cold nights, warm heart

While sitting in a hot bath on a chilly night after meeting a friend at the station--- coincidentally living pretty close to each other in western Tokyo after becoming friends in Kitakyushu five years or so ago---  it came as a flash. I hadn't thought about M in a long time, nor had I thought of W. A positive and a negative force in reverse chronological order that had left me in the middle, hopelessly neutral.

It also occurred to me suddenly that for now at least, writer's block was also a thing of the past.

Love, love, and more. . .

I still can't believe I'm back in Japan.

I should clarify. . . I'm back in the best place that I've ever lived, a place that I never thought I'd be able to come back to ---

I found an apartment close to the station where I used to live, but this time a 15 minute walk from other side of the station--- in a wonderfully quiet neighborhood, so quiet in fact that I feel like I'm camping. But not due to being rural (this is Tokyo!)

There is an aesthetic in Japan that I'd somehow forgotten. Small gardens and plots of land with various small trees -- there are chestnut trees outside my window--

even one of the little farm stands that leaves their produce out ("We trust you to pay")

And more than that, there is a respect for quietness and peace.

Not to say that Japanese people are always quiet--- go out to any bar in Shinjuku at any hour of the night and you'll find the rowdiest scene imaginable--- but in their homes, people like to feel at peace; it's more conducive to resting well--- and my way of thinking also fits this paradigm.

AND some of my best friends are right down the street.

Nothing is perfect, but this comes pretty darn close.

Taiwan!

I just want to take a quick second to express my feelings for what might be the coolest friendliest country, Taiwan. Every single time I find myself in this country I'm dazzled by the people I encounter.

This time, I booked a flight with Tiger Air from Singapore to Tokyo, with a layover in Taipei. Unexpectedly, thunderstorms rocked Singapore before take-off, and we were about 2 hours late getting off the ground. I expressed my worry to one of the flight attendants, and she was genuinely concerned whether or not I'd make the connection. Halfway through the 4 1/2 hour flight, she asked me if I wanted to move up to the front row so I'd be the first getting off the plane. At that point, I thought that, damn, I had really troubled her unneccessarily, and I thanked her profusely, but I told her I was sure it would be fine. Getting off the plane and realizing that the walk to transfer was a lot longer than I'd expected, I started feeling like, "Shoot, I might actually miss my flight. . . " and as I have an appointment with the apartment rental company in Tokyo to get my keys tomorrow. . . But in these situations, I always feel it's best to play it cool. I saw the long queue at the transfer counter and took my place. There was an elderly clerk standing near me, and not sure if I were in the right line, I asked him which line I should be in. "Your flight's in the morning?" he asked. "No, tonight," I said casually. "At 11." Immediately, he directed me to come with him over to another counter where he explained the situation to some young colleagues--- they looked confused and a bit resigned -- and this guy who was probably about 70, with a great sense of urgency but without the slightest trace of annoyance, went behind the counter and took over at the computer for the younger folks and printed out my boarding pass for me. I couldn't believe it. I was so humbled and grateful. 

And on the way to the gate, starving, I even had time to pick up a little something. . . . 

smoked tofu!

no wifi, but the best connection

I just spent four days getting reacquainted with real life on Nipah Beach--- a unique little part of Tioman island in Malaysia.

 There is no cell service or wifi anywhere on Nipah, and at first, it was so strange to be totally disconnected from everyone and everything. Truly though, I had been longing to get away from the commercial and material world. Living in Singapore, though it has its good points, has weighed heavily on me with it's need for speed and drive to get more things. And, I will be leaving Singapore very soon in fact--- but before I return to Japan, I wanted to come once again to Tioman-- the place that is perhaps the origin of my love for all that is Malaysian.

Being at Nipah was a 'trip' in all senses of the word. I spent three of the four days going on adventures --everything way out of my comfort zone-- jungle trekking that was beyond any sort of trekking I've ever done-- ocean swimming for a mile against the current to get out to a particular spot that was good for snorkeling-- where I saw three big sharks and a stingray-- and then, the following day, snorkeling in the middle of a formidable tempest (which was super interesting-- all was calm underwater, while above the surface was like something out of the movie 

"A Perfect Storm". 

I remembered what it is to be really brave and that I am capable of more than I think I am. But more than that, I felt a connection to the natural world that I'd forgotten about--- I can't speak for other human beings, but for me, that connection is necessary to fully experience life.

