Home-o for the Holidaze || A Photo Essay

The fuzzy little fella under the tree is my parents' very cuddly, very effeminate boy dog, Yukon. For all intents and purposes "Yuki" is my younger sibling. Like all bullying older sibs, I'm having the little one do the dirty work for me--soften up the crowd with those shiny button eyes for what will be a quick and dirty post on this night of the 23rd...the eve of Christmas Eve.

To get to Riverside today I took the Metrolink, So. Cal's commuter train system and a distant cousin to something like the LIRR. On weekends the Metrolink goes the roundabout way (the only way available to the Empire from L.A.'s Union Station on weekends), through San Bernardino, Riverside's scrappier and scruffier neighbor to the Northeast. What is usually about a 50 minute drive on the 60FWY door-to-door from my place to my folks' took about an hour and 45 on the Sunday San Berdoo line that chugs alongside the 10 past El Monte, Baldwin Park, Covina, Northern Pomona, Claremont, Montclair, Upland, Rancho Cucamonga, Fontana, Rialto and downtown San Bernardino before docking in downtown Riverside. The train was filled with holiday travelers, mostly Latino and African-American teens heading into the I.E. to see the cousins, aunts and uncles who re-lo'ed to the 'burbs in the 80s or 90s (see Next Friday, which was set in one of my scenic station stops today, Rancho Cucamonga).

The Metrolink ride yields plenty of stories, especially because the route provides picture-window glimpses at the backyards, freight doors and storage dumps that families, businesses and cities like to keep tucked out of view. I too will keep these stories close to the vest for now and let a few pictures do the talking. Part II of this post closes with a tableau of what the holidays look like at the parental abode on Santee place. In the meantime, this is how we enter the Empire...

1. Union Station














2. L.A. River














3. Three














4. Mobile Home Park














5. Montclair Station (Mt. Baldy, Hinterground)














6. Yellow 1.0














7. Yellow 2.0














8. Boxcars near Rialto















9. Yellow 3.0 (between San Bernardino and Riverside)














10. End Stop














11. Raincross














PART II: Santee Place
We all know the holidaze are chaotic, but they feel especially tumultuous for a Virgo like me when I schlep out to the parental hoarding pit. My folks have got to be the worst pack-rats EVER. I know they look sweet, well groomed and tidy on the outside, but at their very core they can't resist squirreling away every soy sauce packet* or spork in the event of the apocalypse (or "The Big One"--the latter being more immanent). I think their Bohemianism crossed with some of their "Fisher King" tendencies account for my unbearable Virgoan obsessiveness and minimalism now. [Left: Graveyard of craft books, hall closet]. When I arrived this late afternoon, I had my annual hissy fit about all the stuff crammed into every nook and cranny of the house: an assortment of catalogues for things like dog visors and Kleenex cozies; unread Rodale's "Organic Gardening" magazines from 1989 onward; DVD's from Columbia House that they forgot to reject through the monthly mailer; ceramic dolphin clocks gifted to them by acquaintances from the church of Religious Science; coupons from Dr. Butchko, I.E. Vet. It's all still here. Clearly I need therapy to work through all the residual immigrante and class shame triggered by all my parents' stuff. [L: Santas and Friends]. This time, I just decided to take pictures.

I know this might sound a bit too "American Beauty," but taking pictures of all of the oddities chez Mom and Dad really helped me see things differently. It made me actually appreciate some of the accidental beauty behind their otherwise chaotic accumulation. It helped me breathe. So in the spirit of Christmas sharing, here's something from my family to yours...Maligayang Pasko! Mele Kalikimaka! Frohe Weihnachten! And all that jazz...

a. Beethoven and Friends














b. Everything but the kitchen sink














c. The kitchen sink















d. Crown Rib Roast














e. Capicolla fr. D'Elia's














f. Gallery














g. Nativity Scene + Buddha Guest Stars














h. Notes














i. Screen, Elephants and Rudolph














j. Bongos || Romy Katindig Model














k. Hip-Swaying Outdoor Santa














l. Santa's Sleigh + Great Ideas Book Series, 1961-1974














m. Mom














n. Dad w. Sick Puppy














o. Tannenbaum





















* The genotype "soy sauce saver" isn't mine, but belongs to the venerable HN Lukes.

