Showing posts with label Kanye West. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kanye West. Show all posts

12 April 2016

LETTER FROM THE (TEXT) EDITOR 3: ON FOLDING AND CHANGING


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not quite the usual appearance of the chink. not the head accessory

In folds, I’ve approached the shaping of the blog. As seen through the personas on display in this blog, various layers, or various barriers and filters add a level of inaccessibility to the writing. These folds of sorts clothe the blog in its own seasons of which three stand out, maybe four with this present series. The teleological drive works towards a unified body of work that may partitions itself into separate frames of reference to date posts better than meta-tags or textual titles. The end product for the reader, I intend, is, again with the idea, “the mind in the act of finding what will suffice.” The dated folds become phases that clarify the progress and continued honing of the central issue of finding what is enough for a chink to be a chink for himself and not others.

I. DRAFTING AN ARCHIVE

It seems appropriate I breakdown the various phases of the blog in a series of Roman numerals, as was first favoured style of the blog. I’ll call it the first fold. Instead of the later self-effacing and bifurcated voice, the earlier posts lacked a distinct voice and erred towards a sort of food blog as identity politics rant space. I am not Eddie Huang and really don’t care about reviewing food. This we can attribute to a problem highlighted by Poorhomiewei—“Fitting in won’t ‘cost you more opportunities’”—The front of a food blog undoubtedly aimed to create a respectable and relatively interesting form that would maybe have the potential to appear on a CV. Again, holding no interest for me, the act is disgusting. But, for the sake of self-reflection, I will discuss what created the first fold and prominently features.

For one, as was the common theme of the early half of the blog, I often eat out. On 春节, again an auspicious marker, Holden, of “SHAANBEI CHINK IN CHINA(CANTO)TOWN” notoriety (the first post to crack a hundred views and the first to really launch the blog’s popularity), suggested I write a food review blog acting as a mouthpiece for my chinkdentity thoughts. It took me three or four weeks, but in the end it did happen and the first piece was the strange and weak “ORANGE ROUGE / YELLOW WHITE” post calling out a restaurant for making Chink food marketed to whitebois in Chinatown. The argument is fine and still stands: white people shouldn’t be trying to pimp out an area where Chinese people live and exploit it as an exotic getaway, as it does not benefit Chinese people at all—no chinks were in the restaurant save for me and the lesser chink (a figure we’ll get to later). This, the first post was in essence the only post in the first fold to speak of the chink problem.

Next came a post on late night / early morning drinking in ATMs on St. Laurent with the infamous (stupid) Labranda Mirash, named “NORTH KOREA, ATMS, OUZO, THE MAIN.” Again nothing important, but as Labranda featured, it’s important to note as Labranda is both dedicated fan and voyeur to the chink question. An entirely regrettable and wholly pointless post follows, “THE JOYS OF READING ON MALL SOFAS” which was written to fill the initial post per day output. Not very noteworthy.

The First Fold entirely lacks the polemical Poorhomiewei and the agreeable 党唯予, yet it still features various perversions of whiteman scripture, castigations of whiteman’s use of chink food, and initial attempts at crafting a voice. The most notable draw is then the relative proximity of the voice in these posts and the voice of the author. For any autobiographical readings, the first fold may be the best choice, but as it is the first fold, maybe it isn’t the best way to go about reading. As there are more folds, the first phase then stands as a draft stage without any real substance, but rather existing for personal archival interest. The first fold is potentially the weakest section of writing. I contemplated deleting it, but that seemed like too much work and altogether meaningless.

II. FORM WITHOUT CONTENT

I made the second fold as I probably realized after reading the “joys of reading” post that the blog needed to have a voice. Without one, Country Chink Broadsides (yes, it is in italics now) would be no more than a shock value title. On an aside, and for the benefit of explaining the second fold, the original title of the blog came from McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City—Country Chink, Big City. Notice the parallel position of ‘bright lights’ and ‘country chink.’ For whatever reason, it made sense to write an entire blogpost revolving around rap lyrics with various interjections in Chinese. I guess the second fold is the pastiche phase of CCB and continues the preemptive archival store of the blog’s components. This first post, “CAFÉ CRAWL IN LA CITÉ” still remains a favorite. Young Thug, Ezra Pound, Kanye West, Travis Scott, and the opium wars feature.

