Remembering Michael Jackson

I was moved last weekend when I saw two quarter aged Chinese American adults jamming to Michael Jackson's music strictly using their two acoustic guitars and personal voices. It seemed like they were in this vibe, just belting out numbers from the times when MJ was in Jackson 5 like "Ben" to his more popular solo numbers like "Smooth Criminal," "Human Nature," "Rock With You," and my requested number "Don't Stop Till You Get Enough." I still laugh cuz it reminds me of that scene where Chris Tucker steals the scene at the karaoke club. Well, digression aside, here's the down low of how I was introduced to MJ's music.

It's the early nineties. I'm a first grader at my quaint suburban elementary school. There was this White kid name Mike who loved to sing PopEye the Sailor Man and had an older sister in an upper grade. He showed me this book about "Thriller" and he'd talk about that music video where MJ, wearing his signature red jumpsuit, had these eyes that turned like opaque. I was like wha?

Then one time when I was in sixth grade, there was this fifth grader who was dressed up in this black and silver marionette uniform. People thought she was MJ but she'd be pissed, stating "I'm JANET Jackson, MJ's sister! Gosh!."

Moving forward, it's sophomore year in high school. It's the class competition and every class from frosh to senior has to do this dance number. We shuffle into the large auditorium back when the bleachers were wooden and varnished. Now they're plastic and safer. I suppose there were tiny cracks where people's stuff could slip through or people could fall down. Anyways...

The lights dim, and the voices start to 'simmah down,' as Conan O Brien used to say when he had his show, and then the snare starts the vibe and the electronic organ throbs like a heartbeat. The tempo sets the scene and some strings come outta nowhere, indicating some mystery and pretense. Then MJ's voice starts to tell his story about this girl, "Billy Jean" .

Then the vibe changes into a cautionary tale, and the sophomores, my class, start to synchronize, twirling their plastic bowlers and meeting each step with the tempo in the background as MJ keeps telling it as it is, this tale of broken hearts, undetermined patrimony and denial. The song lyric that draws my attention is when MJ's say "remember to always think twice." Then his own voice revertebrates and says otherwise "DON'T think twice." Then there's the cool guitar instrumental that's all bass. Not as cool as "Beat It," but still swell, pretty swell and cool.

So rewind, its fourth year in high school. I'm a senior now and those I Love the 80s episodes on vH1 are pretty popular. I start to think I was alive during the Eighties but I wasn't. I watch 80s flicks starring the Brat Pack, wanting to Feris Bueler and trying to tell the Principal that I think he 'stole his wardrobe from Barry Manilow." So I'm watching all the Michael Jackson music videos, and I must say my favorite by far is "Beat It." That Van Halen guitar solo. Hands down awesome.

Then cue to the near present, I hear about the sad news, the sudden and tragic death of MJ and the world is in mourning both far and wide. Ultimately, it reminds me of how MJ still survives in my memory, as an entertainer, an artist, and most of all as a musician able to manipulate sound and translate it through his dance. A pop star that shines despite the dark emptiness of space.

One time I walked through a busy intersection donning my slim black fedora and this gentleman muttered " Like that hat, you look like MJ." I suppose there are copy cats, wanna bes and imitations of MJ like those generic marital arts films that proliferated after the master Bruce Lee

As I sit here and listen to this computer interpret the grooves on a compact disk using a laser beam, it all starts to collide, these moments listening and processing MJ's legacy, his music and how he made an impact on American and world pop music across the seven seas. Everyone know's MJ's songs. In fact, I still remember hearing "We Are the World' playing all across the school on them horrible 70sish loudspeakers with that crackle and static.

When the essemble starts to fade out, MJ's siren-like voice chimes in 'we are the world, we are children, we are the ones to make a brighter day, so let's start giving...it's true we make a brighter day just you and me....' What a powerful message for world unity.

You know, I remember that time when Leslie Chung left our world and my Cantonese teacher C.M. played one of his songs to memorialize him. A bunch of ABCs like myself probably didn't know what he was saying but I just remember the whole class being entranced by that voice.

I suppose the next time I hear some off key person trying to cover an MJ song on karaoke, or a group of people are doing the electric slide to 'Beat It' it's like MJ the man may be gone, but his music remains in our hearts, in our voices and our thoughts as we ponder and interpret his music. Which reminds me of writing and how it records our experiences and thoughts but it can only be seen and read. Whereas music can be sung, it can be recorded and it can be performed. Brings it all to whole another level.

