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Sun | November 27, 2005
My Sunday Introspection
Yesterday I thought, 'What if God was one of us? Just a slob like one of us. Just a strangers on the bus.' Then I thought.... Someone should make this into a song.
Posted by Dan at 10:44 PM | Comments (0)
Tue | November 22, 2005
next meeting
The next meeting will be on Wednesday, November 30th at 6:30 pm.
It will be at Space Cafe on 32nd Street by 5th Ave. The northeast corner.
Here are the prompts:
1. write about a family gathering during the holiday season.
2. write about your thoughts on spirituality.
As always you can take these prompts in whatever way you choose-- fiction or nonfiction, or go off on a tangent, or write about something else entirely.
Posted by Lily at 09:36 PM
Sun | November 20, 2005
My Sunday Introspection
If I were a nun, I would buy rockets. Then I would challenge the Flying nun (aka Sister Bertrille) to an all nun air race. I would likely win the race because I have rockets while the flying nun only has large flaps on her hat, and because I would pay the other nuns to beat up the Flying nun before the race starts.
Posted by Dan at 10:23 PM | Comments (2)
Mon | November 14, 2005
Nov 12 meeting
date: Saturday, November 12
time: 3 pm
place: Oms, 156 East 45th btw Lex and 3rd
attendees: Lily Huang, Nina Huang, Heru Mafudi
At Oms, the dark wooden seats tuck under the tables.
"Everything is so compact," said Nina.
"Asians don't like to take up space," I said.
She wrote a rant about customer service. Heru wrote a eulogy to Anaikin Skywalker from the point of view of Luke. I tried to finish my cupcake story from the previous meeting.
Posted by Lily at 03:44 PM
Sun | November 13, 2005
Eulogy, 11-12-05, Oms Cafe, snug, wrapped in seaweed
What can I say about my father, Anakin Skywalker. He was an inspiration to me in the last days of his life. The Force was strong in him despite the Emperor's evil, dark, seductive side. True, he tried to destroy me several times in his day. Well, I though his stormtrooper minions were too aggressive. Like the time Father ordered the execution of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru on Tatooine, destroyed my sister's planet of Alderaan and systematically executed my brethren Jedi. All this I forgive because, in truth, he was kind-hearted underneath all that armor.
Yet, my father had a wonderful sense of wonder and curiosity as a boy. As a child slave to Watto, a junk trader, his ability to fix and engineer droids became impeccable. So much so that to this day, C3PO is one of my loyal protocol servants. Another trait he developed was becoming a skilled pilot and pod driver. I never encountered such stories of winning races Father ran through Beggar's Canyon in and around Mos Eisley.
Talent aside, he was very close to his mother, Shmi, who later lost her life as a prisoner to the Sand People. His discovery by Jedi Master, Qui-Gon Jinn as a padawan Jedi enveloped his young being. The council did not see then any potential in him, especially, Jedi Master Yoda. Never the less, Qui-Gon Jinn endeavored to proceed with Anakin's training. As you all well know, my friends, he wasn't a great learner, always impetuous and a bit reckless. Just like myself. However, his anger slowly turn into rage which became self-evident by the slaughter of the Tusken Raiders - the Sand People. It was later found in time that Anakin provided for the orphans left behind at the village well into adulthood. These contradictions always accompanied him.
As I stand by the funeral pyre, we witness a man conflicted by what he stood for and his prodigy meant to withhold. In the moment in which I lost my hand during the struggle at Bespin, he confessed to me that, he, was my father. "Search your feelings," he said. I couldn't barely feel my right hand, yet, at that moment, I knew he lost the same limb. Jedi masters Obi-wan Kenobi and Yoda were right. The Force surrounds and penetrates us yet never confirms suspicions or whims. It is ashame that I've spent nearly half my life battling the Empire, to see several worlds destroyed, epic destruction of naval vessels on numerous star systems, only to shed a single tear for a father I hardly knew, yet love. I can stand to you all that I forgive this man.
Posted by Heru at 01:22 PM | Comments (0)
Sat | November 12, 2005
Gift of the Dragon
On her mother's thirty-ninth birthday Ellen bought two cupcakes. One was chocolate with a cloud of white icing, garnished with fudge pieces and a maraschino cherry. The other was vanilla with pink icing and a layer of coconut flakes.
