That Damn Kimono Doesn't fit you, Mainer! A Brief Lesson in Fashion.

When I was in 4^th grade, my Mom’s Aunt’s son was stationed with the U.S. Navy in Seoul during the ‘88 Olympics.  When he learned that he had a cousin? of ethnically Korean origin, he, with the help of financing from my Mom, decided to return home as my personal soldier Santa, bearing an assortment of gifts from Korea for me.  It blew my mind that a family member I had never met before would spoil me with lavish gifts!  As any pre-teen girl obsessed with trinket culture, I adored all of the gifts, with the exception of one.  The damn “kimono”.  I would (much) later learn it was not a “kimono” at all, but a "hanbok", a traditional Korean dress.   

During those years, clothing brought me nothing but disappointment.  

I was beginning to realize that I was living in a world made not for petite Asians, but “milk and chicken” (early developing), big breasted, slightly overweight, Caucasian girls.  How was I supposed to wear the same outfit to school on Wednesday as my BFF, if I was shopping at the "Children's Shop" and she was shopping at the Gap?  Other girls at school were wearing their new bras, and I couldn't even fit into a “saekdongot”.  To add insult to injury, Mom assured me that my cousin had even attempted to purchase it taking in consideration my age and assumed size.   I concluded the damn "kimono" was actually made for a 3rd grader sized “normal” person, even in Korea, where people were smaller.   The damn "kimono" brought me more of the same stress telling me the same thing; I was a stunted runt.  I was afforded a tiny moment of body-image damage control reprieve when I noticed the structure of my saekdongot  didn't require the wearer to have breasts for it to fit well, I inferred that at least I didn't have to worry about stuffing my jeogori.  

After a few years of slow growing, when I reached 6th (maybe 7th) grade, a I was finally be able to fit into the damn "kimono".  Luckily, by that time it was still the early 90’s and Glamour Shots was in its heyday; when every young girl, including myself, wanted her 15 minutes of soft-touched photo fame.  

   

Since I had moved to pointe in my ballet class that year, (like a debutante party or quinceañera in the world of ballet dancing) my Mom had decided to crown my graceful accomplishment with a photo op at the local studio.   (Step up from Glamour shots!  I was a spoiled child.)   Of course that meant it was my Mom who decided that my “kimono” would make another great outfit for the sitting.  The Christmas gift-winning photo of the shoot ended up being:  Me, seated legs crossed, atop a stool which was carefully hidden by the drapes of the chima.  With my head slightly tilted to the left, I wantonly gazed down at, implying I just whiffed, the beautiful aroma a pink plastic rose.  Apparently it was the ideal image my Mom was looking for- what she had helped develop me into; her "Oriental daughter" (as she referred to me to her friends as a term of endearment) graceful and petite, smelling the beautiful rose of life.  The enlarged, framed version remains hanging in my parents’ living room as I type this.  

To the average onlooker, my eyes’ epicanthic folds legitimize my right to sport a “kimono” with “authenticity”, but I felt like a fraud even back then.   The cheesy 80's halo filter doesn't disguise the fact the rose was a plastic bauble prop, and that Korean girl in the portrait, ain't exactly a "real Korean".

Julie Chen's less Asian transformation

I had/have no more culturally correct business wearing a “kimono” than I did/do wearing a burqa.  Say it’s Halloween and I’m trying to choose a costume and my options are “kimono” or burqa?  If I was a Korean woman living in Korea, and I saw a picture of me (an ethnically Korean woman) dressed as a geisha in a kimono, my xenophobic self would be greatly insulted I was wearing the "wrong" country's traditional garb, and in fact, that  of my prior oppressors.  If I was a Saudi Arabian woman and I saw a picture of me wearing a burqa, I wouldn't be able to tell who it was anyway.  Does just sporting either “costume” make me more or less racist?  Or is it the intention of the person wearing the outfit that determines if it is racist?  

Skanky or racist Halloween?