So I guess I'll listen to some more of MJ's music spanning his musical career from the Jackson 5 to his solo artist days of Thriller.

There's a quote from a Japanese film I saw way back where a musician mutters something along the line of how artists can write their own endings. Pretty subversive and yet interesting in a critical perspective.

Just thought I'd blog about MJ since I'm listening to his music. That's all for now.

Podcast, NPR and Blogging.

Dear Audience,

I've been doing my time unemployed, cramming for the RICA, the Reading Instructional Competency Instruction Assessment, test, and all the while trying to stay current.

Listening to NPR has made me think about contemporary issues and podcasts are great cuz you get to choose things you want to listen to and download em. The thing I don't like is when the stuff eats up memory space.

Blogging has kept me busy typing up my life and trying to see examples of good writing and expression. Some say that writing takes away from a memory or experience. But, i feel that for myself, I tend to forget things like what to get for groceries, what I was supposed to do today and who I am supposed to meet. I gotta write it down. Writing helps me think and process my emotions and experiences. I suppose being forgetful and absent-minded, I writing stuff down.

Ok, I guess I'm all blogged out. Tune in when inspiration and randomness hits me.

Not Going to watch Movies. til 8/8/10

From henceforth, I have declared a moratorium on myself on watching dvds from the library, my chief unproductive distraction among looking stuff up on wikipedia and organizing my iTunes playlist.

Today was a long hot summer day. As i readied myself for my biking adventure (when I bike, I always consider it a journey, plus workout and saving the environment from not burning fossil fuels yay!) I realized that things did not go according to plan. But as Frost said I did take the road not taken, 'and it has made all the difference.'

I consumed a bowl of bowl noodles that my mom bought at Costco for cheap and even slurped the MSG enriched soup. Sometimes I think chicken flavor noodles tend to taste a bit like chicken curry. Must be the turmeric or paprika they put in the soup mix. The noodles were a bit soggy and well cooked. I like my noodles al dente if you know what i mean.

I straddled my bike and with a lunge I'm flying off the cul-de-sac and the wind is plowing right through me. Kenny Loggin's "Danger Zone" is playing within my head as I pass the guy taking a siesta who sells mangos, pineapples, strawberries and oranges on the corner of the two main avenues that converge. I make a right on the adjoining street, staying in my bike lane and avoiding traffic on my left. I'm inches away from automobiles, one quick lurch can send me flying off my seat and onto the asphalt to make human pizza.

I make a right and end up at the district office where I navigate to human resources to drop off my application. The office is an old building yet within is a whitewashed modern building that is akin to the labyrinth.

I kick off the bike rest bar and pedal my way back onto my street. As I head down the street a couple blocks before the next street, a loud conversation between squabbling adults can be heard loudly from the minivan's down window. i hear the Vietnamese guy trying to start up his car. He pops the hood and scratches his head, trying to figure out why the car's not working.

I grab my memo from my pack as I'm driving and zip back the pouch of my messenger bag all the while keeping my vision center to avoid a traffic collision. Once again, I am not fond of human pizza. Chicago style pizza from a place in Oakland called Zachary's yes! my body thrown to the four winds on a congested San Jose street. No thanks... Onto my story.

So I cruise on by and realize I've come into a dead end. The street is a cul-de-ac with a children's park with a rainbow motif. I head on forward and end up on a bridge over 680 S. The chain link guards are raised up high and curves, like a ballet dancer in fifth position. I weave past two steel columns that act as speed barriers.

I make a left and I'm on my way. A gut feeling tells me to make a right and continue on my route but my excited nature leads me off course. I ask a youth with some iPod earphones stuck to his ears where the street i was supposed to turn on was. He doesn't know.... I go the long way and end up lost. I find my way back onto story and figure it's a long way till I reach SJSU.

As I'm on the intersection of Story and McLaughlin, after passing by a recycling center, an African American male comments on how significant it is to have a helmet for safety reasons. We chat cordially about the dense traffic congestion in east/south San Jose, in this area of Seven Trees and the feeling is mutual. Both, two dudes, waiting for the walk signal so we can go our own ways. How personal is a conversation between a one on one in person encounter. When I'm talking on my cell and a voice is talking, I feel that I'm listening to their voice and not really having a conversation with someone. I dunno, I just feel so disconnected gabbing on Skype or texting on my cell. The communcation is limited, the conversation is half its real worth.

he zips away, probably off to work and I ponder on how hospitable people you just happen to meet are on the road, especially strangers you would never meet if you stayed home watching tv. I like the adventure, the spontaneity of seeing new faces and exchanging conversations on insights you never knew you would have.

