20131108

Songs That Stick

"I clap, clap, clap in your honor."
"As long as I breathe, I'm gonna tell the stories of my people."



Tonight I couldn't stop listening to the song "Stories Of My People" by producer by Chops, Bambu ft Ann One. It's a track for Strength in Numbers, a CHOPS-produced project of more than 20+ Asian American hip hop collaborations. There's some jams on the albums, but this one stuck me like the first time I listened to Fort Minor's Kenji.

Hearing one's history in a song, or written in a novel, is rare. It's rare that its clean and crisp. It is not coming from your mother over tea, or from an uncle over the beach campfire, or even the same stories that your whole family knows and is only whisphered after the event is over. But its not unlike these family stories. This hip hop carves and claims space by exerting itself over the lyrics and beats.

I found myself doing this hybrid hula-groovin'-dub space backward steppin-hip hop, basically all over my kitchen in the late night/early morning.

Support Strength in Numbers with $$ donation.  

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I started a Master's program this past summer.  It's for Library and Information Sciences. Since working at UCLA Asian American Studies Center Library, I am impassioned to get my MLIS, and start this new path. And so far, it feels really good. It's open enough where it allows for technology, keep in mind that the book and page are technologies, no matter how ancient, but also I can explore socio-political affect of these technologies upon society. I'm just glad that I'm managing to place zines and race at the forefront of my MLIS studies.

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There are a lot of babies around me. They make me really uncomfortable. In fact, I want to run away from all babies. Not feeling it.

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I am not talking about any babies I'm related to or know. Those babies are freaking cute and I love them.  Babies I don't know, random babies, tons of them in one room, and all the kids are just there.... Freak out. I do not know how to relate to that. Sorry babies, you and me are strangers right now.

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How glad am I that I don't work at Mio Sushi? VERY FREAKING GLAD. I was tired of the privileged bull$hit! Are you kidding me?! Thank you for the 27 cent tip on a table of six. Thank you very much.  Next time, you say my real name, I will spit in your miso soup.

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Life is conversation, let's live.

My friend Diane uses 'in unity' in closing her emails, and I want to adopt that, because it resonates with me. In unity.

In unity,
a'misa









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