I wore a cheongsam-like dress to my senior prom.  It was a royal blue, empire-waisted style dress, silk on the bottom, and sequined on the top, the front clasped by "Asian knot" buttons.  It should also be noted that, as a nerdy, late bloomer, my experience in the dating scene was watching 90210.  A friend set me up on what I like to refer to as a pity-date to prom... with none other than the only Asian (Chinese) guy in our school.  I had never even talked to him before.   But, I'm certain my friend thought she had found a match made in heaven for me, because we were both Asian.  And I accepted.  No other offers had come in; and going stag was decidedly even uncooler than going with an Asian stranger who I wasn't remotely attracted to. 

Luckily, no other Koreans or culturally literate people went to our school, and thus I was never accused of being racist by wearing an Oriental-style dress that was stylishly in-congruent with my Korean genes.  Finding stylish jeans were a problem due to my petite genes.  Especially when the Gap changed its sizing, scale, eliminating mine altogether.  When it came time to find a prom dress, the selection for a petite 17 year old girl in Maine in 1997 proved equally as limited…   After the torture of trying on racks of dresses that sadly bagged and sagged at the chest, and hips, of course it was the “Asian” dress that that fit me (most) correctly without needing alteration and fitting into my price range.   I was inadvertently engaging in cultural appropriation into what others (and myself) wrongly perceived as my “real culture”.   No part of my life growing up in Maine resembled any Asian culture, middle east, or far east.  It was as fraudulent for me to wear a kimono costume as it was for Katy Perry at the AMA's.  Kinda.

Based upon the theme of her performance and her chosen outfit, Katy Perry seemingly admires “orientalism” and the (“good”) stereotypes that embody it; petite, demure, graceful, and good at math.  We all know she will probably never be any of those, but we have to be careful of our criticisms; we do not want to be the kind of people who quash others’ cultural assimilation dreams. 

Can you believe the audacity of pop stars to exploit and fetishize Asians?!  (See Margaret Cho’s reaction to Gwen Stefani & her Harajuku Girls) Why does it come as such a surprise that would anyone want to make a fetish of something?  Any champion of free markets will tell you that a scarce commodity gets a higher value.  

My Mom answered this question for me back when I would throw myself my own pity party and cry about my flat chest, and inability to gain weight to get curves and "become a woman". She simply explained it as "because it's what you don't have.   "Lacy, you're lucky you don't have huge boobs and can fit into cute clothes, and you don't have to worry about your weight.  You're lucky you are petite and graceful.  When I was young, we were poor and Grammy and Grandpa didn't have the money to pay for dance lessons, and piano lessons, and all of these things you do."  And she was right.  Many of my friends ended up on the other (but not opposite) side of the body image spectrum; dealing with anorexia or bulimia, that almost killed them.  Despite knowing that Mom was frustratingly always right in the end, it still took many, many years to get to a point where I felt like I actually "fit in" in any kind of dress.

In no way am I saying that some costumes are not racist.  Dressing up in blackface is most definitely racist. (In my book.) Why would some white chick today dress up in blackface?   Black or Native Americans could not actually become actors during the time blackface ruled American theatre and then Hollywood.  Why would anyone dress in a costume that that glorifies this subjugation and segregation of people with more melanin?

Jesse Owens swept the 1936 Olympics as the king of western racists, Hitler, watched in horror. What greater an idol to have… the guy who, by means of his amazing athleticism, without words or bombs, gave the Nazis an epic “fuck you” by demonstrating the unsuperiority of the German "race" in a race, and simultaneously proving that black people can be Americans too, and that you can smoke a pack a day and still win the Olympics.  I’d love to honor Mr. Owens in any way possible.  Heck, I’d consider dressing up as him for Halloween one year, but I just don’t think it’s feasible to be able to dress in a Jesse Owens costume making it believable and not racist.  I wonder if my old prom dress still fits?

      

Entropic Fall-ing into the Devil (of) Winter

It's that time of year again.  

When entropy is a live action film just outside of your door. 

Just the thought of it makes me shrivel like a dick in a feminist convention or icy water.  "Look at that gorgeous foliage!! "Is what wealthy elderly leaf-peepers on buses say.  Why is fall a season?  As far as I can tell it lasts for a good two to three weeks, at best.  I'd really love to love fall... like I've said before, if for nothing but for my own sanity.  But for some reason, my brain processes fall as my sanity sitting on a dark cold precipice looking into an infinite cold, dark abyss.  