And (with the exception of missing people I talk to regularly) I didn't miss the internet one bit!

opposite of fate

embark

!

old 

new 

dream 

in 

reality 

memory

temporarily lost

friends

gather 

talk

eat

hyotan

island

vac (or candy) pot 

drip 

chasing

my imagination

under

a place of the earth

remembering

the

cheesecake 

house

on the tracks

sweet and stringent 

in one form

----

music
base for shape 

-----

diving with eyes open

into the fiction in my head

swimming 

in

 jazz 

(and in love)

19 August 2016

"You're returning home, to the sea."
- a close friend, when I said I was going back to Japan.

five is the magic number

It was the first day back after the school holidays, and I wasn't super stoked about going back to work, but..

sometimes in the days of malaise, 

the little people surprise me.

My phonics class chock full of 5 year olds tumble in like excited rabbits.

"I went to Taiwan!" 

The happy-go-lucky child in the class today is decked out in rainbows from head to toe.

One of the younger boys in the class rushes to my side. "I also went to a different country!"

"Oh? Which country?"

"Disneyland."

"Disneyland is not a country."

"It's a country!"

 "I used to work there you know... It's a cool place, but it's not a country. Did you go to Hong Kong Disneyland or Tokyo Disneyland?"

"Hong Kong! They had fireworks."

"Oh great!"

(now that I have his attention)

So.... What's the first sound in fish?"

"fff"

"Good! Now, what's the last sound in fish?"

"shhh"

"Exactly! Ok, what's the first sound in.. . "

(under his breath)

"Shhh is a diagraph."

". the first sound in . . Wait. What??"

"Shhh is a diagraph."

"How do you know. . . who told you that?"

He shrugs offhandedly.

"Umm. . . what's the last sound in . .. wait. Ok, can you tell me in your own words. . ..what is a diagraph?"

"A diagraph is when two letters come together to make a different sound."

Whoa.

"Alright. I wasn't going to put you in the next class yet, because I wasn't sure about your ability to share, but you've just demonstrated that you're on an entirely different plane."

Rainbow Brite skips by.

"Let me ask you about your trip! What did you do in Taiwan?" I ask.

"Eat!"

Smart girl.

"What did you eat?"

She thinks for a bit.

"Mmmm. . . Koko Krunch!"

(In case you aren't familiar with Koko Krunch, it's a Singaporean cereal kind of like Frosted Flakes and Coco Puffs combined.)

"That's not Taiwanese food... What else did you eat when you were there?"

"Ummm. . . bread?"

"Now, take a second and think about it. Did you eat anything special when you were there, I mean like special Taiwanese food?"

She thinks again for a while.

"Oh, I know... 

PIZZA!!!"

*sigh*

A girl after my own heart.

on Anomalisa* and creativity

*I wrote the following letter as a response to someone who asked me for my thoughts about the film. It may give a little away, so if you don't like spoilers, watch the film first!

My good friend with whom I saw the film commented during the credits that he liked it and that it was darker than he expected. I agree wholeheartedly; on reflection, I wouldn’t say that it was 'dark-dark' — it just wasn’t a fairy tale movie. 

I enjoyed it for the creative risks taken. It explored the themes of human lonliness and isolation, as well as the very complicated theme of relationships in let’s be honest— this bizarre contemporary culture. And there was no clear resolution at the end— you as the viewer were left to determine what you thought would happen for the characters in the future. . .  really, I felt like the world of the film was a telling depiction of the modern (though I dare to venture, Western) subconsious mindset.

I suppose I liked the film most as it mirrored my own writing style. I’ve been trying to reconcile with the fact that what comes out when I write (whether a screenplay, prose, or poetry) may not be to everyone’s tastes, or worse, to very few people’s tastes. But, why should I care? I am grateful that  A. I found a way to write SOMETHING and B. It’s a pretty sharp life lesson that as much as we want to give to a larger audience, sometimes art has its own plans. And I think looking at it from that angle allows a person a great deal of freedom. 

All that I really need to do is be present, come to the page, and pick up the pen. 

The winds blow and the work is done. 

I - you - w(e)ings

 The things that we think and the things that we say occupy left brain and right brain respectfully (or conversely), 

and whereas once their was any number of bridges across that chasm— 

a grand canyon to the n’th degree-

now we see only one option. . . a rickedy, dangerous bridge at best.

We seek a super-human who strides fearlessly onto that blasted man-made contraption, and after a bullet-sweating eternity meets us in the middle.

At the precise moment we meet, the monsoon hits, million mile an hour winds, raindrops like missiles. We wait for the bridge to crumble beneath our feet, squeezing our eyes shut, tears flowing shamelessly while the other holds us as tightly as we've ever been held before. 

 Minutes pass, turning into hours turning into 

time 

disappearing 

completely. 

Only then...  the winds are finally quiet. We open our eyes, and see the other's face for the first time. Suddenly we remember and look down only to squeal an astonished squeal. 

The bridge was an illusion.

The embrace of soft feathers
suspended in the air,
 we are joined to each other 
and

an other

These photos were taken in 2006 on a tiny digital camera in Takachiho, Japan, 

one of the most stunning places I've seen in the world.

don't slip

I had decided to take a hiatus — I should say ‘sabbatical’- but let’s be real. 

