Here's the review!

“Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. Solo artist Kristina Wong unveils a string of imaginative surprises as she supposedly examines the high rates of depression and suicide among Asian American women. She darts around this grim subject with the kind of meta-theatrical wit that creates one of the funniest shows in town and engenders a level of audience participation that’s enthusiastic without becoming embarrassing. Then she ends with a sobering coda -- another kind of surprise after all the laughs. It’s a wild ride, and Wong’s a magnetically energizing artist. TeAda Productions is the host. Miles Playhouse, Santa Monica. (310) 998-8765. http://teada.org. Closes Oct. 5.”--- Don Shirley, LA City Beat


Today was kind of depressing. I was supposed to take the day off, but instead I moped around the apartment. Passed out for a few hours and woke up in my own drool contemplating the world's unreality.

The run is going well. We've had audience. We could stand to perhaps have a little more audience, especially in such a big theater. But the ones who've come are valuable and have been attentive.

I am grateful for many things about how the run has gone so far.

• Lots of people who don't know me are coming.
• The stage with all the lights is beautiful.
• There are all these volunteers helping behind the scenes so that I can be an artist.
  
• The reception was unreal... ("All this for me?")
  

Things I am hoping for.

• That friends who have known me for a while and have never seen my work, or at least have very poor assumptions of what my work looks like... will come to the show.
• That the company producing me will be able to break even with their investment in the show.
• That I might recuperate at least a small fraction of my financial investment in this show. (Right now, I will not make any money from this run. I'm actually losing money. :< )
• That I will actually inspire people to dialogue about depression and suicide.

Last week while chewing gum, part of my tooth broke off in my mouth. It was my molar, third from the back. And now I have a nice little hole for food to collect in. Like a built in holiday feeder in my mouth.

I've been calling all sorts of free clinics today to get help. I called the USC dentistry school who work on people but it is a very time consuming process. All the free clinics seem to have had budget cuts (ironically, the government is bailing out the fat cats but can't help me get a little cement put on this tooth back here.) The last time I had dental insurance three years ago, the guy told me I had to get a root canal and found $1500 in repairs in my mouth the half second I opened my mouth. Sounded like a big sham to me. Dentists have become salesmen. It's sad that I can't even trust a dentist these days.

I may break down and call a regular old LA dentist. I called my dentist uncle in San Francisco who I wouldn't be able to see for another month when I can get up there. But my gums are bleeding and it's a big mess back there right now because of the broken tooth. I just don't want to get screwed.

There's one section of my show about trying to get free mental health services in America. It's a process of searching that's liable to make you more crazy than before you started looking for help. It's not easy to get much of any kind of health services for free here in the "free world." But god forbid you ever get sick here because it will cost you.

My first year of college, I fell off my bunk bed. More remarkable, I wasn't even drunk. I limped around campus for a good week, moaning, howling in pain, moving at the third of the speed of a senior citizen. I had no idea if I had a simple sprain or had actually broken a bone. I had insurance then but was cautioned by my mother many times that using insurance would just drive up my rates. So even in the most pain of pain, I didn't think to use it.... even though it was getting impossible to function.

My roommates at the time, couldn't stand the howling any more and called the SHAs (student health advocates-- basically pre-med students) to come check on me. Seeing as they weren't really doctors, they just called the campus hospital for me. And I wailed with those EMTs screaming, "I don't care if this is broken! I can't pay for it! If the insurance co-pay doesn hurt me, my mother will kill me!"

But in some dramatic lift off, they wheeled me out of the dorm on a gurney, through a busy lobby of students. For some reason I chose to wear this Holly Hobbit dress that day and looked Britney Spears a la early 2008 as I was pulled out of there.

As it turns out nothing was broken. They bandaged me up. It still cost $100.

I stumbled home.

Labels: america makes me numb, art talk

Tonight is only the tech run thru and I'm already pacing around the house.... Nervous. Nervous.....

Are you coming?

http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/39641

Labels: artist life.

Jenny Shimizu, I'm waiting for you.... At the bus stop...

Being carless has its perks. Right now at this very moment, it doesn't. I'm cabin feverish, as I've been all week. Too lazy to jump on a bike and to skiddish to call someone to take me out. I'm at a stalemate at my computer. But even if I did have a car, where would I go? I have to wake up early tomorrow to try on bridesmaid dresses in Torrance. And a shit-ton of work to do for this show. Oh man, this show! I got a little scared again today about it. I'll still tour this show for another few months after this Los Angeles run. Heck, I'll tour it as long as there is interest. But my life is changing and there are new shows to make.

I'm ready to move onto "not as political or fix-the-world-esque" stuff. Will there be a market for me? Will I survive this economy?

Where is my bootleg copy of The Secret when I need it?

But time to share more carless adventures. This past Tuesday night, my friend suggested we take advantage of the free drinks at this DVD release party for "Itty Bitty Titty Committee"-- it's like the hot new lesbian indie film. But more importantly-- free drinks! And I was getting a ride over.

