Walking by the Gate of Atoll Lanta Resort Life
A yellow sheet of halogen light splashes
on the blue plastic chair, spilling shadows
on the grass beside the guard shack
at the gate of Atoll Lanta Resort Life.
The chair is vacant, warped and faded
like the walls of Van Gogh’s bedroom —
misshapen lines unstraightened, bent to a
better degree of artistic fantasy. I imagine
the quiet man who sat for hours in the sun
until his brown skin blackened like a piece
of tropical fruit plucked from a palm tree
before the sea-breeze shook it loose.
Girl in the Market
Girl in the market wearing blue skinny jeans
and a tight navy blazer with the tailcoats
hanging out like a flag over her ass
plump as an unpeeled peach wrapped in
faded denim and the caramel sheen of her
ankles strapped in black leather stilettos
unnecessarily sexy for shopping solo
for dinner — her hair chopped shoulder-
length, dyed a faded shade of orange
like a flickering flame that’s blazed
for too many days on not enough tinder.
My gaze mustn’t linger — I turn away.
Night Bird (a fictional fantasy)
This moment will become a memory
forgettable but for these words, the night
bird calling out a steady pitch of E-flat
tapering off into a warble with no reply —
his question echoing into the shadows
an unrequited love song. It’s been a long
time coming till you finally texted me,
months of waiting for you to initiate
a greeting I thought would never bloom.
I let you loose like the ribbon of a helium-
filled balloon, I blew salty kisses to the crescent
moon, until you settled like a fallen flower
in the palm of my open chest and rested —
a feathered muse coming home to roost
in the nest of my fluttering heart.
Purge
If I don’t write something soon l’Il burst
in a flurry of pent up frustration like a pigeon
popping from gastrointestinal inflation —
that could be me today, a feathery confetti.
If I don’t get these words out on the page fast
my head might crack, my car might crash —
spraying stardust and moonshine on the side
of the highway to high heaven. I must relieve
this aching urge for a poetic purge and
whatever
shouts come out shall be fodder for the birds.
Midnight Sonnet
I cannot shake the angst of wanting more
The door quakes on its hinge a darker hue
A bluer moon of heartache hugs the roof
'Tis proof the sun is shining somewhere else
Or else it would be blackened in the sky
So why should I be worried were it not
The hottened houses of the neighborhood
Withstood the cleansing UV light of day
I say that I am all together lost
The cost of living weighing like a chain
The changing of the seasons blowing in
The thimble of a thought forsaking time
A sign of needing something to fulfill
Until the fix is fed with dopamine
Moonsong
By Jordon Shinn
The moon is a lover for lonely people.
Look up at the night sky — there she is,
she is shy. She pales white when you
glance at her. You can blow kisses
to the face of the moon. She will kiss you back
when the wind blows. When cheeks blush red
as Yantai apples in February moonlight,
in the midnight air — she is there.
She is your lunar lover. She lies down
with you to bed. She caresses your head
and strokes your sweet hair. She whispers,
“I’m here.” She lets you sleep well, dream well
of springtime, of white wine and Wendy’s,
of free Jr. Chocolate Frosties from coupons torn
from yellow phone books. / Look, our brothers
have come home from China now — they never
left us. We’re riding bikes down Duck Street.
We’re playing soccer with bare feet in summer
heat on green lawn… / In the morning the moon
sits on the housetop and watches the sunrise
just to make sure, before leaving you lying
less lonely. She’s heard your howls
for company. She’s kept her lunar light on.
She’s slept with you all night long until dawn.
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https://www.instagram.com/p/C7Tz59luQOV/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link&igsh=MzRlODBiNWFlZA==
The sensational and sincere story of a controversial cycling activist, muscle car businessman and nature enthusiast is shamelessly revealed in “Biker Fox.”
Directed and produced by Jeremy Lamberton, “Biker Fox” follows the life of Frank DeLarzelere III, 52, owner of the international muscle car parts company Billions and Trillions Inc., as he experiences some of his most joyous and darkest hours as his alter ego, Biker Fox — a humorous and hotheaded cyclist in south Tulsa with the charisma of a motivational speaker and the temper of an angry raccoon.
The film, showing at deadCenter Film Festival at 10 p.m., June 10, at IAO Gallery, 706 W Sheridan, is an obscure, low-budget documentary crafted from hundreds of hours of self-shot footage and one filmmaker's quest to reveal the true character behind Tulsa's most misunderstood cyclist.