After eight years in California, where the meaning of Season has a stronger connotation to food spicing than foreboding winter weather, you'd think I would have learned or at least conditioned my brain to know better than to linger on the melancholera that chokes out my psyche during the winter months.  I'd like to "rationalize" it as something primal within me; maybe something twisted into my mind-bogglingly complex, double helix genetic code, which is incapacitating my ability to mentally shut down the urge to hunker/bunker down, shut off all sensors, and fatten up for the winter.  But that's just me being a hopeless romantic about being something decidedly unromantic; 

A depressed, self-deprecating slug.  

Each year I renew my vow to be reborn, like the phoenix out of the ashes! (Which of course I have a tattoo of... helps remind me of my struggle, in case I happen to forget.) Usually I renew my vows to my rebirth in the springtime, following the same schedule of almost every living organism wishing renewal or birth, or rebirth, minus humans on New Year's.  But every year, without fail, the cold winds whip around my doorstep, and simultaneously, those ugly orange, red, and yellow leaves fall and clog my gutters, each one of them falling and collecting into a beautiful castle wall of detritus; 

That somehow encapsulates me into the cocoon of mental hibernation.

Somehow, I've made it through many winters.  But, we all do.  Survival is the great will of life; no one wants to die, unless they want to die.  It's not like my struggle has been even well, a struggle.  I've always had food, water, and an obsession about clothing.  I'm not a spring chicken.  And apparently not a winter chicken.  I doubt being a chicken was ever my calling.  I'd hope to be a (sacrificial) lamb.  Of course, because again, I'm romantical like that.

Look how selfish depression is.  

Who do I talk about in my blog.  Me.  Oh! The Importance of Being Earnest!    Pity partying!  So, where was I going with this?  Ah, yes.  Physiologically... I'm retarded during the winter months.  (Side note: When I present links, it's purely out of navigational convenience; not because I think you lack the inquisitive spirit to google it yourself) Should you catch me at (not) my finest point (winter), I apologize to you.  My mother knows this "seasonal" change occurs in me.   That she accepts it, is another problem.  

But, It shatters my heart.  

My boyfriend knows and experiences every part of it.  My animals know and feel it too.  
I'm minced meat.  Only people or things I care about become my depression's victims.  It (the depression) rips me to shreds before I can even identify it in a lineup or the cops can forensically trace the DNA to a particular culprit.  Is it even real?  No.  The Devil is your own subconscious. 

My subconscious is quite the little devil!~

So, if I am cognizant of this seasonal change, why don't I use my big homosapien brain and do something, anything about it?  It's a constant battle.  Not between good and evil.  It's just a fucking battle.

I love you & thank you,

Lacy

Since I (think I) meant for this blog to incorporate a recipe for each entry, I give you the recipe for entropy and depression!!:   :/

Wilted Swiss Chard Soup-

Wilt chard or use some wilted chard.  I don't care.- add garlic.  Blend. serve hot.  Maybe with some grated Parmesan cheese.  Or any cheese.  maybe serve some bread with it.  Salt and pepper. Maybe light a candle.  Maybe serve as an appetizer to a steak.  I don't know. Sounds kinda gross.  Maybe it's good.  You can't knock it unless you've tried it.  shut the fuck up, be glad you have a meal.

and a soundtrack to go along with your shitty, tasteless, garlicy, dinner.

        

They've Got You By the Teaballs

(...and you don't even realize it)

Maybe I should have called it quits with the whole Teabagger issue, 
if not at least for my own sanity.  However, I admit my sanity was never found 
and therefore cannot be lost.  Knowing that such ignoramus beliefs exists 
in this world, in my country, on my Facebook friends list, 
is just too disturbing for me to put down the pen* for.  It's literally something I lose sleep over at night, and it should be reason for you to lose sleep also.
The fact that said regressive ideas are (somewhat) unabashedly funded by 
none other than the devil incarnate Koch family, 
incites an apparently inextinguishable rage inferno within me.   

I am Lacy's inextinguishable rage inferno, 

similar to Kuwaiti oil fields circa 1991, minus dromedary camels
If you listen closely, you can whimpers of Koch brothers crying at the sight of this.

They always catch you with your mouth wide open in shock and awe of them regurgitating such ignorant, often bigoted, rhetoric.  

