the_whole_thing
byron kho
in technicolor
A Few Words of My Own
the_official_resume
I don't have to burden the world with too much about my childhood save this:
Props to Casey at Kenollie p.s. for third grade. Props to Neil and the redheaded guy, and long live tetherball and low hooks at Haldane in fourth grade. a shoutout to Daniel my best friend in fifth, and Graham, who wanted to be it. and cheers to Sam, my first crush and first girl - and who played cootie tag and forced mud wrestling and hooky five-card stud behind the portables when i asked her too - and Margaret, who held my attention on the bus, and to the fireworks that sparked my beach blanket, and Ryan and Andrew and Kyle who made up the rest of our crew, and Renee who licked her lips that first day, and Laura who made up their crew and for all of us good friends. And to Ah Ram and Cathy and Ramon and Ryan and Sarah at Surabaya International, who couldn't get over the cool thing and so made seventh so much fun, and Sung Hwan who got me in the most trouble of my life and the canteen with Pop Mie every day and Mentos out in the yard and burying one every day in the secret hole on the playground, a testament to friends past and gone. And to Sharon and Kelsey and Jessica, whom I wanted so bad and never told. Cheers to the mad Russian in eighth, and to my EPMD-crazy roommate and Chris Fong and Winston and those guys I knew for only 3 months at Saints, and the random Asians all in Churchill for ninth - Normie, Chase, Graham. Shoutouts to Derek, Chris, Simon, Hiro, Wayne for making piano so much fun - and nights spent on the SkyTrain and at the house in Surrey where we'd watch movies and buy expensive clothing and chill on the street until the morning, and not tell anyone, not even your clueless parents; and to practicing for hours at the fish's before food at Earl's and the party at Camilla's and the huge tv room downstairs, and how pale they all were, and to the most free two years ever. Aya on the bus in Austria, and kissing that beautiful skin of hers on a dare and liking it, and Fiona, and Amy crying at Steinway Hall, and the twenty dollars at Disneyland we spent on video games but none of us would fess up to, and playing rigged competitions and masterclasses from world-class pianists who were our friends, and the gay dudes who came out long after Yale proved it right. In tenth, eleventh, twelfth - all love to Ellie, my shortie Lydia and to the ever graceful Sara. To Jeff who bumbled through school, and to Eric, who made me Republican until I learned better. To Nick and Aaron and his hot sister Leslie (tho I never said so) and to the lovely Kenley and to parties at that nice house and the "other place" when mom wasn't home and to Winterfests and corsages that got stolen, and last dances. To that day in February, where Anoop and I built that fort in the snowy confines of the foresty patch of the golf course, and i got lost in fun and happiness and memory. Thank you. That is all.
last summer...
But I - I would go to all lengths for you. I would fly to the moon for you, dear. I would plant your flag up on the moon and dream of you while searching the skies for one look. Forget the illusions. Just know that I will always be your shield and support, your sword and armor, your trusty companion and admirable vassal... Remember when you told me about all those other guys? Remember how you told me that you didn't want them, and how it gave me such hope when you smiled at me? And remember how, when we were out together, you softly kissed me on the head and whispered good bye when we finally parted? And remember, when we were sitting on the porch, your soft hand touched me during one of those still moments when we all had nothing to say? And remember when I called you from downstairs and your silvery laugh floated out of the phone and down the stairs and I could hear that double infusion of light into my life? And remember how when you were so tired, I walked you home and made sure you were safe in bed before leaving again....melancholy happiness? And remember how you put that ice cream spoon in your mouth and smiled your wide-eyed and innocent smile for the camera? And remember our time with the "hole" and the ghetto at the pool that hot Sunday? And remember comparing our paleness? Remember my bashful moments? Remember me being overprotective and then overzealous and then quiet and then back again, and your quiet amusement? Remember the arm thing and how I couldn't help but hug you? Remember the candle catalogue and your tiki lights and hanging out downstairs so I would be happy before I left, while preparing for sitting at home all night with the TV and Anna Karenina? Remember, instead of lying on your bed like you would normally, you sit up in front of the fan, with your wild hair blowing all around you? Do you remember showing me such beauty that I can't stand it and have to look away, though you know I like watching? Do you remember needing hugs? Do you remember me needing hugs? Do you remember all those days we made for each other? Do you remember all those cool things you had to say? Do you remember?
a Singers party, as usual
Glee in an elevator
bye bye! not many pictures of this recluse :)
running full speed into walls
i can't seem to stop, enthralled
by the mere sight, though I fall
there's no sound down this hall,
just one sigh on this pub crawl.
