One day I hope to be this good...

Definitely stole the post title from Danny. :)

Spit in the Mud... go on, try it, it's fun...

About two weeks ago, one of my best friends, Hosanna Wong, approached me about joining her in starting a ministry team called Spit in the Mud (SITM). The team would aim to use spoken word poetry (or spitting) to reach out to youth groups, camps, and schools to show God's love and messages. We spitballed (pun intended) for a while about how we would do it, and then she talked to our good friend and my future roommate Danny Sugimoto about adding to the team his own flare of spoken word.
All of us had already been practicing a spit skit that Hosanna wrote for chapel at Hope International University, so we all had a ballpark idea of what it would kind of be like. We performed the piece "We Will Be Different" in chapel and it went amazingly well.
We now have at least one school and a few churches asking us to come out there to speak and we haven't even started doing PR yet. This has just been an amazing opportunity and it's only just begun.
For those who happen to read my blog and also have a Facebook, we have a page, just search for "Spit in the Mud." Please, feel free to contact us for any sort of setting.
Oh, and here's the video of "We Will Be Different," we have a better version (but still not great) but we haven't had the time to upload it yet.
Thanks so much for reading.

"hear it"

hear it,
feel it.
poet.

"Watterson For President"

"April is the cruelest month--"
but it's also Poetry Month (thank you Academy of American Poets). Many poets celebrate this time by writing as much poetry as they can, the goal is to write one piece every day. While I was too caught up in other things to attempt this, I tip my hat as far and low as I can to Danny Sugimoto.
However, since I found a spare hour today, I wrote a piece to share.

"Watterson For President"
4/14/10

And they say there's no hope.
They cry in the streets that this is just how it is.
The only way.
Well baby, I see skies of blue and that gives me a new hope.
Because in the face of the easy path,
the dark path,
Skywalker didn't just say "anger's easier,"
he chose the meeker side of things.
And in a world with "too few role models"
and "a stupid game" called war,
I'll start a revolution of playing peace,
even if it's only me and two comic characters...
because
we all gotta start somewhere.

 I enjoy the idea of this one, not as much as the execution. For a better understanding read this.

"Bet Me If You Can"

I am a gambler,
see me roll.
Stakes high,
chips fly,
odds rise against me.

I'll take the risk no matter the
loss--
cost me a beat,
toss in a heart,
I'm all in.

It's nature,
or addiction--
either way,
the math won't add
and I will lose.
But you
fold,
and I watch your back get smaller.

Question:
is it
you won't
or can't
go all in, too?

Drop the poker face,
it's just me, you,
and the dice.
And yes, the risk is
high,
but so is the prize.

So let's see those
cards, baby,
and take this town like Rain Man.

"How Not to Read"

I tried, I did

To not read in

But there are only so many

Constants and vowels

You can get before you have words

And I have pages

It could be great, I know

But words don't always show

Truths.

F in din gHo wA llth ePie cesF it

A correction to my last post--
I have been struggling for the last three to four weeks with my newest poem (spoken). And for a while the major issue was I couldn't find my own voice. I realized my philosophy contrary to Stephen King's (he always does end up being right, doesn't he?) had filled my brain with another's voice (Rives) and everything I was writing sounded like something he would say.
I tried desperately to fight this and I started to listen to some well-written rap (as given to me by Todd Hicks) which centered primarily on Lupe Fiasco's The Cool. This helped me to stray away from the un-rhythmic talking of Rives back to my own style which is grounded a bit more in a set flow and rhyming pattern.
So, King wins again. I bow my pen down in reverence...
However, I'm still struggling with this piece. And it really has been a tremendous learning experience. I've always admired Uncle Stevie for his ability to understand the craft of writing and why he is successful and so darn good at what he does (see On Writing for more information, again when it comes to writing, in my book King is one of the greats). But similar to him, I have been learning what it is that makes my old pieces ("Words" and "What Makes a Man?") so good. Besides the topics and the content, what about my style of the craft works? What works better?
I first struggled with putting too much of myself into the piece. I was telling too much of my story and while my experience leads my subjects, I am not the subject. I don't want to be the subject. I don't like attention. At all. Ever. It makes me feel awkward. Maybe because I've been ignored for most of my life (my parents are shaking their heads right now "No! It's cause you talk too much!!"). Anyway, bottom line my pieces are supposed to be universal and applicable to every audience member/reader. And while personal testimony helps, the vague experience that can be heard behind it is stronger.
I've also learned that my spoken poetry needs to be a bit ADD. It needs to jump around a little, be a little vague while still teaching and driving home one point. But it needs to move and move quickly in a flowing, transitional way.
Well, I don't know if any of that made sense, but there is so much learning when it comes to writing that I don't even realize occurred, and happens so subconsciously. Anyway, with how much of a rollercoaster this poem has been so far (I'm still not done, not even half way) I couldn't stand looking at this blog and seeing my last post completely contradict the way I feel now and what I've learned, so I had to correct myself and once again throw my lot in with Uncle Stevie.

