“One shot for my pain / One drag for my sorrow / I’ll get messed up today / I’ll be OK tomorrow.”
all the things i’m diggin, from catching up on my Google Reader for the morning. =)
“This is awesome for breakfast, it is sweet, crunchy, hot and open-faced! I love open-face sandwiches because I have an excuse to eat twice as much food since both sides of the bread have to contain what would typically go between them. This is called sandwich sneaky sneaky. Don’t tell.”
Chef Roy of the Kogi BBQ truck brings yet another mouthwatering variation on the quesadilla, the Pineapple Pork Kimchi Quesadilla. We’re looking at grilled pineapple and kimchi with pork, topped with a Ponzu Shoyu and some Furikake. Look it up. All I know, this baby looks delicious.
A vid of the homies, ComposurE, rehearsing for their show this past Saturday. Via Dirty Magz
It’s been a while since I’ve did one of these, so I thought I’d bring it back. If you’ve been keeping up with the current season of So You Think You Can Dance, then you must have caught my girl Tiana, director of the accomplished Nonosina dance group. If you missed it, check it.
She’s a beast in the dance studio, an amazing choreographer, and KILLS on the drums. She’s one of the only people who I can have a 2 hour long music conversation with (Old school hip hop JUNKIE) and she enlightens my life like no other. Let’s take a stroll thru a day in the life of one of my favorite girls. (And who said music majors couldn’t write?)
p.s. i wasn’t lying when i said she beasted these drums!
10:33am. The Entrance. My lower back aches, voice is half gone & I can only stretch the high arches of my feet toes first. I’m physically, mentally & spiritually drained…and I wouldn’t have it any other way. The Transition. I make my way to the bathroom to take a shower (way too tired from last night’s rehearsal…it had to wait). I put on a play list that sets the tone for my day. Brushing my teeth double time the quarter notes of whatever song “shuffle” chooses, I start to move my body & groove. My day begins.
11:15am. The solo. I’m not much of a morning person. In need of coffee. With baggy pro-club sweats & a cut up Crooks shirt I sip and log on. The Mac automatically logs on skype just in case family from back home want to talk stories. You Tube has new Shaun Evaristo clips! I click and get inspired to choreograph to music differently, hearing all the little “hits” and “accents” that I wouldn’t have before. I get frustrated that I never heard it before hand; i am a musician before a dancer. Now to Nonosina clips; I can’t stand watching them because I only see our errors & crooked lines. Guess you can say that I am my hardest critic. My mind starts to choreograph.
12pm. The Duet. I miss being a student. A couple hours to bug out. I should be listening to some Temaeva, Heikura Nui or Emma Mariteragi…M.I.A? Far from what I need, perfect! “Light match, Strike fire! Who’s that girl called Maya?” Letting the music create lines & transitions, I groove. The choreography is in process. Do any other choreographers in my field work like this? The music and movement don’t match necessarily, and I like it! I should be using Tahitian drumming, ideally. Hours pass, I make routines, I love them, I hate them, I am right back where I started; just me & the music. The Duet.
4pm. The instrumental. I hope there isn’t any traffic on the 91 from south bay of L.A. to Orange County. 40 minute drive, monster (green…check), m. lights (check), iTouch (check) & gas (FML but check), I am ready. This is where it all comes together, in the car. The soundtrack of my life bumps & the dance creates itself in my beautiful mess of a mind. The drive is a daily ritual & all too familiar. I have hard shoes to fill. As I take Beach Blvd. off the 91, I roll down my window and take deep breathes of So Cal air (with a hint of smog). It’s home, to me.
5pm. The bridge. The kids all practice the routines in the window from last week’s rehearsal. When I pull up, they all run to my truck with their dope kicks that resemble the ones I wore last week. They have orange pareo’s (Polynesian sarongs) long hair & the hugest eyes ready to learn. The early birds anxious to get in the studio follow me to unlock the door. I open the doors & they race to the sign in sheet just to write their attendance. I plug in the iTouch and play some traditional Tahitian drumming and they freestyle in the mirror, class hasn’t even begun. I wait five minutes for those in traffic or the ones on “island time” and warm the kids up. As I bump some Major Lazer the kids try to lowkey bust the latest dance crazes they learn at public school recess. While i’m explaining the dances & the theme for our next show, I wonder if any of this is even processing in their minds. This kids range from 4-9 years old, I got to make it fun & educational since I have A.D.D. myself. We laugh, we dance and we learn. While i start explaining various myths, tales & legends of ancient Polynesia, I see the wide- eyed kids sitting legs crossed with their elbows on their knees and tuning in to ever word I say. My grandma sits proudly as she watches me teach the same way she taught her grandchildren. I never knew much about the Grimm’s brothers but I could tell you every Samoan, Hawaiian & Tahitian legend told to kids back “home”. My grandma was my mother Goose.