“The movie is inside his head,” Lamberton said.
Lamberton's first feature-length documentary, “Biker Fox” took 2½ years to make and is forged from more than 800 hours of film, spanning a turbulent 10-year period of Biker Fox's life. DeLarzelere shot most of the footage himself, adding an unusual and insightful point of view.
This uniquely Oklahoma documentary is a sobering look at DeLarzelere's eccentric business practices, his Zen encounters with nature and his ongoing battle as Biker Fox to “share the road” with angry motor vehicles and disapproving members of the Tulsa Police Department.
Lamberton compares Biker Fox to the motivational speaker and '50s fitness guru Jack LaLanne. However, the film presents the paradox between Biker Fox's message of positive thinking, fitness and the pursuit of happiness, and his day-to-day struggles with his auto parts business and the Tulsa police.
“It's almost like part self-help documentary,” Lamberton said. “But the whole time he's offering all this advice, his life's falling apart, and he's getting arrested, and people are stealing from him.”
During the course of the film, Biker Fox is arrested numerous times and is the victim of several robberies.
“So, it's just an interesting dynamic, that here's this guy that claims that he's so ADHD that his head spins all the time,” Lamberton said. “And he's offering advice on how to better your life, when a lot of times his life is what's spinning out of control.”
The beauty of “Biker Fox” is its sincerity.
“There's just this real raw quality about Biker Fox,” Lamberton said. “I think what the movie has is a lot of really subtle moments of truth and moments of authenticity, moments of depth, where he wears his anger on his sleeve — he just explodes on the screen at times, and he's got this amazing incredible temper — but he also has this subtle depth of spirit and love of nature, of people, humanity and the world, despite all the struggles and what he deals with to be not only Biker Fox but Frank DeLarzelere on a daily basis.”
Lamberton said he is planning a Tulsa premiere of “Biker Fox” later this summer, through the annual Tulsa Overground Film Festival, which he co-founded in 1998.
“I think he (Biker Fox) is truly a very good person, I think he means well, but at the same time he's the most punk-rock person I've ever met in my entire life.”
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/08/11/film-preview-biker-fox/
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Article originally published on NewOK.com: https://www.oklahoman.com/article/3465551/biker-fox-about-tulsa-cyclist-set-for-deadcenter-film-fest-screening
Canadian-born musician Ellen Joyce Loo (卢凯彤) was an effervescent rainbow, stubbornly emerging from a stormy Hong Kong sky, stopped short by an abrupt sunset. From longing and loneliness, to heartbreak and rage, her songs are well-suited for reflective hours at a café and walking home in the rain.
As a teen, Loo swept the Hong Kong music scene with her angst and optimism in the early 2000s, as co-founder of the popular Contopop duo at17 with Eman Lam. But Loo’s introspective voice and melancholy personality shone through when she embarked on a solo career and began singing in Mandarin, with 2010’s EP “Summer Of Love.”
Her handful of live albums and three studio records showed a star in love with minor keys and a bright future. Loo displayed unrestrained creativity in 2014’s transient guitar album “如梦幻泡影” (Like a Pipe Dream). She attained her most “perfect” and expansive sound in 2016’s “你的完美有点难懂并不代表世界不能包容” (Your Perfection is a Little Hard to Understand But Doesn’t Mean the World is Unforgiving) — an unpredictable mix of acoustic guitar melodies, rock-and-roll riffs, piano ballads and electronica frenzy.
Diagnosed with bi-polar disorder in 2013, Loo wrote songs that reflected a fragile soul in a hurting world, where she found few answers. On Aug. 5, 2018, Loo tragically fell from her Hong Kong apartment at the age of 32, leaving behind the musical memoirs of a life beautifully broken.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/08/11/in-memorium-remembering-ellen-loo/
If the name “Streets Kill Strange Animals” sounds bloody and bizarre, then you’re on the right track. A ‘noise rock’ trio from Beijing, SKSA loses itself somewhere in the chasms between surging metal guitar riffs and angst-filled pop music. Their unique brand of rock reveals a darker, aching side of Chinese youth that is much less beautiful than it is, well, noisy.