Also, I've learned that the father to great writing is constant unsatisfaction. It leads to so many more wonderful and beautiful experiences and pushes me to rise away from complacency and an " eh, good enough" attitude.

I guess I'm still f in din gho wa llth epie cesf it together...hopefully they come together soon, if not you may be reading another post in five weeks that expresses more of my frustration.

Call Me a Crock Pot and Dub Me Simmering

I find myself very often in a limbo state. Not really suffering from writer's block but not over-flowing with ideas. In these moments of confusion, Stephen King says that he likes to go on walks (and it was on these walks, this limbo, that he was hit by a car...not a very promising thought).
I, however, have always found walks or any other sort of remaining-in-my-own-head activities as very restricting and not very useful. And it's not very often that I disagree with the King, so this is a rare moment.
I guess it's like Dr. Spencer Reid from Criminal Minds says, "Repetitive thinking is a death knell for the brain. For complete brain usage, diverse stimulation is the key." This show has seriously become my new addiction, it is truly incredible. If you've never watched it, do so now.
Anyway. So, in limbo, I find myself retreating into books or more recently spoken word poetry on YouTube. And it was this wonderful invention that showed me such amazing poets as Shihan, Gemineye, and the amazing Rives.
My brother has told me my entire life that he loves listening to me talk, the way I talk and what not I guess. I've never really understood this, until I started to watch Rives. I love the way his mind works, I love his craft and his ability to use words and I love the way he talks.
For more information on Rives click here, YouTube "Rives," or just watch these amazing pieces he did for TED.






He's definitely one of many ingredients I toss into my crock pot, just to let it simmer and see what comes out. Also check out "Kite" by Rives it's one of my favorites.

"Speak to Be Heard"

"Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow..." - Lawrence Clark Powell

Last night I performed (for the first time) spoken word at my school's coffee house night. It went really well. Amazing in fact.

Figured I'd post here to share, though of course, hearing it is better than reading it.

If you couldn't make it last night, the bolded "words" are where I threw my fist in the air and had the audience shout "words."

"Words"

12/10/09

Last night I had a dream you see

In my slumber I watched a rumble and a tumble

Atop a hilltop I saw a battle in a valley

A war waged between only one enraged army

One people

All soldiers under one kingdom

Fighting for their quote end quote freedom

Men rose and they chose to slaughter their daughters

To burn down their brothers, and murder their fathers

Swords clanged and they clashed as little girls took up the sword as they had been taught

And blood soaked in the field and bones covered the grounds

And I looked all around to discover this hill wasn’t really a hill at all it was a cloud

And the valley was the earth

And the soldiers, my brothers

The army, my people

And I heard a small voice say to me,

“Now you see how dark the ways of man,

How violent the blaze of man,

How temporary the days of man.

Now you believe the pain of the sword,

The strain it affords,

And the gain it ignores.

Now you must act to bring about change

To lead a new phase

And use words to save the day.”

And I fell to the earth as the cloud disappeared

And the atmosphere set me ablaze to start again

It cleansed and it purified all my wants and desires

And I exploded to the earth still set on fire

Ready in hand with a brand new pen and a sharp new tongue

Ready to undo what man has done.

And I spoke, as I had been spoken to:

“Take heart, dear people,

Take heed, my brothers,

And I ask you, where does it lead?

This sword that you swore would be your protection

Has it filled its lofty position?

