Susan Hwang

I saw this at the grocery yesterday.

People don’t have time to toast their own bread anymore.  This is what the world is coming to.  And a soul-less bear with dead eyes is selling it to you.  I don’t trust that bear.  It’s a cartoon zombie, and it might be what you turn into when you finally give in to pre-toasted bread.

Pre toasted bread.  Why don’t they just sell you pre-digested food.  Sliced excrement so you don’t have to make your own.  Look at the brand name “Bimbo.”  See, food for dummies.  No thanks..  I have enough problems without being turned into a cartoon zombie Bimbo.

Also, I was wondering if it means you’ve made it when you can make this face on city advertisements:

Some other examples:

I think it’s supposed to signal that the story is a comedy.  Or it could signal Armageddon or something, I don’t know.  It could be the face that lets the devil know you’re ripe for hell?  The face you make forever in hell.  Maybe something like that.

I got to my desk this morning.  That’s already success right there.  You get up, you grab what fits, you feed your cat and run out the door.  I got to my desk and I looked down and saw this:

Oh..  my ddong peh.  I thought I grabbed clothes that fit this morning, but I grabbed clothes that barely fit, and I seem to have a problem with clothes that stay fastened.  Part of why I’m alive is to wear clothes.  Shoes in particular.  You would think that I’d be better at the details.  Once, I walked into my bosses’ office at Goldman Sachs with my belt unbuckled (so professional).  Another time, my shirt was unbuttoned (same boss).  I once escorted an executive from a European office clear across the trading floor with my dress tucked into my underwear.  I’ve looked down while on the subway train and noticed my shirt dress was unbuttoned just so that my entire navel in addition to ddong peh was exposed.  Last week, carrying my accordion around town, I noticed I was getting funny looks.  I looked down and my shirt was wide open.  I’m a walking Seinfeld episode.

I have no conclusions about this except that apparently my intimidation with physical objects applies to my garments as well.  Listen, I sing songs.  What do I know about appearances.

My friend Steve gave me a wonderful gift recently.  He jury-rigged, macgyvered the door handles of my car with bits of whatnot and copious gorilla glue.  The driver’s side wouldn’t open from the outside, the passenger side from the inside.  Getting in and out of my car has only been increasingly acrobatic and stupid for the last 2 years.  Some of my friends are nice about it and say they enjoy the “quirkiness” of my vintage ’94 hoopty.  I would just grin and bear it and try not to fixate on the latest sign of decay.

When Steve sent me this picture of his handiwork, I was elated.  I told him so.  He asked if there was any sarcasm in that.  I was taken aback that he might think so.  Of course I was sincere.

Don’t you know, that most things in this world get worse, not better?  In particular, cars?  A mechanic told me once, “They’re not like human bodies. If you leave it alone, it’s not going to heal.  If you don’t fix it, it just gets worse.”

So the fact that Steve took the time and care and attention to do this was a huge gift that was not lost on me.  And yes, I understand about cycles and birth and death and rebirth, so I shouldn’t be so sad about things falling apart, but still, I appreciate that this focused application of gorilla glue means you’re willing to act against universal laws of decay and chaos.  It’s a form of love.  And I will take it.  Every time.  It’s a note my heart hears.  It’s a color that it knows.  The fixed door handles, unclogged drains, air conditioner put in, snow off my windshield, enter my heart as a sweet variety of pure love.

Thank you for defying the universal trend toward decay and chaos for me.  Thanks for making something work.  It’s one of the nicest gifts you can give a girl.

I get such a kick every time I pull on that little pig tail curly cue to get into the driver’s seat.  Ha!  Look at that!  It works!

My new roommies both skipped town for the holiday weekend.  I didn’t have any exotic Memorial Day plans, so I’d be home alone.  Luke said, “Behave.”    I’ve lots of experience in all kinds of behavior, so it was hard to decide what to go with.

I was worried that I would collapse into lonesomeness.  I’ve grown a little attached to my new family, but it turned out to be a perfect weekend.  I got to make up for all that alone time I’ve been starved for.  Lots of Chutney bonding time.  I got 3 new songs out of this weekend (the last one is a little dippy, but it’ll serve its purpose).  I rode my bike multiple times.