The cupcakes were put in a tidy white box and then in a plastic bag. Ellen carried the bag by the handles for two blocks, but she worried about the cakes becoming damaged. She took the box in her hands and wrapped the bag around it.
As she arrived at their apartment she did not know whether she could go through with it. Her mother might not receive the gift well. She criticized any unnecessary expenditures. They had always lived with the feeling that there was not enough money.
“We have enough,” Ellen had said one day.
“You never know what can happen,” said her mother. “One of us could get in an accident and we would have to pay the medical bill.”
And yet Ellen knew her mother wanted the cupcake, and that she wanted it from Dragon’s Tea Bakery. She would not have been able to explain how she knew, but she felt that her mother desired nothing more.
Ellen had discovered Dragon's Tea Bakery on one of her meanders to Captain Fresh, the local grocery store. The bakery's glass façade, with segments of frosted glass on the top and the bottom, made it look as if it were partially obscured by a fog. If someone happened to open the door, the smell of cookies wafted onto the street.
She kept it to herself for awhile, but one Sunday when she and her mother were walking to the grocery store and they had been getting along well for some time, Ellen had said, "let’s go this way."
Her mother fretted the whole three blocks. "Where are we going?" she asked again and again. "We’re going to get lost." Ellen did not reply. They arrived at the bakery window.
"Look at these, Mom," she said.
They looked at the cakes. A chocolate coated square cake with ribbons of white icing and a cluster of glazed kiwi and strawberry. A cheesecake topped with raspberries and dusted with confectioner’s sugar. A white layer cake with marzipan irises. The periwinkle and goldenrod colors faded gracefully across the petals even more beautifully than real flowers. Finally, the cupcakes, with creamy heaps of icing and every variation of topping.
"They are a waste of money," her mother said.
"Looking is free," murmured Ellen, as they walked away.
In future weeks they changed their route to pass Dragon’s Tea. "This street is nicer-- safer," said her mother. Ellen stared at the sidewalk, mostly, as they walked. They slowed down as they passed the bakery. Sometimes they stopped. In those moments looking at the cakes, Ellen felt that she took in a breath of life, happiness, and freedom.
Remembering this feeling Ellen walked through the teal door to their apartment. She smiled as she saw her mother. "Hi Mom," she said.
"Hello," said her mother. "What is that?"
"Happy Birthday," she said, handing her the package.
Her mother unwrapped the bag, and paused to take in the Dragon's Tea Bakery logo. She took out the box. It was sealed with a gold sticker. "Oh," said Ellen reflexively, who had not seen the shopkeeper seal the box.
Her mother picked at the sticker with her nail and carefully peeled it back. She opened the box and looked inside. Her lips parted and she nearly smiled. "Hmm," she said. She reached in and took out one cupcake, and then the other.
"I don’t like coconut," she said.
"Oh," said Ellen with embarrassment, "I got one for myself, and one for you."
"Oh. Okay." She put the cakes back in the box. "Thank you," she said, without looking up.
For dinner they had white rice mixed with chopped chicken and green peppers. Immediately afterwards, Ellen hopped over to the box, saying, "let’s eat the cupcakes!"
"Wash the dishes first," her mother said. Ellen washed the dishes. She knew then that she had relaxed too soon, and started to rebuild the wall around herself.
"I don’t want to eat them right away," her mother said. There was no use protesting.
The next day passed at its usual crawling pace, typing numbers into the books at the accountant’s office. An hour after dinner that night, their eyes met. "What?" her mother asked.
"Do you want to eat the cupcakes?" she asked.
"No," her mother said. "Have a little patience."
Ellen went to the refrigerator and took out the box. She opened the box and looked inside.
"You can eat yours if you want," said her mother. Ellen closed the box and put it back.
Another day passed and then another. In their living room her mother sat on the green plaid couch. Ellen thought she could see her mother aging. Her eyes were black and her skin was smooth, but her hair was dull and streaked with white.
On the fourth night Ellen took the box out again. She took out the coconut cupcake. "They’ll get stale," Ellen said.
She picked the cupcake up and bit into it. Her mother watched. They did not look at each other as Ellen ate the cake. Finally she asked, "is it good?"
"Yes," said Ellen.
"Is it stale?"
"A little."
