in what they do now, it's all money centered. They have the disposable cash and what they do now for fun is an expression of spending it. Singing is not about singing, dancing is not about dancing, traveling is not about traveling, it's all about spending money that they've worked so hard to earn.

I feel like I was just an obligation, an expectation. They had to raise kids because that's what is expected of them. Do I love my parents? Hell no. I appreciate them and what they've done, I respect what they do and won't criticize them or show disapproval to their faces, but I certainly don't love them and won't cry when they die. I'll go to the funeral because it's an obligation and to pay respects and say thank you. But just because you're grateful, doesn't mean you love them.

All they've given was money. No knowledge, wisdom, or heart. They can't tell me what to do or pressure me. They can talk all they want, they can tell me what I should do, what they want me to do, where I should go, who I should be with, and it has no effect on me.

Series VIII, Roll 11 (Pentax ZX-5n, Tri-X): Walk along the Palisades, Englewood Cliffs

Allison Park, Englewood Cliffs:

Frame 3 - Not to be confused with Allison Park in Englewood, which is adjacent to the Flat Rock Brook Nature center.


Frame 4


Frame 5


Frame 6


Frame 7


Frame 9 - This fence borders Allison Park. For high school track, when we ran to the George Washington Bridge along the Palisades, we would run past the park and along this fence which led to the path that continues to the bridge.

The path to the bridge:

Frame 10


Frame 11


Frame 12 - the path goes by a gas station off the Palisades Parkway. People have fallen of the cliffs at this point and died when the restrooms at the gas station would be locked and they'd go looking for a place to go after dark.


Frame 13


Frame 15


Frame 18


Frame 19 - They developed that area on the Hudson for recreational use. I don't remember what was there before or if that large piece of land was even there. It may be landfill. Growing up in the area, I went down to the boat basin relatively often, and there is a path along the Hudson that leads to where that land is. I remember walking down that path, but I don't remember what was at the end.


Frame 20 - It's strange how after September 11, 2001, any image of the World Trade Center takes on new meaning.


Frame 21

Series VII, Roll 10 (Nikon 6006, Tri-X):

Wedding: My brother's first wedding. They ended up divorcing amicably, but in any case I won't say anything about it or them.


Frame 8 - Elizabeth and Mira.


Frame 19 - Shot before giving a toast.


Frame 20 - mostly high school friends here.

198 Shakespeare Street, S.F.

January 1997

So I made it to 1997. Just like I didn’t want to do. So much for a symmetrical tombstone bearing the dates 1969-1996.

Do I regret not having killed myself before the year was through? Now, nothing has changed except...I don’t particularly feel like dying. I feel stuck in the misery of existence.

***********************************

I was in Taiwan for a week and a half. I went to visit Audrey and it was to my surprise and disappointment that she was not only unwilling to make time for me, but she didn’t even spend the free time she did have with me. I wouldn’t have gone there to inconvenience her brother and father, I went for her.

So it was a blow off, and I thought that was certainly the end of our acquaintance. I wasn’t going to let it show while I was there, but that would be it after I left. There was nothing more between us. But it turns out there was something between us and the reason for her avoiding me was acceptable.

Why do we meet the people we meet? Why are the people who enter our lives in our lives? In how many lifetimes have I met Audrey and in how many different relationships? How many types of relationships could we have been in to have gotten to where we are and become who we are now? What promises have we made to meet each other again and again? Maybe we’ve only met once before and have been searching for each other for god knows how long. Maybe our cycle of re-births are closer and we find each other every few lifetimes, maybe every lifetime. Attraction, gravity, extending to karma, pulling one another along with the other.

In this lifetime, we’re cousins, and for some reason, that is perfect. As cousins, we’re family, we always have that connection and can’t get away from it, but we also have distance, we can’t get too close. Maybe that dynamic is necessary because of something that happened in a previous lifetime. Maybe we need to heal something.

I thought it was Amina, she was central to this formulation. But what do I have with Amina now? Nothing. What do I want with her in any future lifetime? Nothing. Little. Nothing. Amina is nothing in the big picture.

***********************************

Amina. I came across some pictures of her that I still have. I’m glad that I didn’t throw away every picture I have of her. Every time I come across her image, I’m struck. Something hits me, something stops. Who is this in this image that I loved so dearly? That’s the effect she still has on me; that’s what she meant to me.

I stare long and hard at the image, taking in her face, her hair, her eyes; this woman, that moment. It was real, that moment existed and it was frozen in time by a camera from a single vantage point. Time stretches before that moment and after. I keep staring at the image until it starts to become surreal and unfamiliar; the way I sometimes stare into a mirror until I start becoming unfamiliar.

Certainly she has changed, certainly she is no longer the same person I loved. I don’t even know what I loved anymore. So. I love an illusion. My love is something that got frozen in time like a photograph. It is something that no longer exists, is no longer real. What I love now has nothing to do with the physical reality of Amina that exists somewhere now. What I love is something in myself which preserves the memory of her that I loved. But it is not currently real. I don’t love something that is real. I love something that is no longer real except in myself. What I love about Amina now only has to do with myself.

