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JOURNALISM

A PAST
LIFE


I’ve never been able to not write.

I once interned for the San Francisco Bay Guardian. The Bay Guardian spent 47 years vehemently “printing the news and raising hell” until it folded in October 2014. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, writing for the alt-weekly’s arts & entertainment section helped me discover the ever-so-rewarding relationships between writing, culture, and the human condition.

Summer 2014 highlights: I ate a lot of questionable yet overpriced mac & cheese from a mall salad bar (don’t judge me too much — the Bay Guardian’s office was in the mall), went to a comedy show in a Dogpatch warehouse loft, got a sunburn at a music festival in the Potrero the same weekend Karl the Fog left the city, and legally attended a 21+ standup comedy night in North Beach while underage.

Here are my favorite articles I wrote for the Bay Guardian (RIP) if you’d like a more verbose overview of that summer.


1. Comedy without limits means ‘No Happy Endings’ for SF’s Granny Cart Gangstas


Originally published on 26 June 2014

Sexy granny panties? Up-and-coming San Francisco comedy troupe Granny Cart Gangstas recently proved this isn’t an oxymoron. Taking a cue from the Kids in the Hall — one of member Ava Tong’s biggest inspirations — who were once photographed wearing bras over suits, the troupe decided to do something similar (one member flaunted a pair of leopard-print granny panties) for a photo shoot ahead of its June 28 show, “No Happy Endings,” at SF’s Little Boxes Theater. Read more.

Founding members Tong and Aureen Almario dreamed about creating their own comedy troupe since 2006. The two met at San Francisco State University, where Tong was Almario’s teaching assistant in an Asian American studies class. “Then she ended up being one of my friends’ girlfriends and I was like ‘Oh, hey!’ and I saw her at Bindlestiff [Studio] and it was like, ‘Can’t get away from you, Aureen!’” The two finally created the troupe in 2011, with five total members, and continued to expand by inviting women associated with Bindlestiff that they worked well with.

The name of the comedy troupe, Granny Cart Gangstas, juxtaposes two contrasting concepts. Tong said Almario, who came up with the name, was inspired by the pedestrian lifestyle of granny-cart owners in the midst of the hustle and bustle of certain SF neighborhoods. “That’s like, ‘I don’t care. I’m going to do my thing and I don’t care what anyone else thinks,’” Tong explained.

Lauren Garcia, who joined the troupe last October, expanded on the name’s connotations. “If you have a granny cart, you know, you can’t politely, say, go through the bus or the street, and go ‘Excuse me, excuse me.’” (Tong interjected, “You’re just unapologetic.”) Garcia continued, “You just run over those people’s feet.”

When it comes to the troupe’s material, this mindset is always relevant. Its material is solely comprised of things that make its own members laugh. And even though members grapple with worries that no one else will find certain things funny, they’ll keep them in anyway.

“No Happy Endings” opens with a piece that pays homage to grannies — one of the first pieces where the members assume the role of grannies. “You’ve got to respect grannies,” Garcia said. “They’re grannies — they’ve been through shit.” In the sketch, the troupe members are nursing home residents (sans granny carts, unfortunately), comatose as a nurse administers their daily medicine. Before the nurse leaves, she switches on a radio, which starts playing classical music. But one of the grannies won’t have that and slowly trudges to the radio — with the assistance of her walker — and changes the music to something more modern: Beyoncé’s “Grown Woman.” Instantly rejuvenated, the grannies begin to dance.

The troupe returns to this scene later to close the show. “Grown Woman” is still playing. “We actually bust out into our younger selves and we do a short synchronized dance,” Tong said, “kind of saying that every granny is young inside them. They have that young person that lived there before.” Combined with the young souls’ dance, Beyoncé’s lyrics “I’m a grown woman / I can do whatever I want” only serve to further drive this message home.

“I feel like so many people forget that older people were young once and they are people — they’re not the sacks that people treat them as,” Garcia said. As a nurse, she said she constantly witnesses incidents of verbal elder abuse where nurses and other people in the hospital condescendingly speak to elderly patients.

Besides the geriatric piece, the group likes to write about womanhood. For their first show, “Rise of the Red Dawn,” the group performed a sketch titled “Look At This Betch.” “We’re making fun of the idea that women sometimes … have this competition with each other,” Garcia said. “They’re cutthroat and catty and will cut other women to get ahead when they should be helping other women. They know what it’s like to be a woman in this world.”

However, Tong said the group noticed that much of the last show focused on the negative aspects of womanhood. To depict women in a more positive light, it included a sketch titled “Vag Save” in the upcoming show, which also includes films and stand-up. Garcia introduced “Vag Save” to me through a mock movie trailer voiceover: “Save your best friend’s vagina. Coming soon, this Saturday, June 28, we will be saving... your vaginas.”