That's how they get you...

proof you can find pictures of anything on the internet.

My last run-in with a Teabagger did prove to be an enlightening experience in one way.  The discourse went something like this:

Teabagger:" Second, you may not like the tea party but at least someone is looking out 

for this country. Obama is killing us.  I am just tired of people who don't work, but want/ 

expect someone else to pay for their lifestyle."

Lacy: "...Fuck you, you selfish bastard."

The enlightening element of this conversation is that it evidences the Teabagger's fear of a faceless mob of LAZY persons led by none other than the POTUS:

Get off your lazy ass and do something, Barry!

If "lazy angry mob" sounds like an oxymoron to you, you can 
Read more about lazy angry mobs HERE 

(I send my apologies for  the small annoyance of having previously typed out urls and not linking pages!)
Mobb Deep, Quiet Storm

However, we all know it's quite ludicrous to fear a mob of angry potheads, 
so Teabaggers have conveniently utilized Libertarian philosophy to be able to 
"flip a bitch" on that subject, citing they support the legalization of marijuana 
because it's key in the fight for "freedom" and individual rights.      
And who in their right minds wants to be against freedom, 
or even worse, smoking pot?!  
Um, what was I originally talking about?  
I somehow got off on a freedom of weed smoking tangent and forgot my main point!  
Ah yes... 
The Teabagger's fear of the illusive but apparently omnipresent threat of lazy, 
angry mobs.  (which does not include potheads?)

Teabagger theory of Lazy Angry Mob vs. Teabaggers as represented in a Venn Diagram
(This diagram, which is based on logic, can not be constructed, as it does not make any sense)

The ignorance of Teabaggers that blinds them into seeing the true motivation of the Koch's fear-mongering, is quite depressing.  It's not lazy masses that are the enemy of big business, it's the un-lazy, fully informed masses.  Maybe, the Teabaggers are themselves victims.  Koch Industries' fear appears to be that the un-lazy, informed masses will become convinced it's a "Bad thing" (an understatement) for KI to continue to do what they already do.  That is, reap infinite profit for themselves (the Aristocracy) by raping the planet of of its natural resources, and selling the refined product back to the plebeian citizenry at whatever cost they deem their "invisible" hand deems the right price.  No doubt, the Koch's have a brilliant idea... transfer (while distorting) their own fear to a portion of the masses who are quite obviously already easily manipulated by fear.  Despite being poor, I'm not stupid, (thanks luck & internet!) and I know that money can buy lots of things in this world, including genius marketing minds (propagandists).  


"As people do better, they start voting like Republicans - 
unless they have too much education and vote Democratic, 
which proves there can be too much of a good thing." ~ Karl Rove

By allowing the group (Teabaggers) do their dirty work, Koch (and all big business) is able to quash the threat of the illusive lazy mob who are calling for Koch-heads to roll.

  
A Koch bottle cap, and De-capitation device for a bottle of Koch 

The great tragedy of all of this this that although it is being sold as one, this is not a Koch Zero sum game.  (Oh, how I love corny pun fun!) Aristocratic rule does not secure liberty for anyone, with the exception of the aristocracy.  DUR.  

The more complex societies get and the more complex the networks of interdependence within and beyond community and national borders get, the more people are forced in their own interests to find non–zero-sum solutions. That is, win-win solutions instead of win-lose solutions.... Because we find as our interdependence increases that, on the whole, we do better when other people do better as well — so we have to find ways that we can all win, we have to accommodate each other....

—Bill Clinton, Wired interview, December 2000.^[3]

The great irony is that Teabaggers do not realize they cannot lose something they never had;  The power of the invisible hand.  Koch Industries has (successfully lubricated with petroleum jelly) a (not so) invisible hand up their ass, puppeteering their every move.
(Artistic reader, please make a cartoon for this)

Despite the doomsday-ish tone of this post, I do believe Americans will see through this puppet show of disgusting exploitation and manipulation.  It helps the Teabaggers have shot themselves in the face with the government shut down/sequester bullet.  
Koch will be forced to foot the bill for the significant amount of plastic surgery to recover their image.  Unfortunately, in the end I fear we all will have to foot the bill, because their ugly visage could be considered by some, a preexisting condition.