So I can let go of Amina now, can’t I? Even if I meet her again, it would be different, she would be a different person. I wouldn’t react in the same way as I reacted when we were at Oberlin. I could meet her now as a stranger and not have lingering memories interfere with what is before my eyes. The Amina I loved is gone from reality and only exists in my heart; whatever it and she was, I’ve internalized. She won’t last beyond this lifetime. When I die, she and everything she was before to me will be gone.

I have to teach my heart to let go of Amina. But I’m always wondering whether she will enter my life again somehow.

***********************************

Do I have promises with people to meet in subsequent lifetimes? To look for one another? If I do, do I have the right to unilaterally rescind them? If promises were made, they must have been based on something strong, something that transcends anything we might do in a single lifetime.

***********************************

I have this memory to haunt me. The 70's is an odd decade to reminisce about when they were your formative years, but maybe any decade is.

I remember the family had a brown Dodge. I remember it in Winter more vividly. I remember Winters more vividly in general, maybe because I was born in the Winter. Cold, transient, but with something to look forward to.

I remember driving out on Rte. 4, the entire family, brothers and me as children, still in need of decisions made for us, in the back seat, me in the middle being the youngest. We would be going out to dinner.

Our parents had found a restaurant with a Western motif in Garden State Plaza, before they covered it. They weren’t too much into experimenting. Once they found a place or had it recommended to them by some friend, they would patronize it. They’re still like that, and I do that now out of instinct, though I do try to resist it. I remember the name of the restaurant being, “Bonanza”. The price was right and the food was good as I recall. I don’t remember how often we went, but we went repeatedly, and when they came home or called ahead from the office and announced we were going to “Bonanza”, we knew precisely what to expect.

What did we look like to the casual observer? Family of five; young couple, three young boys. I remember there was often a line, sometimes short, sometimes long. I remember taking trays and silverware and telling our mother what we wanted, which for what must have been years was the same thing. We’d slide the trays along past desserts, soup, and whatever else, until getting to the service area, hot off the grill, and to the cashier. Parents paid; I don’t remember once paying attention to the price. Then we’d go look for seats for the five of us. What did we look like this memory?

So now, in some food joint, maybe I see a family, parents with children, maybe just parent and child. I imagine I’m watching a memory in creation. Where will they be in 20 years? Will this scene be remembered by either of them? Will that father recognize or admit what he’s done? Will he know what he has done to her, what she has gone through? What he could have prevented if he’d been more of a father or continued to be a father as she grew up? 20 years from now.

What is it like to forgive someone who doesn’t even know he or she has done something wrong, someone who has been the source of...such things that parents can be a source of?

All they have on their behalf is a memory like a dream. A memory of a family scene, of detached tenderness and cloudy kindnesses, of sacrifices parents make. A memory with which I can compare them against how they are now. Same person, the sameness manifested only by a continuity of physical matter.

From then to now, from there to here, I’ve grown older than they have and in ways, I dare say that I am older. But then I must always have been older.

When was the last time they received a gift from their children? My brothers must have bought them stuff through the years. I never did. In 1980, returning from our first trip to Taiwan, we bought them a lot of stuff. They told us that we didn’t have to buy them gifts, save the money. They always told us that. On birthdays, mother’s day, father’s day, Christmas. So I never bought them anything since.

Would it hurt now, the next time I go to New Jersey, to bring a little something, nicely wrapped for each of them?

***********************************

Normative matrixes. We are formed and informed only by our knowledge. Our knowledge is the extent and the limit to which reality exists. Our knowledge is the extent of our realities. A table isn’t hard because of the condensed matter that reality tells us it is, giving it density making it hard. A table is hard because that is the extent and end of our knowledge concerning it. It is an overriding belief and knowledge that pervades our existence from the moment we’re born. If it were possible to override that knowledge, to have a requisite doubt to question that knowledge, then a table might no longer be hard. My hand could go right through it, or it could be soft, or liquid.

It’s all Illusions. All normative matrixes, realities, are illusions except the normative matrix that recognizes and transcends the illusions. Then it wouldn’t be normative anymore. It wouldn’t be a matrix.

I can’t talk to people anymore. I can’t carry conversations anymore without getting bored. All my thoughts, the culmination of my experience and knowledge, has made my normative matrix, my reality, too different from other people. People make assumptions because of their normative way of perceiving the world. They make assumptions that I don’t make about my world, and it’s hard to talk to them because we’re not even starting with the same background experience and information.

Different normative realities. How many people can’t carry a conversation; who are anti-social? How many people are in mental hospitals because of their inability to accept and adjust to society and the normative matrix that the majority generally share?

I bought a book of suicide notes and the person commentating on the notes makes these very specific assumptions about what is the norm. It bugs me how he’ll comment on something, but how does he know what they know or don’t know or think or don’t think. The assumptions get tedious after a while. What arrogance to state that the writers of certain notes are not aware of the permanency and finality of death. What arrogance to state that death is permanent and final.

