Category Archives: grey matter

escaping through my fingertips

Ctrl + Alt + Delete

How many times can you squeeze quarters outta dimes, before you run outta rhymes to pretty up those crimes? Thrown under the bus, then shamed if you fuss; And now that’s the one move you’ve come to mos def trust. Long, long ago you were an inch above, pantomimed with hands that were filled with love. Grown weary and rough, both tryna act tough, you whisper from this stage, “enough is enough.” He doesn’t hear – or better: He doesn’t care. Does it make a difference? He has nothing to fear. You set him up right, gave him something to fight. Your bruises on the inside are well outta sight. Then when he needs to be seen, you come out clean, giving him a place to perfect his lean. And what about you, boo? That “love” ain’t true, foo. What’s it gonna take to get this through? Another rock bottom with a hidden trap door? That kinda “flying” leads to hitting the floor. Dust yourself off and do it again? Nah, cut yourself loose; Not why, but when. (The End.)

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What, this old thing?

Has enough time passed, have the wounds all healed? I snap crackle pop through this fresh minefield, your words on each trap just waiting for me to feel. It’s what I do best, but I ain’t gonna kneel, at the feet of some kid who pretends to be real. You expound on sin, then bout that win/win. You mark it in the margin, hope it won’t break the skin. We share what’s fair but our centers ain’t the same: Your victory’s a loss in the actual game. Because knowing something’s wrong will never make it right, not even when forgiven in the dark of the night. We’re holding what we know when we plant that straw. It’s why possession, not confession, is nine-tenths of the law. So when you draw it up short and you say that you won, you’re just reminding us all that you’re not the One. Ain’t no biggie (la), choke that ciggie (brah), the battle for our souls ain’t fought with a gun. When you go inside, what do you see? The same thing that’s fruiting on that barren tree? Are you willing to give up who you used to be? Or you gonna keep on fighting like that’s making you free? Eh, just an honest observation from a girl you no longer see. What the fuck do I know? I’ma go be me.

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Cleaning my side of the street:

Clear the debris from the riff-raff and the shortsighted chaff
It’s been placed on your path, but you do the math
You are in charge of what dirties your glass*

What I said.
<3
A. Lo

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Folding kleenex.

How many ways or times to origami soggy tissues into shapes, my final effort to create order out of chaos, that I can remember doing forever?

For those who hold me (here), I thank you. You will never know how much your love means to me.

<3 <3 <3

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Unpopular

This post may be unpopular. Mostly with myself, but others may find it boring and annoying, too. How many times can we talk about ethnic issues?

I just became an aunt. And he’s the sweetest, cutest little burrito ever. And: He looks “so Asian“, according to social feedback.

He looks like my sister, who’s also half-Asian, like me. His father’s “white”, but them Korean genes iz strong, dig?

So, he’ll grow up hapa. Mixed. Other.

And I find him so beautiful… Probably how my parents saw (see) me. And a part of me hates that he’ll ever be asked “What are you?” (Yes.Really.) “Where are you from? I mean… No… Where are you really from?”  (Van Nuys. Where are you from??) “What’s your ethnicity?” (What the hell is yours and why does it matter?)

There’s nothing quite as alienating as those questions, even from unsuspecting, inquisitive people. Because over and over they were asked in a manner that suggested I didn’t belong.

The truth is, on more than one occasion, when my sisters and my Dad (white) have been out, stupid drunk guys have winked at him like “Hell yeah. Gettin’ that hot Asian game on.” WITH MY FUCKING DAD.

I can’t begin to explain how disgusting this feels. Nor how belittling.

I guess I can at least say that my little nephew is a boy, so he will dodge those “yellow fever” assumptions.

I told you this post would be unpopular.

I hate that I’m even thinking this. It makes me want to murder all of society, in order to prevent this precious little being from ever being confronted with the things I was in my lifetime, simply because I was different than what you see in the movies.

I don’t have an answer. Except LOVE.

I LOVE this little guy. I pray that the world is different enough today so that no one ever asks him what he is. His parents are stone-cold killas, so I’m sure he’ll grow up with an answer that will shut a mofo up. Like I did on many occasion.

Where am I from? Planet Earth. Where the fuck are you from?

