I got a little teary watching this clip of my friend Brian marrying a total stranger as his way of showing how ridiculous laws barring gay marriage are. Why can two straight strangers marry but not a loving gay couple that has been together forever? Why aren't they entitled to the same rights?

If anything, Brian's gesture a great satire of weddings. Why do straight people commit to one person FOREVER? Why do straight people get married so fast? Why do straight women get into these legally binding arrangements with straight men they want to father their kids when these men will probably change and disappoint them down the road or have anger and anxiety issues? (I'm totally projecting from my last relationship, but I'm probably right.)

Anyway, Happy Valentine's Day! I'm spending Valentine's Day closing on a my first condo (details to come as this becomes a reality!) and making out with my wife. See below...



"If you can't love yourself, how the hell you going to love anyone else?" -- RuPaul

Labels: marriage grown up crap, sex is unnecessary when you have yarn

Brian Feldman will marry ANYONE! from Concrete Lion Pictures on Vimeo.

I take a break from the nauseating task of trying to buy a home in LA, to share with you the latest brilliant project of my friend Brian Feldman. You may remember him from an earlier blog post. He is indeed, Orlando's broker, balder and more brilliant version of David Blaine.

Brian is doing this week what a lot of my friends had joked about doing in the wake of same sex marriage rights being completely written out of state constitutions. Brian is exercising his power, no, HIS RIGHT, to marry a total stranger. And by stranger, I mean... a woman stranger...because you know, the law and all...

Brian agreed to marry any woman who showed up at the Orlando Courthouse at 3pm yesterday. Three women showed up. One woman with a baby strapped to her. So Brian picked his wife in the most sincere way possible, by spinning a water bottle. Then the lucky lady proceeded to fill out a marriage license with him. On Friday, Brian Feldman marries Hannah Miller. I don't know who she is and nor does he. Though apparently, she has a very understanding boyfriend.

If I had the time to fly to Florida and wasn't so desperately trying to preserve my FICO score in the wake of trying to buy a house here... I would have gotten myself hitched to that nice Jewish boy myself. Brian Feldman and I could have showed the world: Marriage is for fags.

But instead, I enjoy this nonsense from a distance. And so can you.

Labels: art talk, dying alone, marriage grown up crap

I am in the midst of a conspiracy I'd like to call "JacketGate."

Ever since I moved to Los Angeles a million years ago, I have suffered from the inability of knowing what time of year it is. We don't have seasons, we just have a couple months when it rains twice and we put on hooded sweatshirts and scarves and complain about the "cold." But other than that, it's one long summer with slight fluctuations. We have one major season in Los Angeles... and that's "Pilot Season."

Right now, I'm in San Francisco. Since my last blog, I've been in Los Angeles, Knoxville, TN and New York City. In the latter two cities, I really experienced what they mean by "East Coast Winter." Imagine me wearing the one coat I own (a little suede number from the Out of the Closet thrift store) with the wind ripping right through me. Imagine me swearing through the windy streets of Astoria as I ran towards shelter and finally understood why people move to Los Angeles for the weather.

I am a cold weather sissy. And that's why I decided, January 2010 would be the perfect time of year to experience what they call "a Maine winter" at the MacDowell Writer's Colony in Monadnock, NH where I head in a couple days to work on my new play. I'll be there for over three weeks.

A few years ago, my filmmaker friend Michael Kang went to MacDowell this time of year and he sent me this apocalyptic picture from his New Year's Eve there. My jaw dropped ("froze" might be a more appropriate word) when I saw this...



This doesn't look like much of a "retreat." And granted, it's a picture of the parking lot and a homemade fireworks NYE show. But from the looks of it, it's going to be cold as misery (specifically, "feels like 11 degrees" says weather.com).