The sketch follows a group of women at a club banding together to protect each other from the unwelcome advances of creepy men. “Not everybody sees that world,” Tong said. “Guys definitely don’t know when other guys are being creepy — or when they’re being creepy — and this is how women see it.”

The troupe is entirely comprised of women of color. Members write cultural references sparingly — one of the lines in sketch “Spanx” plays with how similar the word “backpack” and the Tagalog word for “vagina” (pekpek) sound: “Reach into my pekpek” — because they don’t want to alienate any audience members. Sometimes they’ll include references if a character has an accent (the references are usually improv ad libs), but they stray from writing references that aren’t obvious or explained.

At the same time, Tong and Garcia appreciate San Francisco’s diversity and open-mindedness. “I think we take advantage of that,” Tong said. “We almost take it for granted. We don’t think about having to be sensitive.” The two joked that they might have things thrown at them on stage or their citizenship papers checked in more conservative states. Most of the members are Bay Area natives, but live in cities as spread apart as Walnut Creek, San Francisco, and Hayward, which Tong admitted makes getting together for rehearsal tough.

Inspiration can hit the troupe at any time — sources range from people, such as Beyoncé, or the minutiae of daily life, such as putting in a Diva Cup. (A Diva Cup is an eco-friendly alternative to a tampon. Garcia shared some tips from a YouTube how-to video she watched, where an upside-down wine glass served as a model vagina: improper nail length can quickly make the experience unpleasant and one of the tricky things is “getting it into a little ball and making sure it goes in before it pops open … because then that’s painful and you don’t want to do that, let me tell you.” Tong was a little hesitant about this sketch idea.) Throughout the interview, Tong and Garcia effortlessly bounced new ideas off each other, assuring me they could even parody the interview we were having. “You’ll be in this,” Garcia told me. “Come watch our stuff; you’ll see yourself.”

Six days before the show, at least one troupe member’s grandmother was confirmed to attend “No Happy Endings.” Garcia’s mother purchased tickets for several family members — before her daughter explained that the not-so-family-friendly show was “mature, sexual, and raunchy.” Garcia complained that her grandmother would simply have to sit through performances such as “Octopussy,” where she sings “I’ve tried everything / You could possibly do / When you’re in bed with two / Wheelbarrow, doggy style / Missionary, 69 / It feels so fine / But he can’t make me cum.”

“We’ll apologize later if you need us to,” Tong reassured Garcia.

Emphasis on “need.” After all, a true granny cart gangsta is never apologetic if they can help it.


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2. Live shots: Phono del Sol 2014


Originally published on 14 July 2014

From an abundance of flamingo decorations to the sight of skateboarders with a penchant for performing dangerous acrobatics off stage barricades, July 12’s Phono del Sol — the hometown pride-filled music festival thrown with a new level of fervor each year by the Bay Bridged at Potrero del Sol Park — showcased a variety of genres and kept the musical midsummer blues at bay. Read more.

Here’s the best of Phono del Sol 2014.

Best dark horse: Yalls
Hands down, sickest set of the day — literally. Berkeley-based musician Dan Casey battled a bout of bronchitis but delivered a powerful performance, taking the microphone as if there were no tomorrow for his bronchial tubes. Admittedly, I was a little wary of his set before it began. I first saw him perform as an opener for chillwave superstars Small Black back in March. Yalls reigns as king in venues such as the Rickshaw Stop, where the smoky stage and club lighting complement his beats well. However, he successfully conquered the unfamiliar territory of a sunny, outdoor stage in the middle of the day. I was impressed (his doctor probably isn’t) — not even his slightly nasally vocals could detract from his songs.

Best ’90s throwback: Tony Molina
Tony Molina’s biggest strength can easily backfire on him and become his biggest weakness. Making the perfect mixtape for a friend is tough — even tougher when you had to work with an actual cassette tape without the help of iTunes’ drag-and-drop features. It’s important to include a varied selection of songs that also flow into each other. Local musician Molina only halfheartedly hit the mark on Saturday. While he found the delicate balance between grunge and pop in each song, he seemed like he’d simply forgotten to spice his set up a bit. He’s known for exceedingly short songs (none of the tracks on his latest album exceed two minutes) that all flowed into each other a little too well during his afternoon set. Oftentimes, it was difficult to figure out when a song would end and when a new one would begin, which wasn’t a problem when I listened to his 2013 EP Dissed and Dismissed.