And, you know, my sisters have a very different take on this whole thing. It’s probably because neither work in an industry/capacity so intent on categorizing them, based on their looks. But, for whatever reason, this has been my path. So I’ma keep making movies until people stop thinking it’s so weird to see someone who looks different from them.

I’m looking at you, Ignorance. And I’m coming for you.

-A.Lo. out

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LOVE YOURSELF!!

Still. #bangs Happy day, all :D

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On Writing:

When I move, it’s always a chance to look at the nooks and crannies of who I’ve been, which invariably means reading through my past writings. While I do my best to remain positive, personal writing has tended to be me feeding the dark dog. My good friend and amazing astrologer, Angel Lopez recently made a point of reminding me that this inner darkness must always be expressed. How I do that is up to me. Maybe I’ll keep writing fucked up feature films? o.O The alternative is scraps of thoughts in little books and papers here and there that, when I find them, make me want to give myself a hug and shake myself and say, “Relax! It’s not so fucking serious!!” [But, you know... It is. Maybe not "serious", but Life is important. Isn't it? The objectivist would say it's all there is, so F yeah, it's important.]

So, I found this little booklet with ramblings. All super emo. Here are a few choice ones…

***

i’m singin into the carpet again
don’t know how, don’t know when
i let the madness settle in
drinking tears for dinner
until it’s not a sin

***

everyone’s a thunder
a phoenix on the rise
chasing their own danger
plotting their demise
is it any wonder
the angel closed her eyes?

***

i’ve figured it out
this mathematics of tears
fragile hearts are broken
then mended by our fears

***

come back
to who you used to be
bring your pink balloon
you’re looking in a mirror
no one in the room
take back
the things they stole from you
they know not what they do
you’re twirling like a flower
growing into you

***

And then this note to self:

maybe I should do like Johnny Depp. write it down and never read it again.*

Good idea, Alyssa. Or, you know, just read the last page and leave it at that:


Btw, I’m writing another fucked up feature. I’m hoping humanity wins. We’ll see.

x
a

*Johnny Depp, apparently, doesn’t watch any of the movies he acts in. He says he does this because his job is done when he’s done acting, and it helps him avoid being self-conscious on future jobs.

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Earthling Apocalypse.

The internets have expanded emotional experience. #Like away, baby. Me, too. What are we left with then? Whoever, where-ever, we occur… right Now. As diluted as that will be, for our expenditures, which do Matter. Our spirits are infinite; Our human bodies, our human capacities, our earthly interactions? Time will tell.

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***

As ever, the word is here. These words. Consistent companion, unflinching even to the touch of my firing fingertips.

I have hurt people, in ways that I have been hurt, after vowing to not ever create that kind of expression in the face of another upon hearing my words, resultant from the verbal daggers I throw to cut to the truth. It will never feel right, cutting that way, and yet there is a compulsive (com?)passion which overtakes me, a mission to unleash demons, that they may devour the fear bred by polite correctness, by pretense. I am in this world, but not of it, and there is no more clarity of such than when in conversation with some earthling I love, when life itself is at stake. “Life” being aliveness, awareness, awakeness. My fierceness stems from the unlikeliest of places, this (in)human heart [*in a human], the one that pumps blood through me, and invariably onto any who would stand before me and pretend not to know that the forming of the Universe occurred via the very same explosive nature of creation, complete with bang and scattering of shrapnel known more commonly as stars. We — or, more and more, I — understand that Love is all ways the basis, the intent. Therefore to hear it from any other Source is at once confusing and disturbing.

There is a chance that the cosmos understands, as it is the collective child of such chaotic, Loving explosion. And this is why I will always hug the sky, and feel like I am going home when I keep my head up*

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Watermelon, Rare

She eats everything with a knife and fork, as though it’s the finest steak. Watermelon. Peanut butter jelly sandwiches. I asked her why, and she responded “It makes everything feel a tad classier.”

I love you…
I mean,
me

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we kiss all these people in hopes that we will ever feel like we are kissing ourselves.

(march 20th, the “birthday”)

the thing is
and will forever remain
that words keep me company
they are touchstones
and fortune tellers
they are blankets
and potions
they are what i lean on
when there is nothing left
when there is only possibility
probability
optimum trajectory
a path of breadcrumbs
leading me back
something to hold on to
and something to look for
they are the tunnel
and the light
always available
waiting like children
raising their hands
hoping i will call on them
for answers
and questions
they are the intersection
of knowing
and hoping to know
and for that
words
will always remain
my most divine lover
and love
they speak to me
when no one else will
and i hear them
when everything else
is empty
words, they are forever
now
an expression of self
at my fingertips
forever

now

another dance around the sun
and here i am
waiting to be done
[wow, that was a little dark. at least i'm still dancing around the sun. the time to worry is when i stop dancing.]

