A: This is unacceptable!

A: I won't take it any longer! I demand a refund!

B: Hello? Is this where they keep the telephones?

A: It is! But they won't give a damn, if you ain't got a dime!

B: I've brought some change...

A: Have you got a dollar?

B: I haven't.

A: Then they won't let you talk.

B: I just need to call my son and tell him..

A: Tell him, Robert Kang needs another chance.

B: What?

A: Tell him, Robert Kang is sorry...

B: Who is...

A: But I'm still mad! (beat) You see, there, see that phone?" (walks over to phone)"This is the instrument of life, and of death. I called my wife on this phone. We've been married for 11 years. We just divorced.

B: I'm sorry, that must be hard..

A: No it's not. It's been over a year. It's not hard. The divorce is easy. I just called her, it's been over a year, and let me tell you, my tongue has never been so quick, never been so comfortable speaking my mind.

B: Good, I'm going to call my son, now.

A: Good, tell him...

B: I'm telling him to remember his dentist appointment.

A: Robert Kang knows it was his fault...

B: Hey, it's not your fault--

A: You don't even know what I'm talking about!

B: Sure I do, you're Robert Kang, right?

A: I am if I'm sorry.

B: Well are you?

A: She just makes it so damn hard. She has to tell it to you before you can 'fess up. It's like the rugs been pulled from underneath your feet.

B: Well, sorry. I have to make this call.

A: They won't let you.

B: Sure they will (lifts receiver) See? You don't even have to pay. (beings dialing)

"A" looks on as B speaks into the phone.

B: Hey. Remember to go to the dentist. What? Your mom can't take you? Can't you just go yourself? You're big enough, now.

A: (softly) Don't.

B: Okay, good. Call me when you're done... I'll pick you up. Okay, bye.

"B" Hangs up receiver.

A: Don't! (this time yelling)

B: What?

"Hello? -- Is anyone out there? (to himself:) That's a stupid question. Of course someones out there. (Continues yelling:) Hello? My name is Mark Cho! Hello? Mark Cho! Hello?"

(faint) "Hello..."

"Hello! I've been here for so long! I knew you were out there. Where are you? Keep yelling, or, I know, flash a light at me!"

(he sees a light in the distance)

"Oh, I see it. It looks like you're really far away. (to himself:) I hope this person can tell me where we are and how to get out of here. I hope the sun comes up soon, too. How long can it stay this way? How long is a night? I hope the days are just as long, or longer. (Walking, but still talking to himself:) I'm so relieved that... I mean, I knew it all along, but it's good to find out that I was right! Right all along.

(Man is eating breakfast in a restaurant)

How can I describe this? I can describe it as what it is not. It is not here, it is not there. It is not where it is supposed to be.

(sips orange juice)

It's first thing in the morning, when the sun is shining. I get up, and the only motivation I have is right there under the blankets with me. I'm tired of rubbing one out every morning--and always to the same fantasy! No, I can't tell you what that is. But it's a matter of drive. I grow tired, but I am most tired when I wake up. I don't know where I am, and who I am with. I feel a desperation for meaning, but my room offers none. So I rush.

(eyes grow wide)

I turn on some music, some Bach perhaps, I make my bed, I look at a list of things to do I've written the night before, I take a shower, and then I grab my things and run out the door, minding the lock, and rush to a restaurant where I can sit and enjoy the company of strangers. I enjoy a book, the food, and the clamor of many other morning people.

(pulls out newspaper and acts as if reading)

"I used to think of you when I saw that picture."
"But she looks nothing like me."
"Maybe it's just how New York she looks, dressed all in black, looking so serious."
"I don't look serious."
"You do sometimes."
"I've never been reminded of you by some guy in a movie."
"You've never been alone, in another country, homesick."
"That's not fair, I get homesick."
"(laughs) Like when you visit your aunt in Queens?"
"Hey! Home isn't just a place, it's a..."
"It's something more."
"It's that tender spot." (beat) "I thought of you when you were away. I felt homesick."
"Did you?"
"Yeah."