I seem to have a knack for traveling the country during the worst times of the year. Two years ago it was Florida in July. This year it was Alaska in January. Alaska was not as bad as I thought. I was inside the theater most of the time. There were times when the wind and snow would hit my face and it would feel like pins were stabbing my skin. But it wasn't apocalyptic the way Sarah Palin made us think Alaska was. And thanks to global warming, the weather hovered at a nice low of 30 degrees. I made it through Alaska wearing borrowed snowboarding clothes from my friend Teri. But this year, I didn't even have time to ask around to borrow clothes. I was traveling so much, I barely got a Facebook tweet out asking for a coat.

Looking at Michael's picture above has me realizing, that even a San Francisco cold weather jacket is not going to cut it. I need serious warmth. I need an ugly jacket.



If you've been reading, you know I have been purging the amount of stuff I own. Two yard sales and a half dozen trips to Goodwill and I have only shed the amount of stuff I own by 30%. I thought it was more, but as I really take a look around, I still got a lot of shit. Shopping has become a disgusting endeavor of late. The day after redistributing all my crap to the citizens of West LA in a yard sale, I was forced to go to Crate and Barrel to fulfill a friend's wedding registry. I almost vomited having to spend the money from the yard sale to buy more crap.

I've come to really loathe the practice of shopping.

I'm learning that everyone on the East Coast must be broke because a good winter coat is expensive. We're talking $300 North Face expensive. And I also realize, I need to get some real snow shoes which run $150. And it probably wouldn't hurt to buy a bomber hat rather than rely on this little crocheted beanie I got. I've owned bomber hats in the past that have been given away or lost. Teri loaned me hers for Alaska but I don't have it this year.

$450+ is an unfathomable amount to spend on winter clothes. My friends have all chided me: "But you might go out there again. It's an investment." But in my carlessness, I am in this time of life where I refuse to buy stuff, and I refuse to buy a jacket. Even if I need one, especially during this great purge. I'm trying to save up for this elusive house. And we live in a planet with such an excess of shit, surely someone has an extra coat to share. Surely, I can try to not contribute to mass consumption and utilize what already exists.

But nobody seems to have an ugly coat to share. My friends have offered their San Francisco winter jackets. But nobody has the floor-length puffy nonsense that I need.



I thought, I'd try Ebay. No luck. Winter coats are as much online as they are in the stores. I found some decent ones less than $200 on the LL Bean and Eddie Bauer site, that apparently have been "tested" to work in below freezing temperatures. LL Bean is sold out of coats my size, and the Eddie Bauer store in San Francisco doesn't have any heavy ugly coats in stock. You see, because it doesn't get cold enough here for that.

Then I thought I'd get clever on Craigslist. Nobody was listing a coat like the one I was looking for so I thought I'd offer up to $100 for an ugly jacket if I included a picture of one. No luck. Multiple offers of fleece tops, cashmere scarves, but nobody in San Francisco seems to have an ugly jacket for an ugly winter. I even attempted to barter for winter clothes-- because the principle of bartering means using what exists and most importantly, not using cash. I have all this yarn from my yarn hoarding phase hidden up here at my parents', and tried to barter that. Again, offers of things I don't need or the right coats in the wrong size.

I went to a cocktail party last night in San Francisco, where the hunt for this winter coat was a consuming part of my conversations. (I know, I am such the party animal.) Everyone was pretty intrigued by this quest for a jacket for cheap or free. I was offered suggestions of websites I could find them cheaper, who in the city I could borrow one from... none have panned out.

I even thought for a moment of signing up for those free coat programs for homeless people.

So I broke down this afternoon and decided, I'd buy a damn coat and put it on the charge card. Burlington Coat Factory has an obvious name for an obvious product. But what I found was only a small selection of coats that would get me through a San Francisco winter. No ugly, Michelin man sleeping bag with sleeves jackets for a Maine winter. Just thin, lightly downed selections. My mother was trying to be helpful, handing me coat after coat on the rack, and I couldn't help of being reminded of why I'd accumulated so much crap in all my years of living... because I always bought subpar shit and thus, had to buy it several times.

If I'm going to buy this ugly jacket and ugly snow shoes. I'm going to have to do it right so that I only have to do it once.