(note to self, from another date, but how i feel today)

choose the beliefs that you prefer and like, because they feel good, better, best. reality is relative. there is no reality that is any more real or valid than another (Bashar). there is no question that you feel best when thinking and believing in a certain thing  (TUT). therefore, choose that. because there is no answer that is definitive, except for that which i choose. even if it is a coping mechanism, so is anything else. there is no REAL, real-er reality. there is no absolute TRUTH, except that i am here. beyond that, is my choice, as even that is.

the first time i saw this photo, i was a very different person, in a very different place. seeing it now reminds me of how different i am. it asks me how different i am. i love it for different reasons. and some of the same reasons, too.

Photo by Chris Anthony - http://chrisanthony.viewbook.com/

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. . .

she moves like the trees
in a forgotten breeze
holds herself up
limbs bent at the knees
and what of the fallings that nobody sees
it’s never enough, this infinite tease

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out damn’d spot!

the sun rained down
on the grassy green
landing on its back
kicking at the wind
trying to right itself
as the telltale tree
watched giggling
like a ragdoll dream
all floppy and clean
dancing legless
pinned to a bright blue screen

and:

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two thousand and ten reasons…

to celebrate. the first one on the list is that i made it through the last year. and the second one is that all of it – yes all of it – helped me realize that i will always make it through. we are immortal, after all.

it was a year of childbirth (the closest i will likely come. seriously). the first nine months were crazy painful and challenging. and then came moments of joy, fulfillment and bliss that exceeded expectations. the challenging stuff was personal, emotional. and i suppose the fun stuff was, too. i did things like screen TTWC at the iconic arclight, win seven awards in iowa, and start working with a tv/film agency i already love (metropolitan!). and that’s just naming a few of the brain-poppin awesomes.

so many of my friends also had a challenging time. all year it was
soul sisters
soul brothers
soul mates
and soul lovers
keep going
keep going
keep going

it seems everyone is ready for 2010 to be here and it is striking, wonderful, that there is a palpable sense of *excitement* about the new year. more so than i’ve ever witnessed. part of me wants to give 2009 the bird, but instead, this is me blessing it, letting it go and opening myself up to a magical 2010. btw, when i say magical, i don’t mean it’s magic. it’s not magic or luck. it is awareness. imagination. exploration. meditation. manifestation. creation. and yes, it’s all love <3

below is some poetry i wrote throughout the year. this little fishie is casting it to the sea like so many flower petals…………

there is a cave in my heart
that is dark like a womb
my heart beats against it
the echoes a bouquet of ghosts
tossed into the universe
beyond the beyond
and somewhere out there
beyond the beyond
a child gazes up at its sky
and calls them the stars
wishes he knew where they came from
somehow feels connected
like they’re part of his heart
as they whisper love in the dark
a blanket of hope that there’s more
and when i gaze up at my sky
from right here
when i look at these stars
i feel that child
i wish i remembered
where they came from
the stars whisper
there’s more

sometimes
the only thing i can manage to write
is tears
and at a certain point
they write themselves
and i go off
into a dimension unseen
i come back to novels
of wishes
etched onto my face
in a language i can’t understand
i examine them closely
skipping ahead to see
how they end

you are the phantom
i am the dream
it never happened
and it all will again
over and over
eternity upon eternity
this fleeting world
that no one sees
the end of a breath
the silence of trees
falling in the faces
of gods on their knees
i take walks every day
hoping to fall in love
with a stranger
or a flower
or my self
i punch holes in the skyline
hoping to see beauty
in the danger
and the power
of this life

i don’t want to write
any of this down
so that i can forget it
wash it away
like moonlit footprints
on the sands of time
carried out to the blackness
by the cold hard sea
wish that i knew now
what i’ll know tomorrow
that none of it happened
that my heart isn’t breaking
against the cliff of who we were
to each other
in the dark
wash it away
by the cold hard sea