Most people live on this planet to live on this plane; to do stuff which entails living on this planet. I’m not here to live on this planet. I’m alive, but my purpose isn’t to do the things that entail “living a life”. That itself is a normative matrix. I’m not sure why I’m here. I’m just window shopping. I’m just an observer. When I’ve done what I’ve come here to do, I’ll go. If I’m still here, that means I haven’t done it yet.

I’m not living on this planet the way other people are living on it.

Oh my god. It just struck me that I’ve never held a job before because that is the way I want it to be. It has less to do with the ‘rents themselves. It probably has more to do with why I have the parents I have. The reason why I’ve never held a job may be because I do not want to occupy myself with some mundane occupation just to live from day to day.

My life is perfect the way it is. If I had a job, if I was earning my own money, I’d be completely different. I wouldn’t have this tension, this anger, this misery, this insecurity, all the things that identify this particular me that I’m attached to. If things were different, other things would identify me, but it wouldn’t be me. Maybe a different me, but that’s not me.

That’s so funny. The idea that my parents are perfect, and have been all along, is funny. It’s perfect that this realization comes as it is getting easier to tolerate them, to let go of everything that happened in the past. Last summer it happened that I felt free from their influence, no longer threatened. It just felt right to let it go and be civil towards them. I really should be grateful to them. Now I have a much better understanding why.

***********************************

So I talk to the ‘rents and there is communication, there is subject matter, there is dialogue. Whereas before I contributed nothing and made them struggle for any piece of information. Many uncomfortable silences. How do I feel about it now?

Something else in me is backlashing against this newfound familial harmony. Once the source of the problem is identified and neutralized, then there is nothing to blame the problem on. Then it becomes necessary to deal with the actual problem itself. The source is gone, the blame is gone, the problem still exists. The problem I have with existence. I still have to deal with this ocean around me. What would I be like if I wasn’t like this?

Someday I’m going to leave on my own terms. Sometimes I feel a touch of regret when I realize the ‘rents will be clueless as to why. It’s a little sad, but they have so much to learn. I think my regret partly comes from what I don’t know about them. I don’t know how hard their lives have been, I don’t know what impact my actions will have on them.

I was leafing through a book of photographs and there was a picture of a daughter at her mother’s funeral and she was in such grief. That is so out of my experience, I just don’t understand why death should evoke such a strong reaction of grief. I have so much to learn, too. Hopefully not.

I don’t know. This gets complicated. My reaction to death is pretty accepting, but what if I had married Amina and then she died. Then I can start to imagine such grief. Where would I plant her garden? So what happened between Amina and me was perfect, too?

Series IV, Roll 9 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2):

Frame 23 - My cousin Peter and his wife Shou-mei on their wedding date.

Visiting Grandfather's Grave

Series IV, Roll 8 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2) - Kaohsiung, Taiwan


Frame 26 - Grandfather died in 1993. This was my first visit to his grave. He was very well known in Kaohsiung because he founded and was president of one of the city's bus companies. His funeral was apparently quite large, and his gravesite looked kind of exclusive, quite out of the way on a hillside with a nice view.


Frame 27 - Cousin Audrey was cold to me the whole time I was in Taiwan, even though I went there to visit her. Only for little peeks did she acknowledge my presence.


Frame 28 - the main gravesite


Frame 29 - I don't remember if this was part of grandfather's grave, or if I was just going around shooting. This is still right around that area.


Frame 30 - Candid


Frame 31 - Candid portrait of my cousin Audrey.


Frame 32 - Once she saw that I was shooting her, she shot me this nasty look. I know, it doesn't look nasty, but in context the look says, "I don't like you, stop taking pictures of me". We've discussed all this since then, and it still isn't really clear what was going on or why she was being cold to me. Neither of us really knows anymore.


Frame 33 - Portrait cousin Peter


Frame 34 - Prayers

fin

New Year's Morning at the Beach

Series IV, Roll 8 (Pentax K2, Ilford XP2) - Kaohsiung, Taiwan

Frame 20 - Early morning at the beach, New Year's Day.


Frame 21 - Swimmers limbering up.


Frame 22 - Come on, baby, let's do the twist.


Frame 23 - I don't know if this organized swim was for New Year's, since the Lunar New Year is more important in Taiwan. Uncle Bun's family went as a family, so I just tagged along to shoot.


Frame 24 - Candid


Frame 25 - I wandered off when I tired of hanging out with family, feeling like I didn't belong.

Day twenty eight

Best thing that ever could have happened? Then why do I feel so awful? Why can't I stop thinking about her for even a moment? Why is my life so completely empty? She haunts me and my every thought in every waking hour. I can't do anything without thoughts of her aligned on the fringes. My entire life and everything around me is marked by her signature. I can't believe my life. I can't believe I'm alive.

Like a fish out of water, out of step and out of place.

I swear to God I'm not a batterer, I swear to God I'm not a violent man. I am not a violent man. My name is Steve, my authority figure is slave-driver. My name is Eric, my authority figure is shot-caller. My name is Mark, my authority figure is boss of the house, but I haven't seen him for a while now. My name is Koji, my authority figure is a secret world, though not necessarily secrecy.