The morning after a night of depravity looks like this for me:

Yes, I brought the accordion, horn and ukulele down.  Yes, I forced my guests to play songs with me.  Yes, I played the trumpet even though I can’t play the trumpet.

Yes, those are root vegetables.

Yes, I used one of those twirly vegetable “noodle” makers.

No, those noodle makers are no good.  It’s kind of a piece of crap.  Not sturdy, not sharp, gets food stuck in them.  I don’t know why they make things that are crap.  I mean, I write crappy songs sometimes, but they’re songs.  They stop as soon as I shut up.  They collapse into thin air.  Physical crap like those crappy vegetable cutters take up space.  In our homes and then in the landfills.

I managed to take noodle-like shavings of carrots, parsnips, sweet potatoes and yucca and deep fry it all in coconut oil.  I had my head set on deep-frying experiments, so it was this, chicken wings and several accordions (not fried) that night.

2 accordion night is a good night.  2 accordions, plus fried tubers is called a house-warming.

I got a new motto out of that night:

Less crying, more frying!

I couldn’t resist the gratuitous Chutney and pyramids shot.  Those are orgonite pyramids made by the talented Michelle Hood.  You can find out more about those on her site: http://litethelight.bigcartel.com/

Here’s a new song.  I wrote it for the Bushwick Book Club show at Barbes inspired by Jonathan Ames’ very funny and moving book, Wake Up, Sir.  It’s called Walk With Me.  Chris Rael of Church of Betty who I like so much, tweaked the arrangement, wrote an interlude and made the entire backing track with his own hands!  Who does that for a girl these days???  In case that link went unnoticed, click on the Jonathan Ames below to hear the song:

That’s Jonathan doing the “Hairy Call” that ended the show that night.   That’s the closer.  You really can’t follow that with anything.  It’s the hairy call, and then it’s good night…

All the songs from that show were recorded live and are now available for listening on our bandcamp site.

Bushwickbookclub.bandcamp.com

I can’t keep up with the weekends.

I biked into the East Village from Bushwick on Saturday night.  I normally like getting on my bike.  In regards to biking, my motto is, “Get on; you won’t regret it.”   When you’re on your bike it feels good.

It’s similar to my motto about horses — “Everything looks better from the back of a horse.”

I also have a motto about singing — “It’s better to sing than not to sing.”

But I almost amended my motto on bikes Saturday night.  I don’t see how this is possible, but there was extra chaos in the traffic that evening.  And then once you’re in the city, there are all the drunk weekenders standing in the middle of the street, getting out of cabs, talking loudly enough to knock you off balance.

However, the flashing headlights of all the citibikes coming at me on the Williamsburg bridge looked like fireflies.  It was kind of pretty.   That and the moments of lift and solitude I got on the bridge gave me that feeling of flying that I know from my dreams.

All this transportation was so I could see my friends from Yara Arts Group.  Vova (Waldemart Klyuzko) had an art show opening at The Ukrainian Museum on 6th Street.  It was a collection of his protest art and photography, much of it used in demonstrations against Russia.  I learned how to say “dick head” in Ukrainian.  This is Vova with a piece of one of his pieces.  It’s a bomb.  He just happened to be wearing an explosion tshirt.  He said he got the shirt in NYC.  I said that’s funny, because it looks like Kyiv.  All the charred remains of those fires that burned and burned are left in the city.  And bits are being taken and sold to tourists.  Protest chachkas.  Resistance rubble.

Vova with the bomb.  That is perfect.  Others made maletov cocktails.  Vova makes artbombs.

You can see the exhibit — “We Are All Ukraine” now through July 6th at The Ukrainian Museum – 222 East 6th Street (bet. 2nd and 3rd Aves.) New York, NY 10003, ph: 212 228-0110.

The highlight of the night though, came from this lady:

She beat up Vova’s installation of Putin as a blow-up doll.

She’s 92 years old.

She really enjoyed this.

Afterwards, she said, “That makes me feel better.”

My mom has an email account, and she texts me in Korean, and I love all these communications, but something extra shockingly adorable and touching always comes through in her handwritten notes.  She’s old-fashioned that way (and other ways).  She sends thank you notes and just general notes to say hi.  My favorites are the pictures she includes.  She studied art in school as much as she could before reality dictated she focus on her pharmacy studies (remember, art=death in the Korea of her times).