For those who want to headbang to something different, however, there is a diversity of musical influences brewing beneath the surface of SKSA’s sound. Rockers with a trained ear will definitely find their style interesting, if not enjoyable. In a video interview with CRI’s Sound Stage, SKSA bandleader Leng MeiYo cites Sonic Youth, Fugazi and Yo La Tengo as his musical influences. “However, you can also hear elements from noise pop, noise rock, lo-fi and experimental,” Leng said.
Leng, who plays guitar and sings for the band, founded SKSA in 2008 in his native Nanjing. He then relocated to Beijing in search of greater acceptance for his sound. SKSA follows in a similar vein as fellow Southerners PK14 and Hua Dong who also moved north, in favour of Beijing’s flourishing indie music scene. The band released its debut album Plan B: Back to the Analog Time in September 2012 under the Modern Sky record label.
When Streets Kill Strange Animals comes to Downtown Bar this month, expect a noisy, high-energy performance that pushes the edge of amplified sound while managing to stay melodically tasteful and entirely Chinese. Still not convinced? The bassist is a chick.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/08/11/event-preview-streets-kill-strange-animals/
Album review by Jordon Shinn, published in The Oklahoman and on NewsOK.com, June 11, 2010, Oklahoma City, USA.
ALTERNATIVE (Polyvinyl Record Co.)
With all the claps, cowbells, cymbal crashes, shakers, hiccups and drum taps of a children's keyboard, backed by trolling bass beats and lots of reverb, "Topp Stemning På Lokal Bar,” the U.S. debut from Casiokids, is a lo-fi, electronic peach smoothie. An electro-pop dance band from Norway, Casiokids gleefully emerges in an array of Christmas lights from behind an overpowering Scandinavian death-metal scene.
The album cover features the fur-hooded face of a fair-skinned girl, whose half-closed eyes bleed mascara — a picture taken perhaps the morning after an epic night of dancing. The album opens to two peach-colored discs, as appealing as the fruit itself. "Topp Stemning På Lokal Bar,” or "Great Vibe at Local Bar,” is Casiokids' second album, distributed in the U.S. through Polyvinyl Records Co.
The band's strength is its ability to achieve simple sounding, spacey grooves over a chorus of complex electronic textures and synthesized bliss. At times, Casiokids can be as dancy as Daft Punk, as quirky as Björk and as chill as The Postal Service. The band's vocal venture into the occasional falsetto, with its Norwegian lyrics, sounds like Sigur Rós picked up a keyboard and went to the club.
Casiokids plays it cool on Disc 1, displaying sophisticated synth beats that sound effortless and '80s. It is a step backward in the right direction toward lo-fi dance music. The disc's grooves are simple and sober from overly electronic distortions, but the occasional wailing of a theremin, standing in yummy opposition to more experimental electronic groups like Black Moth Super Rainbow. Disc 2, however, is mostly a showy remix of the Disc 1 songs, showcasing the band's technical ability to creatively augment its beats and realize the full potential of a chaos pad.
If Of Montreal's former tour mate is successful, Casiokids might become as much a North American dance party staple as MGMT. If not, the band likely will remain a soft-spoken, lo-fi, electronic treasure in all its Norwegian obscurity. Let's hope so.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/08/11/album-review-casiokids-topp-stemning-pa-lokal-bar/
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Album review originally published by The Oklahoman: https://www.oklahoman.com/article/3467609/cd-review-casiokids-topp-stemning-pa-lokal-bar
Looking out the window with Totto-Chan
Book Review by Jordon Shinn for China Daily, August 2016, Beijing.
A charming and masterful study of the child's psyche, Totto-Chan, the Little Girl at the Window, is the seminal work by celebrated Japanese author and television personality Tetsuko Kuroyanagi. Published in 1981, the novel begins in late-1930s Japan during the lead-up to the Second World War. The plot follows the childhood adventures of the author as Totto-Chan and her escapades at the Bus Study Garden, against the backdrop of war.
Under the guidance of Principal Kobayashi Sosaku, who practices a non-traditional approach to education, the young Totto-Chan evolves from a problem student in the Japanese education system, to a self-confident class leader at her new school for 'special' students.
In awe of the world, while ignorant of the changes happening both within and around her, Totto-Chan takes the reader by the hand, leading the wizened adult back to childhood — a time when the world was fresh and exciting. Indeed, the novel succeeds in bringing us back to a place where ignorance is bliss. But this bliss crumbles away as Totto-Chan, or "Little Bean," slowly and painfully learns the facts of life with each new experience and failure.