Best dressed: Blackbird Blackbird
Blackbird Blackbird’s Mikey Maramag has come a long way since he opened for Starfucker in 2013, when I overheard someone in the audience murmur “It’s a wall?” after he asked us to sing along to his song “It’s a War.” Although security cut his set off, Blackbird Blackbird was a notable highlight due to his impeccable sartorial splendor, persistence in trying to connect with the audience, and ethereal vocals. Effortlessly clad in a Hawaiian shirt, he alternated between requesting that “everyone get fucking closer” and enveloping the crowd with dreamy vocals that occasionally battled for dominance over the synth.

Best German thing (Das beste deutsche Ding): Das Bus
Two disappointments: the World Cup final took place the day after Phono del Sol and Sportfreunde Stiller’s unofficial World Cup anthem from years past is far too trite to appreciate unironically. Otherwise, the German national football team could’ve claimed this title as well. Das Bus is the Bay Area’s mobile Volkswagen photo booth. In this modern age, we’re both obsessed with photos of ourselves and anything vintage, so Das Bus is simply a rad match made in heaven. A chalkboard outside the van even proclaimed that the experience was pet-friendly, so the family dachshund can jump in with you.

Best audience participation: Nick Waterhouse
Watching this set from a distance while enjoying the food trucks’ offerings, my friend and I marveled at the wall of audience members who swung their bodies along to Nick Waterhouse’s soulful, old-timey tunes. We were impressed by how the number of participants grew steadily throughout the set and the demographics of the dancers. Coachella gets a bad rap these days because some of its most notorious attendees are rich college kids in hipster headdresses. But because Phono del Sol takes place in a small, neighborhood park, it caters more to music aficionados of all ages — ones who don’t pretend to recognize “bands … so obscure that they do not exist” à la Jimmy Kimmel Live. The toddler swaying to Nick Waterhouse’s “This Is a Game” in his mother’s arms and the multitude of well-behaved dogs should remind us that we’re damn lucky to have an annual festival like this just a mere Muni or BART ride away from our neighborhoods.

Best snippets of stage banter: Bill Baird
As the first act of the day, Bill Baird’s sense of humor was appropriately low key and easy to miss if you trickled into the park late. “We’re Bill Baird,” he announced, in a deadpan voice, before a spiel about the presence of deodorant as one of his stage decorations and how heavily he himself relies on deodorant. (Practical, yes, but I never knew deodorant could be trendy.) Introducing the second lo-fi song, “Your Dark Sunglasses Won’t Make You Lou Reed,” he confessed that the song was originally about talking shit about himself, but the meaning evolved over time; the track now talks shit about one of his bandmates. He may not confess this (if he did, I missed it because I wandered away early to catch the Tiny Telephone tour) but he could very well be talking shit about a pretentious festival-goer…

Best hidden gem: Tiny Telephone tour and Marvin the studio cat
Musical magic happens in a small, unassuming corner tucked away behind the park the other 364 days of the year. I couldn’t tell if the Tiny Telephone recording studio tour was poorly advertised or capped at a certain number of people, but it was worth sacrificing the opportunity to see a couple of artists. We explored the studio with owner John Vanderslice, who must be one of the most genuine professionals involved in the music business. His enthusiasm was infectious — he spoke about the difficulties behind monetizing art, the aesthetics of reclaimed wood, and his preference for analog recording (as opposed to something computerized, which is commonplace today).

We even met Marvin the studio cat, who snoozed on top of the console in studio A’s control room. (Adorable, but not affectionate.) I quickly forgot about the studio’s proximity to 280; it felt like I was walking around a cozy cabin in the woods. Still, the studio was weird enough to justify its location in the city — studio B used to be the home of a weed-selling auto shop before it went out of business amidst the rise of dispensaries.

Best all-around: Thao & the Get Down Stay Down
Hometown heroes Thao & the Get Down Stay Down kickstarted their headlining set with Thao Nguyen’s sincere welcome: “Hello, my hometown.” From the 50-minute-long set alone, I could tell that she’s one of the most talented and down-to-earth modern indie musicians, from her expertise on at least three instruments (not including her impromptu takeover of the drums and her beatboxing prowess) to her introduction of John Vanderslice, “a.k.a. the nicest man in indie rock — it’s a fact.” (The band recorded its last album at Tiny Telephone.) Thao’s energy and stage presence was intoxicating; it was evident how much all the band members love what they’re doing when they lost themselves in the music. The set easily transcended genres even within the first two songs of the set, with a folkier emphasis on the violin on “Know Better Learn Faster” and a louder, rock sound on “City.”

Best festival ending: A little boy’s jam session on the drums under Thao’s helpful eye
“There’s a lot to be proud of living in San Francisco and I hope we remember that,” Thao remarked in between songs. As the crowd slowly dispersed after the band’s encore, I ruminated on her words as I watched her lead a little boy from backstage over to the drums, where she grabbed two pairs of drumsticks: one for her and one for him. She taught by example; whenever he successfully imitated whatever she had done, Thao joyfully raised her arms up and cheered. What was left of the audience quickly followed with an enthusiastic round of applause. I overheard someone behind me mention how this must be the most adorable festival ending ever.