The next, and extremely important “ON EATING TACOS WITH GRINGOS” speaks to the issue of abusing other ethnicities’ food by eating it as a white idiot. The example is Labranda who ate a taco like a peanut butter sandwich mixed with a burrito. First using a butter knife to coat a tortilla with mild salsa, Labranda proceeded to drop three to four pieces of barbacoa on a tortilla of a three-inch diameter. Labranda then folded the tortilla inwards from the sides to produce a perverse white privilege burrito thing. I cannot let this go. I will never again bring white people who I don’t really like to a restaurant that isn’t run by a pasty faced ghost.

 COOKING DUMPLINGS AT 2AM AFTER CHOSEN FASTING (AND SHIT)” set the foundation for important parts of the poorhomiewei persona:
·      Disregard for grammar or conventional language
·      Aversion to all white people
·      Polyvocality in four languages
·      VENERATION OF KANYE

The second fold offers, unlike the first fold further interest in terms of allusions and intertexts, but, providing a link with the first, lacks wholly in honed language or ideas. The content does not have inherent value, but the form found in this second fold is the foundational tools of that further pleat Country Chink Broadsides.

Fold two was very much an ornament, or a game.

Also of note, the end of this fold marked the opening up of CCB to the public.

III. ODD SATIRE

The third fold overlaps with the fourth and features two poems of sorts that continue the formal play of the second fold and express a dissatisfaction at the bland style of distressed jeans + stan smith + jungle fever / rap loving blend of people at McGill.

First off is “FIVE VIEWS OF MCGILL’S MCLENNAN PREMIERE MOISSON CAFETERIA,” a quintet of prose form petrarchan sonnets that describe the boring fashion sense of white people, annoying FOBs who hold strange birthday parties in the library, and the general lack of hygiene of people who use the McLennan cafeteria. Somewhat fun, very niche.

Its sequel “IN THE STATION OF THE (MCGILL, AUS, LEACOCK) SNAX,” faux vegans, Kendrick lamar blaring white girls, and white people being weird are on display. Twelve variations on “In the Station of the Metro.”

This was a strange fold that luckily was kept to two posts. Yet, still enjoyed and appreciated. Shout out to Clhurlurleley. pat on the head. [yellow rain jacket]

IV. IMAGES?

Here, CCB took off. With the double post of “HAIL TO THE CHEEF: KEEF AND THE END OF READING WEEK” and “SHAANBEI CHINK IN CHINA(CANTO)TOWN,” CCB started using the x-large setting of blogspot pictures to give the posts some more aesthetic appeal. First picture, of course, was a nice picture of Chief Keef, wholly unrelated to anything discussed on the blog. If for anything else, Chief Keef’s appearance on the blog signals the entry of a militant pessimism of poorhomiewei, a character partly modelled on Keef. The images also follow a similar editing process. Yellow and red tones are highlighted as the images are generally put in hazier focus. This needs no explanation.

These two posts mark the beginning of a concrete poorhomiewei voice with the anger of the keef post and the aggressive pride and overly aggressive tone of the Chinatown post. The writing style from the Chinatown post onwards features heavy formal stylizing and abrasive Chinese pride, but this is still in the same developing phase as the previous posts.

The fourth fold added much needed color to the blog and changed the aesthetic through-line of the text for a much more traditional and appealing look. I do very much enjoy the pictures now.

V. CAFES AND SHIT

The ensuing café series marks random musings and a journal like approach to the blog. The chink themes seem to have been abated during this period as I tried to expand the range of the blog. The fifth fold also seems to have went further into formal experimentation to try and entrench the blog in an interesting literary tradition marked by the syllabic verse used in “BASEMENT COFFEE, COSMETIC BITCHES,” the Joyce Carol Oatesian stream of fragments in “WHOLE WORLD GOING BRAZY: WHITE KIDS, STRANGE CAFES AND YG,” and yet another Oatesian technique of breaking a post into its structural fragments in “FERLUCCI FERLUCCI BISCOTTI IN MY WHOLE LIKE I’M a chink?” The recurrent use of women’s writer techniques is an odd byproduct of Miranda Hickman. Shout out there.

Especially of note are the names Joyce Carol Oates and Caroline Shaw. These form the basis for the majority of the next few folds, primarily Oates. There is no Country Chink Broadsides without Oates—an ironic statement considering she is generally considered a racist, out of touch white woman. Sadly, as much as I love JCO, she will always represent the exact type of person I resent. But, her stylizing is transcendent, and I do love her writing above almost any. So there’s that. Also theres this…

Joyce Carol Oates ‎@JoyceCarolOates

Misunderstood
for writing funnily of food
Dear Calvin Trillin
has been grill-ed.

