Nothing is more triggering to me than the words: Flu-like symptoms. It was what I had to look for if I thought I may have been infected with HIV.
Maricon, 2017
"Flu-like symptoms" is being bandied about when it comes to Covid-19. With Covid-19, I remember feeling abandoned, scared and alone during the time of AIDS. I was a boy who grew into a man during the AIDS epidemic. It has carved me into a particular kind of person.
I saw AIDS destroy people, families and communities. I could have been dragged into that. I'm grateful for the gutsy, fearless queers and freaks and rebels and outsiders who said, Fuck This!
We will fight the assholes and take care of our own.
Yes, I was damaged, but I was put back together again.
I don't know how I'll weather through this pandemic. However, there's a part of me that feels strong, skilled because of what AIDS had done to me.
In my attempt to enjoy what sun may come out in this rainy Los Angeles weather and maintain social distancing, I took to gardening again. That seems to be a huge part of my creativity these days.
Before we went into shelter-in-place, I visited a nursery by my work and picked up several plants. Choosing the flowers and designing the landscape was truly a creative and happy process for me.
I didn't think I had it in me to make flowers grow, but a few YouTube videos later I was doing it.
There's something about having your hands in dirt that's truly magical. Pulling the flowers out of their plastic containers and put them into the ground feels like an act of truly giving.
Within minutes of planting them, bees and butterflies were floating by to inhale them. I was doing this for our family home, a house my parents scrimped and saved to buy back in the 1970s. By adding flowers, I felt like I was giving a bit of my own signature to this family abode. It felt quite satisfying.
Last weekend, I went on retreat. I wasn't expecting to, but I saw that Lama Rod Owens was doing a home retreat, so I went for it. Why not? I was going to be stuck at home for shelter-in-place. If I was going to be at home, I should definitely make use of it.
As I stated in my last post, don't waste this time. I can fight this situation or be frustrated with it or it can be used to benefit me and others.
There were about 200 people from all over the country on Zoom to participate. We were all in quarantine, but we all needed some spiritual guidance.
Who would have thought in Buddha's time that a sangha could gather like this? We meditated and asked Lama Rod questions. The most beneficial part of the retreat for me was the discussion on intention. Are we coming from a good place or are we coming from a place of trauma?
When I confront a coworker, am I reacting from trauma or from a place of kindness?
This got me thinking: when I create is it from a good place or a from a place hurt? Maybe it's both, but if I want to heal and live a life free from pain, my place of creation should be a place of kindness. I don't want to be spurred on by pain.
There will be suffering in this life. That is the first Truth of the Four Noble Truths. During this time, we'll witness suffering up close as the number of those infected rise. Most will not die, but some will. Those who won't die, may still experience sickness.
There are "four sufferings." They are the suffering of birth, old age, sickness and death.
When the young Indian prince Shakyamuni left his home for the first time, he was shocked at what he found outside his palace walls. Part of what he saw were the sick and the dying. Witnessing this started his spiritual journey to becoming a Buddha.
As days, weeks, months pass and the numbers rise, will the sickness and death spur us to be better, do better? If not, this time would be worthless.
The Coronavirus would be my second plague. My first was AIDS. Back then, I'd heard the average age of death for a gay man was 45. I felt middle-aged in my twenties. Middle-age can be startling--forcing me to ask serious questions of my life: Am I doing what I should be doing? What makes me happy?
Now, I am middle-aged again. Amidst Covid-19, I ask similar questions: Am I doing what I should be doing? What makes me happy?
Today, I add these questions: Am I being helpful enough? Has my creativity helped anyone? Have I served?
The short answer is: Yes, I would have to be. I recognize that at 52, I surpassed the old estimate of dying at 45. I published books, something that I didn't know was possible for me. I got an MDiv in Buddhist Chaplaincy--also another surprise in my life. So many surprises.