rumors are written on bathroom walls
and faces of strangers
sinking old ships in the night
dreams are dancing on the edges of razors
and lips of lovers
sucking the seed till it’s dry

all that matters
is who you are
and who you pretend to be
a handshake
a heart break
a thin grin on a blue plate
a marching band
lost on a desert road
a marksman
hits a sleeping gate
you’ll never quite remember
who you thought you were
cuz all the shiny mirrors
get lost inside the blur
of who you are
and who you pretend to be
and who you wish you were

the distance between these selves
an ocean of remorse
the space between two parallels
that will never ever meet
no matter that the force
could bend every bone
pretending that would work
but work’s for those who still believe
that love is something earned
floating down the river
of tears that cut and burn
all those years of breaking
we finally have learned
the price
the cost
the moments lost
the price
the cost
kills any sense of worth

you’re getting farther away
and so am i
i’m with change
and things that don’t stay the same
we danced on that moment
like it was all there was
a dandelion
twirling in the fingers
of god
but i’m with change
and things that don’t stay the same
i check the rearview of my mind
as you fade away
your shining silhouette
cuts away
i’m with change
i’m with things that don’t stay the same
you’re getting farther away
so am i
and with enough change
the moment passed
that shining dance
was left to linger
fading with the rain

don’t go back to who you were that day
you gave all your sweetness away
tear up the ghost you’ve twisted
it’s shifted
like a stranger, a lover
in a forgotten bed
you’re sitting here on the edge of your world
whispering nothing into your own head
tear up the ghost you’ve twisted
it’s shifted

don’t go back to those empty ways
you kept your heart beating anyway
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it’s shifted
like a prayer, a feather
on a dirty wind
you’re lying here at the dawn of the pearl
shattering roses and everything red
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it’s shifted

there are too many wounds
to play any more
the scars on our fingertips
changed who we are
i look in the mirror
for a clue
for an answer
the thing that stares back
is wondering too
where did she go
that girl that we knew
with scars on my fingertips
i read my face in the dark
and neither of us could’ve known
but both of us knew
the healing that comes
is not a return
but a river of rain
paving a canyon of fingertips
smooth
and nothing will ever be the same
and both of us knew

we are here to be alive
not kill ourselves
do the math on that

thank you, my dear fellow divine beings. we kept going. and now, again, still, forever, we are here. party at my pad!! :D

so much love,
alyssa taesun lobit

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lost & found writings by alyssa taesun lobit

some poetry i found while toodlin around on my robot brain (that’s a computer, people!).

. . .

every morning i wake up, hoping to remember
only the things which will help me look at the world
with eyes which have seen all that is
and decided to open anyway

. . .

i bought and sold
all the marks on
the map
the train becomes
another trap
a kite in the ocean
stuck upstream
in the maze of
misguided
chivalry

. . .

breaking waves on the sea of time
tell stories
just when you think you’re someone
the little ache sells something
here, god lived until
something as nominal as
this
came out of lightning
in the summer
our best sins
escape the best of men
escape
the rest of them

. . .

she hid from the world behind her own shadow
knowing all along it was a plan
to cleanse the night
of itself, for itself
and mesmerized by her look
i walked right up to her
stepping on stars
swallowed by the sea
she took my heart in her tide
and pulled it close
then asked me what i wanted
lost in the dark
and washing away that which isn’t me
i landed, toes first
a wave of serenity running through
this momentary labyrinth
to the humming sound of bliss
on the ears of an infant
reborn

. . .

i drift between these selves
between these nouns
that show me that i’m here
as they bump up against me
before they disappear
sometimes it hurts
sometimes it’s dancing
sometimes we’re both invisible
and nothing happens at all

i reach for balance still
trying not to make a sound
wondering if i don’t care
or don’t know that i’m free
sometimes it works
sometimes it’s chance
sometimes i am indeed invisible
and the balance is a fall

. . .

there are people, precious people
who break other people, precious people
accidentally cracking them,
crushing them to little bits
they force their fearless fears
on tormented virgin ears
accidentally waking them
to wisdom fueled by bullets
and after all the fires fly
and after the show’s gone home
what’s left behind
is the subtle sound
of silence
ringing in the minds
of these people, all of the precious people

. . .

stuck together in reluctant matrimony
looking at one other out of convenience
as if to say
well, we’re here, so…
these children of mine
forgotten breakdowns
filial takedowns
face me in chorus
confused at being flipped through
a rolodex of morose countenances
their proportions epic at the time
these tired ghosts yawning at being roused
their faces swollen and ruby
and all i can muster
is another nervous breakdown
so fast
it almost didn’t happen at all

. . .

we humans, we gossip about beauty, death, love, and god
while everything else just is
just is beauty, death, love and god? or just is, as in just is?
as i said, we gossip . . .