I am not a violent man. I agree to not have any weapons where they can be easily reached.

I agree not to drink alcohol or take drugs six hours before class and six hours after class...

"Have you had a drink tonight?" he asked from across the room, even though it was clearly debatable whether he had a drink or not.

"No."

"He turned to me, "Have you?". What a trick situation to find myself in.

"No," I answered after a pause.

My "authority figure"? I am allowed to have a drink six hours before and after. I am not one of these people and alcohol does not affect me like it might these people. Alcohol doesn't affect me in any significant way anymore. I just had a drink, no one's even going to be suspicious. My authority figure is silence, isolation, a secret world with just my memories and present reality to torment me. I am not a batterer, I don't have anyone to batter. I am not violent, I don't have anyone anymore.

Fatal peril. I have seen fatal peril before, I know what it is and what it means, although perhaps not like these people experienced. I have a memory of a fatal peril that was actually handled quite well. We were being punished, my brothers and me. Father had called us into his room, the master bedroom, the master's bedroom. His authority figure must have been master of the house, lord of money.

I remember being not very concerned about what he was punishing us for, I was getting kind of sick of it and wasn't taking him very seriously anymore. No fear. He used his favorite weapon which had been so effective in the past. It was a strip of plastic "Hot Wheels" racing track that we had played with as kids, and he had shaved down the end so that it made quite a whip. It had become a thing to fear. It was orange.

He went through a round or whipping the backs of our outstretched hands for whatever it was we had done wrong. Looking back, I don't think he was using all his force. But looking back, I can't remember if he usually did or if it was more of a disciplinary gesture. Not this time, but he must have been seething at something. I remember the look on his face when he finished, and held his stance with his weapon, staring us down.

A laugh escaped from me, not defiant, not inflammatory. I just felt a laugh come up and out. He looked at me. Fatal peril. He was seething, he had just finished whipping us, and I...laughed? He had no idea how to react, his authority figure was smacked on its ass. He could have gotten more angry, he could have whipped me in his rage, he could have started yelling, re-establishing his authority. But he had more dignity than that. He was not a small man by any stretch, and the peril wasn't fatal.

His face broke into a laugh and he asked what I was laughing at. I think he called me stupid in Japanese and dismissed us. He never whipped us again after that. I must have been twelve or thirteen years old.

324 S. Main St., Oberlin

I had to change my plans for going back to New Jersey because the ‘rents are going to Taiwan on the days that I had planned to go back. I went this past weekend and now I’m back in Oberlin until I leave for California. Apparently, grandfather died on July 12, and the ‘rents are going to the cremation which is this week. The actual funeral will be much later and they will probably go for that as well.

They called me last week and told me they were going to Taiwan on the days I was planning to go to New Jersey. They were going to let it go right then and there and not expect to see me until I visited from California, but not being one to miss an opportunity to deceive, I told them I could change my plans so that I could see them before I left for California. More importantly, I needed to get some cash.

So I went to New Jersey, collected some serious G-money, and bid them good riddance. It was actually a touching farewell, full of good intent and concern and care. Some of it may have been genuine, but then I have to ask myself if it would have been the same if I wasn’t going to law school. Doubtful.

A few weeks ago, they were trying to press me to find a place with a roommate in California because it would be cheaper. Ah, money as love; it falls through every time when money is all you care about. But actually, they didn’t press it further, and it really is my choice, so their pressing may not have been much more than suggestion. Maybe there wasn’t an undercurrent of them trying to save money. Doubtful.

The ‘rents have been concerned about a decrease in their income. It’s laughable. They are worried about not having money! Gimme a break, there is no risk of their having no money, they’re concerned about not making enough to support the opulent lifestyle to which they’ve become accustomed. If they need money, they can always sell the Rolls. Maybe they’re concerned that they will run out of money with which to show their love. Doubtful.

The ‘rents visited Tom in Rochester a while back, and on the way back to New Jersey, their Mercedes got a flat. They made a big deal about their stroke of fortune in how uninhabited the highway was, but when they got the flat, there were houses nearby. So they went to one of the houses, knocked on the door and asked for help, and paid whoever helped them $20 to change the flat.

That must have been a really nice guy who helped them, but it’s the ‘rents’ attitude that really disgusts me. It epitomizes their philosophy, their approach to the world: Flash a $20 bill and you can turn any jack-ass sitting on a couch on a Sunday into a mechanic. But nothing to do with the ‘rents, I’m grateful that there are people like the person who helped them in the world. Even to help the ‘rents.

While I was back East, I caught up with Audrey in New York where she’s taking Summer school, making up classes for this past semester that she withdrew from. After grandmother died, she went to Taiwan and decided to stay there and spend time with and take care of grandfather. She was still there in June when grandfather had a heart attack. He continued to have complications, but she had to come back to the States. He died after she left.

She had stories to tell, she was the closest person to him in his last months. It sounds like he went out quite painfully. After the heart attack, he stayed in the hospital until he died. Her descriptions of what he went through are so different from my mental picture of him. Not that I have many mental pictures of him. I never knew him very well and vice versa.

