Bright Lights.

I had not sweat so much in a long time, sans one short-lived stint with jogging. In my reality I wasn't capable of sweat, the act was nothing but a secondhand observation of human life. Yet there I sat, onstage, saline bullets cascading down all sides of my head. It wasn't until this night I realized how long it's been since I've been in a play, actually casting my craft into that sea of silhouettes hoping for a love connection. I am so out of shape, even for playing a robot.

I play Walter, an advanced programs system designed to protect my inventor's wife. It's quirky, at times tongue-in-cheek, and I get to play a robot. Thanks Mike, Tony, and Marlo, I've been getting a lot of commendation on my animatronical physicalization. More than those things it's real live theater and these days, like never before, I appreciate the value of real live theater.

The Elephant In The Room, a short play festival, runs July 29-Aug 14, 7:00pm at 13th St. Repertory Company. I also wrote one of the plays. Come and support!
Photographed: Michael Hodgson and Brian Lonsdale in Lee Hall's The Pitmen Painters at the National. Photographer: Tristram Kenton

Subway Observations #4

3:58pm
Lady sleeping next to me, her head falls onto my shoulder. I don't fight it.

2:15pm
Man playing yazz flute.

2:18pm
Guy doesn't hold on and falls down when the train moves. n00b.

5:42pm
Crocs with leather tops...and shoestrings.

11:27am
Girl asleep, Brandy blasting from her headphones. Das ma girl.

2:40pm
Just caught myself acting out a Gabe Bondoc song, but it looks like nobody noticed. Oh wait...no the lady across is staring.

9:47pm
Full car. I mean absolutely full. I grab hold of the top bar and stand at ease. My eyes look downward to notice a nice woman forced to sit directly in front of my crotch. I look at her, apologetically.

10:05pm
Acid wash jeans. Nuff said.

11:39am
I spot a Christmas gift bag with Marsupilami on it. Filled with words of joy to share I follow the hands up to discover the face of an old woman, tired and trying to get some shut-eye. Alright lady, you've evaded my conversation this time...

12:09am
I notice a familiarity in the air that reminds me of that summer in Italy, which I then identify as the smell of European sweat. Just then the guy standing by me with his arm reaching up to grasp the rail above my head speaks with a British accent. There it is.

Well, this is embarrassing...

A month after I declare regular blog posts I haven't procured a single one aside from a four-line poem. I apologize for the inconsistency, as consistency is the theme of the year for me. Let me divulge just a bit on how I've been these days…these very warm days…


I was sufficiently warned about winters here in the city, but to be honest I'm having a harder time with the summer. The digits are like California, but with the humidity and walking it's more like the Philippines. It's hot as a motherland out here. The power button on my air conditioner has been a heckling test of self-control. What makes the season worth it, though, are all the free events going on. The parks really come alive this time of year, with free movie showings, Broadway concerts, Al Pacino in The Merchant of Venice, and just people coming to hang out. Last week, I saw Ozomatli with the girlfriend's brother and the girlfriend's brother's girlfriend at Prospect Park in Brooklyn, and just as exciting as the superb music were the people picnicking, throwing the beach ball around, hula hooping, and dancing salsa on blankets. If you get the chance to join in someday, make sure that you don't let the energy buzz dull your frugality, or you may end up spending $14 on bland fair food chicken and disintegrating cornbread.

I recently took on an internship at the 13th St. Repertory Theatre for playwriting. It's a great community of about 15 interns, all working together to produce some good in-house material including the short play I just finished, which will be performed in our upcoming festival. The whole experience has been a bit of a whirlwind, and really where all my writing energies have gone lately. It was on a Monday I heard about their internship program, the next day becoming an intern, and by that Sunday I had written the first draft of my first play. A fellow actor heard that and exclaimed "how on earth were you able to do that?" I told her "I really have no idea, but I guess you don't know what you're capable of until you're given a deadline."

Deadlines, deadlines, deadlines, a writer always needs deadlines. So from now on you'll hear from me every Friday, even if it's just a few words, a tweetsworth if you will. And yes, it'll be more than just talking about how I miss home!

NYNJ Vlog #11: To My Father

*2:13 - "and it's one that I apparently don't have"

This one goes out to Carlos Lucas Leong!

(Okay, so I haven't recorded a vlog in a while. In January I installed Snow Leopard, and with it the new iMovie, which thoroughly daunted me for the first few months, but I finally got the hang of it. But the new software is wearing on the old girl, sad to say, I can barely use iMovie these days without the program crashing).

I was debating posting this, and decided to do it. I love my dad! Should you choose to watch it, please excuse the video skips and fuzzy audio ending, unless you find them to be savvy artistic choices, in which case why yes I did mean to do that.

