taking pictures of poems.

i enjoy surreal word mash-ups and language "distortions" because my desire is to break language of its limitations, its deceptions about the true, mutable and paradoxically constant nature of reality. a thing is limited in naming it. it is hardened into a cage of letters and meaning, and it is my goal to free the things i can by presenting them in odd letters and combinations. shakespeare knew this: the sweetness is the thing, not the letters r-o-s-e. a rose is a flower, and a woman and a kiss and pure consciousness.

when strange and new combinations of words pop into my mind, i feel like an explorer, discovering an ancient ruin, which is at once as old as life itself and new to me. it's the same sensation i've gotten when struck by a beautiful sunset, the clouds and colors arranged in a way i've never seen before, but there it was, all along, waiting to happen. there are no two sunsets that are identical and they happen every day.

the desire to communicate that which cannot be communicated is the ultimate fuckaroo. it's like taking a picture of that beautiful sunset. that photo will never be the sunset itself, it was only for my eyes to see from my exact pinpoint of perception. i've stopped taking pictures of many beautiful moments, instead opting to savor the moment. but then i find myself--sure, only sometimes--wanting to share that moment with someone else, so i write a poem to jailbreak that image from my mind, hoping to give it to someone else.

someone once said i'm cryptic, like it was a bad thing, and it made me wonder if i was. it was a while ago and i haven't been pondering it daily, but nonetheless, it gave me pause at the time. after this somewhat random but highly detailed exploration of my motives and recognition of my obvious delight in discovering new word combinations, i see it as a valiant effort to connect, which also happens to feel like a nice long brain-exhale for me. the universe is cryptic and there are no secrets... just things waiting to be discovered and described and then set free.

the veil, lifted. (and into the mirror: yes, i do.)

this is what the voices say. i just write the shit down.

maybe sometimes in our lives
we should care not at all about any thing
and that means anything
but we should love it all
love being joyful acceptance of what is
without a reaching towards what ought to be
or could be
it's just this silent hum
of molecules bumping up against each other
and laughing cuz it tickles

philosophical bender is on
i'm off to make-out with a forest and merge with a 3,000 year-old tree
i keep thinking perhaps it will share some of its secrets
and it's wondering the same thing of me

planet earth, you are a perfect playground <3

(sadly, i don't know who to give photo credit to)

we are humans being, happening'd.

new arts.

noodle doodles by me.

taming the rose. (found images; photo by athena lobit)

come what may. (found images; photo by athena lobit)

traveling light. (found images; photo by athena lobit)

out damn'd spot!

the sun rained down
on the grassy green
landing on its back
kicking at the wind
trying to right itself
as the telltale tree
watched giggling
like a ragdoll dream
all floppy and clean
dancing legless
pinned to a bright blue screen

and:

(this video goes with my cliff meets sea tweet)

a beautiful reminder.

much love to my dear friend whose father passed away recently <3

The Thing Is

to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.

- Ellen Bass

it's called love, people!

when curiosity and cuddling supersede survival instincts.

thanks johnny :)

-AlphaLimaYankeeSierraSierraAlpha

*addendum: or is this what happens only once basic needs are met? kitty knew she had a feast in mama baboon, so then it became play time. hmmm. still love, methinks.

the rubber band theory.

this started out as an email to my sister, but i decided to go public with it :D
awareness of possible conspiracy makes it easier to keep from engaging in water-cooler gossip, which, whether the conspiracy is true or not, is a good thing. case in point: mel gibson.
i hadn't paid much attention to the hooplah and then looked at a bit online. bottom line: whether he's being set up (he's pretty vocal about exposing the new world order) or is actually fucking nutso and abusive, why do i really need to bother about it? the chick who's been supposedly abused is handling herself (if she's really been abused -- there is plenty of surfacing speculation that ALL of it is a lie, he's being framed/edited/faked and/or somehow being manipulated because of his outspoken-ness about the new world order shiz). all of the "sources" of the proof of abuse and madness are the same ones that sell sensationalism... TMZ, In Touch, People and people. these are the mind-numbers, the gossip-mongers who get the masses to talk about petty things, other peoples' drama and mindless chatter in order to keep them subdued and distracted. this is true, even if i were to say mel gibson is an asshole abusive crazy person or his ex is a gold-digging snatch. neither of those opinions REALLY matter. why are so many people obsessed with talking about it? both the mainstreamers and the conspiracy theorists. speculating on agendas that aren't my own means i am a pawn on either side. there's gotta be something more interesting to discuss, like perhaps that rubber bands last longer when they're refrigerated.

i had to be reminded last night that i've been to borneo. what!?!