I wonder what surprises are left? Maybe I die--surprise! Yet, there's a part of me that still might have a bit of survivor's guilt. As a gay man, did I cheat death? Will Coronavirus even the score? I don't know.
I just know that I'd been gifted with 52 years on earth so far. Whether I get another year or decade or several decades, I can't say. I guess, for now, I get to see another spring. If I'm lucky, maybe summer. If I'm really lucky, another fall.
I was reading The Noble Eightfold Path, which was the first discourse of the Buddha. I'd read various translations of it, but the one by Bhikkhu Bodhi is my favorite. I've read his translation at least three times. I was reading it again when a notice popped up on Facebook that Bhikkhu Bodhi himself would be leading a retreat on the Eightfold Path in La Puente at Lankarama Temple. Well, I just couldn't believe my karma!
It was a five day retreat filled with meditation, dhamma instruction, pali chanting, blessings and offerings. It was a great way to start the year.
Last weekend, I did a short film called The Laziest Susan written and directed by Andrea Suwito (above with script).
I had a blast acting in a story about a Chinese American family having dinner where one daughter is favored over another.
It was quite monumental for me as I did my very first "Dad" role. I guess it was meant to be that a man of a certain age would be playing fathers. I had the chance to act with these fine young actors Ella Chen (left) and Jocelyn Liu (center). Such fun.
A few years ago, I discussed the phrase "You look like a Filipino on a Saturday night" and its reference in a Raymond Chandler Novel. (See video above with host G. Tongi and Cecilia Mangeurra Brainard)
It was a good discussion on how Filipinos were viewed in the earlier part of the last century. It was not a positive view. I'm glad to be living now, creating what it means to be Filipino American.
I'm teaching the short story form at UCLA Extension. Please join me. Classes begin on October 3. I'm working out of the downtown Los Angeles campus. More information HERE.
I'd been taking these acting workshops through the SAG-AFTRA conservatory. I took two workshops that required immediate intimacy. Right. Now. Within 30 minutes in a room of complete strangers, I had to cry, love, yearn and regret.
I delivered. That's what actors do, but I had to reflect on how each and every time actors are asked to be "authentic." By being authentic, we lay it down, offer the most intimate moments of our lives through our bodies, speech and minds. After each acting experience, I'd felt, in a way, closer to something higher than myself. Was it God? Or Enlightenment? Or an elevated sense of self? When I was doing AIDS work, some of the most spiritual times of my life were connecting with someone who was dying. There was no wall between us, it was just two human beings connecting at a core level. That's what those acting workshops resembled--a core level of connecting. The director and casting people were EXPECTING to connect on a deeper level, so this cold place with strangers because a temple of sorts. For 10 minutes--the time it took to act my scene--I felt something sacred. Who knew at an acting workshop, I'd be "taken to church." It was a nice place to be.
I decided to check out the SAG-AFTRA Los Angeles Conservatory. For $45, members can access all sorts of workshops on acting, casting, self-care, technology, and more! I was surprised at the variety of classes offered. I've made several sessions thus far. Here are some of my takeaways.
Recently, Skylight Books, where I've hosted for 18 years, had a staff showcase. It's an opportunity for Skylight staff to show off their talents. I showed a painting (pictured), while my colleague Arlo sang. I like how our talents meet in the above picture: the guy singing in a hat is being admired by a painting of guy in a hat. Arlo confessed that he saw my painting earlier in the day, and he may have subconsciously wore his hat because of my painting.
I haven't had acting headshots in nearly 15 years. If I'm going to start acting again, I decided to finally get them. The photographer is the amazing Alexis Rhone Fancher.
I was fourteen when I got my very first headshots. I got my first agent at 16 and got into the unions by 17. I got my BFA in acting. I thought I would be acting forever. However, the roles were few and far between, and the roles pretty much sucked.
I did my own performance work, which I loved, but found my creative urges could be quenched through writing. Leaving acting to write was one of the best decision I made.
Now, I feel the urge to go back to my first love of acting. We'll see what happens.
