Here's a quick tour of my new Silverlake home as seen through the eyes of Oliver. Check out Oliver's sexy gold collar which I hope will keep him from getting misplaced among the raccoons of Silverlake (and by "raccoons," I don't mean the hipsters).


The new view from my home office overlooking the hills of Silverlake and a glimpse of the big giant deck. The days go by a little slower and the sunlight from three windows has been so much better for my health. And now when the sun goes down and not enough work gets done, I only bawl like a crazy person, not like a maniac.


The bathtub in the bathroom. There is a separate shower and bathtub! Note that the duffel bag filled with my setpieces is stored in the bathtub. I have about 1/3 the closet space I did before.


The full kitchen and a shot of Oliver's cornhole. For some reason, there's more storage in the kitchen than anywhere else in the house, so my old journals and pictures are stashed in the cupboards.


The separate craft area! I previously did crafts on top of my computer table and loose threads and buttons would mix themselves into my paperwork. Finally! A hobby station where I can sew my own costumes and props! Also, check out my new sewing machine which I will have to own for the rest of my life because it cost an Indiana mortgage payment! A limited edition Project Runway Brother sewing machine!

Before I got Oliver out of West LA he was spraying repeatedly in the bed, in my luggage, It was my cat lady swan song.

I thought for half a second of leaving him behind... I was prepared to flip the mattress and wash the sheets again and again in Silverlake. I bought cat pheremones to spray in the house which supposedly calm a cat down (because it makes them think they already sprayed there... yes... lovely). I bought white vinegar to neutralize the smell. I even arranged to have the cat psychic talk to Oliver (through me) to prep him for the move (she was on vacay and couldn't do an appointment...).

But he's totally gotten into our new Silverlake digs. He's chilled out and mellow. And as far as I can SMELL, no accidents. Perhaps in hipsterville, my cat lady days are numbered?

It was kind of a wonderful thing to see Oliver leave West LA for the first time in his whole life. I put him in a mesh laundry hamper and sat in the backseat with him as my cousin drove us down the freeway towards Silverlake. Watching Oliver react to all these new things must have been how that woman in Austria felt when she and her kids were released from their basement dungeon her father put them in (minus the incest and having seven kids by her father and living with no natural sunlight in absolute hell for 25 years). Oliver was scared, but also very curious of the freeway and of his new home, of trees (not just West LA palm trees, which I guess count as trees) and the sounds of birds, of sunlight streaming in. I finally live in a home that I'm not embarassed to have guests over at. Even with the truckloads of boxes still in the living room, I feel I can still show people the place.

I write you now from the Atlantic Center for the Arts where I am on a three week artist residency. This residency lands me as last year's did-- off the coast of Florida, this time on the EAST Coast. The bugs haven't been as cruel as they were last summer. And rather than drink myself into a stupor as the only artist-in-residence, there are about 27 people here who can join me in "drunkeness-as-artistic-process." It's quite amazing. Unfortunately, I have a grant application to finish up the first few days that I am here, but after that, I can tear back into the projects that I've neglected in this move. Including "Cat Lady"-- the new show that I just got a MAPFUND grant to work on!



The view from my cottage. It's a jungle out there filled with bugs, birds, and lizards. I exclaimed last night, "Wow! It sounds just like the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland!"

One thing I've noticed, the artists here are all very young. I've grown accustomed to feeling like the youngest person in the room in other settings, but some of these folks look like they just finished their undergrad. I hear over and over again that studies have found a lot of practicing artists stop making work past 40. Is the demographic here indicative of that truth?


My unmade bed.

I'm wondering why I've not applied sooner to be here. This place is amazing. We get 24 hour access to studios and libraries, our own cottages with bathroom, we get fed, and we're not obligated to produce any final work, just be artists and soak in the process of being around other artists and doing our work.

I think of Oliver and our new home. I see myself here given full permission to create work, and I wonder how it was I went so long in my 20s living in such abject post college conditions.

I toast to the steamy sundown here in Florida with cheap booze in my hands, sticky with sweat and bug spray. I still have to raise a ton of money to get Cat Lady (the new show) made and have yet to piece together enough touring shows in 2009 to make a living wage... but yes! Here I am in Florida! Treated like royalty? Well more like a summer camp for artists.... but good enough!