-alyssa out.

my favorite drink is water.

i like the crispness of her voice. it's like putting hot feet in a cool, bubbling mountain stream.



true story. i want the ride down the river. sometimes i forget, but hearing this awakens the truth.





a master speaks...





welcome home little feeshies.

slow down to speed up.

years ago, i hiked down the grand canyon with my family. if i didn't hike down, it wouldn't have been as beautiful, fun or amazing. that is, if i'd suddenly just found myself in the bottom of that canyon... sure it would've been cool. but 'cool' like looking at a photo of something pretty. the journey down filled out the photo into a 3D experience, laughing with my family, talking to God in my head, noticing the flowers breaking rocks to be there. and make no mistake, hiking, yes, even downhill, gets tiring. at some points i wanted to curl into a ball and roll down, my legs were so spent. did i mention we all had camping packs on our backs? stuffed with everything we'd need to camp out in the bottom of the canyon for a few days?? it was for this reason alone i didn't try the whole curling into a ball. der! that would never work with a pack on my back! anyway, we finally made it to the bottom and every single step i'd taken was reflected back at me in the beauty of a bajillion stars blanketing the night sky.

and then we had to walk back up.

now. it occurs to me that, in terms of reflecting on this experience as allegory, i could've chosen to *FLY* out of that canyon. slow down. speed up. balance in all things.

i am,
alyssa.

two thousand and ten reasons...

to celebrate. the first one on the list is that i made it through the last year. and the second one is that all of it - yes all of it - helped me realize that i will always make it through. we are immortal, after all.

it was a year of childbirth (the closest i will likely come. seriously). the first nine months were crazy painful and challenging. and then came moments of joy, fulfillment and bliss that exceeded expectations. the challenging stuff was personal, emotional. and i suppose the fun stuff was, too. i did things like screen TTWC at the iconic arclight, win seven awards in iowa, and start working with a tv/film agency i already love (metropolitan!). and that's just naming a few of the brain-poppin awesomes.

so many of my friends also had a challenging time. all year it was

soul sisters
soul brothers
soul mates
and soul lovers
keep going
keep going
keep going

it seems everyone is ready for 2010 to be here and it is striking, wonderful, that there is a palpable sense of *excitement* about the new year. more so than i've ever witnessed. part of me wants to give 2009 the bird, but instead, this is me blessing it, letting it go and opening myself up to a magical 2010. btw, when i say magical, i don't mean it's magic. it's not magic or luck. it is awareness. imagination. exploration. meditation. manifestation. creation. and yes, it's all love <3

below is some poetry i wrote throughout the year. this little fishie is casting it to the sea like so many flower petals............

there is a cave in my heart
that is dark like a womb
my heart beats against it
the echoes a bouquet of ghosts
tossed into the universe
beyond the beyond
and somewhere out there
beyond the beyond
a child gazes up at its sky
and calls them the stars
wishes he knew where they came from
somehow feels connected
like they're part of his heart
as they whisper love in the dark
a blanket of hope that there's more
and when i gaze up at my sky
from right here
when i look at these stars
i feel that child
i wish i remembered
where they came from
the stars whisper
there's more

---

sometimes
the only thing i can manage to write
is tears
and at a certain point
they write themselves
and i go off
into a dimension unseen
i come back to novels
of wishes
etched onto my face
in a language i can't understand
i examine them closely
skipping ahead to see
how they end

---

you are the phantom
i am the dream
it never happened
and it all will again
over and over
eternity upon eternity
this fleeting world
that no one sees
the end of a breath
the silence of trees
falling in the faces
of gods on their knees
i take walks every day
hoping to fall in love
with a stranger
or a flower
or my self
i punch holes in the skyline
hoping to see beauty
in the danger
and the power
of this life

---

i don't want to write
any of this down
so that i can forget it
wash it away
like moonlit footprints
on the sands of time
carried out to the blackness
by the cold hard sea
wish that i knew now
what i'll know tomorrow
that none of it happened
that my heart isn't breaking
against the cliff of who we were
to each other
in the dark
wash it away
by the cold hard sea