I may have to go shopping. At a mall. The day after Christmas. Like the rest of America. And still not find this ugly jacket. Ugh, nausea.

My friend Wei-Ming says she'll go post Christmas shopping with me tomorrow. Nothing is making me more ill than the idea of spending hundreds of dollars on winter clothes, creeping along elbow to elbow, from store to store with the rest of America, spending hard earned cash on crap that theoretically, already exists somewhere that I know someone is not using that I could borrow or barter.

I'm telling you. This is JacketGate.



In other news, my friends are having babies, while I'm running around the country looking for a free coat that won't put me in the poor house.... Meet Anja.

Labels: buy nothing year, marriage grown up crap, new york city

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

If you known me for a while, you know that sometimes I'll have blogs (like my last one) that end with me saying fatalistic things like: "I'm joining a cult!," then there is silence for a few days, and then the next entry will be something frivolous about a new haircut or something. With no mention of my previous freak out.

Anyway, I keep forgetting that these six weeks of relatively unstructured time in Los Angeles is for me to write, administrate, and do all those things that I need to do to keep working and make creative work. The trap is that unstructured time often gets wasted with freaking out about the meaning of life. The first few days back have been hard because I feel like when I get back to LA after long trips, especially in this economy, its like I'm trying to jump into some double dutch ropes that are moving too fast or not at all.

Lately, the city has felt really quiet. Like a long continuation of what it felt like over Christmas break. Is it just me? There's nothing really interesting going on as far as I can tell. It's gotten so uneventful here that my friend invited me to a picnic in the Valley in two weeks and I was like, "YES! I'm coming!!!"

Mike, the director and editor or our concert film reminded me that there is plenty of work left to do before I freak out and backpack across the country for eight years. And we're getting an editing schedule going so we can finish our wonderful Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest Concert film. (Which is looking pretty marvelous I might say.) I'm also making a goal to apply for more grants and residencies and maybe pick up my novel again after having put it down after my residency in Florida last summer. Also, crank out a few spec scripts.

And so, I'm back on the saddle. I was panicked a bit the other night when I blogged about working on an organic farm-- something that I have been seriously considering if our economy collapses and art is obliterated in its wake. I found myself going through the community college course catalog looking for classes to keep me busy. For half a second I thought about taking a fabric basket making course. I wanted to take this tap dance class but alas, the carless life makes it impossible to get down there. (Anyone want to take this tap class in Culver City with me for five weeks? It starts tomorrow and is only $50!)

I often feel like a senior citizen in these stretches of unstructured time in Los Angeles. Like when I come home from touring, I have this semi "retirement savings" to live on while I enjoy the view and find things to keep my occupied so I don't let my mind wander too much. It's also a huge contrast from life on the road where I'm the belle of the ball in the cities I visit and integral to their culture. Here, I sometimes wonder if people even know or care that I'm back.

(I'm back! Where's my party!!!)

I signed up for a one day class in March to learn to make sushi. This was my drastic gesture to deal with the quiet. I was going to take an cross stitch class on Friday, but it's $60. That's a lot of dough when I can pretty much teach myself to do cross stitch. Yes, teach myself... cross stitch. I'm going to cross stitch portraits of me and my cat.

Oh god, what's happening?

I guess this is what people start to do at my age when they are unmarried with no kids... they start taking classes at the Learning Annex and play chess with homeless people on the beach.

Labels: cat lady, losing my mind in los angeles, marriage grown up crap

Today I did stand-up at the Laugh Lounge in the Lower East Side. I'm quite cynical and don't believe that anyone goes to see stand-up anymore, especially in this economy, or when you can see it for free online, or when it is Valentine's Day and there are meals to be eaten and action to be had.

I am wrong. There were plenty of couples looking to laugh it out before getting their rocks off. In fact the show was so sold out that I gave up my seat at the comics' table to some audience members.

Tonight, in what would have otherwise been a small show of comics and their friends, was a packed show with a paying audience (mostly couples) and I don't know how, but I killed. I was kinda lost the whole time and felt like the people in eyeshot were blankfaced. But I rocked the crap out of my 7 minutes as evidenced by the overall reaction. The one Asian girl in the audience took a picture with me after like I was some kind of celebrity-- that's how much I rocked the shit out of that place.

