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

Above, you'll see your friend Kristina having one of many scripted/un-scripted onstage nervous breakdowns as part of the five part APACUNT panels.

Three cities in one week. This is how we do it. I got back to LA on Wednesday afternoon, only to do another show here last night for the Breaking the Bow Festival. Tonight I head to San Francisco for my cousin's wedding and a talk a college class in Oakland on Tuesday. Somewhere between all this, I'm vowing to edit my short film for the Tavis Smiley blog, write some new stuff to perform at the LA Storytelling Festival next month, rework this old script for me and D'Lo to perform in November, write a City of LA grant, and maybe a few more if I can get my hands on them and not get sick... will that even be possible?

Well, one thing's for sure! Staying busy sure does stave off the existential crisis shit.

In NYC I must say that my personal hygiene hit an all time low. I'd wake up each morning in my friend's basement in total darkness (it was the bottom floor of her loft), hungover from the show and drinking the night before and each morning had to decide in a flurry: "Shower or eat?" The eating usually won. My gums would not stop bleeding every time I brushed my teeth. Pretty much everyone at the Festival and East Village knows what I look like without make-up... and I'm talking raccoon eyes, walk of shame at 4am-- that kind of no-makeup. I ran out of underwear a few days before leaving and had to get creative (I won't tell you how). By the end of my stay little fruit flies would float over my head (I forgot I had bought bananas the week before that had gone bad) in my friend's loft. So I ate six bananas in two days (don't ask what that does to one's digestive track). All this, moving at a furiously paced New York minute, yanking pounds and pounds of crap around the East Village and back to Brooklyn at all hours of the night.

I began to feel my organs disintegrating into the rest of my body by the second day of performance. At our last show I was so exhausted, I almost passed out onstage but then channeled it into an amazing (or so I think) onstage nervous breakdown that wasn't in our script. I hosted the Kong Magazine roll-out party in Brooklyn before I left town. I almost fell asleep in the corner of the bar by the end of the night and yet, we were done at 9pm.

My flight back to LA was in two legs. The first too cold, I shivered and held my own body in my arms for warmth, my muscles straining to heat themselves even inside my jacket. The second leg of the flight was too hot. I was sweating, arching my face towards that fan thing above your seat.

I had a few minutes this morning to reflect and rest and was struck in my inactivity with a strong sense of under-accomplishment. What is it about working so hard that all I can think about is how nice it would be to rest. And that when I get rest, I feel so unaccomplished that I need to work more? And harder?

Goddamn you Chinese genetics.

Labels: artist life., magic powers, new york city, not angry anymore. just tense., oh my god, stand up

A sneak peak of what APACUNT is looking like. We've done two shows with three to go! We're pretty exhausted. Somehow I thought doing five original shows in an informal format would be easier than dragging a solo scripted show to NYC.


We've had wonderful audiences and a lot of unscripted moments come out. It's really the vision I have wanted for a new ambitious theater work. Come out!

Labels: artist life, new york city

In a world where irony flees faster than a moving pixel in the digital age, we've decided to go for the all out offensive.

This APACUNT panel idea was originally a very bad idea that I had with Alice Tuan.

"Let's write a proposal so offensive and so impossible that there is no imaginable way that anyone would let us put it up!"

But they did. They let us put it up last year at the National Asian American Theater Conference and now they are letting us do it again in New York City where for five days we will discuss the past, present and of course, the futility of Asian American Theater. In between, me stroking my ego.

Labels: artist life., goddamn new york makes me angry., new york city

Just when you thought the old broad had gone home to roost, she's BAAAACK!

This year's VC film fest has multiple mentions of "Miss Chinatowns." The opening night Ping Pong Playa (in which, I have a "blink or you'll miss it" cameo as Miss Chinatown), the Xin Lu Bus Tour features a guerilla performance by Fannie Wong, and of course the documentary Yours Truly, Miss Chinatown follows me and two other Miss Chinatowns. I actually am on the bus today so will miss most of the screening. Very nervous anyway about watching myself on camera.


