clarahsu – Page 20

Enter the Fish Bowl

The world swivels as I move my eyes. Things go from fuzzy to clear to fuzzy. Today I was the lucky recipient of a pair of bifocals.

It may cure my difficulty in reading—the decision came after misreading the zero for a nine when writing a check—but the fish bowl effect means relearning how to focus far and near. Will my life improve with the new glasses? Dizziness and the constant shifts in focus make me skeptical at this point, but everyone says “You’ll get used to it.”

To think that Ben Franklin was the Father of Bifocals, and after nearly two hundred years I am wearing his invention! I move my head back and forth and watch the glass table in front of me wavers. The world has definitely become much more fluid.

Once Upon a Time

“It’s not an action film. You’ll probably like it.”

Of course I want action in films, just not car chase, gun fight, sex, torture or treasure hunt, etc. What is a movie without action? Something has to happen in every frame. Otherwise you might as well stare at a still photo.

Current wisdom: our attention span has gotten so short that the pace of a movie or a book has to become faster and shorter. Artists are dealing with a scatter-brained public who is an insatiable moron of continuous action.

I don’t believe this for a second.

If enough film makers are serious about putting out high quality work then the public’s level of intellect will rise to meet the challenge. To blame the audience is a cheap shot.

Once Upon a Time in Anatolia is not an action film but for two and a half hours it has the power to take me along with the players through an arduous journey. When it finally releases me it drops me off at an odd place where I must decide how to gather up the loose ends, or not at all.

A Dozen Red Roses

No matter how busy, Chi-an and Tom of Angkor Borei are always the gracious hosts. Tonight their restaurant was filled with customers. We were lucky to squeeze ourselves into its narrow hallway so we didn’t have to stand in the street to wait for a table. Tom was surprised to see me. Ever since we moved away from the neighborhood I hardly frequent the restaurant. He gave me a big hug and went about with his take-out delivery.

There were times in the past when the restaurant was not so busy. After they serve us lunch, Chi-an and Tom would come over and chat with us. We learned that theirs was a second marriage for Chi-an. When she met Tom she already had two children.

“Tom takes care of my children as if they were his own,” Chi-an told us. “Every time I come back from Cambodia he comes to the airport with a dozen red roses.”

“Is that why you married him?” asked Dore.

You can tell when a woman is truly loved by her blushing smile, gleaming eyes, and her seemingly inexhaustible energy. And the man she loves has springy steps, a hearty laugh and generous disposition.

Photo from The Chronicle.

The Healing Sugar

Popping the last chocolate in my mouth, I’m done eating sweets until, until… The temptation has been non-stop in the winter months. Sweets can take away depression and wonderful when consumed in the dark (and alone). I remember being inconsolable at a friend’s funeral. As we walked out of the church the ushers handed everyone a candy. I stopped crying right then and there.

And of course Valentine’s Day is loaded with sugar. It may be the sweetest day of the year. Just thinking of it makes my teeth ache. But perhaps it is because of all the sugar I’ve been having. My dentist will smile when he sees me. I’m sure of it.

Photo from sodahead.com.

Dying the Grey

I remember my first white hair, an angry sign post stood on the top of my head. I plucked it out, only to find more springing up. I went to the hair dresser. She dyed my hair midnight black, but those pesky little white roots could not be hidden. Who was I fooling?

Turning grey is no big deal once this aging thing is accepted. Wear it proudly. After all it is earned. In fact, there are privileges like getting a seat on the bus and discount at Ross—bless their hearts—10% discount if you’re 55 and older. I gladly show them my driver license.

Photo: cosmosmagazine.com

Waiting

People streamed into Chinatown in the early morning. They stood in line at the street fair for freebies, bought “bargains”, threw little pops on the ground that supposedly resembled the spark of a firecracker. Mysterious smoke billowed from the sidewalks. Gun powder smell was everywhere. Tangerine peel littered the streets.

“It’s Chinese New Year!” a tourist shouted.

Well, New Year was two weeks ago. The parade this evening marked the end of the celebration. By four o’clock, most of the streets in Chinatown were barricaded. The crowd stood along Kearny Street. They had prepared to spend the day waiting for the spectacle.

Snacking, texting, taking pictures of each other to pass the time. Excitement. Entertainment. Exoticism. Bruce Lee and Salvador Dali were born on the year of the Dragon. I waited for an opening and dashed across the street, headed home.

Photo from Asian Week.

A Dose of Metaphors

When my nature poem is interpreted as a political poem, I was at first quite bewildered. Maybe the metaphors were too elliptical–sparse and ambiguous–leading the reader down a path that is the farthest thing from my intention. When at last I see my friend’s point of view, I quite agree with his logic. It proves that circumstantial evidence can convict the innocent.

Fair or not, whenever a poem is read it stands naked in the spotlight to be judged. It will be examined from different angles and the readers will carry away the pieces that suit them. But for this particular poem, I’m taking it back to the dressing room and giving it a different outfit.

Night in Sunset

Walking on Irving Street in the Sunset neighborhood reminds me of the Orient. The many eateries present an array of cuisines from Japanese to Palestinian to Eritrean. From one door to the other, the smell of curry turns into teriyaki turns into sweet cakes. In front of a “bubble tea” shop people are waiting in line on the sidewalk.

My friend Vern and I take a long walk after a dinner of ramen and sashimi. We poke our heads into each restaurant that we pass and study the menu. He will be sailing from Hawaii to Easter Island on a fishing boat and won’t be seeing land for a long time (won’t be eating much except fish for a long time).

“What would you do if you knew you won’t be back for a long time?”

“I’d be eating like there’s no tomorrow.”

And that’s what he plans to do!

Photo by Deanne Fitzmaurice.

A Late Riser’s Divulgence

waking love — Salvador Dali-- Hercules Lifts the Skin of the Sea and Stops Venus for an instant from waking Love.

Wake naturally. That means any time (of the day). Sometimes I have this kind of luxury, when the day begins at mid-morning and ends well past midnight. Night time seems to have a calming effect on me. It induces my mind to focus and be productive.

My sister-in-law said after she wakes she must get out of bed, otherwise she’ll get a headache. But I find the time when the mind begins to wake to be a magical moment. Memories, emotions and new thoughts reemerge together. Feelings come back, and sometimes with a line or two, or maybe a little tune. They don’t ask to be written down; and if I reach for a pen I disturb the delicate veil between consciousness and sleep and the magic is gone. To savor and listen and feel–although I don’t know anything about meditation, I suppose this may come close to some aspects of it.

Higgins and Doolittle

Maybe marbles are what I need to put inside my mouth. I cannot roll my “r”s. Sometimes it is an effort to say words that begin with or contain “w” and “v”; but “r” is especially difficult, if not impossible. It is because these articulations are not present in Cantonese, which is my mother tongue.

When I don’t pronounce words correctly people misunderstand me and my poetry (poultry). I used to live in Danville (Denver), and people wonder how I commuted to work in San Francisco every day. Wall/war, food/fool, etc. The toughest yet, are “coin” and “corn”.

Jack Foley listens to my reading and points out the subtle differences in pronunciation. Movement and placement of the tongue are crucial in delivering the right sound. Today I practice my “r”s with my tongue rolled up but each time it unfurls it goes flat without a ring.