10:26 AM - 8 Apr 2016

hmmmmmmmmmmmmm
at least caroline shaw uses ts eliot quotes that help a chink write and doesn’t agree with racist honk man trillin. and it goes on

None of the components of this fold really show anything interesting about the chink voice, but as experiments in form, they establish a good contrast with the sixth fold and beyond. Only with this layer do the next three have the same poignancy.

VI. MANIFESTOS

Here we finally see the content matured. Well, at least to the extent of cohesion and appeal. Whereas the earlier folds were met with confusion, these two (and a liminal auxiliary) manifestoes mark the first real spike in readership of the blog.

In the seminal “ON THE CHINK VOICE AND ESTEEM,” the formal experimentation and polyvocality come together and create the blog’s manifesto. The introduction of the epic anaphora/catalogue also appears here. For any new readers, this should be the first post to read. “Chink” also marks the first post with any real poignancy. I accept and will argue that all previous posts, maybe not “Shaanbei Chink,” are rather indulgent, but “Chink” stands as the most important contribution to date, at the time of its publishing.

The next “ON WHITES REVIEWING CHINKFOOD.” is quite honestly shallow in terms of nuance, and in all honesty, meant as a joke post. But, it nearly has a thousand views, so there’s that. The general gist is that a chink lectures a whiteman on trying to REVIEW chink food and fold those standards inside out to please white palates. Not very good. I do abide by the idea that chink food, for me, AS THE TEXT CREATOR AND THE ONLY PERSON THIS IS (ACTUALLY) WRITTEN FOR, represents too much of a nostalgic soft spot to allow white people to bastardize. Criticize me, but I won’t waver on this opinion. I don’t want to tell a white man how to be a privileged whore, so he shouldn’t tell me how to eat peasant food. A chink gon leave it at that.

The final, anecdotal post of this fold blends together the new voice of the blog and tries to keep together the food through line, “PROSTRATION AND NOSTALGIA.” The post features allusions to Milton, Eliot, Pound, Confucius, Shaanbei chink peasants and whiteboi Simon friend of the blog. Maybe a bit of wordsworth? Whatever he’s just another one of those whitemen. From this point on, the dominant form of the posts is in regular prose, for better or worst.

Yet, this fold and its relatively orthodox style opens a further approach to reconfiguring style that the next fold represents. The vatic voice of these posts does not last, and for good reason, as the sixth fold marks the end of a collective voice and the real emergence of poorhomiewei and dwy

VIII. CENSORSHIP, EPISTLES AND REFERENTIAL CONFUSION

And now into the present stage.

The first post effectively erases all the pretense at being a food blog with the title, “CENSORED CHINK AT MCGILL, A SUPPOSED HOME FOR FREE SPEECH (THOUGH FREE SPEECH ONLY IMPLIES TERRORIST-EXTREMIST FEMINIST EXPLICIT HEADHUNTS) (NON-FOOD RELATED).” The first white character vilified is the mcgill tribune, a disappointingly stick-up-the-ass organization of censorious idiots. Somehow mcgil tribune allowed an article about “race and rent” to be published with very little discussion of chink representation in drama when a chink is the primary interviewer. A chink felt real disrespected when the article turned into a handjob featuring a discussion into how great the mcgill theatre program is. mcgill tribune then shot down an article on chris brown and his and the general public’s OK at indifferent chink jokes. We’ll let that sit for a bit. Also, I got called anti-black and too bold. Well, it’s not my newspaper.

Unfortunately, this happens again with “CENSORED CHINK AT MCGILL 2—A CHINK ONLY GONNA TAKE SO MUCH (EMAILS IN RESPONSE TO EMAILS RESPONDING TO EMAILS)” in which a chink is told by what to be offended. Lets just leave it at that.

In this process, the personas of Poorhomiewei and 党唯予 emerge. (but that’s for another post).

Regarding the local development of the blog, this introduced the epistle genre and subsequent posts exclusively featured letters. This is not quite the right post to discuss the Poorhomiewei and 党唯予 dynamic, so we’ll let that sit for a while.


The seventh fold ultimately relies heavily on the matured formal mechanics that have created these two voices and allowed experimentation in the epistle genre, somehow, again, JCO returns to take over me.

delay my publishing by six days like / i have to fold for a class on whitebois?
something something something unfolding, / trying to write my them before twenty?