Finally, I get to live up my life as a non-profit Britney Spears. Kristina Wong, you have arrived.

Labels: Moving to Silverlake, road wong

Today I watched as years of my hoarding was redistributed among the residents of West Los Angeles. I had a bittersweet moment as I saw my hand-crocheted ninja turtle backpack that I wore throughout college leave on the back of a 7-year old latino kid for $2. I picked up that bag at a Savers in Vegas when I was 18 for $3. (Making depreciation 33%.) It was a signature item of mine at UCLA. But now it rightfully is given new life by an owner of a more appropriate age. I actually teared watching him hop up and down the street wearing it. College was a tough time and strangely enough, that backpack gave me a sense of self. I wondered what his memories would be with it.

I've been touring so much, I haven't noticed how much of a college town I live in until today when all these kids (who for some reason insist on wearing UCLA sweatshirts) came up to us to peruse the sale. There was a girl wearing an Asian Sorority jacket that had "Jimmy's Little Sis" monogrammed on the back. And I'm thinking, "Oh god, I keep getting older and they stay the same age."

I'm long overdue for a move.

After days of trying to box things up for the yard sale, I didn't even put out everything I could have sold. Running up and down the stairs of my apartment and grabbing things of value was exhausting. But I did clear $230. Not bad. It wasn't about the money, it was about saying the long goodbye to crap and seeing it off to new homes. It was the necessary ritual of separation. If anything, this economic slowdown has afforded me the time to do a massive demolition of my place to clear out my possessions from the bottom on up. I spent a lot of time telling stories about items... "Oh my friends brought that back for me from Laos" or "Oh, my grandmother crocheted that, but I have no room." Surprisingly, people do buy VHS tapes, magazines, and uncovered records.

This Asian woman named Debbie came by and spent hours with us. Tediously going through things making sure she didn't leave anything unperused. I let her take my dishes, some of my jewelry-- about two boxes of things for $3o. I felt like she was hanging out more just for the company. I was good company and pretty much everytime she picked up something in interest I would say, "Just take it!"

She even came back to tell me she was short one chopstick and I let her grab more stuff. I imagine her life now is my old life of useless cute crap. Poor poor Debbie.

There were moments when I knew things were underpriced, where I felt rich in regret about things I didn't wear enough or paid too much for. But once they were gone, they were gone and it felt so good.

I swear. No more hoarding.

In my cleaning now. I found a $5 gift certificate to Tower Records and my missing passport. I also found bank statements from 2001 in my dining closet. The passport is expired now. Tower Records is out of business.

All this has me wondering what the F I've been doing all these years. How did I let accumulation hit such a low?

I hope my new obsession is hoarding memories of a well lived life.

Labels: Moving to Silverlake

There's a lot going on now.  

Labels: Moving to Silverlake, road wong

I'm moving.

No, not to New York. Still too chicken to do that officially. Though maybe that's next. Not San Francisco either. Though I am there quite a bit.

I'm officially shifting my base of operations to SILVERLAKE! Land of skinny boys with girly haircuts and too tight jeans.

Why am I moving away from the beach? Why would I leave my 2 bedroom apartment which is locked in at such low low rent? Many reasons. One main one is that its getting very depressing to live in the same apartment that I've been in since I finished college. And believe it or not, saving money, even in this economy, is not worth being this depressed.

I'm moving to a house with a big deck and a cactus garden in front. A full kitchen, a washer/dryer, and a dishwasher. It's on a tree lined street walking distance from Spaceland. And as soon as I tweeted the news, I come to learn that that's where all my friends have been hiding.

I've been doing what I haven't wanted to do since I moved in here... Move stuff out. Moving is such an experience filled with regret. Looking at books (from college even!) that I have yet to read. Postcards that I never sent. Notes from classes on how to audition for a career that kind of turned a different way.

And finally going through the tubs filled with old paper work.

I've found among other gems....