I moved recently after my break-up with my boyfriend of 6 years.  This card arrived in the mailbox of my new apartment 2 days ago:

Dear Susan:

I know you must be very busy, but at least the weather is better now.  It will take time to put everything in the right places.

I am sorry I can’t help you.

“I hope you have better life in the new place.”

I love you.

Mom

 
She really wants me to have a better life–so much so, that she reiterates it and underlines it on the next page of the card after including the most depressing Bible quote there is, which basically states “Don’t worry about tomorrow, because tomorrow will also suck.”  Thanks, Mom…

“never be anxious about the next day.  for the next day will have its own anxieties.  Each day has enough of its own troubles.” (Matthew 6:34)

I hope you have better life in the new place.

But she drew me flowers!  Mom!

Oh geeze, when favorite human, Barbara Maier invites you to play a song for a star-studded, super-cabaret benefit for Joe’s Pub, New York Voices and the Ali Forney Center, you just say yes.  Even if you’re not sure who you are anymore and you don’t have a clue as to what to wear.  I will be there, wearing something that does not feel quite right, but flanked by lovely friends/musicians who do–Julie Delano, Julie Lamendola, Johnny Dydo (drums)and Zane Van Dusen (bass).  We will sing a song about physicist, Richard Feynman, because the night is about movement and change, and he studied the essences of everything, and often described everything as being made up of tiny bits that were “jiggling” all the time.  Everything’s moving all the time.  And as a professional thinker, he found that you didn’t have to pound the problems to get the answers.  You could tap at them lightly.  That’s what the song is about.  Tap-tap-tapping…

Look at the line-up.  Good lord…

Justin Vivian Bond, Michael Cavadias, Angela Di Carlo, Eisa Davis, Miguel Gutierrez, Nicholas Gorham, Carol Lipnik, Amber Martin, Lady Rizo, Viva Ruiz,Chris Rael, Sanda Weigl, Earl Dax and MORE!

An FB event link from Chris Rael: https://www.facebook.com/events/229607627239917/

I can’t believe it’s already the last show of our run at La Mama.  It ended up being the extended run after all.  It seemed like the right thing to do, even though I’m missing most of SXSW.  I’m happy for the chance to work with these people–amazing, adorable, enormously talented and generous people.  We made this thing together, and we got to share it with people.  Really, what’s better than that.

Last night, our fill-in back stage assistant manager, Briana, took this video from back stage of a little section of one of my numbers.  Vova did the projections and art work.  I did the leaps into oblivion.  Ha.

Three Heads Is Love from Brianna Makanamakamae on Vimeo.

Last show is tonight, 7:30pm, Friday the 14th at La Mama Experimental Theater, 74 E 4th St, New York, NY 10003, ph: 212 475-7710

Tomorrow night, we’re presenting new music inspired by Howard Feinstein’s memoirs of his experiences as a civil rights lawyer in the ’60s–“Fire on the Bayou–True Tales from the Civil Rights Battlefront.”  Howard will be there to speak about his book and his experiences, and he will also play his own musical composition reflecting on the book.

I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to have him there.  Not only is this such a meaningful time and important issue, but Howard was my blues piano teacher in Maryland.  He was the first one to teach me 1-4-5.  After years of studying how to play notes that I read on paper, he taught me songs that weren’t written down at all.  He showed me songs that aren’t meant to be read, but that you have to feel in order to play.  And it was what was in me all along.  Howard let me into the blues, which have always been home for me.  Kimchi may be my home food, but the blues is my home music.

So, I hope you can come and hear all the new songs inspired by the book, and I hope you can come early enough to hear Howard speak about his experiences.  We’ll be at one of my favorite Brooklyn venues in Park Slope, Barbes (376 9th St, Brooklyn, NY /ph: 347-422-0248), 7pm-8:45pm.

The talented songwriters performing tomorrow night include: spiritchild, Susan Hwang, Shannon Pelcher, Sweet Soubrette,  Mia Pixley, Pearl Rhein and The Lords of Liechtenstein.