These failures include an unfortunate fall into a latrine, being cheated by a roadside peddler, and realizing she doesn't have what it takes to be a spy when she grows up. Death plays a major role, as Totto-Chan experiences the deaths of a classmate and her beloved pet dog "Logic." She also faces hunger and economic hardship due to the war. Albeit understandably childish, her love of the world and zest for life continually bring her strength and joy; even in the darkest times, she manages to find some little thing to be amazed at.
Comprised of 61 chapters, each chapter tells a different story in the saga of Totto-Chan's childhood, and is a stand-alone story for a quick five-minute break from work or study. The novel is written in such a way so that the reader can turn to a random chapter and immediately enjoy the story, without needing much context of what came before it.
In one of my favorite chapters, the author describes the unique pre-lunch ritual that the students of Bus Study Garden engage in. Together, they each open their lunch boxes and sing a song about "the scent of the mountains" and "the scent of the sea," whetting their appetite for whatever they happen to have for lunch. Singing this simple lunch song seems to unite the students as classmates and comrades.
A children's story at first glance, the novel is written with easy vocabulary in any translation (I read the Chinese version), and is a good choice for beginning readers. But it gradually reveals itself to be an engaging study of childhood psychology. This makes the book a worthy read for adult readers, too, especially teachers and parents who want to understand how their own children find light and joy in a world full of danger and darkness.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/08/02/book-review-totto-chan-the-little-girl-at-the-window/
Rodeo Roundup
Event Essay by Jordon Shinn, published in PhilNews, July 2009, Cimarron, New Mexico.
In front of the grandstands, a little boy in black chaps attempts a cartwheel in the dirt track circling the arena, his fur felt cowboy hat toppling off his head as he hits the dirt. Frizzled red hair poofs, contrasting his fair, freckled face, and brightening his toothless smile.
Meanwhile, grappling for attention in the arena, a cowboy in a neon pink shirt ropes a calf, his daughter chasing a red ribbon fluttering on a thrashing tail.
I get up to visit the restroom, located along the backside of the concessions, guarded by grills and mud-puddles — a shady place to be. Two bright-eyed girls confront me, holding paper cones of dull-colored melted ice.
“Snow-cone! One dollar!” the elder girl shouts, thrusting a cone at my face.
I decline, stunned.
“Geeze!” she says. “How do you buy your lunch?”
Back in the grandstands, all eyes are on the boy, attempting to stand on his head to the crowd’s applause. His old sister, red cheeked, stomps onto the track pumping her small fists, her face a frump of disguised affection. She pulls her ornery brother unwillingly back to his seat, out of the spotlight.
At the rodeo, the best events are unexpected.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/08/02/event-essay-rodeo-roundup/
Excerpt: Materials, design and history give voice to a home’s front door
Full article by Jordon Shinn published in "Central Oklahoma Homes," July 2010, Oklahoma City, USA.
Our lives are guided by the opening and closing of doors — from opportunities to obstacles, success to failure; from entryways to backdoors, gateways to chamber doors. A door is a focal point. It makes a statement and gives a first impression. A door has psychological significance and sets the aesthetic tone for its surroundings. It must both blend in and stand out. A door is the first thing people see when they visit, and the last thing they see when they leave...
Knock on wood
From red oak to white oak, walnut to fir, old growth to new growth, pine to birch, door construction has as many options as there are materials. Doors can be paneled, barred, cleaved, carved, finished, scraped, square or arched, and are constructed from wood, plastic, metal, glass, rubber, paper and fiberglass. But Oklahoma doors makers agree: Nothing beats a solid wood door...
Pearly gates
An open door might be a lucky break or a risk to take. A closed door can be a barricade from thieves, or hide us from our enemies. Doors guard dark secrets, or simply cover the kitchen pantry. We remember the doors we have walked through and the ones we haven’t.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/07/22/narrative-writing-excerpt-4-designing-doors-of-destiny/
Excerpt: A Tale of Two Countries
Full article by Jordon Shinn published in “The Daily O’Collegian,” April 2011, Stillwater, Oklahoma.
Nino Kiguradze and Bolor Bayarsaikhan occupy a small, round table at Aspen Coffee Company, their favorite café, in downtown Stillwater. It’s mid-April, and the café is warm and crowded. The two girls sit with their open laptops, textbooks and Facebook, studying — just like the other young people around them.