I think I've mentioned it before, but my lesbian dreamboatess is Jenny Shimizu, former Calvin Klein model and ex-lover of Angelina Jolie. Yum yum.

We've met twice before. The first time was at a small apartment party in Koreatown where as soon as I saw her, I started screaming excitedly in her face that she was Jenny Shimizu (don't tell me that I don't have game). And another time was at this transgender beauty pageant where she was one of the judges (and while taking a photo, I managed to poke Chay in the eyes in my excitement).

So after tossing down drinks, I see her. Across the bar. I started jumping up and down and my friend and this Korean gal we just met there were like, "We're just going to tell her about your show!"

"No! What if she hates me!?!" I screamed. But they push me towards her anyway.

So there we were on the floor. All I can stutter out to Jenny Shimizu is: "We've met before! At that lesbian party! You know, of that lesbain couple, in Koreatown. I forget their names. They were together, but then they broke up? They have dogs? You know who I'm talking about?"

Nevermind that I basically described every lesbian in Los Angeles....



All we got were these blurry photos from my Crackberry. Gosh I can't wait to get my nice camera back and start taking nice pictures again!

So I'm following Jenny all over the bar with a Long Island in one hand, when our new Korean lady friend was like, "Do you want to go to the Seventh Veil now?"

For those not in the know, the Seventh Veil is a strip club on Sunset Blvd.

***
The last time I went to a strip club was in 2002. Back then, I was scraping by in my fledgling artist career and saw this coupon in the LA Weekly for free admission to this strip club within walking distance of my apartment. What really caught my eye was the advertisement for "Free Buffet Lunch."

Free Admission? Free lunch? Yay! Free food AND feminist research! An artist's dream come true. I had to check out what a buffet at a strip club would be-- chicken wings covered in cigarette butts? Salad that smelled like ass? And what would it be like to eat lunch with a shaking crotch over my plate?

Feminist Research.

It wasn't totally free-- $6 for a "drink ticket." But still... free food... and yes... feminist research. It was funny to walk down Bundy to this little strip club (the Silver Reign) that I'd always noticed behind Staples and never thought to go to. When I got in there it was so dark. I could barely see the dancers. They were blurs of boob and ass. The buffet sat on a little card table in the corner. It was cheese pasta in sternos, salad from a bag, and sliced bread-- the meal of champions!

I sat in the corner with my then boyfriend's best friend who came with me because he wanted a free meal too. We hunched over our baked ziti, trying to look very involved with our food, avoiding eye contact with the dancers so that we wouldn't have to pay for lapdances or tip (as we were pretty much out of money at that point).

It was really surprising how many guys there were there. After all, the sun was out.

The dancers were quite taken by my presence as the only (not naked) girl there. They kept coming over, shaking my hand, letting their hands trail against my leg. All the while, I would just nod politely and stuff myself with pasta and send them on their way to circle the club to find someone who could tip them.

Anyway, so this last Tuesday, filled with free drinks, I am in the backseat of our new friend's car on my way to the Seventh Veil. And my friend is with me back there. I had to go. After all, this was feminist research! Plus, what else was I going to do? Take the bus home?

$20 to get in! And I got another $20 broken into ones. It was exciting though to actually be able to tip the girls instead of hide from them. But... Is it me? Or are strip clubs passe? Aren't we completely desensitized to stripper-esque nudity in this day and age? It's not that interesting to see a girl in her bikini anymore. Or even a naked girl. I can look at that at home for free.

But we played up the part of saucy strip club patrons. I tucked bills into G-strings and played the role of the music video jerk guy. Raising the roof and letting these dancers do insane, yet totally numbing stuff like stick their boobies in my face.

All that ass in my face got so dull. Very quickly. And the guys who arrived alone and who weren't tipping were pissing me off.

Still tipsy, I turned to my friend and kept asking, "What's going on? How the heck did we end up in a strip club with a lesbian on a Tuesday night?"

Ah yes, I remember now. I have no car. And this is how I'm getting a ride home.

And in another moment I thought to myself: "Nudity is so boring. Maybe I should work here if my touring dries up. Sure I just turned 30, but I still got it. It would be... feminist research! Like Diablo Cody's early years!"

One of the girls asked us if we wanted a dance. Still inebriated, I found myself educating her about her labor rights.

KW: Do you pay a stage fee to work here?
Dancer: Yeah, we have to pay a portion of what we make.
KW: Just so you know, I had a friend who was a dancer in San Francisco, and she was able to successfully sue the clubs she danced at for back wages. Because it is illegal to have to pay to work.
D: Well we make a lot, so...
KW: It is illegal for you to have to pay to work! They already make $20 at the door. And they shouldn't take more of your wages when you are inside. Waiters don't have to pay to wait tables! So you shouldn't have to pay to work here. You really should check out the Sex Workers Outreach Project here in Los Angeles. It's your money and you have the right to it!
D: (Quiet, then...) Well, let me know if you want a dance.

That's right folks. I was organizing that club from the inside!