"To all fathers, from a fan."

"Please tell me how you do it!"
Says a man looking to be a man,
Hoping to one day pursue it,
To all fathers, from a fan.

Letters To Home #2: Melody

Hi Melron!

I safely arrived here in Queens Thursday evening. The flight was easy and lulling, and after picking up some dinner from the Vietnamese place next to my train stop (it's called Thai Son, which, like with many others I'm sure, threw me off at first) I spent the rest of the night working hard on my audition which I thought paid off well went I went in the following afternoon. As you know, I watch a lot of television--well, online replays--and after a fruitful visit to the Golden State I've been able to catch up on a lot of my favorite shows, finally catching all their season finales. For most, the end of the school year feels the same way, and for a select few, they're actually approaching the end of their series.

I'm sorry I'm not able to see you walk in person at your graduation today. I will, of course, catch the live stream, which has a lag time of 15 minutes--but I'm 3 hours ahead, so it's okay, I'll still be cheering you on from 2:45 in the future. But let me take this time to let you know how proud of you I am.

I'm so proud of what you've done in your time at UC Irvine. You were captain of a dance team, you spent a semester in Italy, you maintained a successful apartment family for 3 years, you worked as a guide for study abroad programs, you were instrumental in groups like Pilipino-Americans in Social Studies (PASS) & Student-Parent Orientation Program Program (SPOP-P), and even though I'm sure I'm leaving out a lot more you managed to tackle all that in just 4 years.

And doesn't even include this one. I'm so happy you spent this last year there, because it's been momentous for you. I've gotten to know your experience as an R.A. through your expressions of triumph and struggle at the blessings and trials of advising more than 80 residents, a position many are not suited for. But the real revelation for me was when I finally got to meet your residents in person. And you're right, all of them really are like those boisterous four girls I met during my first visit, all displaying the same involuntary grin and nodding with the same affirmation when I asked them if they liked having you as their R.A.

But it's the detail that separates a good work of art from a masterpiece. It isn't just in the testimony of words, it's in the way they gather in groups to visit your room, it's in the way they say your name with such endearment that it's almost as if they wish it were more than three syllables, that they might have more time to propose their affection. It's in the way you do things like leave boxes of cereal and plastic cups with a little note saying "brain food, please take some," and it's in the way they faithfully oblige your request. It's in the way they wait around for your return, and in the way they linger around the lobby exchanging greetings with passing hallmates. It's in the way they were all so excited to meet me, without any hesitation--which, unless there's something so consistently bewitching about me, I attribute to their delight in knowing more about you.

Your relationships will go on, the friendships you've made this year will endure, but this experience for you and your residents has come to an end. Rest assured then, lady, that you did a great job, giving those now former first-years a dorm experience that is widely longed for but seldom had. Not only that, but throughout your victory lap at UCI you have shined tremendously for Christ, displaying the changing work of his love and law. I'm proud to say that I know you, and that I've been able to share in this joy with you, as we share in the greatest joy we have in Christ. I love you, and Lord-willing I will see you soon. Congratulations!

I'm so proud you found your finale.

Love,
Julian

Why is this goodbye so hard?

This Patrick and I started to dissect in the car outside my house. Some friends from Irvine, including Melody, joined us in Walnut for a last hurrah before my flight back to Queens. As we stood in an uneven circle that left larger gaps between myself and those adjacent to me, I noticed them all looking to me to say something conclusive, some sort of goodbye speech. "Man, I thought we were just getting dinner" I said to myself. That lack of closure stayed with me for the rest of the night.

I felt like I thought through this trip well enough. I was going to come back, pop out a cake, dance a jig, have a marathon of one-on-one's and leave having spent my time both wisely and vigorously. And I got it--most of it, I knocked out most of the goals I had for this two-week crunch, even had a couple I didn't expect. I fly out today. Granted I made a last-minute flight change to fly out 2 days earlier than I originally planned, but even if I made it all the way to Saturday, and had the pleasure of watching the girl with the hoop earring walk down the congratulatory aisle of graduation, for some reason I think it would still feel premature.

The sense of urgency of an ephemeral visit is a double-edged sword. On one hand I dig deeper into my conversations with little to no introduction, justifying myself with the fact that we won't get another opportunity like this for months. This has been more fruitful than I imagined, the kind of openness and reflection present at these dialogues was astounding, though I should also give credit to the heightened emotions of the school year's end. But I didn't take into account the consequences, the fact that strengthening bonds makes them harder to leave behind. What a silly underestimation, one that I hope will not undo any the progress made.

I have to leave for the airport now, there's no more time to write. Funny...I still don't know how to end this.