exhi bigz we had ann an exhi bigz we had ann anan tholl have the same title. it s my pleasure to introduce some of the writers from this book. i will give you an introduction of each of them as i introduce them for their speaking turn. first up we have debbie yee. debbie yee is an attorney and poet and supporter and organizer of the nonprofit asian american arts community. she s received her undergraduate and law degrees from uc berkeley and bolt. born and raised in sacramento, california. she continues to call northern california her home. and now lives in san francisco. so, with that i d like to introduce debbie yee as our first speaker. this is called jasper john s wagon. i have an idea of how the fifth star was killed dear empire not by gunfire at close range, not in the study with the pen knife, not by the umbrella, crushed by the revolving door not jostled or hemorrhaged the narrow drain. we caught the tar and the bullet we came to the body encostic casement of skin
you alexander have changed your entire people. you who dream of an american time will be relevant you can think in order to be an american writer you have to quit your brownness because the adjective will get in the way of the important noun. english language will impose the adjective before the noun and your face will be imposed before the actual meaning of your life. the other one is not the [inaudible] but the black parent. that one there is the yellow which he willo player. language makes sense [inaudible] language is never innocent. it is a familiar domaine of the ones who came out with it s loss and structure. this, alexander, is not your tongue. your tongue is muteulated, it s gone, rotten in your mouth along with the silence of the days where you became invisible you bad copy cat. despite the rage and the disappointment of your own kin. thank you. [applause] this is a scene from my novel [inaudible]. it seemed like a great opportunity to get to do this here. okay. w
fifth star was killed dear empire not by gunfire at close range, not in the study with the pen knife, not by the umbrella, crushed by the revolving door not jostled or hemorrhaged the narrow drain. we caught the tar and the bullet we came to the body encostic casement of skin rig motor us framed the opened mouths scream. wail for your mother wrap our sons in silken ribbons in a galaxy. the cause has been perp traited. we are adrift on a baron sea. the fleet diminishes me. who shouts for us now, dear empire? this next one is a postcard for a reason that i kept of harold s club in reno, nevada. i don t know if it exists it s a really old postcard. harold s club made we think of harold and the purple crayon. harold s club. who would figure let loose the boy with the purple crayon. let him conkokt the loses slots in women. let loose his imagination. ended as high as sea gulls or the reverse w s topped with bold topped centers the rudeaments of the buzzum and life itself. pen an
of my novel that [inaudible] good mexican novelists. alexander looked at the mirror and saw a mexican stairing back at him. the bad mexican had paid alexander a visit much the conversation from last night s party brought him back in full force. why did he always have to open his big mouth. why tell people that don t care that he hated and despised? he actually might like the [inaudible] hated me english and spanish he could not understand how someone could say he was mexican having been born in the usa. he doesn t like going to mexican places. he does not like to discuss beer and shots of tequilla. he never listened to spanish radio stations. no more mexicans. who did not have a problem being objective with a mexican. [inaudible]. i should try to do something about this he thought this is not good. may be i should try, may be i should make an effort. may be i should drive to the mission and spend quality time with my own people. i m sure it would be simple. he doesn t have to
this is called jasper john s wagon. i have an idea of how the fifth star was killed dear empire not by gunfire at close range, not in the study with the pen knife, not by the umbrella, crushed by the revolving door not jostled or hemorrhaged the narrow drain. we caught the tar and the bullet we came to the body encostic casement of skin rig motor us framed the opened mouths scream. wail for your mother wrap our sons in silken ribbons in a galaxy. the cause has been perp traited. we are adrift on a baron sea. the fleet diminishes me. who shouts for us now, dear empire? this next one is a postcard for a reason that i kept of harold s club in reno, nevada. i don t know if it exists it s a really old postcard. harold s club made we think of harold and the purple crayon. harold s club. who would figure let loose the boy with the purple crayon. let him conkokt the loses slots in women. let loose his imagination. ended as high as sea gulls or the reverse w s topped with bold top