So of course, I had to resurrect Fannie for the opening. And bring the entourage.
From L to R: Pepe Le Tsu (Fannie's documenter and French-Chinese Film Auteur), Sirloin (Fannie's security/escort), Fannie Wong (Former Miss Chinatown 2nd Runner Up), and Karin Anna (Somewhat less notable celebrity).


What's so awesome is that Fannie Wong, Former Miss Chinatown 2nd Runner up is finally being acknowledged as a real life entity. The VC Filmfest made me an industry badge that reads "Fannie Wong, Former Miss Chinatown 2nd Runner Up." And Fannie also got to do the "red carpet" walk for the press. They were bonkers for it. Fannie even got on the floor at one point and started writhing for the cameras.

What's funnier is that in the VC online album, Fannie's mug shows up more than people who were actually in the movie.


What's weird is that as obnoxious as she is, I'm quite shy playing her. And for some reason don't think that people can actually see me under all the garb when I'm all done up.



It's a welcome switch to be home, in my own apartment in LA. I get to be home for one month before hitting the road! I'm so happy. I love New York, but it was killing me and my wallet.

Of course, the day before I left, I found out I was just a few blocks from this view....

Labels: artist life, hollywood wong, i'm kristina wong, jessica yu, new york city, oh my god, ping pong playah, road wong

I'm in a cafe in Williamsburg. I will miss it here. Even in all it's hipster obnoxiousness. This has been a fun time. I leave Wednesday.

I just had a meeting with a writer and tech geek who offered to help me re-design that 1999 beacon of bad HTML... www.bigbadchinesemama.com. He feels really ambitious that a new design with better features could bring life back to the project which has just sat in dusty college feminist studies memory. Looking at the site is painful. It's so ugly. It's like looking at old pictures of yourself with bad hair-- literally. I said to him, "Take it! And do with it what you will! I can't stand looking at it"

So I did well in my last show in Flushing. A great big audience of very receptive people. A somewhat intense Q&A (why must these audiences ask such personal questions?!!) that I think I handled with a lot more composure than in the past. And I had enough energy to spare to go to a craft fair in Greenpoint later that day. Crafts!!!

I think I described it best when I said to someone, "After a show, my brain is running on adrenaline, but I have no feeling or energy from the neck down. So I just lie awake in bed for 12 hours staring at what magazines I can prop in front of me."

I am like the boy in the bubble... or something.

I'm sure there were other important things to add to this update. But I can't remember them. I do know that the Salvation Army on Bedford Ave has some pretty damn good books. But I must exercise control.

Oh yeah, here's my last thing I want to mention. I gave money to a politician for the first time! I must really love this man. I sent Obama $30 this morning and he's going to send me a t-shirt!

Check it out...

Labels: art talk, artist life, crafty, new york city, Obama is hot

Hey everyone, the "Yours Truly, Miss Chinatown" documentary in which you can see 5+ years of Kristina Wong bad hair is premiering in Los Angeles soon. See the trailer below....



Screening information for LA is here.

I'm actually scheduled to be performing as "Fannie Wong, Former Miss Chinatown 2nd Runner Up" on the Xin Lu Bus tour (the film fest on wheels bus tour) as part of the VC Filmfest, so I will miss the experience of dozens of people watching my innards spew outwards.

I actually feel quite nervous about seeing the documentary. Because I was sobbing so much at times for the camera and you best bet that over the last few years, she caught a lot of crap on me! A couple of folks who have seen it already say I have nothing to worry about, but I may just let it be and keep my copy of the documentary locked up in the bowels of history. But I knew it was important to me to record my life and intentions in some way. Even, if that meant forever cockblocking myself.

However, you are welcome to go and tell me what you think!

My first show in Queens was yesterday! What an experience! There was a power outage at Queens Theater in the Park and the lights were out all over the park and they had to hold the show for 35 minutes. I had to choose to do the show with the emergency lights on in the theater (which eventually turned themselves off.) But I was so grateful that the show wasn't cancelled that I put all my love out there for all 15 folks who took the train out to buttfreak Flushing to see me!