* Old lecture notes peppered with poems to a French boy (huh?! I have no memory of having a crush on a French boy.)
* Yards and Yards of fabric that I purchased to sew up a giant vagina for my very first show.
* A job application for Hooters that I started to fill out and never turned in. (I listed my roommate as a reference.)
* A folder marked "Job Opportunities." Inside were corporate brochures for Merrill Lynch, E! Entertainment, etc I must have collected from a job fair at UCLA. And for some reason, there was a flyer for "Amateur Night" at Showgirls also tucked in there. I wonder if I slipped that into my files as a joke to myself to discover many years later because even I couldn't believe I was that funny to put that in the same file. Ironically, I've not worked for any of those companies, nor ever tried out the strip club thing.
* A letter I wrote to Leilani when I was an undergrad for the internship she was offering at "TeAda Productions." (Yes, the company that 10 years later produced a run of "Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest" in Los Angeles)

I junked a lot of stuff so far and am planning a big yard sale June 13 where I will pretty much push everything that is non-essential out to the curb and let the hoarders take it on.

I'm ready to let it all go. I'm making room for a great new bright life.

Incidentally, if you are in the market for a queen bed with a canopy frame, 21 inch TV with digital converter, YARN, slide carousel, women's clothes, etc, please let me know. I've got what you want.

Labels: Moving to Silverlake

My set gets filthier by the city.

Congratulate me. I have survived yet another Asian Pacific Islander Nervous Breakdown Month. (Technically, it is in May, but schools get out in May, so it if often pushed to April). Yes! The month in which my heritage is "celebrated" with Kristina Wong's arrival to various campuses also coincides with when schools finally get it together to spend what funds they procrastinated on spending earlier in the year.

It's been slow for all my artist friends, so I was very very grateful for April this year. And yet, I wasn't actually being programmed as part of API Heritage Month, I was just being programmed.

I returned to Los Angeles last week, but I have yet to unpack. My apartment looks ransacked and I have yet to get back on schedule. Yep, welcome back to your normal life of chaos Kristina.

Three cities in three and a half weeks. Chicago, New York City, and Minneapolis.

I learned a lot during my travels this month. These lessons in short:

1. I will never fly to Minneapolis from New York City on ATA again (they stop in Atlanta which turns a two hour flight into a six hour flight) and they have all of two inches between rows. When I finally got to Minneapolis, I passed out in the hotel, woke up not knowing what time it was, my phone rang, and I started crying like a startled baby because I was so disoriented.

2. I am happiest when I am working (and being renumerated), making art, and helping others make their art. I get sad when these three things are not in place in my life. So all I want in my life is a constant influx of these three things, and I will be happy.

3. I still got it. And I always will got it. And I can never forget that I got it.

Chicago was the first city of this April whoring stint. I woke up the second night that I arrived and didn't know where I was.

It happens so often from all the travel that I don't panic anymore. This time when it happened, I pulled the sheets closer to me as my brain calculated:

"Ok, Kristina. You're not at home. Are you in Los Angeles? No. You aren't in Los Angeles because this isn't your apartment. And there's nobody next to you, is there? Nope, so you didn't get lucky last night which definitely means you aren't in Los Angeles. Ok, you are definitely in some city in America. Well, this isn't a hotel room. It's too small. It's a dorm. Oh, that's right, you are in Chicago. You are in Chicago at the University of Chicago where you are an artist-in-residence!"


The University of Chicago didn't have any theater spaces available on campus to present the show. The only option was the non-denominational Rockerfeller Chapel on campus. (But really, can a cathedral architected in the shape of a cross actually be considered "non-denominational"?). So yes, I did the show in a church that was completely unedited. Talk about a one-way ticket to hell.

It was definitely not the easiest space to work in. It was a nightmare focusing lights during the day because we couldn't get the sun to turn off long enough to see where our lights were focused. We had to run all the sound cues off a dying boombox with a lavelier propped next to it.

After I did a two minute orgasm in the first 20 minutes of the show, one guy walked out. I can only imagine he headed straight to the confessional to tell of what sin he witnessed.

Still, I would say it went well enough. I was surprised journalist Paula Kamen who was a college friend of Iris Chang showed up on her own to my show. She wrote a book looking at Iris' death, and gave me a signed copy. I'd read about her book and totally knew who she was once she introduced herself.

I spent the rest of my trip reading the book and finally finished it when I came back to Los Angeles. This trip was rough at points, but when I read the first chapter and was brought back to the details of Iris' life and tragic death, I cried and oddly, felt grounded again. It's easy to forget that the reason people in cities all over the country come to my show. Because the topic intrigues them, and because beyond all of my theatrics, this show came from a real place.

