Giant Robot Store and GR2 News
FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE Tongue and Groove – Author Readings Friday 5/25 8pm Giant Robot 2 2062 Sawtelle Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 90025 310-445-9276 In celebration of National Asian American/Pacific Islanders Heritage month, Conrad Romo’s Tongue and Groove Series will make an appearance at Giant Robot 2 featuring Frannie Choi, Chiwan Choi, Ed Lin, Traci Kato Kiriyama and others bios Chiwan Choi is a writer, editor, teacher, and publisher Abductions is his second book of poetry. Ed Lin is the author of Waylaid,This Is a Bust and Snakes Can’t Run. Lin, who is of Taiwanese and Chinese descent, is the first author to win three Asian American Literary Awards. The native New Yorker’s latest book is One Red Bastard, by Minotaur. He’ll be available to sign copies. Traci Akemi Kato-Kiriyama is the creator/ producer of Tuesday Night Café in Japan Town. She is a writer, performing artist, educator and grassroots organizer. Franny Choi was a finalist at two of the three most prestigious poetry slams in the country: the National Poetry Slam and the Women of the World Poetry Slam. She was awarded Best Female Poet and Most Innovative at the 2011 Wade-Lewis Poetry Slam Invitational, and her team was specially recognized for Pushing the Art Forward at the 2011 College Union Poetry Slam Invitational. She was also the top-ranking female poet at the 2011 Southern Fried Poetry Slam and the champion of 2010 Seoul Poetry Slam Giant Robot was born as a Los Angeles-based magazine about Asian, Asian-American, and new hybrid culture in 1994, but has evolved into a full-service pop culture provider with shops and galleries in Los Angeles as well as an online equivalent. Eric Nakamura Giant Robot Owner/Publisher eric@giantrobot.com
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FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE – Writing Workshop and Author Signing at GR2 Ed Lin – New Book – One Red Bastard Wednesday May 23nd 7-9pm GR2 – 2062 Sawtelle Blvd LA, CA 90025 www.gr2.net 310 445 9276 Giant Robot 2 (GR2) presents: Writing Workshop and Author Signing at GR2 Author Ed Lin just released his latest novel, One Red Bastard and is conducting a writing workshop. He says to bring your iPad, iPhone or Paper. The workshop is scheduled for an hour 7-8pm. Afterwards from 8pm-9pm, Ed Lin will sign his new book – One Red Bastard. We’ll have copies on hand. Giant Robot was born as a Los Angeles-based magazine about Asian, Asian-American, and new hybrid culture in 1994, but has evolved into a full-service pop culture provider with shops and galleries in Los Angeles as well as an online equivalent. Eric Nakamura Giant Robot Owner/Publisher eric@giantrobot.com
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(Art by spoon+fork.) Andrea Conti wanted to give me a handjob as usual, but I was done with it. I think those anti-horny jail chemicals were completely out of my system. I still wanted to jump on Mrs. Angrywall and I was mad at her for having that much control over me. I guess I was mad at all women. We were standing in the back of the walk-in van. “Let’s not,” I told Andrea. “It’s all right. I held on to my zipper and pushed her hand away. “What!” She nearly dropped the sack of money from the hamburger stand’s receipts. “Everything’s okay. Just, you know, we’ll unload the food each week, I’ll give you the money, and that’s just fine.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just. . .that’s how it’s going to be.” “You don’t like it anymore?” Her eyes were shining. Christ, it was like trying to break up with someone. “I’m gonna be honest,” I said. “This just doesn’t do it for me anymore. I’m tired of bunting when I step up to the plate, you know what I mean?” “All guys are like this, aren’t they? Deep down inside you only want to score, isn’t that right? You just want to fuck!” “Not all the time, but some of the time, yes, definitely. I do have to get laid every once in a while.” “Maybe I could suck you.” “That’s nice, but it’s not going to do it, either.” “I’ll give you what you want, then,” Andrea said slowly. “But you have to wrap it and I don’t want to do it in the van.” “Where we gonna do it?” “How about one of the hotel rooms?” “Here?” I said, nearly choking. “Yeah, here. What, are you scared or something, now? You only want to talk about fucking?” “Naw, it’s just that, I don’t know if they’ll let me.” “Go ask the dot for a key. She won’t give a shit. You know what they do in her country?” “Don’t call her a ‘dot,’” I warned. “I’ll call her whatever the fuck I want!” She crossed her arms. “Wait here.” “I’ll wait, but not too long.” I rubbed my ears as I walked to the office. I wondered if I could look into Mrs. Angrywall’s eyes and ask for a room key just like that. Sure, she was going to ask what for. I couldn’t lie to her, but maybe I should tell her that I’d clean the room up after, too. Every potentially good situation always had something tough to overcome. “Man Has to Be His Own Savior“ talked about it endlessly. Mao had the Long March. The American autoworkers nearly starved to get their right to a 40-hour workweek. I could ask Mrs. Angrywall for a room key to get laid. “You look positively gloomy, Sean.” Mrs. Angrywall was reading through Auto Exchange, the free weekly newsletter of used cars. “It’s a sunny day out, so chin up.” “Are you looking to...
