A quick little snippet: Hi-Fructose Magazine (I’m a happy subscriber) has a first-look at several of Ron English’s latest work in Los Angeles.
Archive for April, 2008
29
Apr
Ron English in L.A
29
Apr
Regular
Apparently I update on a bi-weekly basis. That’s really scary.
Debby
heyy!
yesterday was supposed to be your biweekly blog update XD
Allen
Really?
Do I do that?
Debby
yeah! :O
yeah, hahah XD
Allen
Holy crap
Wait no
Today is
Oh my god
My calendar is red the whole way down this month
So yeah, this is my last week of class, and I don’t have time to sleep starting tonight. Can I pull 3 all nighters in a row? Find out, in the next chapter!
15
Apr
Washed Ashore
Recently – really, for a long while now, I feel like I’ve lost the flow of things.
This past Saturday, I attended NYCAASC as a volunteer, since I had a blast the previous year. I had a blast this year as well, with familiar faces, and so many more unfamiliar ones. I mean: I had fun, I learned a lot and I met more great people. But NYCAASC means a lot more to me than an Asian American Conference.
To be honest, I’m extremely wary of ‘community’ events. Race centric? Exclusive? I’ve seen the “Angry Asian Man” fiasco far too many times, to be frank. NYCAASC was my first, and I have been spoiled by it. Hosted by NYU and Columbia’s respective Asian-American student organizations, we’re so liberal, we’d give Dick Cheney another 5 heart attacks. My points of view have been forced way open since last year. And let me tell you, having your fragile beliefs trampled on is so fucking gratifying. Pick up the pieces, and put them in their respectable places in a more open mind.
What if we had the ability to begin anew every year? To take our worn out sneakers, wipe off the dirt and grime and all the paint stains, place them back on our weathered heels, and march off in a slightly different direction: wouldn’t that be great? Maybe. Maybe not. I’m only human anyway, so all I can do is look back.
Mornings. Consciousness ebbs like a wayward tide. Sights, sounds, feelings; they all blur together and serve to bludgeon my already numb mind.
It’s some sort of vicious cycle, really. The late night sessions into the 4A.M territories, and the 7A.M alarm. It’s always the same, the procrastination, drunken orgies of lonely complatency – prodding the puddle, but never mopping the mess till the end. Is it just some sort of masochistic tendency both we and I have? Is there something fetishistic about stretching the limits of our bodies, and torturing ourselves with caffeine and all night jam sessions of the studious kind?
You bet. We’re college students.
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