No Wonder || From Yentl to The Shondes

This Catholic Pinay lesbiana (on the Far From Heaven-side of butch) knows what “shonde” means. It’s Yiddish for shame, disgrace, pity or outrage. And I knew this before I peeped the definition thoughtfully provided on the website for queer dramarock sensations, The Shondes. I know what “shonde” means because—interfaith confession time—I fancied myself a spiritual Jewess the minute I saw Yentl on VHS and felt tingly about all the cross-dressing, carts of books and “like buttah” showtune meditations on female education and the Talmud. I was so moved by the sepia-toned, candle-lit, made-for-Barbra-by-Barbra exultations about desire, feminism and faith that the very next day I rushed to the B. Dalton bookstore across from WhereHouse Records at the Riverside Plaza to buy a copy of The Essential Talmud, and the collected works of Isaac Bashevis Singer. Drink it in here...



I knew it was deeper than my brief flirtation with the Baha’i faith circa the 7th grade. But I didn’t realize until much later what it all meant: all those grainy, black & white dreams of Brooklyn scored to the pizmonim-inspired harmonies of Fiddler, or those fantasies about being a stranger among them in Cicely, Alaska with Dr. Joel Fleischman on Northern Exposure. For this nerdy, only-child from Southeast Asia coming of age in the white, working-class suburbs of Southern California, Jewishness meant intelligence, humor, showtunes, culture and cute glasses. Not only did Jewishness (or at least the made for TV versions I encountered) compliment my own sense of strangeness and my own sense of ethnicity, but oddly—thanks to my belated, analog encounter with Yentl—it also told me something about my budding queer sexuality. Only two months before I came out as a big homo, my Yentl costume on Halloween was misread as “Shaolin Kung-Fu Master” by all the other college dorkuses around me. A shonde in so many ways. It seems no accident that I am currently employed in a Gender Studies program with an endowed "Barbra Streisand Chair in Sexuality and Intimacy." Someday...somehow...somewhere...

It’s because of this awkward sense of communion (pardon the Catholicism), and a recommendation from a McSwonderful friend that now, more than 15-years later, I have found The Shondes...

Read my complete interview with The Shondes at OH! INDUSTRY.

Dwell in Suburbia

I know the Emperor's blogworlds have become quite confusing for all five of you loyal readers out there, especially with the recent debut of my collaborative project, OH! INDUSTRY. But rest assured the Emperor hasn't gone gently into that bedazzled night never to return to my very own 7-11 parking lot of lemonhead wishes and big gulp dreamz.

As many of you know, O!I is actually all about reliving nights in the parking lot with retroactive simultaneity, despite being spread out across different empires of the familiar. But for the sake of keeping things tidy (in the Virgoan way), I'll shelve things like this: personal posts and ruminations here on Inland Emperor, to go along with all of the archival suburban materials. There's bound to be overlap every now and then (Girl in a Coma performing in a suburban mall, etc.), so when that happens I'll keep the longer posts on O!I and offer a lead/link here to guide you over there. [Right: Whatever has become of me?]

But let's dwell here for now. In fact, the true inspiration behind today's Suburban zeitgeist alert is the December/January double issue of Dwell magazine (aka the style manual for creative class 'flipping') on NEW SUBURBANISM. Thanks muchly to JTizzle for alerting me to this. More to say at some other point, perhaps even in the book, about the heinous, and yet not-so-secretly alluring style culture promoted by Dwell and publications of its ilk. [Left: Mr. & Mrs. Hipster in New Suburbia]