21 March 2016

Guest Post: Of New Detached Chinks


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damn a chink made poorhomie MAYBE tear up
some randochink sent poorhomiewei some randomasslucidbullshit writing. goddamn. shit, this bruh writes with "i?" fuck is that shit? bruh a chink don't think this boi militant enough, gotta be crazier
we gon see then. this by that same chink who wrote that essay

Talk of Chinese immigrant identity recalls the image of the power and duty of imagination, of Wallace Stevens’s image of “the mind in the act of finding what will suffice,” as it seems nothing that I am or can be doing is enough to get a Chink out of a mire of tropes and expectations.


first of all, what the fuck is wrong with kan-ye references? why this chink gotta use fucking Wallace fucking “I’m a drunk” stevens? damn bruh, what’s wrong? rap not good enough for your yellow ass? shit fucking use of first person… who is you trying to speak for? YOU MEAN NOTHING CHINKBOI!!!!!!!!!!

lol@ “mire of tropes and expectations”—like who the fuck talk like that? oh shit wait “talk of Chinese immigrant identity” talk like that. shit. boi, you use chink like two sentences down, why can’t you just use the damn word the whole damn time? you probs taking it hard up the 屁股from them honkybois shit. may young thug have shame on you

When I first emigrated from China, I wanted to be a dentist because for my first couple of years away, my dentist was seemingly the only chink I knew who held a professional job (and because I come from a place that has no dentists and a family with poor teeth). And the job would suffice to get me somewhere stable in life. It didn’t take me long to realize that there wasn’t a point in becoming a dentist because becoming a doctor or an accountant would earn even more and be even more respected. And that’s where it comes back to: how to find a life where a chink can be respected, a job that sufficed, not a job that will suffice. But, that respect is in so few outlets. A chink can only do so many things to get that respect and I’ve probably listed about three quarters of them.

lol this chink talkin bout being a dentist FUCKBOI shit, damn “suffice” somebody get this chink a medal lol he knows how to use a thesaurus. damn, this boi know how to crack jokes lol fucking “probably listed about three quarters of them
lol a chink taking some broadsides to them whitemen. good on ya

And there’s nothing really wrong with what’s good enough and expected. On the outside. They are jobs that lead to a better life than the one a chink grows up in. They’re jobs that people respect no matter what race. Those jobs are great because they’re unassuming, because they’re, not easy, but easy to stomach. Because they’re what an obedient chink should do. They won’t lead to any upsetting of a balance already in place. They don’t really call for a chink to find anything. They don’t really live, or try “to learn and use the speech of the place.” They only get to half of Stevens’s line. They suffice and that’s about it. They don’t try to widen the accepted roles for chink in society. And they only suffice for so many.

lets be honest, why THE FUCK is we talking about this poetry bullshit? like damn bruh, you talking bout these whitemen and shit all the time, get over yourself, lets start talking bout some chinks shit. “Those jobs are great because they’re unassuming, because they’re, not easy, but easy to stomach” —lol, bruh, THEY IS EASY. don’t take balls to go become an accountant do it?fuck outta here. also back at it with the “suffice” bullshit.

hol’up, a chink can use that fancy ass whiteboi language too. suffice to say you is a race traitor shit. send you for some struggle sessions. damn

Their scene, the one that had already been set, that repeated what was in the script, never appealed to me. It smothers an entire group of kids already jarred by their dislocated childhood into a conveyor-belt like tunnel where they’re hiding from the constant jeering and shelling of dominant culture. They’re put in the roles that the dominant culture wanted them to play.

their FUCK YOUR METAPHORS (, but a chink hear this loud and clear. good stuff)

I never wanted to be part of that theater and that tunnel. This is the kind of theatre that has yet to even feature a chink in a prominent role, or at least an accessible theater readily available for chink to see. This is the kind of tunnel that would censor a chink’s voice to fit into the dominant culture. The kind of tunnel that’s scared of Jeremy Lin becoming a star. The kind of tunnel that forced a Cantonese immigrant to invent chop suey. Or the tunnel that hangs Peter Liang on a cross and sets Darren Wilson free to eat chow mein. The kind of tunnel that exacerbates the natural eye squint, that exacerbates the natural slouch, that exacerbates the natural ability, that the Chinese are so proud of, to 吃苦 or eat bitterness.

damn this makin a chink tear up, shit 他妈的,你这个王八蛋把老子这么土的个大哥让好好的感动了一回。我操 他妈的

shit. NO. FUCK YOU POORHOMIEWEI, YOU AIN’T GONNA TEAR UP LIKE THAT! YOU TOLD YOUR SELF!!!!!! CHINKS DON’T CRY! HASHTAG THAT shit