My image of him dying would have been something peaceful and private, like dying in his sleep. It seems so undignified that he suffered a painful heart attack and was fussed and flocked over by doctors. A man in his ‘90's. It seems so undignified to be moved in and out of ICU, vomiting sickly dark colored liquid as if his old age had rotted his insides. There’s a lot about him I don’t know. Maybe the indignity of the way he died suited him. I don’t know.

It came as no surprise to me when he died, dying within six months of grandmother’s death. The ‘rents on the other hand hadn’t been concerned at all about grandfather after grandmother’s death. They just noted, probably more to themselves, that he was in perfect health. Life is all about health and money and they don’t want to face anything which negates health and money. Even when he had the heart attack, they believed the Taiwanese doctors who said they expected a full recovery. When I heard he had a heart attack, I knew the end was near and I couldn’t believe the ‘rents weren’t facing it.

I don’t know where the story ends. I don’t know where it began and I don’t know most of what happened in it. Grandparents were never a part of my life, they were just biological fact, they were a living part of family history. Now they really are family history and I don’t know how I should feel about it. The only effect their deaths are having on me is the knowledge that they were there somewhere all my life, and now they are, in fact, really dead. No longer here, gone beyond.

I don’t know how the ‘rents feel, I don’t know their experience with their parents. I know more about Audrey’s relationship with them. Audrey was a part of their lives and vice versa these past 20 years. As for the ‘rents, I have no idea what their relationship was these past 24 years or more.

Death has never hit close enough to me to ever really affect me. It’s not in my nature to be strongly affected by things that are not in my control, so I wonder what my reaction would be if someone close to me died. I don’t know if this is healthy or if I’m being really cold-hearted. I don’t think I know what it means to truly love. If you can’t truly love, can you truly lose?

But my attitude also fits in with my understanding of Buddhism. I know I’m “Buddhist”, despite the myriad meanings that may have, because with every step along the way, I first identified elements of my own being first and that they are part of my nature, and only later found that they are Buddhist elements. None of it was fed to me, it was here first. I was Buddhist before I knew what it is to be Buddhist. I’d be Buddhist even if there was no such thing as Buddhism. Being “Buddhist” has absolutely no meaning or significance except to help others identify “who I am”.

I don’t think I’ll ever attend the funeral of someone close to me. I think I’ll die first anyway.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Well, I got into law school. I haven't told the 'rents yet, I'm going to let them stew a little longer and make sure I've prepared the situation to my advantage. I've already gotten them to (enthusiastically) promise to buy me a $2000 electronic drumset if I got into law school. I didn't have to argue a case for it. I didn't even have to tell them what it was. I actually wasn't going to even press for it, $2000 is a lot of money! If they said "$2000!!!", I would have dropped it right then and there.

Bob was down here and I didn’t tell him either. I can’t trust him. He’s pretty much caved into the ‘rent’s perspective. I never would have thought that he'd become the way he is now. I think he's really fucked up. He covers up, justifies, and apologizes for a lot more than he would admit. He's deluding himself. He now sees just as much of the 'rents' perspective as he sees mine. That would be reasonable if he were a middleman, a mediator, but he isn't. He has been just as much subjected to this upbringing as I have, he is just as much a victim. So for him to take neutral ground is indicative of something. I don't know what. A lot, though.

Contrary to my previous belief, I think he was very directly affected by our upbringing. He wasn't just a passive player that tried to keep the peace or stand aloof. I no longer believe that any psychological burden he carries is due to the indirect fallout of the conflicts between the rents, Tom, and/or me. He was always right there in the thick of it and it has made him what he is now.

I even wonder how much he really wants to be a doctor. It always seemed so perfect and easy for him. The 'rents wanted him to be a doctor and he wanted to be a doctor, and he had the academic record and intelligence to do it. Now I question whether he would have become a doctor if the 'rents hadn't pushed that from the get-go. Maybe he had it the worst. He didn't even have a chance to resist. Maybe the impulse was suppressed from the start.

It seemed like he would be the one to turn out successful and happy since he was good at anything he tried. Everything he touched he did well. But now this change in personality is so drastic that it begs for some explanation. Tracing the path back with hindsight, his background also allows for alternative paths that he may have preferred to have pursued and didn't.

He has acknowledged and accepted how the 'rents express affection through money. I'm sorry, that is just such a twisted treatment of human communication, expression, and family interaction. For Bob to endorse it just blows my mind. Instead of establishing trust, loyalty, and love, they make money, and then use that money in place of trust, loyalty, and love. Making money is so much easier, and making money is a one-sided undertaking. Forming a relationship necessitates complex compromise, understanding, and acceptance between multiple parties and their respective personalities, perspectives, and values. The 'rents just make money and they give money.

Love as money also means that there is a limit to their love. Once their bank account is theoretically exhausted, there is nothing attaching me to them. The love ran out. And besides, who gave them the right to redefine love, its meaning and its expression? If they can define that in their own terms, I can re-define what I give back. What do they want? Gratitude, filial piety, respect? Why can't I define for myself how those things are expressed?