So much so that the producer said he'd bring me back again for a full on guest spot (a longer set in a more highlighted place in the show.) I do have to say, I was the only girl (and Asian) in the show, and a lot of the comics might as well have shit on the mics their mouths were so dirty-- and so the audiences appreciated it when I came up and said first thing, "Nice to be the only girl on an all guy line-up" and started to wipe down the mic with a tissue.

Also, before the show started, some women came up to me and asked if I was the waitress, and I pointed out during my set how "they seemed confused that the nail lady was suddenly waitressing"-- it killed.

But in my (post-show celebratory) two long island iced tea haze I have a deep ass question for the world.... ready for this?

At what point it is that people give up on love and just choose to fake/benefit through the motions of it?

Having been as solo traveling as I've been the last few years, I've had a lot of time to witness people in different cities and the lives they lead in one place. I think about the "settled" down life that I only have with my cat... and at that, I haven't seen my cat for all of four weeks. My community is scattered across the country. My most stable community is me and my suitcase. It's me and my body and the conversations I have with myself in transit.

Watching all these couples in the subway, in the street, in the bars and comedy club tonight, I began to think about how many of them have really had the benefit of experiencing their partner in full unrestrained loving ways. How many of them really discover that emotion of pure love (not just lust) together. How many of them are faking it and are drawn to each other because of biology. How much of it is desperation... How much of it comes from full, open, and total pure love?

Which makes me consider love and lust and how different the two are. Lust comes from hunger. Love, from an open and giving spirit.

What fear sets in that prevents us from being ready to love from that open pure place? When do we decide to cave into that fear and become actors in the game of love just so we can be part of it, as much as we distance ourlselves from it?

Ok, that's enough deep crap for me, I'm turning in. Good night.

Labels: cat lady, marriage grown up crap, neediness.

Yesterday was tough. I'd anticipated this phone call for some time and when it came it was both sad and relieving.

My grandfather passed away in San Francisco yesterday in the care home he was staying in. He was 89 years old.

He'd been in a great deal of pain and his quality of life had deteriorated for quite some time. It was always so hard for me to say goodbye to him before leaving for LA because I wasn't sure if I'd see him again. I can't quite grasp that he is no longer alive, especially because he's so alive to me in my memory. And also because I am in Homer, Alaska. He practically raised me and my brother when my folks were at work. He was the nicest kindest man in the world. He immigrated to the United States as a teenager, taught himself English, and eventually bought and ran a laundry business and raised a family.

He embodies the American dream. He is my hero.

The one thing I wanted him to give me before he passed was a Chinese name to give my kid-- you know, basically a Kunte Kinte naming moment. And if I don't ever have kids, I guess I'll have a bunch of pets running around with Chinese names. But he said he couldn't think of one and that my "husband's father" should name my kid. A gender thing, I guess. So I tried to get him to give my brother's imaginary kid a Chinese name, with the idea that I would just steal that name for my kid. But no dice.

It was rough to run through the show before we opened to the public yesterday. I couldn't deal with a rehearsal and had to go upstairs to sob to Pete on the phone. He said some really encouraging things about letting myself feel what I needed to feel. That this is all part of life. I got myself back together and went back to rehearse.

I had a couple hours to relax. Then I took a breath and we did the show for a nice sized Thursday crowd here in Homer. I wasn't sure if I would just rely on my "autopilot performer" or if in all my grief I could actually muster up a present performance.

The space is already a bit tricky because it's really a gallery with some theater equipment put in. The show is going along... Then, nightmare of nightmares... the video projector doesn't work. The video projector is integral to the show. A tech disaster of this magnitude has not happened before. I didn't realize it until my technician and the gallery director are running towards me onstage doing frantic tech troubleshoting while this was happening. I vamped, and the audience was really patient and funny about it all.