If you haven't recently been living under a Luddite rock, (I suppose obviously not if you're reading this) you'll know of Mr. Russell Brand's recent call for a Revolution.  
His argument is passionate and intelligent, and I concur with his argument that shit is way out of hand due to upon massive inequality and corruption. 
However, I don't necessarily think that a Revolution answer, 
but rather, maybe a Renaissance.
In my next post, I'll further posit that we've already made steps in the direction of an American Renaissance and how a Renaissance might be able to save us from the petrifying prospect of Koch Industries successfully fracking the planet and teabagging American democracy to death.    

Oh, and I like to keep my word when I promise to do something.  
So, as promised last week, I will now diss Beyonce:

Beyonce, you named your world tour the Mrs. Carter tour.  
Enough said.

Teabagger Zombies, & To Deal, or Not to Deal Crack.

Teabagger Zombies, & To Deal, or Not to Deal Crack.

Brad Pitt:  Zombie fighter, humanitarian, and ridiculously hot.

Enraged and embarrassed by the government shutdown, I posted the following open letter on my Facebook page:

An open letter to the extreme right republicans and other obstructionist a-holes that, with increasing incidence over the past few days, have seemingly crawled out of their holes and rudely spewed their sickness all about the Internets and Congress: I'm not a doctor, however, based upon my own knowledge and experience, with a little help from Mr. Google & Mr. Wikipedia, I believe i can pretty accurately diagnose you with a case of chronic verbal/typed diarrhea. This terrible affliction may have been due to being what my Mom refers to as a "Shit-for-brains". I assume that stems from malabsorption of logical ideas and other information. Maybe there is a blockage in your common sensory receptors? In any case, I suggest you seek out some help. 

Hopefully you do not infect your friends or family before that time, you teabagger zombie.

To my initial delight, someone from my high school in Maine took the bait.  First, he told me I "sounded stupid" and warned me not to "believe the lies (of the media)" as if reading/watching any and all reporting from any major news outlet was resulting in me being brainwashed.  At first, it seemed like he was trying to save me from this EVIL conspiracy of the media.  But his true motivation soon surfaced: strike fear into people (tell them they're feeding themselves lie pie), and after they've gone on a lie pie hunger strike and are starving for truth, make them drink your own new "truths" tea.  This is the exact zombie model I was talking about in my post.  

Teabagger zombies drink a refreshing cup of "truth" tea

After identifying himself not with the Tea Party, but as a Libertarian, I began wondering what the difference was, and if there really is any.  From what I can tell, both political parties have severe trust issues.

Where does humanitarianism fit in with the Libertarian ethos?  Does it?  The closest thing I have found is here, with these guys http://bleedingheartlibertarians.com/2011/03/bleeding-heart-libertarianism/ 

(Also interesting that this group is seemingly comprised of lots of dudes)

There seems to be a very patriarchal theme with Libertarian thought in politics and theory.  I just don't get a sense of any motherly, nurturing qualities, and that is quite frankly, more frightening than zombies.  

The emphasis on mistrust leads to paranoid protectionist actions, like making your house a bunker.  In psychology it is also known as antisocial behavior disorder.

Libertarians endorse laissez-faire capitalism.  I wish I had an invisible hand to smack some sense into the person who believes in it.  Ayn Rand was a bougie bitch, and epitomizes what happens when rich people want to protect their shit from poor people.  

Not everyone is afforded the same opportunities.  

ALL PEOPLE ARE NOT CREATED EQUAL.  

To believe such, especially in this day and (information) age is unfathomable to me.

However, I think my FB post zombie seems to believe that we are:

• 

  Keep in mind that I have worked very hard, and made sacrifices along the way to get where I am. I know I am in a better position than some but I believe they too could have achieved the same level of success if they only applied themselves and looked for opportunities with rewards.

  18 hours ago ·

What if I saw opportunities to make more cash, 
get ahead in the "game", but I didn't take them?  

Maybe I could have been Jay-Z, 
in which case I could proudly list selling crack on my resume.  