7pm. The hook. Dancers start to line up with black pareo’s with hopes to escape life’s trials & tribulations. As I lead stretches a million things and people rush through my mind. I remember my grandma migrating to the states with the clothes on her back and not speaking a word of English. I remember the day my father was granted citizenship in 1986 and it was then I knew that my family sacrificed everything they had for me. As I lead the stretches, I look at all 75 dancers and I wonder what their stories are. I get a couple minutes into stretches and look over at my mom in the office and my grandmother on the computer and know, that I come from a legacy of culture keepers. As my father works his restaurant a couple units over, and my brother teaches his dance group in Japan, and I think about my nephew in Tahiti I dig within and take pride in the art form that my ancestors created. It was through the art music, song, chant, dance and tatau (tattoo) that Polynesians would utilize as ways of story-telling, keeping family lineage, and paying homage to deities. Music and dance pre-dated a written alphabet & was an integral role in our culture. As I finish the stretches, I start to teach choreography. Blood rushes through my veins and I loose myself in the music. This is the best feeling ever, nothing compares.
12am. The outro. After talking stories in the back parking lot of the studio, and bidding each other farewell with a kiss on the check, I breathe. I am grateful to have all walks of life support my dance company and just simply believe in me as the artistic director. I wonder if my grandmother ever imagined that what she once started in her garage teaching a couple of “haole” moms to hula & Tahitian dance would turn into the largest Polynesian dance company in the states. Again, I have hard shoes to fill. I hope I have made my ancestors and loved ones proud. I am the fourth generation of artists. American by citizenship Polynesian by blood. Los Angeles is my home.
Check her out and show some love y’all. Tee, I fucking LOVE you. See you sooner than later…. =)
p.s. YES HOMO.
p.p.s. Peep Tee on the guitar, jammin’ with my homegirl since preschool! STEPHmadrinan.
– my new (pre-ordered) iphone 4 comes in next week!
– watching the World Cup action introduced me to this Winston Reid. He plays for New Zealand and he’s 21. FUCK MY COUGAR LIFE.
– JEFFREY CAMPBELL will be the fucking death of me.
– #nowplaying GANJA FARMER
– and please excuse my absence for the next week. I’ll be busy with summer shit like, bbq’s and fireworks. oh and JAMAICA!
After these messages, I’ll be right BLACK.
– MysteryGuitarMan. This guy’s vids are pretty entertaining and his stop motion is on point!
– these new Ray Ban’s
– photo: Dashes Clay
– Panda HATS! If you aren’t an SF Giant’s fan, then I dont know what to tell u
“Whatever it is, if it doesn’t make you happy, walk away. Give it away to someone else who wants it. Let it be their next dream; let it out of your system. You’re emptying out your limitations when you do that. & then you have room to grow… to allow magnificent things fill the vacuum of those seemingly empty places. Because when you hold onto yesterday… when you hold onto dead & dying adventures, you have no room in your box for greatness.” – Timmayyyyy
– ECSTATIC. Just checked in for my flight to NYC. New York, I’ll see you TOMORROW! =)
[p.s. that’s the lovely Vintage Vandalizm in this flick]
– my new butt buddy…The Mat by Lululemon! Yoga is serious bizness and it was time for me to retire my cheapy mat. Bikram has turned a $10 mat in to a 65 inch slip n slide and I was starting to become very afraid that I would slip during Warrior / Triangle into a split and break my vagina. Problem solved!
– I don’t drink too often, but as of late, I’ve been sippin’ on a few “grown-up” drinks. Moscato after dinner, and the following three of my favorite Japanese things: Sparkling Sake, Lychee Sake, and Asahi.
– Oh, and if you’re in the San Diego area, come check me out on April 24 for the MAV Foundation Charity Fashion Show! Showcasin’ Hellz, Made Jewelry and more, we’re raising funds to help see the day cancer dies. Please Support!
Catch u guys when I get back from NY. =)
Because SERIOUSLY, Jozen is a mutherfucking genius. If we were in the NYC area, Abi should find his ass and wife him. or not. Cuz then his blog wouldn’t be called “Until I Get Married” And I know I’ve put u on before, but I can’t stress enough how legit this guy is. If you’re too lazy to click, read on. I’ve copy and pasted for you.
I Want To Run Into You Every Single Day
Before I go into today’s post, just know, I’m fine, which is usually the first thing people say when they aren’t fine, but trust me. It’s just the rain out here in NYC has me in a different zone. Got me feeling a little melancholy, and since I usually stay indoors by myself when there’s a monsoon outside, my mind is slightly more pensive.
But really, I’m fine, I’m cool, and I’m just trying some new forms of writing. Enjoy the words.