I think the unfortunate difference about dancers in LA (versus somewhere like San Francisco) is that it is probably a lot harder for dancers to organize. And I also wonder if there is less interest. In the "Live Nude Girls Unite" documentary about how San Francisco dancers formed the first exotic dancers union -- most of those women were Women's Studies majors, artists, super educated and very activist oriented. There seemed to be a whole pride and identity around being a "sex worker" in San Francisco that there might not be in Los Angeles. I feel like in LA, it's a lot of aspiring actors working the pole who are trying to get in and out of that business while they can.

Anyway, for my mother who is probably totally horrified as she reads this: I do not plan to pursue being a stripper. In order to protect the Wong Family name, I will find another way of collecting feminist research. I'm sure there is a massage parlor somewhere that could use my help.

Yes, folks, the carless life has meant a new life of debauchery-- booze, lesbians, and strippers. Oh yeah, and labor organizing. Do not judge me. It's feminist research. I swear.

Labels: feminist research, The Wong Sans Wheels Chronicles

Today is my father's birthday. I called to wish him a Happy Birthday" and he asked: "Have you seen 'America's Got Talent?' so entertaining."

My mother picked up the phone and said, "I read your bob Kristina" (for some reason, my American born mother pronounces "blog"-- "bob") and then she began to scold me for my entry below. "You are creating a self fulfulling prophecy... If you keep thinking that nobody will come to your show... then nobody will. I think you should vocalize all the good things you think will happen like, 'What if the show sells out?'"

It was all so very "The Secret" of her. I was suprised. After all, I thought I got the gift for worry and panic from my parents.

So here are my new "what-ifs"....

What if my show sells out and people stop getting depressed and stop killing themselves?
What if everyone loves it?What if it goes really well and people love me?
What if men with jobs watch it and fall in love with me and ask me out and then marry me and I become a kept woman?


Thanks Mommy.

By the way, tomorrow morning (9/11) at 7am, I am on the KPFK morning show giving out free tickets for the show!

Labels: artist life, the secret

Is it just me or in the last ten years have the days shrunk? I seem to get nothing done in a day.

I have just been working on my run of Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in Los Angeles. And I'm completely and totally freaked out about it all.

Among the "what-ifs" that I keep asking myself....

What if nobody comes?

What if nobody likes me?

What if nobody likes the show?

What if I play the show to two people on a given show night?

What if I play the show to NOBODY on a given show night?

What if I never get to be an artist again after this?

This is all so intimidating and scary. And yet, I've done this show quite successfully before on numerous occasions. I think what is so intimidating is how big the theater is. And I haven't done Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest since May. And I already feel like its "an old show."

Oh this growing girl that I am.

That's all. Time to stop worrying.

Here is the link to buy tickets! Please come to my show.

Labels: artist life

In all my madness of getting ready for my upcoming 3 week run of Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest in Los Angeles. (Btw, did you get your tickets yet?), I totally didn't realize that BigBadChineseMama.com (the once cutting edge for a fake porn site that I built way back when in college) had gone in for a redesign thanks to Steve at Asianloop.com. I really appreciate that he fixed it up for me! I had no motivation to.

New features....

* Submit yourself as a bride!
* More faux porn layout

It still needs a lot of rewriting and work. But it's up and that's where we'll start.

In other news, I am going to be a bridesmaid this winter in my friend Chay's wedding. Yay! A chance to participate in the world of hetero normativity within close proximity! I was a bridesmaid before for my friend's Mormon wedding, but because I was not Mormon could only show up at the reception with a wine colored skirt on and my offensive arms showing.

I was also asked to MC my friends, Mike and Nancy's wedding. That was cool. I wrote jokes and stuff for them that were too brilliant for the masses to understand. This time, I get to actually walk in the ceremony. I will forever be part of Chay's wedding memories! GASP!

Chay brought me a brochure of different bridesmaid dresses to choose from. I was a bit disappointed that there were no pop-up collars, sequins, gorgeously tacky bell sleeves, rip-away pants, or hoop skirts in any of the selections. But I will make due. I'm supposed to walk with her future brother-in-law (who's single and hot with a JOB, btw) down the aisle or something hetero-normative, pseudo marriage-ish like that.

I already told Chay I'm not going to be able to do this wedding stuff with a straight face or without mugging for the camera the whole time. And that if her future bro-in-law is as hot as he is in his pics, I'll probably just park my ass at the altar when we get there and scream, "My turn! My turn!" She said I can work my antics out during the rehearsal. I told her the rehearsal will only make my behavior at her wedding worse. I also volunteered to be the entertainment and introduce the families. Do a table dance, drinking contest.... you know, whatever it is these normal straight people do at these wedding things...

What can I say? I am the Wong.

Labels: artist life, i'm kristina wong, marriage grown up crap, uck you

I was told to let you know the following by my masters at moveon.org....

Hey,

Want an Obama T-shirt? MoveOn's giving them out if you make a small donation to their young-voter registration program, aimed at registering half a million young voters in swing states. I just got mine, and wanted to share the opportunity with you.

Click this link to get your Obama T-shirt:

http://pol.moveon.org/obamatshirts/index13.html?id=-5172334-XZmO3nx

Thanks!

Labels: Obama is hot