In the interest of full disclosure, I always thought of Dwell as a wannabe Wallpaper without the heft, literally and figuratively. That shit was THICK. Anyway, since my own lust for moderne design was first ignited by Wallpaper (and my born-in-to-modernism Deutsche ex), Dwell always seemed like the totally poseur rag to me. Of course I came to realize that I was actually the big poseur for thinking that I could seemlessly inhabit the very bourgie, and often very white worlds featured in glossy repose throughout such publications. Hence all the debt (and nice furniture) I'll be living with from here to tenure. I've resolved not to be a total hater, and by extension, a total hypocrite. So let me admit now that I am actually fond of the "design" ethos in healthy, non-prescriptive and budget appropriate doses. No more Design Out of Reach for me. [Right: Race as a hipster commodity. Let me entertain you...]

Anyway, I don't want to be a total grumpus, and I've already prattled on about the stuff I said I'd talk about later ("heinous and alluring style cultures of modern design magazines"), so I'm going to tiny dance my way to a reparative moment. If anything, this month's issue of Dwell pointed me to what looks like a must-see exhibit going up in February at the Walker Art Center in Minneapolis (February 2008), and continuing on to the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh (October 2008). [Left: Angela Strassheim's Untitled (Elsa), 2003, will be featured in Worlds Away.] Titled Worlds Away: New Suburban Landscapes, and curated by Andrew Blauvelt at the Walker, and Tracy Myers at the Carnegie, the exhibit features paintings, photographs, architectural models, prints, sculptures and video that bust apart what I like to think of as the suburan mythos at the heart of the American national imaginary.

In his Dwell interview, Blauvelt expresses the hope that Worlds Away will provide both reparative and "more provisional" approaches to the suburbs: "there are definitely pro and anti--or ambivalent--camps, but the stance isn't 'Oh I hate suburbia; therefore, I'm not going to deal with it.' It's more about how to intervene and interpret it knowing that it's a multibillion dollar industrial complex. It's that kind of shift that we're trying to hint at."

The emperor concurs. In short, it seems this project intersects with my Relocations book in generative, substantive, and yet non-threatening ways. I know I'm looking forward to taking a research trip to the exhibit this spring. Hopefully I'll have the opportunity to be in touch with both Blauvelt and Myers about it as well. In the meantime let's all dabble with the Walker blog's interactive feature: Tell us a story about your suburb.

"If Ever I would Leave You..." R.I.P Robert Goulet (1933-2007)

Oh no not in spring time...
Summer, winter or fall...
No never would I leave you...at all...
--"If Ever I Would Leave You," Robert Goulet
Original Broadway Soundtrack to Camelot (1962)


The Emperor is saddened to hear that Robert Goulet, the man whose virile, yet approachable barritone made that showstopper from Camelot say something, passed away yesterday morning.

Goulet was the kind of guy you'd expect to hear while your parents (or grandparents in my case) sat around next to their slammin' hi-fi, sipping scotch and twirling their toes in the shag carpet. For many years Goulet's vocal talents and matinee idol dreaminess were eclipsed by the camp iconicity of his own abundant mustache. Case in point, Will Ferrell's hilarious Goulet sketches from SNL:


But for me he'll always be Lancelot--always that powerful voice singing over the crackle of grandma's hi-fi, promising it will never leave.

Sadly, I couldn't find actual footage of him singing "If Ever I would Leave You" to Julie Andrews in full Camelot regalia. But here's RG and another broadway diva, Barbara Cook, crooning tunes that will break your heart:

Event Alert: Inland Emperors Art Exhibit (9/8-10/27)

[Image Credit: Robbert Flick, photographer and Professor of Fine Arts at USC.]

We're not affiliated, but nevertheless this might be of interest to some of you...

Inland Emperors (September 8 - October 27, 2007)
Reception: Saturday, October 13, 6-10pm
dBA256 Gallery and Winebar
256 S. Main Street
Pomona, CA 91766
909. 623. 7600

What distinguishes the art scene east of the 605 – okay, the 57 – is less its variety than its longevity. The Inland region is one of the cradles and incubators of California art from the inception of “hard edge” painting to the subsequent course of sculpture’s “ceramic revolution”. Inland Emperors, an exhibition celebrating this longevity and innovative artistic activity opens at dba256 Gallery September 8th and runs through October 27th. Inland Emperors is the inaugural exhibition for dba256 Gallery which is located in the heart of downtown Pomona’s Arts Colony.