I done paying the balance of my student fee increase, and I stare at the walk signal. I slap my thighs as if that will get its attention. Then i realize there's a button. i slap the button, it pops back out with a pop sound. I make it to the cafe. it's right across the city hall.

I order up a bag of coffee beans and immediately the barista and I carry on a conversation about coffee culture ruminating about how coffee is brewed, the flavors of the beans (the bag of beans has this nutty smell to them, as he described, like Nutter Butters.) and then he offered me a cup of decaf. He steamed the milk and prepared the espresso machine. After a good tight compression of the fine espresso grind, he frothed up the whole milk and poured it into a ceramic cup with a saucer. The foam barely poured out of the cup, held to the edge by gravity. There was a leaf pattern swirl of the mix between coffee and steamed milk. I admired it's beauty and proceeded to, in my photographic way, to take a cell phone picture of it. I sipped it down, occassionally munching on a sky flake crackers

I think about it for a minute and decide not to work on my work applications in the library. I take the bus home and for some reason have trouble getting the bike on the rack in front of the bus. It takes me a couple tries until the bus driver, motions me to pull the hook over the front wheel and presto! The problem is solved.

I rest in my bus seat until the bus arrives at my stop. Bike back and just crash at home. I'm tired and it had been a long day.

Not going to watch movies! RICA pass or bust!

chestnut trees

Today is another summery day. After a long day of job hunting, formating my resumes and proofreading, I cannot seem to find a way to keep the time from flying. These nice summer days are fleeting yet my room is still a mess. Student's artwork from a year of teaching stay the same only I've changed. Old papers that smack of academic jargonese and awkward phrases. Dust flies freely in this dungeon of crap. Crap that i've accumulated over the years.

Life seems to be pretty mellow right now. No sleepless night prepping for lesson plans, no all night classes. I've survived. I give the phone call a thought. Here's a part time job working as an aide waiting for me in August, yet I stubbornly yearn for a teaching job, one with my own classroom or teaching non native English speakers English.

American chestnut trees are affected by an unusual blight, a disease that kills it in its premature stage. Exceptional for its wood in furniture and other usages, it also had tasty nuts. Hence. 'chestnuts roasting on an open fire.' It's hard to think about how it'll ever return to its pre-blight status. Scientists are still working on cross polinating and making the American chestnut more resistant to the blight by cross breeding it with the Asian chestnut tree.

I wonder where life went when I was living it. All i have are the memories and the moments that seem to last but are gone. I'm lost in my own world of paper, dust and pieces of life all scattered within this tiny space. The dust is revealed as the sunrays envelop me room. I open up the window, draw up the blinds, and let the breeze carry out the staleness of my room.

Night falls and alas, I have only touched the surface. Until tomorrow, another day of routines and procedures. Gotta run some errands, cut the lawn and study for the constitution test.

yuck.

'somewhere in the Night....'

'hold onto that feeling...'

the piano chords start....his voice shouts "Just a small town girl...."

It's Journey, and my cousin's reconsidering leaving the dance. She tells her spouse with suitcoat in hand, her lethargic son, and her cousins who are carpooling to head back to the dance floor.

It's a song she heard in high school but is so classic that it seems to transcend generations. She wonders how six year old kids know the lyrics and dance to this 80s song that their mothers probably danced to.

First time i heard this song was in 'the wedding singer' starring adam sandler and drew barrymore. Sandler also uses this song in his film bedtime stories, where he tells stories to his children and it actually comes true.

Some other classic rock standards are playing

My cousin's holding a tumbler with ice water, a black straw and a lime. She takes me to the dance floor, me the wallflower i am. She's tired from dancing on the floor to some other songs. Uncle is about to head to the floor and she tells me to hold onto her drink. She has to have one dance at least with dad. reasonable. I take the glass put it down and head to where my carpool party is swaying back and forth.

it's 'you shook me all night long' by ac/dc's playing. I can see my other cousin's husband jumping up and down with his rock salute goin' up and down.

another tune's playing, some inappropriate pop tune's playing and the dance moves are flying left and right. But my cousin's husband trying to teach me and my brother some line dance moves. we follow him but we end up bumping into each other. Then my aunt steps onto the dance floor and she motions to us with her feet movements that she's gonna do the electric slide. we follow her lead and soon, all four of us are doing the electric slide. Then all the dancers become spectators, curious at what the sensation is.