. . .

i mark and go, tight-fisted
maybe i like it
you can’t escape
try to
slowly like they’re in sync
slowly slowly
thru all the deep ends
anytime
carcass and plaster
we bought this kill
equally empty
how could you cost a thing
insane and all
till feeling falsely
come here my darling
swallow, come in, come home
but i like it
we shower after all
clean what we can
i hate and stay
you like me
or like me for after
you cost a mere
lie
lying in the afternoon
the year is blue
insane in now
till telling
is taming
like a feeling could be
freed
must i see you
all of these mouths are mine
now comets
show and hide
i lost it
the grand dream
i fell nasty
for what was loud
all that allowed
was their gift
an endless supply
ultimate satan
hear them meow
they’re tied to cliffs afar
till all their
shadows fall
after the meow
simply the calmest
goings on
they let their portraits fall
inside the hole
are they for me?

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thus the stars spoke:

there is a cave in my heart
that is dark like a womb
my heart beats against it
the echoes a bouquet of ghosts
tossed into the universe
beyond the beyond
and somewhere out there
beyond the beyond
a child gazes up at its sky
and calls them the stars
wishes he knew where they came from
somehow feels connected
like they’re part of his heart
as they whisper love in the dark
a blanket of hope that there’s more
and when i gaze up at my sky
from right here
when i look at these stars
i feel that child
i wish i remembered
where they came from
the stars whisper
there’s more

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i hear things when i walk.

. . .
the world got quiet
sat still
like it does before an earthquake
and when it broke
it didn’t fall apart at all
just got rearranged
so it could sit
more comfortably
on the lap
of the universe
. . .

yeh. that’s me. and no, i didn’t write that after the earthquake. that wouldn’t make me much of a psychic, would it? everyone can see the past. i think.

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three things & some change:

1. after a while, wearing a gas mask feels normal. which is a bit freaky.

2. athena and i finally re-worked our short: “life, still.

this will probably always be one of my faves. those are all still images!

3. the moon looked glorious tonight.

. . . . . . .

(bricolage’d from various writings, AKA plagiarizing myself.)

my mind attempts to own my soul
the cracks are here to let the light shine through
and finally
these masks called faces fall away
i am growing my heart to fit the love coming in
and the love going out is easy
this morning i saw the sun,
a ray hitting a building in a way
that was new
but felt like years ago
fresh and nice,
not weighed down by anything

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"Be courageous enough to grow into the flower you are meant to be."

“flora” by nicoletta ceccoli

athena brought back some art from a curio in amsterdam
by nicoletta ceccoli which is absolutely to love love love.
maybe i’ll post a pic of the one she brought that i framed,
but i just adore this one, too.

when we were kids we used to dance
and spin around with our arms out wide,
and dad called us little flower girls
little flowers
dancing
spinning
hugging the sky
cuz we could
kissing the sun
understood

[here's "angelica" framed]

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one is better than two if you find the right one.

the truth is, i burgle easy words off lonely tongues who never think twice of their genius. some would say there is genius in the sheer simplicity. of both.

skip your stones on the past tonight
sip on your tears
moonshine of strife
etching the sounds of the lover’s plight
to count the years
on this wall of time

let dragons lie where they fight
flames to the heart
sleeping through life
then leave the ones beyond your sight
to kill their art
with whiskey and wine

the crack in the fabric
means nothing
the unraveling of
reveling
nothing more
the veil being lifted
and faces
being painted
with brushes
of nothing
the edges are burned
with magic
the convergence
converging
to nothing

more

is the mask of the child
behind it
masking the
masking
the nothing

uproot the mirror’s smile
and the stilettoed prince
and all his paupers
become a shallow muse
unto himself
the funhouse myths
and bastard truths
upon the breast of marching ants
suckling the fuse

the world, in addition to being a vampire, is a treasure. bye.

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