---

rumors are written on bathroom walls
and faces of strangers
sinking old ships in the night
dreams are dancing on the edges of razors
and lips of lovers
sucking the seed till its dry

---

all that matters
is who you are
and who you pretend to be
a handshake
a heart break
a thin grin on a blue plate
a marching band
lost on a desert road
a marksman
hits a sleeping gate
you'll never quite remember
who you thought you were
cuz all the shiny mirrors
get lost inside the blur
of who you are
and who you pretend to be
and who you wish you were

---

the distance between these selves
an ocean of remorse
the space between two parallels
that will never ever meet
no matter that the force
could bend every bone
pretending that would work
but work's for those who still believe
that love is something earned
floating down the river
of tears that cut and burn
all those years of breaking
we finally have learned
the price
the cost
the moments lost
the price
the cost
kills any sense of worth

---

you're getting farther away
and so am i
i'm with change
and things that don't stay the same
we danced on that moment
like it was all there was
a dandelion
twirling in the fingers
of god
but i'm with change
and things that don't stay the same
i check the rearview of my mind
as you fade away
your shining silhouette
cuts away
i'm with change
i'm with things that don't stay the same
you're getting farther away
so am i
and with enough change
the moment passed
that shining dance
was left to linger
fading with the rain

---

don't go back to who you were that day
you gave all your sweetness away
tear up the ghost you've twisted
it's shifted
like a stranger, a lover
in a forgotten bed
you're sitting here on the edge of your world
whispering nothing into your own head
tear up the ghost you've twisted
it's shifted

don't go back to those empty ways
you kept your heart beating anyway
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it's shifted
like a prayer, a feather
on a dirty wind
you're lying here at the dawn of the pearl
shattering roses and everything red
tear out the kisses, you missed it
it's shifted

---

there are too many wounds
to play any more
the scars on our fingertips
changed who we are
i look in the mirror
for a clue
for an answer
the thing that stares back
is wondering too
where did she go
that girl that we knew
with scars on my fingertips
i read my face in the dark
and neither of us could've known
but both of us knew
the healing that comes
is not a return
but a river of rain
paving a canyon of fingertips
smooth
and nothing will ever be the same
and both of us knew

---

we are here to be alive
not kill ourselves
do the math on that

thank you, my dear fellow divine beings. we kept going. and now, again, still, forever, we are here. party at my pad!! :D

so much love,
alyssa taesun lobit

interview with the sisters lobit

SDAFF Interviews Alyssa and Athena Lobit
http://www.sdaff.org/festival/2009/the-things-we-carry.php

that's all i got right now. but i think it's more than enough...
thanks lovies~
injoy,
alyssa

i change shapes.

boston was great fun! awesome city and the movie got a wonderful response. next up is san diego, oct. 18th. a second screening was added on oct. 22nd, too :) then it'll be home to hollywood on oct. 25th.

in the meantime, alana and nate's store -- No. A -- is lookin sweeeeet! i want it to be my personal closet. yessss.

& yesssssssssssssssssssssssssss

the things we carry to boston

monday, sept. 21 @ 7pm, the things we carry makes its world premiere at the boston film fest! this is the same fest that premiered reservoir dogs, which has special significance for me. reservoir dogs + quentin tarantino + robert rodriguez + "rebel without a crew" = the fire is now lit inside alyssa and she is hot on the path of becoming a filmmaker. that was so long ago! and this is now. so yeah, it pretty much rules. thanks for all the yip yips everyone! <3

of course, we still need our hdcam screener, and my fingers have the taint of red vines on them. which can only mean one thing: post never fuggin ends. everrrr. hah!

beantown, here we come.........

the things we carry to san diego

THE THINGS WE CARRY has been accepted to and will be screening at the 10th Annual San Diego Asian Film Festival :) The festival runs from October 15-29 and we'll keep you all posted as the details unfold.

http://www.sdaff.org/index.php

ABOUT THE FESTIVAL
Since 2000, the San Diego Asian Film Festival has earned an international reputation as one of North America's premiere Asian American film festivals for its excellent programs, outreach to the community, and support for independent artists. Entering its tenth year, the SDAFF continues looking for the best in Asian American and international cinema to showcase at its longest festival ever in celebration of its 10th anniversary, scheduled for October 15-29, 2009 at the UltraStar Cinemas at the Mission Valley Hazard Center

thanks for all the support and lubbs <3
more great news coming... more more more!!!!!!!