You’ve saved your wives and your children for sure

And you’ve shown the whole world how great the man you are

But at what expense? At who’s expense? At who’s incentive?

And can you recompense the pain you’ve gained from?

Sure, we’re the civilized society, the burger with fries society, it’s all-about-the-size society, the means are justified by the prize society

But what you’re really just saying is we’re the animals with supplies society

The beasts with the means

And if you want to disagree

I ask you to look the children and the wives of the other side in the eyes and tell them your right, tell them your holy, tell them you’ve decided they and their loved ones have to die!

Because you know what? The difference between the sword and the pen?

Is the sword really kills

The pen? You can throw your metaphors, analogies, imageries and see what sticks

But in the end, the only time the pen brings physical death is when it is misused, misread

By angry men, by blinded men, with small-picture means

Who think the only thing that can save their earthly fortunes is death

Because “murder protects and words just collect into nothing"

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.”

And when he speaks I don’t think he means battles and violence because those actions end things, and actions that are words start things.

Again, if you wanna disagree, let’s take a look through history

At the power of

Words like

Taking a seat at the front of the bus

Showing the world a hundred years haven’t changed us

You call us naïve idealists, hippies just here to protest

And I’m just saying, we’re just showing love

And love is actions, and love is

Words like

Taking a stand against an oppression

Rising a people to march an objection

A protest to taxation, taxation on salt

That’s all

A tax on salt and men rose up

But when the other kiddies knock over our sand castle

When we believe the lie that a good defense is a good offense, a good vengeance

We ignore the power of actions, the strength in

Words like

Teaching the people there’s more than they know

Showing them all how fast love can grow

Speaking to them to turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

Using that love and those words to break down an empire

And exercising silence in order to sacrifice

So tell me: how rightly, how mighty is your violence?

How strong is your sword?

Can it weather the storm of Truth and words?

Because actions bring consequences, you reap what you sow, and retaliation will kill you

So you kill to protect

You murder to heal

Fight fire with fire when fire doesn’t put out fire it just starts more

And you fall to your sword

When you should rise to your words.”

And by the end of my dream there was this strong sound, this rising, fighting to breath sound, that echoed all around and shattered the bones on the ground

And it sounded a little like:

Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words!

But to be honest I’m not really a pacifist

Because I do battle with words

I duel with adjectives and verbs

And I can fence with sentences

And for those who don’t, I don’t blame 'em

Because we’ve all heard the lie, but talk isn’t cheap, it’s hard

And choosing to fight is easy, and typically the hard thing is the right thing

Or so I’ve been told

And to be really honest I don’t know if I am right

But I know that a life is sacred

And I know that violence follows violence follows violence

So what then follows talk and actions?

So this is a call for change

This is a call to rearrange our instincts

To re-think our choices, our voices

This is a call for words!

So there's that one, and here's this one...

"What Makes a Man?"

1/10/10

What makes a man?

There’s gotta be an answer

It can’t just be some non-descript question, paper slip certificate, fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude, empty lip the principal gave me to make me grow up

I don’t believe it’s some useless threat my parents threw in my face so I’d face the consequences of my ride on the fences of responsibility

Words that float through air without a care and dare you to wish, dare you to dream they could be real when really they’re just lies

It can’t be that

Not rumors, urban legends, mythologies about ideology, philosophies that tell you you might as well be trying to learn to fly with wings made from wax and ignorance

So what makes a man?

Business suit attire

With a tie too tight to breathe

He’s up at three, to the station by four-forty-five for a two hour bus ride to work

From seven to six

And by the end of his eleven hour shift?

His slicked back hair is soft from the wear of working under a hard man, a merciless man

Because as the assistant to a business man

He’s not given the respect he deserves as his own man

And while often it seems like just fate, he’s often cheated out of his lunch break

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the strength to complain about the difficulty?

Or the love to refrain because he’s got to provide for a family?

What makes a man?

Foxhole box to keep him in

Buddies and comrades by his side

Blonde set in a snapshot hiding in his pocket

He’s got a lot to live for

See she is going to be his wife

Soon as he gets home

But the phone calls they get to make to each other every six weeks aren’t enough

She’s all he thinks about, all he talks about, all he fights for, lives for, be willing to die for her

Whistle and thud and a grenade is laid down to the ground gently

Right behind him

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the selfishness to run so he can see her?