I did have a moment where I thought, "Just stop the show. Just end it all. You can't do this without your video projector and right now they can't follow any of this. Plus, you're tired." But then another part of me thought, "All these people drove in the Alaska winter to see a show-- your show. So give them a show, broken projector or not. And goddamit Kristina, work it."

So I did the show. We ended up doing part of the show with me holding my laptop up to the audience (so ghetto), and then I had to improvise the absence of the projector.

It actually worked out ok. And the audience who had never seen how the show was supposed to go, said they didn't really miss much without the projections. And another surprise, the part of the show where I cry, was actually very hard for me. I figured my grief would naturally spill into that moment but I guess I do have some boundaries to not exploit one real loss for one fictionalized one on stage.

I ended the night with a big glass of pale at the Irish pub next door. I went to bed feeling wrung dry. At 4am this snow plow that sounded like it had an alarm clock attached to it went zipping in circles around the block for half an hour. I wasn't sure what the sound was at first, I thought that maybe the volcano that is 100 miles away went off and it was the city alarm. It was so loud, I couldn't sleep.

Today it is windy and snowy. The waves are choppy and according to weather.com it feels like negative 11 degrees out. It's quite miserable but fun to watch things blowing around. We've been invited to eat at this Native guy's (Ernie) home. He is gong to cook us deer and fish. I'll only be eating the fish. So kind for people to treat me like family.

I will continue my tour. I am just doing a detour after Alaska. Instead of two days in LA, I will be in San Francisco with my family.

This transition has me feeling older, more responsible, and want to take the reins on life that much more. It's also really confusing to have already been tempted by all these Alaskan breeders and now face the pressure of having to create the third living generation of my family.

One of my new years resolutions was to pursue my life's purpose without abandon. But before that... figure out what it I'm supposed to be here for.

Any ideas what this life thing is all about?

Labels: marriage grown up crap, San Francisco, vision

A rare sighting of a wild Alaskan clown.

My last show in Anchorage is in about three hours and the shows have gone really well. I am spoiled by experiences like these. Rolling into towns I've never been in before, where I hardly know anyone and they come! They pay their hard earned money to see what I have to see. They come like audiences in LA won't come if you don't drag them in.

Last night's show was a lot older and whiter than audiences I've had. I sit on stage during the preshow to set the tone of the show and do an inventory of my audience when they come in. I counted only three people of color. A black woman, an Asian (or Native) guy, and an older Asian woman. This made this one bit I have where I have to "pick on" an Asian woman very difficult. This woman who I swore was Asian (turns out she may have been Asian, or she may have been Native, or maybe just really shy when I broke the fourth wall) was my lone target for the joke. It was a little awkward because I think she was older than my mother and because there weren't many people of color around to confirm how brilliant my little bit was, it just kinda landed awkwardly.

But it still went over well. I had a few flashes during the show that it really is time to start creating new work. This show is becoming as familiar as breathing and while that's comfortable, it puts me at risk of being complacent. I've certainly grown a lot doing this show and touring. My challenge is to keep pushing forward with exciting new work.

I've gotten to experience the bar scene in Anchorage. Without going into much detail, the singles scene can be summed up as: "The odds are good, but the goods are odd."

I'm tripping out, as I normally do at my age, about how so many of my friends from high school are all grown up, married, with kids. Of course, I know that childbearing is not required of me, but sometimes as I find myself wandering from city to city... especially cities like Anchorage where people breed as a way of life and I still feel like a kid in my "childlessness".

One woman who works at Out North has the cutest freaking kid in the world and I swear I get pregnant just looking at him. She described how she starts lactating if she sees a kid or hears a baby crying. This is something I learned about watching Grey's Anatomy.

One of my best friends from middle school is living in Anchorage and I haven't talked to her since we were 13. I think her last impression of me was as a "big weirdo freak" (that, has not changed). We've been facebooking and she says she and her husband may come out to see the show if she can get a babysitter. And this trips me out because in my mind, she's still the 13 year friend I last saw. And I feel somewhat self conscious about her seeing my show and proving to her that I'm "all grown up"-- as if it wouldn't show on its own.

