The Greatest Love of All

Ms. Whitney Houston. Damn. She was just a baby. I have so many good times and rough times that were made better through her art. Her struggles were incomprehensible to me, but I prayed for her. Especially after that interview with Barbara Walters that felt like Blaxploitation. To honor the memory of her that I want to tell my children about, I have to go all the way back, back, back… to the 80s. I was a young girl living in Portland, Oregon. Black, Japanese in a city that had so few of either being both put me in population of exactly four families. At the time, I didn’t realize I was looking for a role model, but when I heard the lyrics to this song, I realized I could be my own role model and, to this day, when I’m struggling to make my way as an artist in a world that sometimes makes me feel like I have an audience of about 20 (Thank God for the rise of Blasian culture!), I still hum this song to myself. Thanks, Whitney. I hope you are indeed, resting. In Peace.

I Got Nuttin’ But Love For You, Heavy

Just a quick post to commemorate the loss of Heavy D. Man, we already miss you. Your music was the sound of my youth. I grooved to you late at night, drunk off my a$$ at my first “grown-up” college parties. Later, when I quit film school and moved to Hollywood to try my hand at a film career, you were one of the first celebrities I ever met… at a party… where you stomped on my peeptoe sandals. And apologized like a gentleman. You even called me “baby girl”. Many of my friends and colleagues had friendships with you, so I would hear about you in passing, always with positive warm thoughts.

As for myself, that encounter with you was thanks to Chris Tucker. He brought in this video when the film I was working on (my first ever job on a real live movie set that was about to implode after the director parted ways with the studio four weeks before production start) was in desperate need of a helmer. I remembered the song, but those long dark days in the Sterling Memorial Library had left me ignorant of music video history. So, you also saved my job… and that job started my career.

So, I miss your music. Thanks for the memories and the leg up. And, always, D, I got nuttin’ but love for you, honey.

Pat Buchanan Showing His A$$… Again

When will MSNBC and its advertisers stop giving this asshat a platform for his bigoted BS? He uses his age as a cover to get away with referring to the President as Al Sharpton’s “boy”, now this with the “liberal plantation” metaphor. Plantation? Really? That old chestnut needs to retired. Just like Pat.

And just in case it sounds like I’m piling on against Grampa, here’s another lengthy example that the man hasn’t lost his faculties, he’s just a bigot.

A Brief for Whitey » Patrick J. Buchanan – Official Website

First, America has been the best country on earth for black folks. It was here that 600,000 black people, brought from Africa in slave ships, grew into a community of 40 million, were introduced to Christian salvation, and reached the greatest levels of freedom and prosperity blacks have ever known.

Wright ought to go down on his knees and thank God he is an American.

Second, no people anywhere has done more to lift up blacks than white Americans. Untold trillions have been spent since the ’60s on welfare, food stamps, rent supplements, Section 8 housing, Pell grants, student loans, legal services, Medicaid, Earned Income Tax Credits and poverty programs designed to bring the African-American community into the mainstream.

Governments, businesses and colleges have engaged in discrimination against white folks — with affirmative action, contract set-asides and quotas — to advance black applicants over white applicants.

Churches, foundations, civic groups, schools and individuals all over America have donated time and money to support soup kitchens, adult education, day care, retirement and nursing homes for blacks.

We hear the grievances. Where is the gratitude?

Searching for Inspiration

I’m at a dead halt with the novel… not for lack of wanting to write, or pages for that matter. Lord knows I’ve spun out reams of outline trying to recast the ending…, no, right now I’m trying to remember what was so damned exciting about writing a novel in the first place. Wouldn’t becoming surf instructor have been more fun? And better for my silhouette?

I found this essay on the NEA website and thought I’d share a bit that helped me get a paragraph out before the darkness crowded back in.  Now I’m off to make some cookies or eat that Ben and Jerry’s Red Velvet ice cream I bought for just such a time….

National Initiatives: Operation Homecoming – Essays on Writing

In the end, writing is like a prison, an island from which you will never be released but which is a kind of paradise: the solitude, the thoughts, the incredible joy of putting into words the essence of what you for the moment understand and with your whole heart want to believe.

Jennifer Egan and Narrative

Just a blip: Jennifer Egan has a new narrative piece up on The Guardian (http://ow.ly/5OxIE). I appreciate what she’s doing here to push the marginalia of writing into the center, but I’m not sure this amounts to more than an experiment. Reminded me of when POV cameras went into use in film/TV.

A Game of Boxes

Day 23: The packing continues. I’ve lost the rest of my party somewhere in the Kitchen Box Hills. I pray for them, but I must push on. The Battle of the Bookcases cost me dearly, and there are yet skirmishes near dawn and dusk. Ahead, I see only Desk, File Cabinet and the Valley of Death: Garage. Today I rally the last of my strength for a dash to Storage Unit to regroup.

My Prince, Kenji, has near abandoned me. I fear he’ll soon choose a new liege and then I will be truly truly lost.

– Excerpt from A Game of Boxes, forthcoming

The Zombie Apocalypse

I love zombie stories. The descent into dystopia, the terror and frenetic scramble for survival. The agonizing choices and emotional trauma of having loved ones turn into ravenous flesh eaters that one must decapitate. Ah. Yeah. Boy.

Apparently I’m not the only survivalist-conspiracy theorist running around. The folks over at the CDC have gotten into the act as well and published their own Preparedness 101: Zombie Apocaplyse guide. Reading this now.

Oh, yeah, and working on the book. Which does not have any zombies in it. **sad face**

Big Hair Day, Must Be In Jersey

I’m traveling thru the interior of New Jersey sans hair product courtesy of American Airlines. And it’s raining.

Bangers and Mash

When I visited England back in 2006, one of my favorite dishes was sausage and mashed potatoes with gravy. This chilly rain has me in the mood so I’m making a So Cal version with chicken sausage, organic herb gravy and small red potatoes. Looks good so far!

Weather -related

The rain is pouring down, I’ve got some music on, the dog is tucked on my lap and a movie featuring a guy I sorta-kinda-almost-went-out-with-once is on TV. He still has all his hair and his body is screaming hot. Memories.