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I haven’t been feeling the need to hold onto my anger and hate every minute of the day. I’ve been able to cool off and relax more and be more confident about my feelings and the nature of what’s going on here.

Last weekend, the largest blizzard in over a century hit the area. Lots of snow fell and then freezing rain turned much of it into ice. It meant manual labor, shoveling the driveway. I had to hack away the top layer of ice with a regular shovel before shoveling the snow and ice bit by bit since it was so heavy.

I don’t mind doing the work. I’m working my way through this. Money is the keystone of this family relationship. The sources of my conflict here are the assumptions and expectations of how a family is supposed to work. They’re all wrong, they’re just ideals. The model of a family here is a perfectly valid model of one type of functional family.

They see raising children as not much different from bringing a car to the shop. They pay the money, they expect the work to be done. If the workers have a complaint, well they can just keep it to themselves. The same applies to their family. They put in the money, they expect something in return. If we have complaints, well we can just keep them to ourselves. Their philosophy is if you pay the money, you get what you want.

I’ve assumed that family is an emotional relationship, not a business transaction. I’ve always felt the injustice has been against me. But in their mind, the injustice is against them. I’m not performing my part of the bargain – don’t complain. It causes them stress, and if they’ve paid the money, there should be no stress. What I have always thought family should be, they’ve never wanted that. They have never even considered what I had assumed was a goal.

So I don’t mind the manual labor now. I do it automatically without being told. While growing up, they were always giving orders, “Do this, do that”. It was never, “Could you please do this?”. They had the right to give orders because they paid for it, and they didn’t have to show courtesy because they also paid for not having to.

But when I automatically perform the labor, it’s an act of resentment. It beats being ordered to do it. I do it as a slap in the face. They think I’ve finally matured and I’m such a good boy, but at the same time they’re getting what they paid for.

Osaka, Japan

I got back from Taiwan and found one letter in my mailbox from Madoka. What’s up with everyone else? I shouldn’t wonder, I know what’s up with everyone else. Coming back to Japan from Taiwan makes Japan feel like home. Japan’s landscape is so familiar compared to Taiwan. Taiwan was, at best, surreal. I floated in, floated around, and floated right back out. I had no desire to stay, no fond memories, too many ghosts.

I faltered and struggled to communicate in Japanese, since the older generation of Taiwanese speak Japanese. I spent more time with Uncle Taka than ever before. We drove all the way to Tai Zhong just to indulge in the cuisine they are famous for.

Uncle Bun’s wife is in the final stage of cancer. Audrey’s mother, a finer woman this family has not seen. I visited her in the hospital. At first, I don’t think she recognized me. She was undergoing radiation treatment and she was in such pain, all I could do was let her squeeze my hand. She told me not to tell Audrey, and I knew what she meant. She knew Audrey and I are close. “Don’t tell Audrey”. No, I won’t tell her, but I can let her know. I’ll make sure Audrey comes back at the end of the semester.

What is it about her? She names her daughter after Audrey Hepburn, and then I meet Amina, the love of my life, who rings of Audrey Hepburn. Amina is a big Audrey Hepburn fan. When me and my brothers visited Taiwan in 1980, we were total monsters, yet she not only took care of us, but she eventually named one of her sons after my American name. Why? After the show we put on in 1980, I would think she would try to disassociate from my name as much as possible. We were that bad. Bottom line, the woman is a saint. But there must be more.

I dreamed of Amina for the first time in a while in Taiwan. It was a sunny summer day and it looked like we were pool-side outside of some fancy hotel. She had joined me there at a table with one of those big umbrellas. She was silent and in thought. I guess it was just my fantasy, but she knew that I had decided to take up the issue of Shiho and me with the possibility of starting a relationship with Shiho. So Amina was there, silent, to tell me that she really did love me and it only struck her when it became very possible that she would lose me for good. Oh yea, fantasy.

In my sleep, my eyes opened a little. At two o’clock in the morning, someone had turned on the hall light so that if my eyes opened a little, they would open a lot. The dream and Amina faded away as if an angel had turned my face towards the light and pried my eyes open a crack to warn me, “no, don’t”.

I’m having major doubts about my role in the music thing here. Sakura has hooked up with those three semi-pros who are certainly older than us. I get the sense that they’re wondering what I’m even doing there. They are very professional, to them it’s a job, not an expression. They do as they’re told, their input is professional, not personal creativity. It’s kind of cold and not really my bag. They’re really good, but not the kind of good I can get into.

The pressure of living in Japan is what is changing me the most, though. I’m exercising a lot of self-control and I’m being super careful not to let my predisposed problems surface. There is no room for that old diagnosis “adjustment disorder”. What a load of crap anyway. “Adjustment disorder”? I think it was just a descriptive that psychiatrist came up with to match his observations. He sat there listening, thinking, “hmmm, sounds like he’s having trouble adjusting - I’ll call it an ‘adjustment disorder’!” Screw that.