"Damnit!"
(enters talking) "Say something?"
"Nothing, I didn't say anything."
"Well what are you yelling for?"
"I'm not yelling. I'm just trying to focus, can you leave me alone?"
"Yeah, I'll leave you alone once you stop calling me."
"I didn't call you!"
"You quitting your job?"
"What?"
"I heard you quitting your job. Nice place hires you, gives you money, you'd think you'd have to sense to save some money. You're no kid anymore. You got shit to take care of, you gotta man up and do it."
"I can take care of shit just fine."
"Oh okay, and how you going to do that without an income?"
"I'll have an income."
"You'll have an income. (beat) He's only getting bigger."
"He's going to be fine. Just because you had money doesn't mean people who don't have money can't raise their kid up to be a good kid."
"Son you don't know shit."
"I know enough to know you lived your life a certain way and I'm living mine a different way."
"What makes you think you're so different?"
"I'm not going to do something I hate just to support my family."
"Just? Just to support your family?"
"I mean, I'm not going to make them suffer what you made us suffer."
"Shit, the way I treated you has nothing to do with my job. Can't you see it yet, I'm just an asshole, and I've always been one. My job didn't make me a hard mother fucker, I am a hard mother fucker. And you know what else?"
(beat)
"What."
"I did my job because I wanted to. I didn't run away from shit, I did what I wanted. Are you sure you're doing what you want to do? and not just pussying out of the shit you have to deal with?"
"I'm not running."
"Yeah you are, you know how I know? You're scared."
"I'm not scared."
"I wasn't ever scared. At least not after what I went through when I was young. We didn't have anything, but we were smart. Some of us were too impatient, some of us wanted revolution, some of us were just looking to get laid. Me, and a few of my friends, we were smart. We didn't get beat down by the police unless we had to. We didn't go chasing pussy, pussy chased us. We had to evade that shit! (laughs) We made a bad situation into one we could work with."
"Then maybe we're not so different."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, I got a bad situation myself."
"What the fuck is so bad about your situation."
"Well, there's you, isn't there?"
"That's cold. (laughs) I work my ass off for your life and that's what you think of me?"
"You enjoyed it, it only gave you a reason to treat us like shit."
"How am I your problem? You got problems... like being a tight little pussy. That's a problem."
"I'm not afraid. And I'm not you. And him, he's not going to be like you. He's going to learn what's important."
"Like you learned to be a pussy?"
"I learned to be a man."
"(laughs) I'm glad you learned something in that school of yours. If you finished you might have learned a man has a pair of testicles, not just one. You might have learned a man doesn't just talk, he does something."
"I'm doing."
"What? What you doing?"
"I'm writing."
"Then why don't you shut the fuck up, and pick up a pen." (starts leaving)
"What are you doing? (beat) What do you do with all your newly acquired free time? Drink? Drink on a boat? Why do you even come here?"
"Isn't it obvious? (beat) Make up for lost time" (exits)

keep your eyes on the final hour.

Ten Minute Break: good start

I got invited to a birthday party, and it'll start off with mac'n'cheese, then move on to pirates of the Caribbean, then an after-movie custard. She's 25.

I find that to be kind of amazing.

Plus I got in two minutes ago at 9:11. First time I've gotten in early in weeks, and it feels pretty good.

Good start, let's see how the rest of this goes.

Song on shuffle at the moment: concrete schoolyard.

So uh
Let's take you back to the concrete streets
Original beats with real live mc's
Playground tactics
No rabbit in a hat tricks
Just that classic
Rap shit from Jurassic