Works by notable Inland Region artists include Karl Benjamin, Alexander Couwenberg, John Divola, Tim Ernst, Robbert Flick, Sant Khalsa (with poetry by B.H. Fairchild), Doug McCulloh, Thomas McGovern, Susan Rankaitis, Sandra Rowe, Paul Soldner and Larry White. Critical essay by Peter Frank. For more info, visit:

http://www.dba256.com/352/index.html

**************
At first glance, it's not the kind of I.E. art I'm necessarily interested or invested in. It's a bit 57-centric and I'm definitely more 6oFWY, but I'm guaranteed to make a research stop nonetheless. Plus, I actually really do admire Flick's work conceptually and aesthetically. I can't make the reception on the 13th, however, because of the ASA conference in Philly this weekend. Anyone interested in a Pomona adventure before the end of October?

Devil in the "Details"

I woke up this morning to Ben Affleck's face on my doorstep. Another sign of the apocalypse. And another sign that it's time to get crackin' on finishing (or starting to finish) Relocations. This month's issue of "Details" unfurled to reveal not only Ben's "serious face" and dewey chin-dimple, but a teaser headline about "Why the Suburbs are Cooler than Downtown" (?!?!?!?) Talk about zeitgeist. Or is this just more proof that The Secret works? Anyway, I could rant ad nauseum about why the article is lame and why the idea of a "cool style culture" relocating to the 'burbs is totally NOT what I'm saying in my project. People always assume.

But then I'd have to explain why I subscribe to Details in the first place. (Note to self: consider cutting wispy man-bangs off this week). In the meantime, check out the Details guide to the "hottest 'burbs" below. I'm sad/glad to see that the I.E. is nowhere to be found on the list.

FR. DETAILS, November 2007

THE CITY: CHICAGO
THE ESCAPE: NAPERVILLE
Naperville, 30 miles west of Chicago, has the character—innovative restaurants, independent shops, fairs and festivals—that the city has started to lose.

THE CITY: LOS ANGELES
THE ESCAPE: MONTROSE
Set in the foothills of the San Gabriel and Verdugo mountains, Montrose is just 20 minutes by car from downtown L.A. It feels more like a small town than a suburb—albeit one with a nationally recognized wine and cheese shop, Goudas & Vines.

THE CITY: NEW YORK
THE ESCAPE: COLD SPRING
An hour from Grand Central on the Metro-North railroad, Cold Spring has panoramic views of the Hudson River, good restaurants, downshifting creative types from the city, and proximity to the vibrant art scene of Beacon.

THE CITY: SAN FRANCISCO
THE ESCAPE: MILL VALLEY
Mill Valley: Across the Golden Gate, 10 minutes north of San Francisco, you’ll find a renowned farmer’s market, outdoor tai chi classes, redwoods, and canyons—and not a Gap store in sight.

THE CITY: WASHINGTON, D.C.
THE ESCAPE: TAKOMA PARK, MARYLAND
Takoma Park, Maryland, one of Washington’s first suburbs, is more affordable than other neighborhoods and has a great variety of restaurants. It’s a little crunchy, but it’s hard to argue with the well-regarded schools and impressive music and arts festivals.

THE CITY: BOSTON
THE ESCAPE: WALTHAM
Twenty minutes west of Boston, Waltham is home to Brandeis University and has the sophistication of a college town without Boston’s hordes of overserved undergraduates. The restaurants around Moody Street provide city-quality offerings.

Gold and L.A.C.E.

A quick preview of what to expect from the Emperor's Suburban-themed listening party at L.A.C.E. this March 2008.

I. SOLID GOLD (is this the real life? is this just fantasy?)










II. P.O.T.H.