I ended the show with a bow, but also jumped into the audience and shook each person's hand individually... because well... I could.

One more show on Sunday!

I can't believe I've been living here in Williamsburg for so long. I don't know how to describe what's it's like to live in a neighborhood that's so trendy and where there are ridiculous trendy people walking around at all hours. It's like Burningman, or Disneyland-- at least in the sense of the immediate community moving around you. It's like barely 70 degrees and people are out sunbathing in bikinis and shirtless because they crave the sun so much.

Labels: artist life., i'm kristina wong, new york city, no more dong, oh my god, reality tv, sex is unnecessary when you have yarn

I really promise, a fuller update to come from my adventures from Texas to Massachusetts to tomorrow in Long Island where I have a show at Stonybrook U..

I just got to New York City today and am subletting in the heart of Hipsterville for the rest of the month. I am sleeping in my friend's loft bed in a place at 4th St and Bedford Ave in Williamsburg! I swear it's so Disney Hipsterland here that I piss Pabst beer (ironically, of course).



Here's a picture of me at Smith College last night. I'm taking pictures with my Crackberry lately. Which is why they are so blurry. More updates to come, with scant pictures. I promise.

In the meantime, enjoy this funky translation below of another Chinese Press News piece on me. I am really excited that the Chinese press is taking a liking to me or at least my work. Because even if Chinese speaking people won't be able to understand my show... It puts the themes of the show on the table and hopefully gives my work some impact for them, if just through the press. I hope it will get dialogue started in Chinese speaking communities about issues of depression. Especially, if it will keep them from taking their own life!

The reason that my name is "Mr. Huang meter" in this translation below is that my Chinese name ("Wong Gwun Yee") translates roughly to "Measured or Even-keeled Gentleman." Thanks Grandpa and Grandma for picking this name! The character for "Wong" means "Yellow." So I am actually a "Yellow Measured Gentleman."

One more thing you now know about the Wong.

Leap cuckoo nest Mr. Huang meter one-man show
Participates in the New York Asian culture festival performance description melancholy Asia females to be easy to seek the shortsighted view

[ Article: That insults ] is born in San Francisco's person of Chinese descent performing artist Mr. Huang the meter (Kristina Wong), future New York will participate in "the Asian cultural festival" (Asian Cultural Festival), will perform its work "Mr. Huang the meter to fly over the cuckoo nest" (Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest), will describe the Asian female because of the life condition which melancholy will commit suicide. Mr. Huang the meter said that, she is engaged in artistic the goal is for break through the limitation, the help populace, even saves the life.

Place of performance for empress area park theater (Queens theatre in the Park) and stone brook New York State University Charles Wang center.

Mr. Huang the meter ancestor parents come America in 194 ○ ages from Guangdong, the grandfather first in the laundry works as the labor, the grandmother to do odd jobs in the restaurant, afterwards two people accumulated the money to come, the end could buy a laundry. Mr. Huang the meter father sells the insurance in the bank, the mother is accountant. The whole family goes through many hardships in US, the meter must choose the performing arts path to Mr. Huang truly to be surprised.

Mr. Huang the meter once went study the Los Angeles UC'S English literature and the world art department. She said that, own study specialty and the play specialized different are, the play specialized content extremely westernizes, by the European lineage Caucasian culture primarily, makes her to be very difficult to approve. Mr. Huang the meter also contacts Mexican and the Latin American lineage dramatic art, displays the farm hand, the workers living conditions, she thought the ink lineage, the Latin American lineage life struggles, with Asian is extremely similar.

Mr. Huang the meter play frequently is the one-man show (solo performance), script write oneself develops, moreover non- tradition. She said that, her play frequently with an under audience interacts, for instance converses with the audience, makes the note, has the person her play for the behavior art (performance art).