I’m one of those people who likes to be precise when it comes to words. 

It often gets me into trouble when say, texting — or even worse — tweeting. 

I delete multiple tweets because the wording wasn’t quite right, and then I get a bunch of notifications that people have liked my deleted tweets. 

Geez, this fact alone makes me wonder.

Who is sorting through the cyberspace recycling? 

The uncle sighs. It was a nice, long lunch break, but he was starving and ended up eating a cheeseburger from Carl’s Junior when he knew he should have gotten something healthier, or at least not so debilitating in the middle of the day. And this training the new guy— the new millennial   . . not terrible by any means, but the uncle is not used to having to explain every little detail. . .and he could have taken a nap, except no. Blast this training—all shades of green--new hire.

"All these young dudes. . . .” he thinks and sighs loudly.

“This. This is a tweet that someone deleted because she was hung up on semantics. . . but it did get likes. . . it goes in that bin. We can melt it down and use it again. But this? Well, this is just pure angst. We can’t do anything with that. Hey, Marv! Take this one out to the black hole."

Then he gets an idea.

"No, wait, why don't you go, sonny?"

reflections on Meisner

I'm excited to say that I'll be teaching an acting workshop focusing on Meisner technique this coming weekend. In preparation for the class, I wrote down some of my own thoughts on Meisner and how his particular technique has shaped my own development.

Meisner technique is a keystone for me as an actor. Even when I was first starting out -and to be frank- so green that my acting was disastrous and laughable, I connected with Meisner technique -through Alexandra Borrie, one of my favourite teachers I studied with while in NYU’s CAP 21 program. There, I started to understand that ‘acting’ was a process, a path— and each actor’s path would be perhaps markedly different than another actor’s path. And yet, we all -especially when speaking about stage- absolutely MUST connect with other actors in order to make a performance work and be real.

But how do we connect with another actor?

To bridge that gap is daunting, doesn’t even seem possible at times — but Meisner developed a way to do it. His technique lays out a syllabus for the actor, but it really is up to the actor to do the work--- two actors sitting across from one another locked in direct eye contact, both parties have to be humble and willing to let go of everything they know in order to make the leap to understand one another.

And in doing the work, your own version of yourself is challenged. Maybe you aren't as brave as you thought you were. And why this lack of courage to make the leap to understand another actor? It's an unwillingness that comes because we are unable to comprehend the way another human being thinks and is. 

To act is to embrace the human condition.

"Life beats down and crushes our souls and theatre reminds us that we have one. At least the type of theatre that I'm interested in; that is, theatre that moves an audience. You have the opportunity to literally impact the lives of people if they work on material that has integrity. But today, most actors simply want to be famous. Well, being an actor was never supposed to be about fame and money. Being an actor is a religious calling because you've been given the ability, the gift to inspire humanity. Think about that on the way to your soap opera audition."

-Sanford Meisner

nymous

Waiting for the ferry with sandy thighs and not sitting in the best spot-

but the only place to wait

I was thinking of someone I knew long ago whose name I can’t remember-

or maybe she didn’t have a name

Not one I knew

Or non-existant

No name?

Not possible.

I hear you say

(an echo in my own head)

Or, maybe we just assume everyone has a name, when in actuality that may not be true at all

Perceptions and reality— (and legality)

Will we stand firm and united in our perceptions until proven wrong?

Like the color purple.

Everyone thinks purple is rare in nature— but then poke your head under the ocean in southern Thailand —

and holy coral!

Purple everywhere — enough to make you shiver.

A royal city of purple with a population to rival Manhattan’s.

“There are plenty of fish under the sea."

You think it’s a cliche

until you’re down there-

and I mean

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

way

down there.

abundance

MEN and PURPLE

I mean fish!

(Did I say men?)

yo-yo's

2 men taking a long time getting bicycles ready

veg hash

guy getting off the six 

'all I know is God's in control'

Mayumi being here bringing me right back to Japan

and not Japan

Rafael 

'can you support my weight?'

Night meditation #2

Real regret = 

the feeling you get when you have done something you know you shouldn't have

Fake regret=

not always, but often the product of 

being

absolutely positively

WRONG

about a person or a situation

You feel like you did something wrong, but if you are to go back and analyse the situation, 

you know that your heart was in the right place at that moment. 

