did you also feel
a certain recognition? || kinship, homecoming?
I’m hyper-vigilant of dark patterns—tricks embedded in web design to get a user to do something they didn’t mean to. When making online purchases, I always uncheck the box that says, “add me to the newsletter,” but somehow it never seems to matter. Soon enough, the brand’s name pops up in my inbox, bringing with it a surge of righteous annoyance at my careful attention’s futility.
But I recently had the occasion of being glad I ended up on a newsletter. It was for The Lost Church, a non-profit performance space in North Beach that I visited for the first time last month to watch poet Silvi Alcivar perform with the Wave Chamber Collective. You can find my haiku about that here:
I adored the intimate feel of the space and their eclectic offerings. It hosts anything from stand-up to drag variety shows to open mic nights with the theme “you’re going to die” (very my vibe, bummed I missed that one). So when I received an email with an overview of upcoming performances, I was excited to browse, trusting they’d have something of interest. What caught my eye was this:
This caught my attention for a few reasons:
He’s a fellow first-gen mixed kid, and I want to support folks in my community
The description of his music sounded right up my alley of what I like to listen to and sing. I also discovered it aligns well with my inspirations for songwriting (yet another new hobby I’m trying to cultivate)
I’ve been toying with the idea of a solo trip in the winter to the UK or Ireland to catch a starling murmuration. I’m nervous about the prospect of traveling alone, so I thought it’d be lovely to form a connection with someone who could provide recommendations or be a familiar face to say hello to during my travels
I went to the show with
, and it was delightful. It started with a set by Peña, followed by Chris Wong’s after an intermission. During sets, I wrote haiku, scribbling them on a ripped up program I got from the bartender.To Peña, I gave:
cherries, summertime
sweet images passed along
through peña’s crooning
And to Chris:
i hope you record
fifty-fifty sometime soon
i adored it so
&
i know each song is
coming to a close since a
gentle smile appears
I chatted with each of them after their respective sets, passing along the poems. Peña kindly gave Liz a copy of his setlist when she asked for it, and he told us about his show next month at the Golden Gate Park Bandshell. Chris and I discussed how I found the show, if there’s much of an Asian community in Ireland (more than you’d think, he said), and my prospective trip in the winter (he confirmed murmurations really are spectacular). They were both so warm and kind, and the interactions left me excited to have a new connection both in the city and abroad.
I wrote the set of haiku below on my flight yesterday from San Francisco to Bishop, to visit
for the long weekend. It was a way to kick off what I hope will be a creative weekend that I’ll spend writing haiku and music. I haven’t shared these with Chris, who I wrote them about, but perhaps I will if/when I see him in Ireland.Sharing my intentions for my weekend or my winter on Substack is an attempt to hold myself accountable to following through with them. So to my loved ones reading this—you’re my obligators. Please ask me later if I booked my tickets to Dublin and if I finished drafts of the songs Sarah (It All Started With You) and Benjamin.
birds of a feather
i was expecting
chocolate, stained wood, ebony
when i approached you
-
but instead i found
moss, honey, genmaicha
in your hazel eyes
-
just a touch lighter
than my own. once we were close
standing face-to-face
-
did you also feel
a certain recognition?
kinship, homecoming?
-
our eyes, almond-ish
our skin, turmeric in milk
littered with freckles?
-
when in ireland
do you get the same questions
as me in the states?
-
the “where are you from?”
“no, where are you really from?”
or is that just me?
-
what about comments?
“you’re not really asian though”
“you’re so exotic”
-
“i just love hapas”
does it make your skin crawl too?
make you want to hide?
-
we didn’t talk long
maybe just four, five minutes
so i didn’t ask
-
a first impression
just wasn’t quite the right time
for all of those thoughts
-
so instead i’ll hope
our paths cross in ireland
maybe this winter
-
when i go in search
of starling murmurations
in the countryside
-
maybe in dublin
i’ll find in you a different
bird of a feather
-
a little semblance
of familiarity
a vague sense of home