a cambodian stigmata in glendale heights
so this weekend i did a lot of thinking and soul searching. got heavy shit on my mind like my place in islam and where my artistic work is heading and what really really matters in this life. so the goddess knew this and she sent me signs. signs which i’m not sure if i can completely decode yet but i know they mean something:
like waking up my Muslim ass early on a saturday morning to go see 3 buddhist monks
or the fact that “crispy cremes” just happened to run out of their original glazed doughnuts when i went up to order (hmmm…)
or how MY CAMBODIAN mother just happened to step on a nail before serving us VIETNAMESE burritos (hello stigmata!)
all these signs point out the obvious: i need to own my shit. trust my gut. remember family.
it was a good weekend. got a lot done. saw lots of family.
half of my performing legacy youths
my khmer people…doesn’t it look like i photoshopped the guy in the tux into the photo? i didn’t. that’s museum bill.
aah…my angels…i really dig their orange robes
my goddesses…good ol’ friends for over 10 years
a reminder that my apsara was never all that far from my home on malden