me love you

http://www.alyssalobit.com/flavors./

in case you missed it, new pics are up from our chinatown shoot. photos, hair and make-up by Athena Lobit. special thanks to Alana Lobit. props to Alyssa Lobit for not falling down. really.

exciting news about The Things We Carry coming soon, coming soon...

lost & found writings by alyssa taesun lobit

some poetry i found while toodlin around on my robot brain (that's a computer, people!).

. . .

every morning i wake up, hoping to remember
only the things which will help me look at the world
with eyes which have seen all that is
and decided to open anyway

. . .

i bought and sold
all the marks on
the map
the train becomes
another trap
a kite in the ocean
stuck upstream
in the maze of
misguided
chivalry

. . .

breaking waves on the sea of time
tell stories
just when you think you're someone
the little ache sells something
here, god lived until
something as nominal as
this
came out of lightning
in the summer
our best sins
escape the best of men
escape
the rest of them

. . .

she hid from the world behind her own shadow
knowing all along it was a plan
to cleanse the night
of itself, for itself
and mesmerized by her look
i walked right up to her
stepping on stars
swallowed by the sea
she took my heart in her tide
and pulled it close
then asked me what i wanted
lost in the dark
and washing away that which isn't me
i landed, toes first
a wave of serenity running through
this momentary labyrinth
to the humming sound of bliss
on the ears of an infant
reborn

. . .

i drift between these selves
between these nouns
that show me that i'm here
as they bump up against me
before they disappear
sometimes it hurts
sometimes it's dancing
sometimes we're both invisible
and nothing happens at all

i reach for balance still
trying not to make a sound
wondering if i don't care
or don't know that i'm free
sometimes it works
sometimes it's chance
sometimes i am indeed invisible
and the balance is a fall

. . .

there are people, precious people
who break other people, precious people
accidentally cracking them,
crushing them to little bits
they force their fearless fears
on tormented virgin ears
accidentally waking them
to wisdom fueled by bullets
and after all the fires fly
and after the show's gone home
what's left behind
is the subtle sound
of silence
ringing in the minds
of these people, all of the precious people

. . .

stuck together in reluctant matrimony
looking at one other out of convenience
as if to say
well, we're here, so...
these children of mine
forgotten breakdowns
filial takedowns
face me in chorus
confused at being flipped through
a rolodex of morose countenances
their proportions epic at the time
these tired ghosts yawning at being roused
their faces swollen and ruby
and all i can muster
is another nervous breakdown
so fast
it almost didn't happen at all

. . .

we humans, we gossip about beauty, death, love, and god
while everything else just is
just is beauty, death, love and god? or just is, as in just is?
as i said, we gossip . . .

. . .

i mark and go, tight-fisted
maybe i like it
you can't escape
try to
slowly like they're in sync
slowly slowly
thru all the deep ends
anytime
carcass and plaster
we bought this kill
equally empty
how could you cost a thing
insane and all
till feeling falsely
come here my darling
swallow, come in, come home
but i like it
we shower after all
clean what we can
i hate and stay
you like me
or like me for after
you cost a mere
lie
lying in the afternoon
the year is blue
insane in now
till telling
is taming
like a feeling could be
freed
must i see you
all of these mouths are mine
now comets
show and hide
i lost it
the grand dream
i fell nasty
for what was loud
all that allowed
was their gift
an endless supply
ultimate satan
hear them meow
they're tied to cliffs afar
till all their
shadows fall
after the meow
simply the calmest
goings on
they let their portraits fall
inside the hole
are they for me?

thus the stars spoke:

there is a cave in my heart
that is dark like a womb
my heart beats against it
the echoes a bouquet of ghosts
tossed into the universe
beyond the beyond
and somewhere out there
beyond the beyond
a child gazes up at its sky
and calls them the stars
wishes he knew where they came from
somehow feels connected
like they're part of his heart
as they whisper love in the dark
a blanket of hope that there's more
and when i gaze up at my sky
from right here
when i look at these stars
i feel that child
i wish i remembered
where they came from
the stars whisper
there's more