Or the selflessness to jump so he can save them?

What makes a man?

Two part time jobs and a cushy home to boot

Life seems great, life seems grand

And with two parents who pay, life is dandy

Not rolling in cash, not many bills to pay

Gas in the tank and whatever other useless stuff he can rake in

Times are slim, but for him? He’s still getting a DVD a week

And some new clothes on the weekend

But then he’s reminded about the poverty of the society of Africa

And how their health and wealth isn't the same as his health and wealth

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the excuse he makes that it's in another man's hands?

Or the choice he makes that the responsibility is in his own hands?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

I think I know.

And maybe you do too.

But let me impart what I’ve learned so far.

So what makes a man?

Love makes a man

I was once told and I believe that if you ask what is the loving thing to do, you will be right 95% of the time

And the rest of the time you will be striving to find what is right, and that makes a man too

See we all have this delusion that being a man is not the same as being a gentleman

And the gentlemanly thing to do, definitely isn't the manly thing to do

But what makes a man?

Gentleness

Kindness

Self-control

A searching man once made a list of all the thing’s a man is

Wrote 'em on post-its and stuck 'em where he could not forget it

And his ever-growing list ever-grew into a tree of life and knowledge

And he picked off the fruits and he learned

A man is responsible

A man is respectable, respectful

A man is humble

A man is self-less

A man is self-sacrificial

And a man is a lot of other things we don’t think we can be

Something’s that are just too subjective, he can be it, I can’t be it, we’ll just leave it

But a man is wise

And a man is patient

And a man is courteous, honest, chivalrous, willing, loyal, dedicated

And a man is sincere

And he’s quick to listen and he’s slow to speak

And a man is a lot of other things that actually come easy

Because a man is prayerful

And a man is peaceful and comforting and strong

But not in the way you’re thinking of strong

Because a man is strong [side note: held fist to heart]

And a man is joyful

And he’s pure in thought and action!

And a man is vigorous in his pursuit of goodness and righteousness!

And a man is steadfast!

And he holds to the truth no matter what, no matter the consequences, no matter the insults or the pride holding him back

Because you know what? Of all the fruits on the tree the searching man made

There was one he forbade to never let go

And it is: a man is content with Jesus as his everything

Because what makes a man?

God makes a man

God fear, God near, God here [side note: touched heart]

For God so loved the world that he believed in man

He believes in man

And they say God won’t give us more than we can handle

And this is what He’s given us

So what can we handle?

See we’re all searching for what a man is

Whether you’re male or you’re female

And I don’t have all the answers yet

Because there are too many I don’t want to forget, and too many more to explore

So I want to leave you with these four simple words

With this quest that should help you in life with your struggles and strife

Are you ready?

Because it’s a tough one, it’s a doozy, it’s…it’s a hard one,

But it’s easier if you're searching, if you’re asking:

What makes a man?

And I think you know.

Miss Hiedi Johnson asked me after what the four words are. She asked if it was "God makes a man." I told her, to me, they are "What makes a man?" and also "I think you know." That's because it leaves it as more of a quest and a searching. I think it needs to be a discovery rather than a sermon a man decides to believe. There's more faith in searching.

However, she's right: "God makes a man" is four words and that's perfect and works beautifully as if I had planned it :), as do any word before "makes a man" ("Love makes a man," "Responsibility makes a man," etc etc etc) so that all works, too.

And that's it. That's all I got...

Plan to write another soon...now? We'll see...need an idea, need an idea...

"You Have Exchanged Nothing"

I have reached a new chapter in my life. And I don't think it's sunk in just yet exactly where I am.

Two weeks ago today (12/25/09) at about 9:30 pm I officially completed my first novel.

188, 12pt font, single spaced pages. (374 double spaced)

86, 698 words.

3 1/2 years.

Blood.

Sweat.

Tears.

And while it is probably one of the greatest accomplishments of my 20 year life right now (I finished the first draft of my first book when I was 20!), I am not satisfied.

But maybe that is because I don't know what's to come.

I am not satisfied because I know it's not ready. I know I have a lot of work to get done on it before I feel comfortable letting anyone else (Chris excluded) look at it, breathe on it, experience it.