The thing is 

There is no reason to feel badly about FAKE REGRET

We all make mistakes sometimes..

think back to timed tests in second grade

Night meditation #1

Passionate people move me the most

My curvy shape is drawn by those 

committed to projects of their own imagination

Being one with things

outside

my own bossy body

outside

blue shades of green

outside

what I think 

(my ego thinks) 

I should do next

future + past = pretty much nothing

grateful/ alive

For silk nights 

warm waters

turquoise beckoning surfaces shimmering crystals of chlorine light

(inexplicably all ripped) bodies crawling at 10 pm

For children

all have worth

need play

stressful, human

work 

silence

glorious

appreciated more

after playing to a room of 5 year olds

For being alone 

(mostly) unlonely

when acute longing hits

digging deeper than I would if I were in terra cognita

getting beneath the fabric

to discover the inscrutable place

home

For not getting the one thing I wanted 

would have played

LET’S MAKE A DEAL WITH MY LIFE for

surrender coming after WWW, intermittent casualties

-flip a switch-

someone did

ikinari

my heart in technicolor

open window

the breeze’s sigh

out

I

float

!!!

Ahhh...

So much to write about, I don't know where to begin!

Thailand has been truly rocking my world since the start of 2016. 

I went to Shambhala Matsuri, a small Thai- Japanese friendship music festival in Northern Thailand that I had wanted to go to for years. There I fell head over heels for the beauty of Chiang Mai, and as a bonus, a friend and talented filmmaker from Portland who happened to be traveling in SE Asia at the time met me there. I've been traveling by myself more often than not recently, and I had forgotten how much fun it was to venture into the great unknown sharing 

totally new experiences with a good friend.

And my recent trip to Southern Thailand was something else. Krabi found me at quite a nice remote resort right on the beach with a pool, a lovely breakfast and all the creature comforts, Koh Mook was exactly the opposite--- definitely one of the most remote places I've been---- where I stayed in a bungalow in the jungle, got ambushed by a few wild dogs, and spent my time playing ukulele on the lovely balcony (accompanied by various animals)---- hands down though, Koh Lipe, the place that my good Australian and British friends had told me about years ago, was incredible in so many ways. A small island where you could walk everywhere, THE best right on the beach kayaking and snorkeling I have ever seen (and I've been seeking this out for a long time) and all the best local Thai shops, restaurants, and bars you could ever hope for, all in this little lovely place. 

SHHH... don't tell anyone.

(I've already planned another trip there.... :)

on comedy

I don't think that pure laughter comes from making light of things, necessarily... although those moments can be funny in certain ways, for sure... I think that comedy which moves people digs deeper at the individual -- moments in which you thought -- Wow, this is absolutely mortifying--- to a year later, laughing at yourself for being so out of the loop or realising that someone had the wool pulled over your eyes at the time. That after-feeling I think is called MIRTH. I don't know of anything much better--- except for belly laughter... deep belly laughter, only occurring with my best friends at the most unexpected moments. Those times are the times when I witness myself experiencing my life... To me, those are the times for which I have no words.

style is whatever you make it

Cannonball Adderley, windows flung open, the breeze a respite from the usual still hotness, walking around in mismatched bikini in February because who cares (!) 

make it yours.

Found objects: a Portlandy story

Mutually grey, heads touching, sitting on the same side of the table, talking intimately. 

They were probably one of those couples who had been married for 40 years and still found things to talk about.

I had never been to Ireland before, but if I had, I could imagine that it might be similar to the bar where I was currently sitting. Beatles playing, windows open, ketchup bottles on every damn table. 

Honestly, I had followed someone here-- well-- not here exactly-- and not too closely, mind you--- 

but at the time had been curious to an extreme, uncharacteristic of me.

The waitress brought a couple of salads and random looking side dishes over to the couple. "Here's your sauerkraut."

"Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the lady, eyes as if it were cabbage from heaven.

I had just been through a sort of chase.

Around the library, into Whole Foods. In the meat section, I nearly ran headfirst into my follow-ee. Quickly I shimmied to the counter and ordered some applewood smoked bacon. 

An obvious move.

The worn-in wooden tables made you wonder how long the bar had been here; it had the usual Irish bar decor- posters of the motherland and toucan birds (don't those only exist in tropicalities?), but this bar had an airy and open common-senseness, none of that cold/cave/closet feeling I usually associated with Irish bars.

I had passed by the Starbucks with its usual friendly Portland police patrons, and as soon as I rounded the corner, shit, I nearly ran into him, the very person I was tailing.

"Excuse me!" I said in a pitch high enough for dogs to hear.

He stood there for a second, grounded, staring, narrowing his eyes.

Dang it all.

I reached into my disorganized tote bag, frantic, pulling out a pair of black sunglasses, rammed them on my face, and started to bolt.

Then, realizing fleeing would constitute "odd behaviour,” I stood too long in the same spot.

"Oh, there it is!"

The door to the Irish bar materialised, and I found myself inside in under a minute. Beads of sweat and formed on the inside of my wrists, and for me, a person who sweats once or twice a year, I knew.

I was doing something very much illicit, indeed.