MISREADING

A Feminist Library

STACKS

INSTRUCTIONS FOR USE

Morning:

The debt of days past
leaden with expectation, disappointment, reality.
Eyes flicker open to a ceiling of peeling paint
washed with the wonder of soft sunlight
peering through sheer curtains.

Repeated motions:

Apply a new face
Reshape the body
Adorn with subtle details
enough to convey effort
but not to attract attention.

Repeated sounds:

Please and thank you’s
Click clack of heeled footsteps.
Delicate reminders in the conditional tense
and silent nods.

Repeated expressions:

Smile, always
A downward gaze with hunched shoulders
Crossed legs, lightly folded hands.
Distant gazes, never fixed onto anything
in particular.

Afternoon:

Fleeting office interactions
camaraderie, muffled laughter, and daily news.
Unthanked labor and unending workloads.

Evening:

Rush home
to pick up, feed, bathe, and clothe Dependents.
await Husband
cold dinner, drunken excuses, dutiful nights.

Morning:

The debt of days past
leaden with expectation, disappointment, reality.
Eyes flicker open to a ceiling of peeling paint
washed with the wonder of soft sunlight
peering through sheer curtains.

Hanoi Song / Hà Nội Sống Film

The sounds of the city — the torrential rains, construction sites, tranquil cafes, continuous traffic— play together as music notes to form a song of the city. Sống, means “to live.” In this film, I weave together vignettes and sounds of life in Hanoi.

Why I made this: Hanoi has changed me. And Hanoi is changing. I want to hold a piece of this time with me. Over the years,, my time in ‘Hanoi’ will become a memory, a lesson, and a concept filtered through my individual particular experiences. After the sights, smells and sounds of Hanoi fade away into sepia toned nostalgia…I hope this film can remind me of the feeling of the people and place of  Hanoi.

Music by:
Hanoi, the city
The Passion HiFi – “Distant”
Giraffage – “Slo”
Pete Rock – “Pete’s Jazz”
Zero Db – “Anything’s Possible”

Making of Hanoi Song / Hà Nội Sống

FUX WIT IT

your eyes, I fux wit it
as it traces the chimera creases of my lips
parsed
revealing everything and nothing
in a breathless sigh.

your dreams, I fux wit it
as it neatly encases me in glass
displays of enlightened beauty
against the shadowy contours
of science and fantasy.

your murmurs, I fux wit it
as it catalogs my body
into a gallery of cautionary tales
muted screams classified into
fits of hysteria and emotion.

your poetry, I fux wit it
as it flows between my fingers
onto the concrete of greatmen
its form fragmenting under the weight of my
impeccably crafted
heel.