This is the first time that I'd been fully recorded reading a short story. If you're not into reading and would rather be read to, here's a video for you.
I'm reading from my short story Music Heard in Hi-Fi, which was published in Sunday Salon. It was a joy reading at Sunday Jump, a monthly open mic in Historic Filipinotown.
Over 25 years ago, I saw a documentary Paris is Burning, capturing the very queer ball scene of New York. I was blown away of these stories of queer people of color living their very best lives, finding families when their own biological families may have shunned them.
The ball scene made famous "Vogueing" which Madonna brought to the mainstream.
The ball scene continues today. It is performance, it is fierceness, it is church. With shows like Ru Paul's Drag Race, one can see how competitive and fabulous drag queens and trans people can be.
Recently, I went to the Proud Festival in Downtown Los Angeles. There was an impromptu Vogueing competition, very much like the kind seen in Paris is Burning. But it wasn't New York is was smack down in downtown Los Angeles.
I'm sure many of these dancers weren't even born when Paris is Burning was made in the early 1990s. This tradition of mostly black and brown queers is wonderful. In these videos, you can hear me screaming, Yaaaas!
What makes this more incredible is that the ball scene was usually hidden away, kept in secret ball rooms. But here we are in downtown LA, all are welcome to witness. In the above video, I love how there's an Asian couple watching.
Being there, among free queer people, there was a sense of the divine--that God or God-like forces were present. It was truly uplifting.
On a recent trip to Paris, I had the pleasure of visiting the Catacombs, where six millions Parisians are buried.
I thought it would be ghoulish, but it was rather reverential. The skeletons were placed there when the graveyards ran full. Priests blessed the bones and they were laid to rest. The bones were placed ever so delicately on top of each other, creating a restful pile.
Walking through the catacombs felt like the Buddhist tradition of sitting in charnel houses. Aspiring monastics sat with dead bodies to meditate on impermanence. They watched bodies disintegrate as a spiritual practice.
The whole experience felt otherworldly. I couldn't help but wonder who they were and how they may feel about their bones. Then again, would they even care?
I don't think meditating on death is maudlin. On the contrary, it's life affirming. We shouldn't be taking our lives for granted. We're all moving to being a pile of bones. Before becoming lifeless skeletons, are we leading the best lives possible?
When news broke that Nobel Laureate Toni Morrison passed away, I slipped into pastor mode. I took a class in divinity school on rituals. Rituals are an important part of life. Marriage, graduation, birthdays are all forms of rituals. Rituals mark transition. Rituals are important.
I felt Toni Morrison's passing required some kind of ritual. On my Facebook feed, I saw people lamenting her death. The literary community that I circle in was truly mourning. So, I organized a tribute, asking some awesome writers to participate (photo above, starting with back row: Jervey Tervalon, Gary Philips, Nina Revoyr, Lisa Teasley, Michael Datcher, Terry Wolverton, Lynell George; front row: me, Dana Johnson, Natasha Deon).
At Skylight Books, we discussed the work of Toni Morrison and what she meant to us, then we read passages from her novels. It was an awesome turnout. I was thrilled that Walter Mosley (Devil in a Blue Dress) showed up.
At the end of the reading, I did feel a sense of closure. I don't know about anyone else, but I felt this literary ritual was an important one to have.
I went to two exhibitions recently. Soul of Nation at the Broad and Liberacion at the Village. What struck me was the dazzling colors in the shows. I was quite touched by it. Why?
Soul of a Nation
I think it's because the black and brown narrative is often seen through a narrow lens--one usually of struggle and oppression. However, these paintings offer a different story. These artists see a multi-narrative. Black and brown lives are far more complex, literally more colorful than others may give credit for.
Liberacion
I'm a brown man in the world. In this country, all sorts of stories are thrown at darker skinned people. I found relief in these paintings. The brightness of these paintings reminded me of the brightness this brown man can encounter in his life.