I actually got to thinking this morning how few friends I keep in touch with from San Francisco and even from UCLA. I'm actually better at staying in touch with my teachers from school, and not the friends I grew up with. Sure, of course, people move on with their lives and grow apart, but when I hear people talk about "their old high school buddies" and their "old college buddies"-- it almost sounds as if they have a whole gang of folks from the past who rally behind them. I don't have this gang-- I have a whole lot of older white Alaskans who come to my show. I have my crazy gay artists friends in Los Angeles.

I can't help but feel cheated of those mythic post- high school relationships. That 90210-esque friends forever gang that will have your back even during the remake show, 15 years later.

When I have looked for these old school friends on Facebook, they've been replaced by pictures of toddlers. And here I am in Alaska looking back at them. Living the longest, most extended version of my teenage years possible.

Today is our last day in Anchorage. Tomorrow, we hit up Homer, Alaska. A small town of 5000. I look forward to meeting my new Alaskan posse.

Labels: marriage grown up crap, road wong

I am trying to reduce the contents of my apartment by one-half. It's supposed to be good feng shui, especially for attracting a partner into your life. It also helps align your life for the next great moment. And I need this. I'm not purging to attract a partner though, I'm purging to clean this freaking place up! Yikes! Seven years in West LA yields a lot of crap! I sure have a knack for accumulation.

I am also trying to liquidate assets I do not need. My goal is to come up with $1000 for liquidating my existing assets, and invest that money directly into my friend's restaurant. Her lenders get an excellent return rate (8% !) and that is much more stable than the stock market.

I signed up for Scottrade a few weeks back. I've already lost $70. Screw that crap. Now I know how the Baby Boomers feel, the stock market is unnecessarily emotional. I much prefer investing in something I understand (my friend's restaurant) than these nameless faceless companies.

So purging and money making. So far... I've made $222. It was kind of sad to say good bye to my rollerskates, my dancer pole, and other things that have been unused fixtures in my closets. But if they found their way into my home once, they will find their way in again (when I want them to come in). And I am really loving how the place feels with less crap in it. And yes, it's actually a lot of work for very little money, but it reminds me how hard it is to make a buck from selling your old crap.

I decided today to post 100 items online between Craigslist and Amazon.com. (And yes, sadly, I have even more items to shed). And each time something sells, I will find something else to sell. So that at all times I am poised to move 100 items out of this place at a time. It took forever. But once I started to post items up, I was hooked.

By the way, now Craigslist is a lot easier to use because you have to have an account to sell. And reposting a listing is easier.

Now whether or not people would buy any of the things I've posted remains to be seen...

Join me in the great purge! Find 100 things in your home that you would be willing to give up.

Labels: artist life., buy nothing year, i'm kristina wong, marriage grown up crap, The New Tweens

Yet again, the economy has interrupted any semblance of normal sleep patterns to bring me....

THOUGHTS ABOUT HOW I SHALL RETIRE! AND MAKE MONEY IN THE AILING STOCK/ HOUSING MARKET!

How is it I am becoming my parents? I never thought I'd be obsessed with things like retirement and the stock market. I always figured if I got old and had no savings that I'd do background work in movies because old people doing extra work seems to be in really high demand-- at least now it does. That, or I'd do the equivalent of what the 70+ year old Thai Elvis does at Palms Thai Restaurant in Hollywood-- dress up as "Chinese Barbara Streisand" and sing standards at a Chinese restaurant in my olden years. I guess by the time I am old, movie studios will figure out how to CGI background actors into scenes so we will be totally unnecessary. For this Brave New World-- I must be prepared!

Somehow, as of late, I've turned the corner and there it was ahead of me... the great beyond of living up your artsy 20s comes the realities of getting older. And the scary realities of what this economy is doing to the market for artists. I have a few engagements coming up, but nothing like what it used to be. Playgirl has folded. My friends can't even budget enough to go out for a beer, let alone live theater. More dates are going dutch on this classy broad than I think necessary.

