A Cinnabontastic NPM – #25 Chew, chew, swallow

My mother always told me:
“chew at least 42 times before you swallow your food”
and that anything less would cause me
major indigestion problems
and possibility of food getting stuck in my throat
because I decide that swallowing an entire steak piece whole
would be a smashing brilliant idea.

As if 42 was some magical number
that needs to be followed and practiced
for food to be properly eaten and enjoyed
I, in my determination to be young forever,
scoffed at such a rule
and always enjoyed my food
in such a monstrous relish
that would astonish my friends
and enemies alike.

Today as I enjoyed my deep dish pizza
in the usual wolf-like vigor that I normally do
I have found out that my mother was quite right
that at some point,
my proclamation that I can be young forever
in all aspects of my life,
will soon be a hollow, painful, ring
as I sit on top of a toilet for 20 minutes
cursing at myself
why I didn’t chew 42 times.

A Cinnabontastic NPM – #24 Avril Lavigne and her Hello Kitty

As an Asian American
I feel there is a part of me
that must take offense
watching this music video
created by some punk rock woman
named Avril Lavigne
watching her air guitar and sing her way through
a backup group of dancing Japanese girls
and random Japanese words that flow
from her nonsensical lyrics about…


something I don’t know what.

I look at that
I look at the monstrous hot train wreck
and yet I can’t help but feel

“She’s really attractive. In her hot mess kind of way.”

I then realize
I still have a liking for people who don’t have their shit
or their screws in their head all completely together.

Fuck.

A Cinnabontastic NPM – #23 Exercising Blues

Exercising and I don’t quite get along
I know it’s good for my body and general health
and I do have to admit
I do feel quite amazing when I release my
sweaty, sweaty endorphin
(which sounds a lot like dolphins yet genetically engineered
to take over the human world and reclaim their kingdom)

Yet like a compulsive cheating husband
I go to my phone whenever the routine gets too hard
and I stare at whatever useless information
this piece of technological distraction can feed me
just so I don’t have to endure the pain
the way I should.

This poem, in fact,
is being written
right in the middle of a workout routine.

Oh the procrastinating horror!

A Cinnabontastic NPM – #17 Jealousy Rears Its Head (Again)

Jealousy
that hideous motherfucker
He seems to come out when his sibling
Insecurity is taking shots at me around the corner:

Pew pew pew
pew pew pew
pew pew pew
PEW PEW PEW

These miniscule pew’s gather to such a degree
that it begins to suck away
any inspiration, energy, and hope
making me actually think
that downward spiral
looks like a mighty delicious water slide
that makes me question
makes me wonder
as I begin to have shifty eyes
darting back and forth
having a greater desire
to curdle in a darkened corner
rather than stand up tall and defiant,
ready to take on any stones thrown my way.

As I curdle in the recesses of my mind
I see a rather deformed smiling troll

He calls himself Doubt.
Fuck, he’s hideous indeed.

I’m going to have to deal with him right now
for another day.

A Cinnabontastic NPM – #16 Failure (Actor Version)

For the third time this year
I have failed to even make it into the 2nd rounds
to some diversity showcase
held by some major television network company

The amount of shit I could give to this
has been so astronomically low
that I am shocked at myself
at how much I have come to look at Failure in the face
and tell it to go kiss my motherfucking ass.

I am a champion with ever so growing thicker skin.

A Cinnabontastic NPM – #12 Foolish Confession

I’m not quite sure how to tell it to you
I’m not quite sure how to tell it myself
I’m not quite sure if it’s real or just imaginary
like many of my tendencies in life to create
hot air balloons of my feelings
and to actually call them true.

But when I think of you
when I talk to you
I have this very vague hazy blob,
a rather happy vague hazy blob,
that sits within me
that has been a part of me
for the course of many years
refusing to fade away
despite the passage of time
and the countless people
I become fascinated with.

But
when I come across you
that familiar blob comes roaring back
sitting upon my soul
as it becomes stronger and stronger
each time that I interact with you.

So I subconsciously
or maybe deliberately
limit all interactions
because after all
I must be reasonable
I must be realistic
I must focus on what is front of me
rather than what is not.

Yet why do I think of you
or use your name as an example
every time I have an exercise
in thinking about the one person
I would want to spend my life with
why do I think of you?

My god,
I’ve been doing this for 5 years.

Oh stupid Edward.

These are irrational, foolish thoughts
and they do me no good
since you are way over there
and I am way over here
and such confessions of thought
would be more likely be seen
as massive inconvenient thorns
rather than beautiful professions of love.

Oh shit, did I just fucking say love?
It’s not love.
No no no no
it can’t be.
I’m the type of guy who says words like these
far too easily and not truly mean it
and so I cannot say it for this
for it is just beyond ridiculous.

But then again, is it really?

After all,
it has been 5 years,
and I think 5 years is enough time
to let me tell myself
that this is no hot-air balloon
but a true and honest rock
that’s been covered with
the nasty molds of fear and rationality,
mold that grew under my own permission.

Because if I must be true to myself
if a magical genie that sounded like Robin Williams
came to me and asked for one wish
I know that one wish would be
is that I wish
I wish so much
that I could be where you are
or you could be where I am
that I wish for such a wish to actually be possible.

Silly Edward.
Trix are for kids.

HanSarang Thoughts #4: I Don’t Want To Do Jack Sh*t

An old high school friend of mine is here to stay in Los Angeles for the next 5 days and since I picked him up at the LAX several days ago, the severe temptation to harken back to my high school days of being absolutely reckless was brought back in full force. While it was fortunate that he stayed mostly with my other old high school friend who is living here, the memories of careless youth would be present in a wonderful foggy haze.

But I must be getting old because as present as these temptations are, my “mature” sensible adult self would kick into place and carefully monitor any reckless behavior. “Sure, you can have fun”, my mind and body says, “but we will never allow you to wreck your body like you used to do. Plus, you’re not at the invincible age of 17 or even 21 anymore so at the age of 25, it is crucial you take care of us.”
You make a good point, oh body & mind.

I listen to them well because I’ve grown old enough to trust my intellect and guts more. But a part of me does get saddened by the fact that I am now more and more becoming the harumph adult that my younger self would fling a booger at, the kind of boring old responsible person that needs to turn home early so he can get some work done or be prepared for that audition or casting director workshop early in the morning the next day. I just want to toss around, jump, and yell like a hilarious immature mad boy but even that thought isn’t appealing after 5 minutes of musing.

I must be getting old alright…

and I guess I’m totally okay with that 🙂