I don’t think my parents and I emigrated so that I would have to eat the same kind of bitterness, but then again, if I couldn’t even eat my native kind of Chinese food at school, bitterness was still a marker, and as I thought, a better meal than sandwiches. So I chose to eat a different kind of bitterness. The bitterness they ate, at least, was confined to the literal food. They had identities set. I don’t. A new chink has to construct a new stage. A chink has to be on that stage and, like “an insatiable actor, slowly and with meditation, speak words that in the ear, in the delicatest ear of the mind, repeat, exactly, that which it wants to hear.”

bruh, this make a chink wanna read some poems or shit. goddamn:
妾发初覆额,折花门前剧。
郎骑竹马来,绕床弄青梅。
同居长干里,两小无嫌猜。
十四为君妇,羞颜未尝开。
低头向暗壁,千唤不一回。
十五始展眉,愿同尘与灰。
常存抱柱信,岂上望夫台。
十六君远行,瞿塘滟预堆。
五月不可触,猿声天上哀。
门前迟行迹,一一生绿苔。
苔深不能扫,落叶秋风早。
八月蝴蝶黄,双飞西园草。
感此伤妾心,坐愁红颜老。
早晚下三巴,预将书报家。
相迎不道远,直至长风沙。

So first, I convinced myself, as Mao made famous in an interview with an American journalist, that the dominant western culture was, is, and will be a paper tiger. One that I could unfold and write on. I then chose to take it upon myself to understand the bitterness that fuelled the rise of gangster rap and the reappropriation of their identities that rap allowed.

oooooooooooohhhhhhhhhh

Historically, the Chinese have been well supported by the black community, ranging from Dubois’s idea that “Pan-Africa belongs logically with Pan-Asia” to Wu-Tang Clan’s ignorant, but good-intentionned, appropriation, qua theft, and stereotyping of Chinese monastic culture. So when I first started listening to rap, it wasn’t the same as the white who listens to rap to air their aggression or the one who listens because they find it provocative. It wasn’t to sensationalize something or to try a new flavor. It was to find something to empathize with, the mind in the act of finding something that will suffice to describe how it feels. Now the Chinese experience is nowhere near the black experience in America. But there’s power for a chink to admire, and learn from, in Rap. From NWA reclaiming “nigga” to Kanye reshaping the image of a black man to Kendrick Lamar trying to mature anger into a reevaluation of himself and other blacks. From A Tribe Called Quest being a bunch of teenagers who wanted others to know how it felt being them, being different to Black Star trying make sense of an abstract, detached home, to Outkast just trying to have fun in a world that doesn’t necessarily want them, “just twanging a wiry string that gives sounds passing through sudden rightnesses, wholly containing the mind, below which it cannot descend,   beyond which it has no will to rise. 

✊✊✊✊✊✊✊✊

People then told me I wasn’t black and that I thought I was black. And it didn’t make too much sense to me. As an immigrant, there isn’t a singular culture that I can ascribe to. Natural impulse tends to gather sources indiscriminately to make a new identity. So, black culture made sense to me because I didn’t know why the most successful Chinese people I know are the ones who do what’s expected of them by dominant culture. The natural impulse then leads me to associating with a group of young men who also feel that they can’t do what they want in the world (obviously to a different degree) because they don’t fit with their norm. Hip hop spoke and speaks to me. It makes as much sense to me as a person who wants to see a reflection of themselves, a mind in the act of finding what will suffice as a stranger in a stranger land.

🙏🏿 🙏🏿 🙏🏿 🙏🏿 🙏🏿 🙏🏿

So, for me, the ones who can and do criticize a chink for adopting and immersing in Rap and black culture are “the sound of the land full of the same wind that is blowing in the same bare place.” They’re the ones who want to put a chink in a doctor’s coat, who wants to put a chink in front of a wok, who want to put a chink in a cardboard, foldable box with a red dragon on the front.

And when Chris Rock, fed lines by the Oscars, pointlessly joked about the best chinks being accountants and, maybe most bizarrely, a Jew, I felt nothing. And, I’ll probably always feel like that. Nothing myself, I see and feel nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭 😭
他妈的。你滚开。滚!我他妈的听不进这么些东西。poorhomie不想哭。你他娘的害处大哥的眼泪,把老子的女性抽出来了。滚!

My heart’s aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
who am I? If he
will just come back once
and kiss me on the face
his coarse hair brush
my temple, it’s throbbing!

then I can put on my clothes

I guess, and walk the streets.