In any case, I’m here for another three months. The plan is to enroll in the Japanese course at the YMCA tomorrow, and then I’m going up to Tokyo this weekend to visit Shiho and meet up with Mark Holdaway. It’s unbelievable that I’m going to see them both at the same time. What is up with that? It still blows my mind. I’m taking the Shinkansen up on Saturday morning, and on Sunday night I’m hopping onto an all-night bus back to Osaka and on Monday, classes start. That’s the plan.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

Well, I’ve gone and done it. I graduated from Oberlin College. It was a beautiful day. I had played my last gig with the Can Consortium at Illumination the night before. Before that gig I played for the last time with They Might Be Asians at an Asian American parent appreciation night at Third World House. The only thing that dampened the whole experience was the ‘rents having flown in for the occasion. I tried my best to get them to go to Tom’s medical school graduation at Brown on the same day. So I avoided and ignored them as much as possible. I let them know that I didn’t appreciate them being there. They had no right to be there. They paid for my being there, but they had nothing to do with anything I did there. I hope they were livid.


Illumination - Finney Steps, May 24, 1992


I'm not positive this is from the Parent Appreciation gig.

I drove a bunch of people to the airport, including Amina, Diem, and Vikki. Amina is spending the summer in Chicago with a college friend of her mother’s. On the way to the airport, Amina said that if she were to marry anyone, it would be me. Tug, but I also know that she doesn’t plan to marry anyone. I would marry Amina in a second, I know it would work. I don’t think I’ve shed much light on the huge amount of affection between us, even through the tense moments this past semester. The intimacy and familiarity that was Amina made her home to me. Amina is permanently part of my life and nothing in the world can change that.


Taking Diem to the airport. That's Amina's hair as she got in the front seat.


Jenny came by to say goodbye to Amina when she left.


So now I’m in New Jersey spending the month preparing to leave the country for Japan. I still have no idea what I’m doing. Nothing has changed about being in New jersey. My thinking is clouded, I lose all motivation and my mood changes by the half hour. The fight with the ‘rents is no where near ending. My life as a battlefield is in total shambles.

Third World House, Oberlin

Strange emotional life I’m going through now. But it’s not time to talk about it. Amina in Dublin. Luyen. Hiromi.



I was discussing angels with Hiromi. I had never thought of angels much before because of the shallow Christian portrayals that pervade this culture. But I’m taking this religion class, “Self and Community in Western Tradition” (what does that have to do with religion?), and the class has a film syllabus. Every week we have to see a certain film and we discuss religious/spiritual portrayals and messages in the movie.

All the movies are incredible, especially after the professor starts explaining shit, but the one that really knocked me on my ass is “Wings of Desire” by Wim Wenders. It outlined so much of what I felt I understood or knew, but never articulated before or could articulate.

Angels are people, or souls, who have transcended the physical world but haven’t “gone to heaven”. The transcendence is the result of a true innate understanding of the physical world and the nature of reality. So angels exist on this physical plane, but not in a form that we understand or perceive.

They look over us, they observe, some follow specific people, some just wander. They are morally indifferent, but “morally indifferent” as perceived by us gets translated as “moral” or “good”, since we are pre-disposed to see angels as good and interpret their acts as being good. In fact, they are indifferent.

They try to guide us, but they are powerless to interact physically (although in extreme situations, some people would argue that they can, but that’s another discussion). They speak to us, they touch us, they guide us, but we can only hear or feel or be guided if we are sensitive and open to their guidance or their presence.

One scene that really made an impression on me is when there is this man who is jumping off a building. He sits at the ledge and one of the angels goes up to him and wraps an arm around him, a gesture to stop him. But then the man jumps, and the angel can do nothing but let him go and walk away. That blew my mind.

I still insist on moral indifference, but the angel knew that for this person, suicide was not the way, not the answer. So he made a gesture to try to stop him, guidance. But ultimately angels cannot physically interfere with the human world. When the man jumps, the angel can’t force him not to. If the man was sensitive to the guidance, maybe he would have thought that it wasn’t such a good idea and decided not to go through with it. But he can choose not to be sensitive to the guidance and go through with it.

And the concept of angels actually fits in really well with bodhisattvas in Buddhism. I actually never quite understood bodhisattvas. They are enlightened beings that have transcended the physical world, but refuse to enter nirvana, heaven, until all of humanity can enter at once. I’ve never been able to grasp that concept of what they were until now.

Fit angels and bodhisattvas together and they help explain each other. Angels, like bodhisattvas have transcended the physical world. They understand reality well enough so that they are no longer caught in the cycle of death and re-birth. They are no longer attached and encumbered by things human.

Angels are intermediaries between God and humans, they have the qualifications to help humans get closer to God. That’s what they do, that’s why they won’t enter heaven until all beings can do so at once. Why is that? Because there is no separation between anything in the universe. They understand that all is one. So it’s not that they won’t, but that’s not reality. To suggest they can enter nirvana separately from other sentient beings assumes duality, which they have by their very beings have transcended. Exciting stuff!