On the Saturday morning, hours after my show, I woke up at 3:30am to catch a 6am flight to New York City (Thank you says my body). When I arrived, I had a few hours to prepare for hosting the showcase at the Asian American Student Conference at NYU. I was at my friend Jessica's place in Brooklyn peeling through what odds and ends of costumes I had brought. Because of these new airline baggage limits, I could only bring odds and ends of various costumes and actually didn't have complete concepts for characters down.

When I got to NYU, the students asked me to host their quiz bowl. That had to be the strangest, funniest, off-the-cuff performance in the world. It was a five teams of three kids each using those press-on lights from the dollar store as their low tech game show buzzers, and I was calling out questions like it was World Wide Wrestling.

Imagine me bellowing into a mic while standing on a chair: "And the correct answer for 'who was the author or Orientalism'... Edward SAID!!!!!! You answered WRRRRRROOOOONNNNGGGG!!!!!"

The kids got so into it. Even from the audience they were jumping up and down in their seats whispering excitedly what the right answers were to themselves. And I really credit my own earnest overdramatic hosting of the event for how well it all went over.



Because I didn't actually pack full costumes to the show, I had to improvise with what I brought. So I created a new character named "Kristina Kamikaze, Tila Tequila's taller and also bisexual sister." I wore my pajamas, used safety pins to give it shape, and shoved a tote bag in my butt. It was fun and a hit.

Then 48 hours later, I was off to Minneapolis to do a two and a half week residency at Pangea World Theater. Can I stress AGAIN how I will never fly ATA, or at least try to save a few bucks by doing the flight that stops in ATLANTA?!


Some of my favorite friends in Minneapolis include Nadine and her husband Michael. Nadine I met completely by accident. She sent me some books off of my Amazon wishlist, along with a nice note, and I gave her a call to thank her. As it turns out we were linked by arts groups and were only separated by a couple of degrees by other artists we knew.

When I was in Minneapolis last June at the Asian American Theater Conference, Nadine and Michael took me and my friend Sam to the Mall of America. They told us about their extensive collection of board games. They have thousands of board games including weird ones like the "Spiro T. Agnew American History Challenge Game." I never thought about the phenomenom of board games until I saw their extensive collection in their basement. Board games to point to our American obsessions of "winning" and sometimes reveal specific moments of history and even problematic conceptions of race. See below...


And here's another gem from their collection. No, you don't need to be Chinese to play Chop Suey. But it's ok if you are a douche wearing a child's cop hat.

One day when I become a middle aged married white couple living in a nice modest house in the Midwest, I too will find something to obsessively hoard. Oh wait, I am just looking at my yarn collection in the corner of my office. Well, I guess I have found something to hoard. I'm getting over yarn. It's been almost a year since I've really knit or crocheted anything. I guess it really was a biproduct of my obsessing over making my show. And the sad thing is that much of this collection, I have already hidden up at my parents' house in San Francisco.



They put us up in these hotel apartments in Downtown Minneapolis. And we finally checked out what they call the big shameful eyesore of Downtown-- a three story building called "Sex World" which boasts the title of largest sex store in the Midwest. Yes, there is a 12 foot gold penis you can ride. No, I won't post pictures of me with it.

The run in Minneapolis was wildly successful. Standing ovations every night. Post show discussions that were intelligent and sensitive. A few people who came up to me and told me that the show changed their life. It was so gratifying and humbling.

When people asked what my impressions were of Minneapolis, I could only say the same thing over and over again: "This town really has surprised me."

If you don't know, Minneapolis has some of the greatest per capita spending on the arts. So a lot of amazing artists flock there and the audiences are pretty cultured. I visited my friends who live in an artists loft. And surprisingly, it's actually artist friendly. It's not like in Los Angeles where "artist loft" really means, "Overpriced dump downtown that no artist can actually afford." My friends, Katie and Katie pay about $1100 total for this totally fancy artist loft with access to rehearsal space, kilns, community rooms and a rooftop garden.

Folks were trying to convince me to move out there for a couple years so I could apply for the Bush and McKnight grants. I told them I need to prepare myself for the Minnesota winter first.



When I went for a look at the Best Yarn Store in Minneapolis (above), I not only found a creepy Asian mannequin but the ladies there were like, "Oh hey! Are you the one doing that show this weekend?"

I was all flattered that they recognized me just from the postcard, and then realized that I had my name on a sticker on my dress.