The way the light shines
off your frothy surface,
I imagine it spiraling
its way into space,
Illuminating the means
by which you came around.
"She walks in beauty,
like the night,"
and porcelain fingers
curled about your handle,
does this emptiness realize
what it means to me?
Flowery strips, guarding
sheaves of wheat standing
Still and straight on
lazy days in June.
She says something about not giving noogies and breaking bbq's this time... I tell her about being called sketch...this comes about because we're arguing over whether sketch or shady is better. She thinks she's shady at heart and I agree...haha. I say that shady is when people see your actions and expect certain behavior and when you exhibit another side of yourself in another situation, they wonder why you didn't act this way before, and thus, you're shady. To illustrate, I say that I am called sketch by one girl because during the day I am quiet and reserved, but at night - I get the move on... we laugh. I am now her partner for shady activities she says. We go to the shady pool with no water, the shady bar with no alcohol and next the shady digs in the shady car. She questions a lot of things, and she is trying to insert a good reasoning into her love of history. Many people tell her the history major is useless; to prove it is not, I try to prove that the gathering of knowledge is never useless, and even useful things don't have a sense of place and meaning to the individual if not placed in the context of a history. How do we know we are doing modernizing and becoming better? Because we have recourse to a past that wasn't so good, or so efficient. Or you're successful now, but before, your family was poor as churchmice - without a history, you are nothing. She knows my deep and dark secret (which she thinks is a good one). We talk about relationships, about certain shady things involved with that. I'm glad that we can talk about things this open - some things are more sensitive and require a girl's viewpoint anyway.
Stouffer peeps chillin out
PSP at Spring Fling 2003
Mateo and Abe going "c'mon guys"
big breakfast
byron kho
the light, the way, and the world's greatest punk band
"it's snowing still," said eeyore gloomily.
"so it is."
"and freezing."
"is it..."
"yes," said eeyore.
"however," he said, brightening up a little.
"we haven't had an earthquake lately."
i know you mean well
when you say that
but i don't think things
work that way so
i'm so very sorry
but it's time for you to go
You say you want a revolution?
Well, we all want to change the world.
-Grandaddy
I walked downtown and dwelled on the beauty of Philadelphia tha so many people don't seem to see. Walking through Washington Square, I felt a pang of sadness for the material lusts and shallowness of those who seemed to see nothing in the quirky and lively streets of Philadelphia. A chief complaint is the lack of things to do - take Penn's campus, as an example. There is nothing to do but watch a couple movies and eat at pizza places, kosher places and Indian buffets. But what one doesn't see is just around the corner. Instead of taking a cup at Cosi's, watch the people shop at FreshGrocer while sipping a cup of raspberry tea on the second floor. Eat a cookie at the Green Line Cafe, and imagine that the guitarist in the corner is playing just for you. Read the newspaper at the Cafe Paris. Have a drink at Gojjo's, flirt with the bartender-ess and play a round of pool with the shady Nigerians upstairs. Hang out at the store that doesn't sell that many things on 47th and bring a little life to the twenty something woman studying her fingernails, the black man taking a nap, the Hispanic kid having ice cream, the old guy smoking his cigarette and the fat woman dejected at her place at the table. Or, you can walk into the rest of Philadelphia. Go visit Philly's Bronx - South Philadelphia. Raid Center City for cheap restaurants (Joe's Pizza) and romantic restaurants (Astral Plane) and exotic restaurants (Alma de Cuba) and quirky bars (the Bards) and expensive bistros (Audrey Claire) and good seafood (Seafood Unlimited) and burning Mexican (Hot Tamales). Walk higher up into West Philly; check out the jazz lounges and have a forty with the bums that ask you, honestly, to have money for a forty, and then drink to your health a thousand times after that. Scalp tickets at the Electric Factory. Break at the Rotunda. Walk the proverbial dog in Schuylkill River Park. Call your local leasing agent, ask her to look at an apartment, and have a tour of that section of Philly with that hot local leasing agent girl even though you know deep inside that you really didn't want an apartment in the first place. Check out the drug scene at that apartment place on 11th Street. Look for Tommy under the Bridge near Penn's Landing; ask how much 500 in used bills and a mixer can buy a buddy some weight with the local fishies. Go look at pictures in the galleries down 3rd St. on days NOT called First Friday or Going Out Of Business Sale. Run around Old City and take a little break at the Polish American Museum and then tell the funny old lady that you're Polish from Japanese and Moroccan descent, your grandmother had two hussars before breakfast and two Mongolians 9 months later. Visit the Constitution Center and heckle Matt and Alex. Go to the Gallery and yell about how it sucks, then go to Liberty Place and spend all your money at Express. And then, try tell the person you love that you love them, and buy them a full bloom rose at FroGro for $1.69 plus tax. That's how you too can love Philly.