I’ve always felt there has been a presence following me around, I’ve always felt guided and damn lucky for it. It felt strange opening up with this to Hiromi, but she feels the same way, but instead of angels or bodhisattvas, she has always felt that it was a spirit of one of her ancestors. Close enough for me. There’s no reason why it’s not one of her ancestors.

Towards the end of this past summer, four cousins and me were sitting around a table at uncle Aki’s house. It was warm and the realization that we were all family made me warm and fuzzy. I wondered what an ancestor would think or feel witnessing that scene. It was the first time the five of us, from different branches of the family tree, were all together like that, passing pictures around. Some ancestor looking on at this group of strangers - their descendants.

84 S. Park St, Oberlin

What is the truth I’m searching for? It has nothing to do with faith, belief, or desire. It’s just something known, it’s what I just know is true. Truth is in intuition, it is whatever clicks as truth when it is encountered. The truth isn’t in learnings, sutras, doctrines or discourse, although in those you can find directions and arrows pointing. Knowledge isn’t truth, it’s just a reservoir of information from which to excise truth.

Whatever is not truth is delusion. The physical world is not truth, it’s delusion. Unfortunately, I can’t tell when something isn’t delusion. Not even knowledge of the fact is any help. My realization that something is delusion doesn’t do anything to help me see beyond it. Being aware of delusions is not the key to get rid of them. It only means that delusions exist and are also real.

How can I even think about having a family and raising kids? I keep thinking about how sacred family is, but for most part, family members treat each other like shit, and I look at my family and there’s not much to look at. I would want any family that I’m responsible for to recognize the meaning of that bond and the gift of such a unit. But how do you reproduce and pass on those kindnesses and values concerning family? How can you make sure they’re reciprocated and then ultimately reproduced again? This is pointless; you can’t.

There’s always gonna be a bad egg in any family. There will always be a jerk who, even if kindnesses are extended, will use family as an excuse to take advantage of them. Family is such a gift, peace in the family is such a gift, how do you express that and pass it on? It’s such a gift to pass on joy and to make others smile.

I wonder where I got these values. Why did I reject the ‘rent’s shit-for-values? How did I know they opposed my nature? It definitely was a matter of survival. If I wasn’t true to myself, I don’t think I could have survived. So no matter how hard they pushed and how insidious their methods, I never lost sight of what the stakes were and I kept angry and used my anger as a shield against them. It was a reactionary response.

I’m not sure when the anger started. As far back as I had awareness of it, I hated their values and reacted against them. Where they neglected the value of family, I learned to appreciate it. Where they were inflexible, I learned to appreciate flexibility. Where they were closed-minded, I appreciated open-mindedness. Where they didn’t communicate, I learned to value communication. Where they raised us like it was their obligation, I learned courtesy. In a twisted way I appreciate that the ‘rents are such jerks. It allowed me to develop into the character I am now and I wouldn’t change it for most part.

84 S. Park St, Oberlin

What sort of person am I to be?
Upon what should my life be based?
What do I want from other people and from relationships with them?
What is it that will get me through day to day?
Everything is based on pain. Life is suffering. Nothing is permanent. So nothing is permanent, what does that mean?

I want to be remembered. Not because of ego, not for legacy’s sake, but for the sake of fascination. Sometimes I wonder about my ancestors, what were they like? Were any of them like me? Maybe some family member in the future might wonder something similar and I might provide an answer. Even though it doesn’t mean a thing to me.

But how can I be remembered when I can’t stand people. I can’t stand my role in the world. I would like to entirely close up and shut myself in. I would like to disappear without a trace. But then I’m scared that I’m going to miss something.

Maybe I should just face it and realize that there’s nothing I can be that is satisfactory. Everything I do is borne out of pain, I create that pain, I bring it to me and encircle myself in it. Everything I am, everything I do is borne out of pain and everything I am and everything I do is designed to create more pain for myself. This intolerable existence is getting more and more understandable.

Englewood Cliffs, NJ

I’ve been running the gamut of feelings towards Sakuko, even touching on rage and betrayal. It’s very confusing and hard to deal with. Oddly enough, at the same time I’m having very forgiving feelings towards family, perhaps Audrey's influence on me. We may not get along or even like each other, but I don’t sense any malice or double-dealing in this family. Not that I know this family.

My thoughts drift back to this past summer. A very hot July 4. The streets around Providence lined with cars. We had a barbecue that day with a bunch of Bob’s friends. The sun went down, they all went over to some park to watch the fireworks and I stayed at the apartment to read and watch some TV.

What a weird summer, I stayed with Bob and Tom, with family. I’m not particularly close to them. We’re familiar and I respect them and extend courtesies, but we’re not warm.

Why do they live together? Do they need each other in some way? Do they get support from each other from other family scars, or is it just practical to live together? If they did, it would be passively, no doubt. They are closer to each other than they are with me, meaning they are close enough to yell at each other. When Bob yelled at Tom, that took me totally by surprise. I couldn’t imagine either of them yelling at me that way. I wouldn’t give a shit if they did, maybe they know that.