i wish i could broadcast into the world. i used to record myself while I drove back and forth from San Diego to Gardena, spilling my guts into my little voice recorder. I would sing, rant, cry, laugh, tell stories of my childhood, words of advice that i’ve heard over and over again. the best thing about that was that i imagined that my stories would affect someone other than myself. the hope that i wasn’t alone. that i was connected with others that felt my same pain, isolation, feelings, thoughts. i just wanted to feel apart of something bigger than myself, attached to a network of those who were passionate about similar things.
hi, this is ann “a’misa” chiu, and its almost my bedtime, except we drank coffee with dessert tonight and therefore will be up for the next couple of hours, maybe getting high, or fooling around the house, or surfing facebook waiting for more people to update their statuses at 3am. i’ve been listening to the radio a lot lately because of my new commute to west LA. I believe that westwood and santa monica is the asshole of Los Angeles, dirty, mean, and nasty. The traffic is the worst and my road rage isn’t as intense because i’m beginning to not care about anyone. I mean, I was in stop and go traffic, mean you, I drive stick, so my left leg is getting quite ‘buff’, and this man is exposing himself on westwood. Like straight up, pants down, poop butt mooning all the people in traffic. He seemed a bit crazy–not at least not quite there. But still, butt naked at 4pm. It made my drive all that more interesting and I didn’t mind that everyone was cutting me off, right and left, honking and cussing and texting with both hands. This doesn’t make me feel confident about those driving around me. I sense an accident everyday and pray that it isn’t my car they are careeming into. Speaking of outrageous accidents, did you hear about the death of the poor baby at the last LA artwalk? Alex and I were 2 blocks down from the accident, and I guess LA is taking more precaution for traffic safety and crowd control. It gets pretty crazy for the artwalk, like everyone suddenly becomes a bit maniac and tries to absorb as much art and culture as possible in a span of 2 hours. People elbowing and throwing jabs to get through the thick swarm of people. Back to the airwaves, maybe its just rambling that I would do, but I hope to inspire those who would bother to listen. Play some old folk music and read aloud from a random book. Recite a poem or two, learn to beat box. Maybe its the rebellion and revolution that attracts me. In the last 2 days, I’ve watched two inspiring movies. The first is Machete, and the second is Pump Up the Volume. Both deal with the masses standing up and fighting for what they believe in. Both deal with characters that are a bit legendary in their own rights, that they represent symbols of hope and justice for their respective communities. I wish to be apart of that hope and justice. I wish to be a play in this revolution. I know that my role is intrinsic to the resistance. That there is too much that wishes to push us down, devalue our time and energy into creating art, tell us that it isn’t worth it, that we need to get a better job, that we shouldn’t waste our lives. I say, fuck that attitude. Without the makers and players of art, where would the state of your imagination be? Where would innovation be? Where would invention come into play?
Audre Lorde says that poetry is a necessity, that is the agency that it takes to write that gives women autonomy. And with that, god bless.
peace and power to the people, a’misa