This leaves "Mr. Huang the meter to fly over the cuckoo nest" the play conception, receives touching which the Asian feminine suicide rate stays at a high level. Mr. Huang the meter indicated that, the Asian female always smiles in the life, very can hide the painful the sentiment. In others' eye, the Asian female lives well, how can commit suicide? "Mr. Huang the meter flies over the cuckoo nest" by Mr. Huang the meter (non- artist's) the alone angle performance, starts when the play always says oneself very well, must own solve the problem, but afterwards finally supported, entire collapse.

She said that, she saw some families commit suicide after the family member, cancelled all to seek the trace which short once existed, why the mistake lies in Asian does not discuss commits suicide can occur. "If the automobile makes the unusual sound, we may follow the sound to find the problem, early repairs a vehicle; But the Asian female does not make noise, only perishes own."

Mr. Huang the meter said that, how she does want to explore the Asian female in the play to establish the relations with the other people, how also hides the heart of hearts the sentiment.

Mr. Huang the meter said that, writes "the Nanjing massacre" person of Chinese descent writer Iris Chang (Iris Chang), finally unexpectedly steps onto road of the suicide, inspires her to create this play. Iris Chang once visited Los Angeles to enlarge, her at that time as if extremely exhausted, was numb. Some people suggested she writes about woman being forced to comfort the war soldier with sex's book, Iris Chang's reply is: "I need to protect in the sentiment oneself". Iris Chang has gone, the literary world also was short bravely, the successful writer, Mr. Huang the meter heaved a sigh for it.

Mr. Huang the meter indicated that, she is the person of Chinese descent third generation, some people felt she does not like the person of Chinese descent, but she chooses the performance to work as the occupation, in the others eye, this occupation is unstable, even is restless. Mr. Huang the meter calls oneself Asian, also not sedulously pursues some kind of cultural identity. She said that, the performance makes her not to stop the journey to rush about, does not calculate on the road, also is for starts off prepares, this kind of life is actually lonely, therefore she writes the one-man show. She said, because the funds is limited, not the impossible please very many people together to perform. But she is engaged in the artistic performance, is wants to bring the good transformation to the people, the surmounting limitation, even cannot cause the artistic person also to fall in love with art.

"Mr. Huang the meter will fly over the cuckoo nest" to perform two in the empress area park theater, the time for April 24 evening 8., on 27th afternoon 3.. Ticket price all 10 Yuan. The empress area park theater is located the farad abundant prairie to be possible in the happy elegant park. Stone brook New York State University Charles Wang center performance time for April 10 evening 7 o'clock, after the performance and has the symposium. (New York leisure/art)

Labels: artist life, new york city, press, road wong

Found an open connection on my stopover in Kansas City.

I had to pay $25 at LAX because one of my bags was 60 pounds! I packed a ton of stuff. Including my computer printer.

Sorry for the week of silence. I started a blog entry and then got slammed with work and never got to update it.

This week has been crazy. I am landing in NYC later today where this month I'll be part of six shows, four of them will be Wong Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. The other two will be "The Edge of the World" with the Asian Arts Initiative. I'm there all month! Woo! Craziness. I'm subletting my friend's place near Hunter College.

June in New York! Should be fun, and a lot of work. I worked really hard earlier this year so that this month could be possible.

My birthday is on Monday. Colleen, my resident "brag-a-friend" as I call her, and coolest person I know in NY says she will hang out with me so I will not be totally alone on my birthday. I want to go to the MAD Museum during the day for the "Radical Knitting" exhibit and maybe eat a pizza at night. I don't have big plans.


Last minute this week I decided to hire Marjorie to be my "Community Outreach Coordinator" in New York. It was just too overwhelming to do the show and also deal with all the administrative details of putting up the show. She was so excited about coming out and being part of the festival. She just graduated from college and has never been to NY. She was like, "Kristina Wong-- You are like Oprah!" It was funny. I hope she learns a lot, does a great job, and one day brings her own solo show to the festival.

Doing a show in New York is a big deal. And I hope I can really do a bang up job like I did my closing night in LA. I'm putting a lot of energy, moolah, etc into this. I hope it all pays off.

And I hope I have a good time doing it.

Labels: art talk, new york city