It could be an unlikely friendship. Nino, 24, is from Georgia and Bolor, 22, is from Mongolia. But in fact, they have a lot in common.
They are both about 6,500 miles from home.
They both grew up watching Latin soap operas and Western cartoons like “Tom and Jerry,” dubbed in Russian. And that was how they learned Russian (though they converse in English).
They both smoke the same brand of cigarettes — Marlboro Gold. The clean white 20-packs sit on the black tabletop beside their school supplies.
They are both seniors at Oklahoma State University, set to graduate in May. They are both one of only three students at OSU from their countries.
They are close friends.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/07/22/narrative-writing-excerpt-3-stillwaters-unlikely-sisterhood/
Excerpt: Stories of the Ages: Artful Endurance: The Paseo District
Full article by Jordon Shinn, published in “The Oklahoman.” Summer 2010, Oklahoma City, USA.
Moving in
In the shadowed living room of his apartment, Tim Anderson, a.k.a. The Reverend, sits in a black armchair splattered with paint. His shoes — and the room, too — are splattered with paint. The wall to his right looks like a Jackson Pollock painting, red and black paint flung over white primer. He says that one is finished. But he is unsatisfied with the opposing wall across the room, smeared with purple and handprints. Near the top, the wall reads, “You are blessed if you tolerate this — The Rev.”
“If you live in The Paseo, you figure out and understand The Paseo, or you leave,” Anderson said. “I’m fortunate enough to live at ground zero — The Market.”
Hidden halfway between NW 30 and Walker on the west side of the street, Market on Paseo Apartments, 600 NW 29, is a haven to many young artists seeking a counter-culture environment. At this two-story, triangular complex, all the doors face the courtyard — a miniature forest full of trees and sunlight. The vibe here is bohemian.
“The Market is an amalgamation of musicians, artists, writers, college students and one clown,” Anderson said. “We are mostly people who moved here because of the free and loving nature of The Paseo. And we are free to live how we want.”
For Anderson and other residents of The Market, neighborhood development and renovation projects are seen as a threat to their way of life.
“We have a constant fear of gentrification,” Anderson said. “… If the rent in The Paseo goes above what the artists can afford — and most of us are starving artists — The Paseo will die.”
He cites Greenwich Village in New York City where art attracted development and, in turn, rising property values forced artists out.
“Art isn’t free — neither is rent.”
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/07/22/excerpt-stories-of-the-ages-artful-endurance-the-paseo-district/
As twilight blooms over Oklahoma State University, piano song resonates through the lobby of The Atherton Hotel.
Bearded professor types in suits lounge on regal-patterned couches, sipping various stout brews.
The sound intensifies as the pianist sweeps his nimble hands liquidly from end to end across the pearl keys.
The men have stopped drinking.
For a moment there is a shocked stillness, filled with the crescendo of an elongated arpeggio.
In a glass-encased corner of the hotel, a young man wearing worn tennis shoes and a black beanie performs his variation of Beethoven’s “Für Elise.”
Two stout looking women in gray skirts and beige pantyhose throw back the glass doors and hustle into the vibrating solitude of Sam’s music box, crossing the whitewashed threshold with black tipped stilettos.
The women tromp directly to the back of the room, where they clank thin white plates into piles on a steel cart.
They pay Sam no mind.
But the doors to the music box have been opened.
The lobby is shaking with melody.
The men have refilled their glasses and loosened their ties.
This is the Atherton. This is a respectable place.
Now the suited gentlemen have formed a loose circle in the middle of the lobby, clapping for one old man with a gray mustache quick-stepping his black dress shoes and argyle socks in the center of them all.
The gold chandeliers above are shining like a thousand shots of whiskey.
The men link arms and start spinning faster, faster, to the quickening melody.
With a final flourish, the song ends, and the suited, sweaty men collapse in laughter and back pain.
The sound of music is replaced with heavy breathing and the crunching of Aspirin.
Sam gently shuts the cover to the keys and exits his glass music box.
He passes the fallen men in the lobby without a glance, unnoticed.
Opening the wide wooden doors of The Atherton, Sam steps smoothly out into the cool coming night, connecting notes between the crickets and the stars.
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This episode is also available as a blog post: https://jordonious.wordpress.com/2021/07/21/character-sketch-sam-alberts-passionate-pianist/