A week after her birthday Ellen’s mother had still not eaten the cake. Ellen resolved that she would say something if she did not eat the cake that night. That night she stared at the lamp next to the green plaid couch. She counted the roses on the linen lampshade. Her mother did not eat the cake. Ellen did not say anything.
The next night Ellen’s mother ate the chocolate cupcake. The maraschino cherry had bled into and stained the white icing. It was stale.
"Is it stale?" Ellen asked.
"No," said her mother. "Too much sugar," she added.
The days grew cold and the evenings darkened early. As Ellen walked home from the subway stop sometimes she went out of her way to see Dragon’s Tea in the twilight. Inside there were beaded square placemats like a golden diamond on every table.
One day she went in. The door chimed as she entered. The light had gone out in the glass case and there was a mist on the edge.
Ellen gave the woman three dollars and sixty five cents. She held the beautiful fistful of sugar in her hand. Stretching her jaws she took in as much as she could. She swallowed and took another bite in the same motion. She gulped at the cake like a drowning person at air.
It grazed her throat as it went down. She could not get the forbidden sweetness down fast enough. Then she felt as if she had swallowed it whole and it sat, whole, in her stomach.
She returned home, carrying this secret. She said nothing.
Posted by Lily at 06:42 PM | Comments (3)
Thu | November 10, 2005
Wong Kar-Wei: In Mood for Love, An accidental discovery
The Asian Writing Club has a prompt for review for Wong Kar-Wei's 2046 but Netflix has not released that movie yet. However, on the Netflix and Amazon sites, two phrases for one of the Wong Kar-Wei's another movie, In Mood for Love piques my attention - "Love in the absence of fate" and "It is about a love affair that should happen, but didn't." I check the movie for rental thinking that I am going to watch an elegant Hong Kong/ Chinese version of "Casablanca" or "Lost in Translation". In Mood for Love is also part of an informal trilogy that includes 2046, so I am OK in picking this movie for the writing exercise. In Mood for Love is much more than I thought it would be. It is about love that is ethereal but nevertheless very real and with a deeper understanding between two souls. It is also about decency, and also about lack of courage to rebel against the rules of society. The opening line in the movie says it so aptly:
"It is a restless moment. She has kept her head lowered to give him a chance to come closer. But he could not, for lack of courage. She turns and walks away."
Winner of many awards that includes 2000 Cannes Film Festival, In the Mood for Love is a tour de force by Wong Kar-Wei. Juxtaposed by the repetitive nature of the movie scenes like a very delicate poem with high-low pitch multi-lingual music, striking cinematographic light play and beautiful cheongsam dresses, it is a story of two neighboring apartment dwellers, Mr. Chow (Tony Leung) and Mrs. Chan (Maggie Cheung) who discover that their ever-absent spouses are having an affair. These lonely souls become friends and then fall in love - but they keep it platonic, undefined, and never attempt to cement it. The strength of their love is undeniable in one of the scene where Mrs. Chan breaks down sobbing in one of their mock breakup but then their restrain is often repeated in the movie by a self-imposed rule:
"We will never be like them!"
But why, they deserved better. I disagree with "It is about a love affair that should happen, but didn't" and agree with "It is a restless moment. She has kept her head lowered to give him a chance to come closer. But he could not, for lack of courage. She turns and walks away." Maybe, Wong Kar-Wei is more complex and cryptic. Experience the movie yourself - I have not spoiled the story for you by the review.
Cross plotted at my blog.
Posted by Kush at 02:22 AM | Comments (0)
Mon | November 07, 2005
next meeting
The next meeting will be on Saturday, November 12th at 3 pm.
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Location:
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Oms, New York's only rice ball cafe. The place is small, but it will be fine for our purposes. It is worth going just to try the omusubi.
156 East 45th Street, between Lexington and 3rd Ave. Northeast of Grand Central. Nearby subways are the 4/5/6, 7 or S.
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Prompt:
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Write a speech or a toast for a friend's wedding, in which you tell a story about the friend. This can be fiction, nonfiction, or a mix. It can be a friend, a sibling, or a character in your novel.
OR
Write a eulogy for a friend or relative in which you tell a story about the person.
OR
Finish something you started at a previous meeting.
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Other upcoming meetings:
Wednesday, November 30th, 7 pm
Sunday in December
Posted by Lily at 12:15 AM