It's like that scene in "Saturday Night Fever" when all the people just dance in sequence, led by the music and not by how clumsy or awkward their movement looks like. It's just rhythm and movement, in unison. You gotta feel it and not worry about how silly it is.

we exchange our thanks, shake some hands, give some hugs and exchange our farewells.

As we leave for the 'second time,' ' sweet child o' mine' is playing and we leave. It's a suitable ending to the wedding festivities. Back to the car, catch some zzz's and then meet up tomorrow morning for the brunch.

I'm told later that the party ended a few mins after we left. The party favors stood untaken and up for grabs. Took some time to deal with them and the ones left headed over to denny's for some midnight grub and to catch up. Feels like prom night and the only place to eat and shoot the breeze is an american diner, like Denny's, where breakfast is served all day and night, slices of pie and cake rotate in a glass display and Heinz ketchup and mustard are at your beck and call, next to the salt and pepper shaker and them square napkin dispensers.

I miss those nights, staying up late after a long day of pictures, dancing and all the while getting all dressed up, pretending we're rich and sophisticated, all that, but it's a rite of passage, prom or ball that is, to just celebrate our next stage in life, after high school.

Where college happens, we start to be more independent in our responsibilities and duties. The music keeps playing in my mind. Wedding music, from Mendelssohn to BeachBoys, The day began and ended with music.

I suppose wedding playlists are important. The music starts us off by indicating when the groom enters the sanctuary and when to rise to greet and honor the bride as she enters in her wedding dress.

Then the night is young, the guests start tapping their feet, strutting their stuff. Or the anniversary dance where the couples in love are requested to report to the dance floor. Then the years are counted off. And the last couple on the floor tell us how long they've been together.

A couple, very much in love, revealed to the crowd that they'd been together for half a century. Astounding applause as they still swayed together as the wind. Not relishing in the flattery but enjoying each other's presence.

The music, the dance, the songs we sang together.

'somewhere in the night....don't stop believin'.....'

' sweet child of mine' by guns 'n roses is playing, bellowing from the speakers. It's a great send off.

Wedding Playlist

I'm making a wedding playlist. I know, its weird. But I suppose music for me is a way of not just listening but also expressing yourself. I mean people sing songs for all sorts of reasons to convey something.

Well here are some that have slipped under my radar.

'The Search is Over' by Survivor

'Faithfully' by Journey

'Amanda' by Boston

'Babe' by Styx

'More Than Words' by Xtreme

"All Out of Love' by Air Supply

'Glory of Love' by Peter Cetera (yes, the theme song from The Karate Kid...)

"I Will Always Love You" by Whitney Houston.

Ok, i think that's about it for now. It seems like more I think of these songs, it brings me back to

my childhood, listening to Delilah on late night adult contemporary radio. How she'd give advice on relationships and make song requests for loved ones far and wide.

well, i guess it time to think some more about other songs.

Looking for Work

5 hundred dollars!?....FIVE hundred dollars!!!??

my first gut reaction stepping outta of that place. Seems like it costs more than an arm and a leg just to get by in this life, esp. in these parts.

Well, howdy there. My name's Jay. That's what my family calls me. I'd like to share a bit about my day today but then again, let's not. We're not acquainted so, I'll just talk about movies I've watched. I'm sure I probably seen a movie you've seen and we can have some common ground.

So I woke up a half hour past nine this morn, i'd been watching 'high noon' starring gary cooper.

A cool western, sorta like '3:10 to yuma' except its more intense. Especially the back story and how it unfolds in real time. sorta like '24.'

The film's black and white, the marshal in town's all alone and he has to fend off some hooligans who are gathering together to make a ruckus in the nice, quaint frontier town. Unfortunately, the citizens are weary of going up again bandits so its all gravitas from here on.

Not a bad film but it can be frustrating especially since there's only minimal gunfighting, (it's a western, no gunfights and gun smoke, wha?)

well, all in all, a very thoughtful film. Definitely a classic that any age and generation can find common ground.