lisa!
So a little education on the Vancouver area. There are lots of Asians - Koreans settle out in Coquitlam; Indians in Surrey; Vietnamese and such are scattered; Japanese cluster in downtown; and Chinese inhabit lots of Richmond. Of these Chinese, there are the Hongers (Hong Kong born immigrant Chinese), the Tongers (Taiwanese grunts) and of course the Mainlanders. On top of these are the CBC's, the Canadian Born Chinese, who are usually second generation Hongers or Tongers. Most of the Hongers are the children of wealthy businessmen and politicians in Asia who send their children to invest in and settle in Canada while they rake up dough by piling on the natives of whereever they do business. Li Ka-shing and some other rich rich Chinese own tons of waterfront poperty and own lots of lucrative properties around the Vancouver area. This Asian influx into the economics and population demographics of the Vancouver area has grown both a large acceptance and a veiled hostility to their presence.
The Richmond Night Market is a good example of a growing tolerance between Asians and the whites of the area. The market is a big open area hawker center selling all sorts of Asian foods (sugar cane juice...clownfish - Nemo - burgers...durian cakes BLECCH), clothing, accessories, toys, gadgets, CDs (the latest from Hong Kong superstars) and Hello Kitty, Mimmy, Pochacco, Doraemon, Kerokeroppi products (the huge Kitty slippers are a hoot). It's a typical Hong Kong moment - except you have the hot white chicks in tight capris and indigo shades prancing around; the old white grandma types who are just as home tending their roses in their Martha Stewart homes as to eating fried pork intestines ("pork bung" is actually sold too...this is exactly what it sounds like...pig ass). White guys hanging out with their Filipino bredrens go and chill out by the semi-rave stand, where crazy lights and shadyass CDs are sold. The short giggling Asian females that don't exist on the East Coast are there too; they tend to go in packs, with little backpacks and Mimmy barrettes and tightass pants, with the trademark afraid-of-doing-anything-strenuous-lest-it-make-my-white-hoodie-get-the-least-bit-of-LIFE walk. The difference between these girls and white bimbos are that these girls are continuously striving to be little children.
About the young thing - my family originally comes from Indonesia. In Indonesia, beer goes for around 10 cents a can, as does whiskies and other "homemade" distilled drinks. I know families who would take their kids to clubs with them. And Indonesian clubs at least are not for dancing, though they play rave and techno all night. It's all about the drugs. Everybody goes to clubs just to shoot up. Clouds of smoke are always in the air, and you can get high off the fumes if you're a newcomer. A "mild" club in Indo, and there were already people doing e there and stripping onstage (after the cover band and cheesy Barbra Streisand wannabe). Pot goes for around...10 bucks Canadian will get you an entire shopping bag. That is mainly because everywhere grows it. Rebel provinces with no way of making money to finance their military activities? Resow all the fields with marijuana and grow it to sell. However, pot is laughed at. Nobody uses pot very much because you get laughed at...it's really really low class to smoke pot. People have to do coke, heroin, speed and mostly ecstasy. Many factories in Indonesia are solely devoted to making e in bulk and selling them. Several of the richest men in Indonesia financed and owned tons of e plants in Indonesia and surrounding countries; the corruptness of the whole country just keeps the business going on. And so does war. But whatever. What do I know?
grace makes her hey day appearance
GC at Nord's
GC, officially
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