So rather than drown, I choose flight. Who is coming with me?

I'll always be an artist, AND I will always be a financially savvy one. I have long since rejected labels like "starving artist," "struggling artist" or "poor artist." Because the more you let people call you that (and the more you call yourself that), the more you become it.

At the same time, "living rich" doesn't mean you should blow your savings at the bar, or outspend your means because you "deserve it." I see this happen so much. I have friends who are drowning in debt, or worse, filing for bankruptcy in their 20s and 30s.

For a half second, when I was tired of writing grants, I contemplated marrying into wealth by going on Bravo's "The Millionaire Matchmaker"-- but there ain't no free lunch sisters. That show is so sad. All these millionaires dating out of work actresses with no sense of identity. All these women desperately clawing towards these douches.

Listen to me! I am married to myself! Women need to learn to take care of themselves without the help of men. Yes, and we must learn to take care of the family with only a little, if any, of their help. We must have our own backs. It sucks, but we must do it!

The scary thing is in my last few relationships, I've been the "rich" one... WTF?!

I'm reading all sorts of wikihow articles on how the stock market works, how to be rich, and how to invest.
Here are some interesting things from the how to be rich article.

• Cut expenses
• Get a job that pays more or get a promotion
• Downgrade or give up your car
• Downgrade your apartment or house
• Reallocate your spare time

Well, I got the give up your car thing! Now I must work on the other four.

See you at the country club! I'll be arriving by bus!

Labels: artist life, hollywood wong, i'm kristina wong, marriage grown up crap, oh my god, outsourcing american jobs, property mogul

Bai Ling, fashion misfit and famous actress (but don't ask me to name what movies she's been in because I can only think of a few... "Wild Wild West" and... "Beautiful Country" and hmmm....) came to my show on Friday! She said to me after the show, "You're crazy! You should end the show nude!" I asked her, "Can I call you 'Bai Ling'?" and she was like, "Call me 'Bai anything'!"

Wow, it's Thursday and I'm finally getting back to work. I've been cracked out the last few days just sitting in my own filth, pretending to unpack (my set is still all over the living room), sewing my felt dolls, and slowly facing the reality of two months ahead in LA and no real work. No tour dates, no big shows... just... DOWNTIME (?)

And no real income!! Oh boy! Hit the panic button!!!!!

But wait...

Luckily, I've learned that I need to keep myself scheduled. There are a couple grant deadlines this week and a whole host of stuff ahead. So maybe the post partum depression that inevitably hits after a big show will pass right straight by this time around. I do have my BECAUSE IV workshop to float me through the end of the year. That will be fun. And a few little speaking gigs here and there. So it's a welcome respite and a nice surprise to be home for EIGHT STRAIGHT WEEKS?

What other things can I do to occupy my time? Well, VH1 starts the second season of the "Pick Up Artist." Plus some other crackalicious shows like "Rock of Love's Charm School," and "Real Chance at Love" starring reality show rejects Real and Chance, who were rejected by New York who was rejected by Flavor Flav (twice), who was rejected by Brigette Nielsen. So meta.

What will I do with all this time? I've been sewing, watched Season 4 of the office, called a bunch of people who won't return my calls, pretended to clean, watched theater. Gotten a massage.

I guess I actually have some downtime to create some new art work. IMAGINE THAT! Art time!

I've also set a goal to come up with $5000 to put in a "nest egg" account by the end of the year. I am not sure how I will come up with this money though. But it starts with the thought.

Maybe I will sell crap in my apartment. Or hit up amateur night.

Labels: artist life, crafty, hollywood wong, marriage grown up crap, the secret

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 hit a grumpy moment when my cell phone charger conked out just a couple hours ago. It's inexplicably wet on the inside. I have no idea how. But it is. There's no puddle or leak in the cottage, it just stopped working and was all wet inside and plugged in nowhere near water. Nature most definitely has turned against me. First, it was my keyboard ($185 to restore the F key!). Now my phone charger. Next it will be... my other electric powered vices....