I failed the ending. It didn't flow right, it wasn't descriptive, full enough, definitely wasn't long enough. My intended goal was 200 pages, roughly 100,000.

I missed the mark.

But it's only draft one, and draft one is complete.

I've decided to re-read over Stephen King's section of his book On Writing about revising and editing. If you haven't read On Writing you should, even if you don't like King. You will learn to respect him because of this book. Because he lays out why it is that he is so successful, and it's not a fluke. Even if you're not a writer, you can appreciate this book (my dad did).

King tells me that the first step in revising a work, building draft two, is to not look at, touch, or even think about the book for 6 weeks...minimum.

When something that is so short for a novel (King keeps talks about 400-500 page manuscripts with 350,000 word counts) and it's taken up 3 1/2 years of your life, you want to get it done. To keep working it, scrubbing it, cleaning it, perfecting it.

But I trust him.

So I dropped it.

But it still hasn't left my mind, and that'll take a few days.

According to websites I just browsed, one said that I am definitely classed as a hard-bound novel (25,000-150,000 words, 100-600 double spaced pages) as opposed to a paper-back novel (35,000-80,000 words, 140-320 double spaced pages). So I'm on the shorter end of a hard cover, and that's comforting.

Another site said some publishers prefer a minimum of 70,000 words for a first novel, while others won't take anything less than 80,000, and they are less inclined to like a 110,000 word first novel.

And that gives me a lot of comfort.

But,

I'm dropping it.

To get my mind off my baby, my child, that terribly ugly old thing over there (I have a terrible knack of comparing myself to King and he says that if a novel shouldn't take you longer than 3 months to finish you're doing something wrong, I did that 14 times over...).

Anyway, yet again to get my mind off that blasted book I began writing something new yesterday. And to be honest...the first scene is really cool. The story telling technique isn't perfect yet, I haven't worked out the exact nature of the big reveal for the scene, not sure if my method was flawless, but the idea, the characters, the direction it has the potential to go into (since I have no idea what this is at all, a few vague ideas but nothing more) seems very promising, and very fun.

So that is my life as a writer. Exactly like my new story: a lot of promise, very fun, a direction with a lot of potential, and when I'm completely honest with myself: not as bad as I think it is.

Now, the other part of my life.

I have started a new chapter, a new beginning, a new facet of a coal-transforming-diamond...

Over the last few months—

My gosh this is a long post! Sorry...

Over the last few months I have had this incredible face-to-face confrontation with God. Closer than I've ever been. I can feel him breathing.

I went through a drastic revelation from God back in October that challenged me to disregard all of my searches for my own happiness, my own love and to search after him with that passion and vigorous pursuit.

Because of the weight of that night and what I felt and heard Him say, I have sworn to never look back, to keep moving forward and always strive to become the man that He wants me to be.

And that is one of the things we have been talking about: "What does it mean to be a man, versus a boy?"

Aswell...

"Do you love Me more than these?"

"God first, before anything"

"God helps those who help others"

And the idea of "Steadfastness"

There has been sacrifice, submission, a drastic change in my prayer/Bible-reading life, and I like to think a drastic change in my attitude and presence.

I think that for many months, years God was preparing me for that night. He was steadily moving me toward that night where He could swoop in and cut to the quick with Words.

It has been an amazing adventure so far and I know I'm barely out of the exposition (look up a plot diagram once in a while, why don't ya?)

But unlike my writing life, I see the direction for this chapter, I can see the promise more clearly. And I see the potential worry that could sink in with the rising action to come (finding a job, moving out of my parents house, finding a wife, getting married, leading a family, paying off my loans), but then I just "consider the ravens" (see Luke 12:24) and remember that no matter what, I'm set, I'm safe, I've got back up through it all.

Life is moving, developing, dynamic changes are coming and have been underway. This is not a time for complacency or laziness, but growth and action. The direction has been set, and the promise is a beautiful facet with the possibility for more.

“Birth is the sudden opening of a window, through which you look out upon a stupendous prospect. For what has happened? A miracle. You have exchanged nothing for the possibility of everything.”

- William MacNeile Dixon

(sketches of the Hope Diamond)