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The former “Darkie” name is gone and the smiling minstrel face is replaced with a man of an uncertain race in a top hat, but the toothpaste is still literally called “black people” (黑人, pronounced “hei ren” in Mandarin). Black-people toothpaste is still sold in many Asian countries (we found this our first night in Taipei at a 7-11 two weeks ago). The parent company, Hawley & Hazel Group, is 50%-owned by Colgate-Palmolive. On their site, Colgate says that while they replaced the “Darkie” English name with “Darlie” in 1990, they kept the “hei ren” characters because “Hawley & Hazel’s research shows that Chinese consumers perceive the ‘Hei ren’ toothpaste brand to be trustworthy, international and modern.” If that’s the case, then how come there are zero black people on Darlie’s web site? C’mon, Colgate-Palmolive and Hawley & Hazel people!
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(Art by spoon+fork.) Howard didn’t bother to show up to work on Tuesday. Didn’t get a phone call, either. I wasn’t surprised. It was just a matter of time before this would happen. He’d been saying he’d be there for years, but losing the laptop probably soured that fucker. He had enough money, anyway. Based on my years of working down at the shore, the people who show up late keep showing up late the whole summer, if they don’t get fired. That kind of worker doesn’t have the initiative to find another job or to muster enough courage to quit. The diligent ones, the people who show up on time, are the ones who leave for good. No two-week notice. Their phone number and address aren’t good anymore. Any personal stuff they had at the job was already brought home over time. That’s quitting Jersey style. So Howard actually broke the mold — he was the slacker who actually quit. I was ready for my break in the afternoon when I realized I might not be able to take one. The lock was in bad shape and I didn’t feel like jiggling my key in it for five minutes so I dragged a chair outside and propped it against the closed door behind me. I stepped into the hotel office. “Howard didn’t call here, did he?” I asked Mrs. Angrywall. “Nobody’s called all day,” she said, crossing her arms and slouching lower in her seat. “He didn’t come in today.” “And I’m certain you miss him deeply.” I scratched behind my right ear and said, “You know, if he quit, that means no more, ah, smoking.” Her eyebrows rose. “I see. . .” she said. “It’s probably for the best. Every time I lit up, I was putting myself at risk for serious bodily harm from O’Keefe. He’d probably get you locked up, too. Anyway it’s way too risky for me to find another dealer.” “It’s a shame. I truly enjoyed our time smoking together. Are you still able to get away for breaks?” “I don’t know. I better call Michael Conti.” “Smoke backy?” “Huh?” “Er, regular cigarettes. Do you smoke them?” “Sure I do. It’s like drinking soda instead of booze, though.” “This situation calls for a carton. I’m off to the 7-11. I’ll meet you back at your stand.” I went back to the hamburger stand, found the phone number on a fridge magnet and called Michael Conti, my boss whom I had never actually met. Someone who sounded as sleepy and unconcerned as Howard answered the phone. I had to wait a while as he went to find Michael. A deeper voice then said, “Yeah?” “Michael?” “Yeah?” “This is Sean, at the hamburger stand in Shore Points.” “Yeah, the pothead.” “That’s me.” “Is something the matter?” “Howard didn’t show up today.” “So spank him when you see him.” “It would be a little tough working here by myself. I can’t do a good job when it’s...
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