"There must be something wrong with that kid."
"He's just doing things his way."
"He's lazy, and he knows it."
"Kids his age are all like that."
"Yeah they are. Then they find themselves all grown up and it's too late."
"Too late?"
"Too late to do anything about all the shit they've let themselves regret."
"That isn't true.."
"Kids should be hungry. They should jump at the chance to do some good-to-honest work. Find out more about themselves and the world they live in. Kids should be naiive and bury their noses in something no one else gives a shit about. That way, they're old, and they won't go around doing stupid shit, not acting their age."
"And you do?"
"Shit no, I'm going to get drunk tonight with some buddies and try to get laid. If that don't work we'll go drink some more on my boat, maybe go for a night swim. I spend my whole life making money and earning a living, there isn't a fat chance I'm going to sit around let the rest of my life pass me by. Funny thing is, after having spent so much time planning for a life with wifey, kids, and a house, none of that shit matters anymore. My friends aren't like me. They still haven't figured out what they want. See? I knew what I wanted, I got it, and just like everything else, things change. I want something else. And I'll chase that until I get it."
"Well dad, why don't you leave him out of it. He'll do it his way."
"Yeah I'm sure, just like you're doing."
"That's right, just like that."
"Just like that, eh?"

Ten Minute Break: we were where?

wait,
lunge! hold
cry, sleep
laugh! love
fight, sleep
wait,
remember?

EDIT,

I remember.

Getting Ready:

Watching the TV show, been following these characters for weeks, boy and girl been in love since their first meet, and only now in episode fifteen, they say hey, how would you like to be my love? and even though they've known for quite some time, how sweet.

This is how it works, this is how it works, this is how it works

Caught the feeling like a fever, like a gliding plane jumped off the cliff, like a list where ten is ten times better than the first, now here I sit after lift off from fake sets and fake smiles, no matter because when they cry I believe the sadness, how sweet.

This is how it works, this is how it works, this is how it works

Already sick, never been well, now I have the right excuse to let it all go to hell, fire caught my heart, from a trash bin spark, hold on to my pen, palm on the page, I swear to god I won't stop until I've set free this bird full of blood from its cage, there's a lion from the city, there will be a storm in my room, and it'll catch me as I fall, how sweet.

This is how it works, this is how it works, this is how it works

Ten Minute Break: interesting

You could be boring.

You could stop doing all the things you do to get along with other people. You could stop drinking, smoking, and staying out late. You could sleep early, stay sober, and simply say no.

You could let all the opportunities slide away, far from your grasp. The chances to meet new people, make new friends, and hopefully get laid. You could relinquish many of these chances for one purpose: to gain a firmer grasp on what you know you want.

You could do what you've always been strongly against, which is to cut out the extra, get rid of the mixing, and make an attempt at purity.

But you wouldn't really be going against your principles (to mix, to embrace impurities, and to always stay connected). You'd simply be wiping the slate clean. Clearing off the desk.

The externalities are important, but it is also important to know which outside influences actually make contact with the heart, the soul, and the mind. It is easy to get confused. Look back and ask yourself, what have these elements done for me and my wants? Framing everything this way, things become a little clearer.

I once wrote an article and tried something different with it. I wrote roman numerals between every paragraph, trying to play with chronology and narrative. It might have worked, but I simply hadn't put enough thought into it. The theory was there, but the execution was lacking. My friend asked me again and again, what do these roman numerals do? He told me they were annoying and that I should remove them. I think I sort of grasped what he was saying when I asked him, "Is it pretentious, and therefore useless?" Is it pointing, but never really moving towards the place? Is it holding a cigarette in one hand, a glass of scotch in the other; is it loud and aggressive, pushy and insistent; is it quiet, reserved, and ultimately shallow?

You could be boring.

And love it.

Fourth Angry Mouse, by David Schickler

Evening Thoughts: this, here, now

Everything feels incomplete. Transition doesn't capture the feeling. The feeling is not of transition. Transition sounds almost like an excuse.

Incomplete is more like it. Like when you don't finish your final paper, or when your school doesn't give A's and F's, you get an "Incomplete." Failed until proven otherwise, incomplete is what I feel.

The word also conjures up lonely romantics who talk about looking for someone to "complete" them. Or, hey, you complete me. Sometimes I think I could easily feel complete because of someone else. Fall in love and feel like the world makes sense again. Of course, the world makes a whole lot of sense now, actually. And of course, very little of what I'm going through has to do with anyone but me.