But, somewhere along the line, I fear my morals got in the way of all of the money entrepreneurial prowess of unfettered capitalism might have brought me, 
...if I had only carpe'd the crack.  
Maybe he's a Libertarian, since Jay-Z cites his favorite charity as himself: 
"...and this is going to sound arrogant, but my presence is charity. Just who I am,"  

Yeah, I just dissed Jay-Z.  Deal with it. Beyonce is next week.

We live in a society that encourages and champions narcissistic behavior.  

Unfortunately, they tend to succeed and often become your boss.  

http://www.forbes.com/sites/kathycaprino/2011/12/12/how-to-tell-if-your-boss-is-a-narcissist-and-5-ways-to-avoid-getting-fired-by-one/

I can't write any more about this.  My brain and my emotions are fried.

For additional brainwashing, I suggest reading:

Obamacare and the Conscience of a Radical

In which, once again, Mr. Ta-Nehisi Coates leads a thought-provoking dialog about this topic. How I wish I could initiate this kind of conversation, instead of the depressingly lowbrow chatter on the string of my post.

http://www.theatlantic.com/politics/archive/2013/10/obamacare-and-the-conscience-of-a-radical/280226/

• 
  

Sir Pope Francis Bacon Carbonara Lasagne I.

Being that this blog is entitled as such, I thought it apropos to have my first entry be about none other than some noodles. 

And I shall name you... 

Sir, Pope, Francis Bacon Carbonara Lasagne I

 

Apologies for the kind of shitty picture. 

 Yes, it's a very long name, but I promise you that the recipe is simple, and award-winning delicious!  Because everything is better with bacon!* 

Here's a little etymology of the name of my lasagne.

Francis Bacon's: Study after Velázquez's Portrait of a Pope Innocent X

 

Hey!  It's Sir Francis Bacon- or is that Shakespeare?!

 

Rome, the birthplace of Carbonara, and home of none other than the Pope! 

Well, technically Vatican City is the Pope's home, but close enough.

And of course, we have a new Pope:

née Jorge Mario Bergoglio, but I like to call him "George"

Hey! Nice shoes George!

Thanks for following me on a little sojourn through my scattered thought process.  Now, what you've been waiting for... Here's the recipe:

Sir, Pope, Francis Bacon Carbonara Lasagne I 

Empirical method, no fancy red sauce for this dish!

Ingredients:

4 oz. uncured slab bacon (sliced into ¼” cubes)

1 lb. chicken tenders or breasts

1 cup chicken stock

3 clove garlic (minced)

½ cup heavy cream or 1 cup half & half,

2 eggs (beaten)

½ cup pecorino romano (grated)

½ cup parmigiano-reggiano (grated)

1 cup mozzarella (shredded)

1 tbsp. fresh basil (optional)

1 tbsp. ground black pepper

4 oz. spinach (thawed frozen or fresh)

1 box no boil lasagna noodles

Topped with chopped Italian flat-leaf parsley

Preheat oven to 375degrees.  Cook bacon in large, heavy-bottomed pan.  Remove from pan. Drain & reserve all but 1tsp. of fat from pan.  Cook chicken in fat 2-3 min per side, adding ½ cup chix stock after flipping.  Remove chix from pan & shred with a fork.  Add remaining chicken stock to pan to deglaze pan.  Stir in cream, garlic, basil, ground pepper, & ¼ cup parmesan.    Simmer sauce & stir. (don’t let it burn).  In a large bowl, mix remaining ¼ cup parmesan, ¾ cup mozzarella, and romano cheeses with the beaten eggs. 

Spoon a layer of sauce into a 9x13” pan.  Add a layer of noodles.  Add another layer of sauce, add chicken, add cheese mixture, top with spinach.  Repeat layers ending on top with noodles.  Drizzle with olive oil (optional).  Cover with tinfoil and bake for 25 minutes. 

Remove tinfoil, add remaining ¼ cup mozzarella, and bake for another 10 minutes.

Buon Appetito!

 

*Apparently, bacon possesses six ingredient types of umami which is probably why it's so scrumptious.

P.S.

Check out 
 Michael Wolf Photography
to see some mind-blowing photographs
including a "real fake" of Francis Bacon's

Study after Velázquez's Portrait of a Pope Innocent X

http://photomichaelwolf.com/#real-fake-art/3