It's her way of saying, "Time to not have a cell phone for a few days and blog about your wedding which you never told your readers about."

The Wedding of Kristina and Kristina! June 4, 2008


Yes, it's true. I am married now as of June 4, 2008. Our ceremony was at the Merkato Ethiopian Restaurant in LA. And surprisingly, the first wedding ever to happen there. I even have changed my status on myspace and facebook to "married." It's serious. Who is the lucky guy, girl or tranny you ask? Me! Kristina Wong! I know, it was very sudden. But when you know someone is so right for you, you can't help but dive right in.

I vowed to love and cheerish myself forever. Unconditionally. I had some cold feet but thanks to the encouraging words of friends and an Ethiopian guy dining at the adjacent table, I am learning that love is ongoing. It is a process. It is "survived" (in the words of my poet friend Kelly Tsai).

The Wedding of Kristina and Kristina was officiated by Reverend Marcus Kuiland Nazario. My Man of Honor/ Ring Boy was Pete Lee. My friends and other restaurant patrons and staff were my witnesses.

Here are some highlights from the ceremony...


It is customary for the bride to spank her guests. My friend Yi, got me a riding crop as a wedding present!



At this wedding, we ate first! This is one of my favorite restaurants in LA. I always order the fish.



I asked friends to give to my favorite non-profits as part of my "gift registry." I did get some plants though! Here is a money plant from Daisy Lin Shapiro who did the "Yours Truly, Miss Chinatown" documentary that I am featured in.


There was a pretty funny moment when I got to the "altar" and looked both ways... and yep, nobody else was coming. Just me and me!



Reverend Marcus makes me look at my wife. Though this mirror looks like a birth control container.


Nurit, who directs a lot of my work, offered the advice of "not being so tough on Kristina when you get married to her."


My friend, Ellen Switkes said to not go to bed angry. What great advice. We really have listened to it.


My best friend Pete Lee offers some loving words of advice for the couple.


My ring was a plastic heart. "With this ring, I me wed." Of the ring I said, "This is the everlasting circle, and like the plastic this is made of, so our love last as long."

I also put on a necklace that had a jade pendant from my grandmother, and another jade pendant from my mother as symbols of the women before me and the love and nagging that fuel my spirit.



Cutting the wedding/ birthday cake. This was a red velvet one from Susie's. When I went to pick it up they were like, "You are buying your own birthday cake? How sad."

"No, not sad. Awesomely awesome," I said as I left.



Oh those crazy newlyweds feeding each other cake!


What's a wedding without a bouquet toss? This one was for men and women!


Shameka gets married next to herself!

WEDDING VIDEOS!!





My friend/ reverend Marcus officiates by offering his words of wisdom for the bride and bride. I also do my own vows.




Reverend Marcus leads the group vows. He's very creative.


So that's it. That's the report from married life. I am still learning the ropes of self-love being a Newlywed a month and a half later. It's hard to learn to live with someone forever... even if it is yourself. I actually do look over to my pink plastic wedding ring and feel what a lot of married people feel: "Wow, look at that, there's someone out there who is committed to loving me. And I'm with her all the time!"

Labels: a shot at love with kristina wong, marriage grown up crap, sex is unnecessary when you have yarn

Oh, that was a bad idea to drink all that wine by myself.  I am here with crackers (the kind you eat, not the kind that live in Florida) trying to make this headache go away.

Labels: artist life, i'm kristina wong, marriage grown up crap, rednecks, road wong

perhaps, blogging under the influence of several many glasses of wine is a bad idea.  but i always think wine is a great way to step outside my body and look at my world.  ok.  so right now, i am on facebook looking at my friends from college, and they are all having babies.  this is totally nuts, because i am married to myself and drinking wine in florida.  i've not had much of a desire to reproduce.  but i did think lately i should adopt a kids from china when i am in my 40s.  and i will give her a name like "awesome wong" or "hell ya wong"

Labels: artist life., marriage grown up crap