Early April I was at a stoplight and a man on the cross walk lowered his mask, spat on my windshield, and called me a chink.  Kept cursing but I couldn’t hear him as he was walking away, flicking me off.  Obviously offended, I was shook but had to go on a zoom meeting with an influencer client shortly after.  I brought it up cause it was so fresh in my memory and she brushed it off like “Well that’s how it’s gonna be for a while so let’s move on.  Chinese people are fucked up for keeping this from us.  Are you even Chinese?”.  This same chick is now lionizing the BLM movement and using protests as an aesthetic backdrop cause she can’t make it to Coachella this year and can use the fresh content.  

If this is what being an influencer is like, I don’t want any part of it.  

And people believe everything they see on the internet.  

I understand now that it’s important to share when you’re given such a large platform.  It took me a while to understand that because I thought that if I donated my travel savings, if I sell my cameras to donate, if I woke up early everyday to buy food and water to pass out for free at protests, that would make more of a meaningful impact.  But silence is deafening and some people on the internet just want to nitpick and pick fights when they have no idea how hard you maybe trying off screen.  

I grew up in a racist household and I feel that inherently makes me racist.  I don’t think I ever attempted to voice my opinion to my parents when I knew what they taught was wrong and that makes me racist.  

When I was young, my mom told me a story about how god made 3 loafs of bread; stuck one in the oven and took it out too early and that’s white people.  Stuck another loaf in and left it in for too long, and that’s black people.  The third he took it out at the perfect time and that’s Asians.  My parents thought us that Asians, are the superior race.  I knew, even as a child, this story was fucked up but I never opened up that conversation before.  Why did I fear my parents so much?

I am so ashamed that it took me this long to realize that it just isn’t funny to “make light of the situation”.  

I don’t want to grow old and be that person who used the N word and everyone assumes they’ll never change cause they’re old.

I know I still carry some prejudices inside and I’m working as thoroughly as I can to unlearn these things.  Opening up these conversations with the people I love the most is fucking painful.  I made my mom cry on her birthday.  


Coffee for Company; Change for Strangers 
(Pt. 6)

He is one of the richest people I have ever met

He does not come from old money or new money; 
can't offer you a loan or cover the bill
-- does not have a handsome salary
he does not offer much power and influence.  
not pure or washed up, 
not old school or new school
never went through a trying phase

He is, however,
overflowing with sincere kindness, 
honesty and incredible reliability 

He takes these things seriously 
because he wants to be taken seriously 
but when taken too seriously; 
his anxiety pushes him to react in strange ways -- 
heavy lies the crown, that kind of thing

He occupies his time with plenty of hobbies 
indulges in the occasional vice, 
yet has admirable self-control

He does not wait to see if people will like him, 
& does not question whether or not he will like someone 
he will surprise you with his sense  humor

His greatest fear is that one day, "it" will all end 
and he'll have nothing to show for it  
yet, he's still trying to figure out what 
"it" really is and if it's worth fighting for.

He gave away his riches and still remained a rich man.  

And for him, everyone cried.
redeemer, as the wafer breaks
give him the choice
to never forget he’s been forgiven


by the time the boys were born
we felt the heaviness of the world —
kept us from letting our minds walk away

and suddenly, i was staring 
at a face i didn’t recognize
we gave him a name
he eventually grew out of

& every evening we’ll trace some steps
he’ll ask “will i ever have a clear mind?”
as his eyes rake the sky
and mine at our shadows 
running long

“people die before their bodies do”


I was looking through my calendar to see how I should start my day and it flipped to a couple months B.C. (before corona) and it made me a bit sad to see how I had been living for so long.  

I never made time for myself.  I always felt so overwhelmed with obligations; places to be and things to do that I never scheduled in time to go to read a book, take a leisurely walk, and go to bed early.  Even then, spending so much time with so many people -- I'd never felt so lonely in my life.  

I totally lost touch.  Sure was a lot of fun though.  


drained from cheering up the world whose pain is urgent and of the time,
you bleed thoughts of doom in your sleep
your dreams, turbulent. 

you wake up extra early and eat a cupcake your friend made for your special day
w tingles down your spine as you feel seen for the first time in a long time

turns out, this friend sprinkled shrooms in your cupcake 
in hopes that it would boost your mood

you take a walk cause you see a little sunlight peaking through
what would've been a biblical week

you are limber
you are beautiful 
in this moment, music sounds better
you find a tictac in your pocket
even food tastes better (don't judge me)
flowers more inspiring
scent more divine 
you can taste colors and touch emotions 

and fomo is no longer real               (it's not even a real word, see?)


i'd like to get quarantined w you
an emotional hibernation
a calculated retreat
a blanket of gloom that'll kill you
twice on the way out

(but come and see,
there's still some gentle people 
fucking to strawberry letter 23)


portra 400 w olympus infinity mini


raised by a father who made him fearful
he rouse in the morning wondering
which version of himself he will be

(don't be afraid, lille venn,
of violence)

to rehearse and perform
the tedium of this ass-numbingly dull dance
to see and still remain blind
to be the person no one is rooting for

& every thought is new
so now, you understand suffering?