The biggest highlight of my trip was looking out into the audience the last night and seeing one of the Asian students from the high school matinee (the high school audience was so saavy!) had returned to see the show again! And brought five friends with her, also Asian. That was definitely one of those moments where I saw myself in high school and realized that beyond all the bullshit of being "post meta post meta" in grant applications... that there was a reason I came to doing this work. That it has importance, that I am good at it, that people connect to what I'm doing and their lives are changed for the better because of it.

I'm feeling much better as an artist. I feel inspired. And it was nice to have a few weeks to not have to panic about the economy. Sure, when I came back home there was a rejection letter waiting for me for a 10K grant I've gotten the last four years (due to City budget cuts, not a lack of merit thank you very much). I was reminded this last tour that I'm really good at what I do. That people's lives can be made better by what I have made from nothing. And nobody can take that pride from me (but they can unfortunately, yank my money from me.)

I'm not a trust fund baby. I don't get handouts from my parents (I don't condemn those who do, more power to you!). I built this life from scratch on willpower and a dream. When those audiences filled with strangers who stood and applauded show after show, I knew and could accept finally, that I've been doing something so right to keep on dreaming.

I am proud of myself.

Labels: road wong

Considering Divorce	Divorce Court	Reality TV	$500	Yes	Non-Union	5/11/2009
Co-Star / Male or Female / All Ethnicities / 18 - 80 Looking for well spoken married people who are having marital problems to come on and get Judge Lynn Toler's council. Couples don't have to actually be filing for divorce, they just have to have a lot of good stories. Basically, you and your spouse come on the show and complain about one another. There is no real divorce offered, and the ruling has no legal barring. You will each receive a $500 appearance payment and the taping takes less than one hour. They should just call this show, "Public Ass Raping TV."

Labels: hollywood wong

Greetings from the International House Dorm at the University of Chicago. I'm the artist-in-residence at the University all week. So far I've done such official things as use the campus wifi to watch the season finale of Rock of Love 3 on my laptop. I've also been watching MSNBC and cannot understand why the GOP insists on feeding the comedy gods by naming their protests "Teabagging Parties." I've also hung out with my friends and their new baby. And above, you'll see how I met this guy who apparently ran for President in 1984.



Something is up with my camera. It's shooting everything as a half-assed Ralph Ellison literary metaphor. Here, Jesse Jackson becomes a black blur. Tell me if you think my photos look more blurry than usual. And does this mean that I finally have to give up my seven year old camera for something new?



It's cold out. Yet again, I've packed wrong for the weather. I'm in the boonies of Chicago.. ie "Hyde Park" in the Southside of Chicago. These are Barack and Michelle's old stomping grounds. Sasha and Malia's old school is next door to the International House.


The Hyde Park Walgreens, shows that even their history-making hometown hero is not above being marked down on clearance.


I do have to give a talk tomorrow and will be doing a show on Friday. I decided last Sunday that I'd totally veg out at the nearby Science and Technology Museum. That place is quite the scene. Photo opps every ten seconds. Souvenir machines at every exhibit. It was like Disneyland with content. And people eat it up. I wish I could charge my audiences every 10 feet for some memorialization of my show.



One of the most fascinating parts of the museum was watching chicks hatching live. I'd never seen it before. But it's really profound to see a chick be born. When they finally break out of their eggs, they are wet and dirty, exhausted and hang out of their shell, barely moving but breathing, half hanging out of their shells, slowly slumping out for air. And yet, that's just the beginning of what life has in store for them.


They reminded me of what I look like after I mail a grant to the airport just under the deadline.


Then they get cute once they dry off. Then they get eaten.


Space cadet.


Gave a talk at the School of the Art Institute of Chicago today. My friend Roberto had me in his class. The tuition there is insane. 35k a year to make art, listen to Kristina Wong speak about her work, and get a Mother Freaking Artist (MFA) degree!


This is Baby Minara who for some reason has Rod Blagojovich's hair. "Minara" is both a Japanese and Cambodian word that means "Kristina's womb ticker."

I've got to go to bed. Unlike Los Angeles where the days are fast, I am feeling the days more here and getting more work done. My friend and I are shooting a short film. We will be up early in the morning to shoot some more, and then I give a lecture here... and pull my weight!

Labels: marriage grown up crap, road wong