There's no moment of clarity, not tonight. I feel awkward writing, and I only do so because I've been missing my Evening Thoughts for a while.

So that's what I'm working on, in general. Completeness. It's a funny project because it's not supposed to ever end. Not while I'm still living and breathing. I expect that as I grow older I'll start to mellow, and maybe even settle down. Maybe completeness will come like sleep. Maybe I won't realize it, and I'll fall into a deep state of peace and quiet.

I do not think this will be the case. It's scary to think that I might die unsettled and incomplete. It's scary to think that the only peace and quiet I'll ever have is in death.

It's scary, but then I do think more deeply. And like most fears, I find it unfounded and silly.

The fear of dying alone or never achieving ones dreams is a feeling predicated on the belief that there is such a state of completion. That there is a place before death we can reach to feel as if we've finally arrived.

I read this great story once. It was by David Schickler and it was called "The Fourth Angry Mouse."

It's funny, I cut it out from this book with a box cutter, and stapled the pages together to carry around and eventually give to a friend. So now I have these two pieces of a book, with the middle missing, in my book shelf.

Anyway, I mention the story because it had this really anarchistic feel to it, as well as having a feeling of nihilism, all surrounding this one final scene, centered around the phrase, "I have arrived!" Though it was chaotic and ultimately it's protagonist had lost his mind, the phrase shined through as a declaration of humanity and identity.

It doesn't really make sense for me to talk about it without your having read it.

But nonetheless, here is what I have to say, it seems: do not despair, and also, do not give up. Nothing is over until its over. We shall not arrive any one place, or one time, but in fact, we shall arrive again and again.

hm.

Ten Minute Break: day dreamin'

skin sweated like paint wetted the paper
mouth open invitation for taste testin'
ten different kinds of salt flavors,
ear on the earth, lips on the wind
truly curious? be my guest and let your mind rest
give it more fuel for day dreamin' in your absence,
palms on ice, feet on the grass
the day shall pass as people on the streets
while we wait for water drop, like glass,
fresh flesh collages legs arms in rawness
we concoctin' long lastin'
lozenges for longin'

Ten Minute Break: Love note to a poet

Of course, like any honest love note, you will never read this.

Like any love note, I hope that you will.

When I first saw you speak, I didn't even know what I was listening for. I knew only hip hop rap rhythms and was just beginning to learn the spoken word iambics, the slow drawn out sentences, the emphasis of words spoken.

Then there you were.

I re-imagine the moment, knowing now what makes you a great poetess. I re-collect the few pieces of memory, and with charcoal, listening to your recorded voice in my ear, I draw the rest:

Frailty is as good a tool as stubborn strength in drawing emotional landscapes. You seemed to balance brash strokes and intricate lines. When you said the word "love," it opened like a flower, finally arriving in the heart, a lost son of language coming home. You were both generous and fiercely defensive. You seemed to inhale and absorb the wisdom of a room, and exhale and exude youth. It was as if you were fighting, and dancing. I hardly knew you. I hardly know you. But your sense of justice is in every word I've heard; constantly searching for right, acknowledging the dark, reasserting your right, leading many distant stars through the dark.

Sunday

Hello! It's sunday and I feel great.

Love and love again.

Ten Minute Break: The Game

One of my coworkers talked to me about getting a retirement fund, and advised me to try to focus on building up a little capital after college, because as he said, "There's nothing better for when you want to do your thing than a nice trust fund." No doubt it's good to build up some moneys for supporting my dreams, since I ain't got rich parents, or whatever. I guess starting from the bare bones, I gotta have a hungry mental. Can't forget where I'm coming from while I keep my eyes on the prize. It's a balancing act: Can't let the money game lock your spirits down in a fear state, and equally, you can't ignore the game and pretend you're above it. Guerrilla's gotta utilize all things--the enemies weaknesses, the environment, and the equipment. I guess I'm kind of a pacifist, but the worst kind. I just shun action. Cuz I'm scared.

