Do you know Adrian Leung? If you are involved with writing or making film in the Asian community you’ve probably met him. Adrian is one of these glue-type of people who knows nearly everybody in some way. I knew him back when he was working at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop in the early 2000s. He drove me, and two other writers, Bushra Rehman and Helen Yum, to a college in Ohio from New York City. We almost all died. Although it was April, it was snowing in Ohio and our car spun on the road like a teacup ride. We came to a rest in a ditch and had to pay a tow truck to get us out. I can’t help but feel that in an alternate universe, my ghost is haunting a certain stretch of the road in the midwest on snowy nights.
Adrian has been living in Tokyo for more than a year now (I think) but when he comes to visit the U.S., he has to make that triangular run (L.A., S.F. and New York City) to see everyone he knows. I’ve taken the liberty of taking photos of his iPhone photos with my iPhone.
Shit knocked all over the place, all the way in Tokyo, right after the earthquake.
Prepackaged goods gone in a flash, so if you want Twinkies 24 hours after the quake, you are S.O.L.
It’s rush hour, but Jackie Chan and everybody else is skipping the train.
These are not dunce caps. They are soft like thick quilted blankets but they supposedly protect your head as well as hardhats from shit falling.