If my hot water worked today, I wouldn’t miss you right now because when we used to have the same problem, we would go down the street to the gym, not to work out, but to use their hot water. And I’m thinking about that as I take my bird bath.
Maybe I wouldn’t miss you so much if I didn’t shower at all, if I stayed in the apartment all day and did absolutely nothing. Because every time I step outside of it to do some sort of activity, whether or not I run into you is the very first thing on my mind. Then I get to my destination, without ever having seen you, and it’s right back to missing you.
Should the day come when I do run into you and I get to see your pretty face, I think the first thing I’m going to do is tell you that I miss you everyday.
I miss you everyday, and I hope you believe me. I hope if we see each other on a subway, you don’t mind if I decide to ride it to wherever you’re going, even if it’s not where I’m going. Because, see, the last time I saw you waiting for a subway going in the same direction I was going, I was so caught up in seeing you, I didn’t even think to do that. I rode it to my stop, which was before your stop, and I got off like I was supposed to.
That was last year, and I have missed you ever since.
The more I search for a reason not to think about you, the more I find a reason to think about you. Do you know what that’s like? To think about not thinking about someone? It’s like a dog chasing their own tail.
Do me a favor and get the hell out of my head and heart. Go somewhere else. Be someone elses albatross, please. It’s been a long time, and you’re still here. I still miss you, and frankly, it’s getting in the way of some rather important things like other women who are good to me but I can never manage to keep.
I don’t compare them to you, but I compare myself with them to myself with you, and it never quite matches up, so I have to move on. Because when I was with you, I was the man I wanted to be, and with these other women, I’m the man I feel like I was forced to be largely because you left me. Ot was it that I let you leave?
It doesn’t even matter at this point. You just need to get up out of here even though you’re not really here. Come pick up your things I keep on thinking I see but are never there in real life. Quit calling my phone and hanging up before I pick up only to realize it was never you who called in the first place.
Damn it, if you’re going to be here, then really, really be here. Quit being a figment of my imagination. I know you’re real. Just show up and say something like you heard a rumor that I missed you so I can tell you that it wasn’t a rumor, what you heard. That it was true.
I want to run into you every single day I leave my apartment, and yet I never do. Makes me wonder how the hell we even made eye contact in the first place. Sometimes I want to go back to the days before I knew your name, where your from, and what you do, back when I knew nothing about you, so I couldn’t miss you. Sometimes I miss those days more than I miss you.
But those days are rare.
As a matter of fact, those days are never.
I have never not missed you.
The only thing I have done is gotten used to missing you for the rest of my life.
– the most Anti-Social. all i wanna do is yoga, eat, and play with Adonis.
– currently in PURSUIT. watch out for the summertime. =)
– just received a couple new bikinis courtesy of my girl Adri… I think every bikini I own is L-Space ? Get on it. now where to wear it to is the next question. (currently planning NY, LA, SD, HI, PI)
– did u guys know that coconut water has 3x the electrolytes as most sports drinks? and not only is it all natural and taste like home, it also keeps me from feelin like DEATH before camel pose.
(Vita Coco currently on sale at Whole Foods till the end of the month)
– speaking of, don’t ever bet money against Queenie. I’m $5 poorer now. Why? Cuz apparently, “It’s always been you, Rach. It’s always been YOU.” I love my F.R.I.E.N.D.S.
– “I told you she didn’t have a penis” LMFAO. best. line. ever.
– eating green tea kit kats while searching for an agent. Hayati, one step at a time.
– health hype. yoga, gym, and vegetables. who the fuck do i think i am? p.s. wore this shirt to the studio last night n got a lot of laughs. whaaattt?
– been eating peanut butter and jelly on a hawaiian roll EVERYDAY for the last week. butt.. i’m currently craving a HOT DOG.
– Camilla & Marc
– If You Have to Cry, Go Outside. If I ruled the world, I’d do it like she did. mark my words. WATCH OUT FOR US!
– Miguel Jontel’s Quckie. Be careful, u might get pregnant listening to it.
– utterly amused by my son’s necessity to take silly pictures of himself. bet $10 he knows how to work a macbook better than you do.
We adore those who ignore us and ignore who adores us. I constantly ask myself why. The pursuit of something we can maybe have, takes precedence over that which is easily obtained. Subconsciously, most of us enjoy the challenge of the chase more than actually being chased. Many of us (who aren’t afraid to wear the proverbial I’ve-been-rejected badge of honor) can attest to the fact that pursuit often leads to constant checking of the cell phone you left by a window in order to get perfect service in case they call. Or forcing yourself to go out with your friends just to stop thinking about them — which usually doesn’t work because you’re still checking your damn phone!) Nine times out of 10, that person just isn’t feeling the same way.