Evening Thoughts: hello

Today was crazy. Love.

Ten Minute Break: What are you working for?

"Well, for a guy like me..." The words spill out as if there's been no other thought for years.

***

Nina Simone's "Baltimore" - Amazing.

***

I had a dream last night that I picked up a bag, packed it with a few items, and left for a plane to Korea. I realized I had nothing with me, and that I was totally unprepared to leave, but that didn't stop me. I was ready to go. There were all these people around me, going to Korea also, and it felt a little weird. Weird because I felt my trip was private, and totally unrelated to anyone elses voyage.

***
Some thoughts on identity physics:

Shedding the other, over and over again, is the true art of self creation.

Like a game of peek a boo, your hands close, then open, then close, then open.
The glimpses of self in the mirror play with memory and mirroring, showing you present while the past is still fresh. The physical placing of hands over eyes, or hiding, is the constant game we play with ourselves. Peek-a-boo!

Now, when we walk around, living life, and going about with our various obsessions, we have this mirror image in mind. This image can be, sometimes, the image of the other, or mirror self that does not reflect who you are, but instead, who you are not. This is a kind of condition, human or not, that constantly poses a question regarding identity--if what I am not preexists what I am, where is agency? What part of existence is self activated?

There can be a method of dealing with this condition which involves the individual's acceptence of this condition, and there are several derivatives of this method. One is the acceptence that the self is naturally progressing towards some kind of ideal, and this method can be known as "the role-model." Secondly is the often discouraging realization that an ideal is precisely the antithesis of reality, and that an individual can only react to the "villain"--this is the "comic book" method. The third and final kind of method is a more dynamic kind and one that this writer would reccomend to anyone who finds themselves in a system of self-identification through otherness.

***

My friend said, it's weird when you think of all these things you want to tell someone, and you realize they're gone. They've been gone for a long time. It's sad. To think these people who fill up our lives can just dissapear.

But also, I don't say things like, I don't want to see you ever again, or I'll never forgive you. You shouldn't say things like that.

Evening Thoughts: Question

Is this all you got?

Ten Minute Break: These Things

Working on my resume, making it look shiny and impressive.

Drafting ideas for a comic, thinking of the beautiful black ink that will bless
big white pages in the near future.

Seeing my writing posted on other blogs, working on a new webzine with friends.

Going to concerts, museums, and readings. Listening and watching
filling up my hungry heart.

Seeing a draft of a poem I've been working on sitting on my desktop,
and making changes to it, watching it unfold -- reverse origami.

Getting a new issue of a magazine in the mail, more inspiration.

Editting someone elses resume or cover letter.

Editting someone elses writing, talking about it, and seeing "us" work.

Job searching, seeing possibilities, feeling a future.

***

These things, almost make me smile.

Waking up someplace else

I'm in my fren's house today, woke up from a night of conversations and some of us blazed (not me!) so we play some halo and some of us are writers so we write what we say so, playing with the dog and the cat, drink green tea to relax, god damn, brother ali track playin' impressin the whole fam, this is my keystyle freestyle inspired by elements like elephants roaming the land my soul is escaping this man and alone i stand with plenty of homies to get my back! god damn.

and then my fren says what's next?

I said i thought that was it but since you spoke you had me convinced, lips move as i clickity click, stick and move stick and move, this is the boxing life jab and thrust, we always fillin rooms with love, so listen up, the dog scratches on the door, the cat let's out a primal meow, in the end it's all translated to we want more so let's get up and get out!

and ya giggled, wiggle wiggle

imagine a life, no wait, don't dream, cuz we awake! the fantasy is happenin', this is the thought i git when i knock on the bathroom door, yo man, what's up, i gotta take a shit, so you say come on in! aiight that's tight, out of sight but we smell the stink, but you say you don't like the poopie part so let me paint it pink, what we do is hard, we work and study, and we grind and we live off love and dreams of what's coming, ha you thought i was gonna say money, nah honey, don't you worry.

Ten Minute Break: stay focused

If my body were a landscape, the tatoo would take millions of years, and the blemishes and scars would come and go, as the sun rises in the East and sets in the West.

Good luck, today.

Evening Thoughts: Sol Park

Tonight, greatest show I've ever experienced: Brother Ali, the undisputed truth.

And I thought:
I'm done, people taking me for granted.
I'm done, needing love from the unloving.
I'm done, looking for home in a space too small.
I'm done, trying to hold it all in, just because no ones listening.
I'm done, fighting ego with ego, my heart will win.
I'm done, disrespecting myself and worshipping others.
I'm done, looking for alternatives to love.
I'm done, validation through fulfillment of your expectations.
I'm done, trying to fill the cracks in your dam, let it flood
because I got a soul that can never get enough.

Just a word
but word is bond
so I keep it coming hard
soft, heart.

Ten Minute Distraction: there's room

Here are a few things that interest me:

1. Webdesign. In high school, I took a webdesign class and beginners C++ class and since then I haven't much touched programming or webdesign. I've always been pretty good with computers, which basically means I've never let it become foreign to me--being tech savvy is simply having an active curiosity and confrontational (and sometimes stubborn) handle on tech problems that arise everyday. I want to get back into the programming world. Perhaps a good first step will be learning how to use my MAC OS X Terminal. Maybe look into the easiest and most efficient way to produce websites. Learn a few languages. Think of a simple idea, and launch a small website. Collaborate.

2. Art. Again, since highschool I've lost my grip on the charcoal. My father was a painter and he never encouraged me to aggressively pursue art. I don't resent him for this; he merely wanted me to have a broader outlook. But now that I look back, I see a lot of missed opportunities to have developed this particular talent of mine. It can be daunting to start drawing, or do anything that's creative, when one thinks of the level of competitiveness in this incredibly saturated world of ours. But hey, that only means more voices, and more choices. Most importantly, I need let my hand and eye travel across the page more often. I have to figure out what it is I want to do with the white space.

3. Dance. Shit, this is definitely something I have to get into and definitely something I've been putting off for too long. I should probably try taking care of my body better. ;) This whole, mind to body thing has become more and more difficult since college. It's like there was this disconnect once I left high school, and suddenly my thoughts were aloft, and my body a floating log in the black waters of time. Time to get grounded.

This is already too much. One step at a time. Gotta stay hungry.

Love.

Ten Minute Break: Inspiration

What is inspiration if not the swift kick to the balls (or cooter) followed by a breathless, "Oh, cool." It's that pit in your stomach, the knowledge that, yes, this is what I want to do. You inspire me, means you impress me. And I, am easily impressed.

It's both great and kind of fucking tiring that everyday I find something or someone out there, in this absurd planet of ours, that opens my eyes, and wakes me up. Thing is, I'm always nodding off. I don't know what it is, but I keep falling asleep, and losing focus. The blurriness sharpens, as I see things like this: Theme Magazine

What do I love about Theme Magazine? Well, to be honest, I've only read one of their issues (there are nine). But it was amazing. It was about artists and the homes that they inhabit. It was about space, and creativity, and it was about geography, god, and the grind. It has sweet layout, both diverse and consistently bold, and I love the typeface of the title. Often, I look up words in the dictionary to re-root myself in the meaning and Theme can mean "a unifying or dominant idea, motif, etc., as in a work of art." While unification has to do with the cohesion of ideas and elements integral to a work or works of art, it also has a sweeping, popular, and communal element to it. A Theme unites, a Theme coalesces, and most importantly, as a word, Theme maintains its ideal and at the same opens itself up to change, re-definition, and constant displacement.

Word em up.

Evening Thoughts: yawn II

OH man. Contact, is a great movie, and I am tired. Catch you tomorrow.

Love.

Evening Thoughts: yawn

I guess sometimes, you don't need no one to tell you, you just know it. You feel it.

Solid.

Sorry about the short entry tonight; spent some quality time with my brother. We saw the premier of Spiderman 3. Thoughts on that, perhaps, tomorrow.

Love.