Clutching the setlist I requested from Thao as temperatures steadily returned to normal San Francisco averages, her words rang true. All Phono del Sol attendees should be proud that a festival like this, whose inaugural event was free just three years ago, happens right in our very city…not to mention that it’s a steal compared to Outside Lands.


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3. Brain teaser: Dhaya Lakshminarayanan


Originally published on 23 September 2014
2015 D.C. Student Arts Journalism Challenge finalist

Comedian Dhaya Lakshminarayanan was once accidentally lodged in former president Bill Clinton’s cleavage. Read more.

“I shook his hand and then someone behind me pushed me so I kind of ended up in his man boobs — this was big Bill Clinton — and I got sort of squished in there,” Lakshminarayanan explains. “I had to wriggle myself out.”

Her refreshing, hilarious outlook on life is clear in this tale, which she chose to share at one of the Moth’s StorySLAM events. Lakshminarayanan responded to the theme of “office” by delving into her neurotic obsession with Clinton and how she never had the chance to connect with him the three times they met. Each encounter was either too awkwardly close for comfort, too brief, or too embarrassing (and was further punctuated by the provocative bachelorette party outfit Lakshminarayanan was wearing).

The Clinton story is only a single aspect of Lakshminarayanan’s impressive résumé, which is generously dotted with storytelling emphasized by human connections, progressive standup comedy, and funny-yet-poignant explorations of the struggles of being a nerd. And yes, her two degrees from MIT and her stints in management consulting and the venture-capital world might have something to do with it as well.

One of Lakshminarayanan’s current projects, a show titled Nerd Nation (its next showing is Friday at Alameda’s Pacific Pinball Museum — an aptly geeky venue), explores the trials and tribulations of being nerdy in a country whose cultural values following the Kardashians rather than Neil deGrasse Tyson. “We’re like, ‘I don’t know that dude. Does he have women on his show? Are they hot?'” Lakshminarayanan described it as “self-imposed anti-intellectualism.”

Nerd Nation, a work in progress, examines what’s happening in nerd culture. First, by highlighting a phenomenon she calls “boobs and boys,” Lakshminarayanan explains how adolescents are bullied for being smart. “It’s really sad because girls stop being interested in math and science either for social reasons or for boy reasons or they’re getting boobs and they feel weird,” she says. “They’re like, ‘Oh, I see pictures of scientists and they look nerdy and stupid,’ and I’m like, ‘No, girl, we can have heels and wear lipstick!'”

At the same time, Lakshminarayanan has noticed how, in spite of the pervasive “anti-nerdism,” people embrace sartorial and tech aspects of nerd culture. “If you look at the Mission, everyone is wearing nerd clothes and hipster glasses,” Lakshminarayanan muses. “I’m like, ‘You don’t have the cred to be a nerd. You didn’t get bullied. You’re not studying some outdated language like German. You’re not a real nerd.'”

Tech-hipster nerds are also shaping culture — for better and worse — like never before. The words “gentrification” and “San Francisco” in the same sentence may sound like a broken record to some people, but Lakshminarayanan spices up the discussion by borrowing the mantra of “diversify your portfolio” from her former investor days. Lakshminarayanan thinks “a diverse portfolio for San Francisco keeps [it] a viable, vibrant, self-sufficient city.”

“You don’t just want tech people,” she says. “You want public policy people, nonprofit people. You want artists.” She emphasizes how important it is to avoid pitting tech nerds against artists. “I’m kind of both,” she admits. “I’d like people to come together and support each other. Tech nerds, come and watch comedy. Come and have conversations with people of color. Artists, go perform at Twitter. See what it’s like. Make fun of them.”

When Lakshminarayanan makes fun of someone or something in her stand-up act, she avoids profanity, figuring raunchy jokes might make audience members focus on how “a petite, kind of innocent-looking girl [has] a dirty mouth.”

“I almost feel like it forces me to talk about things that are maybe a little bit cerebral or a little bit intellectual or a little bit uncomfortable that women are not supposed to talk about,” she says. “I’m getting guys in the audience to laugh about feminism and I’m getting white people to laugh about immigration.”

Lakshminarayanan has heard far too many comedians punch down at women when they throw the phrase “bitch, please” into their acts for cheap laughs. “What if you took those two words out of your act? Would you still be as strong as a comedian? I would never want someone leaving my show thinking it’s okay to hurt people actively with humor. That’s why I try, as much as possible, to draw light to something and punch up rather than down.”

The Ku Klux Klan once rallied outside of the library in Birmingham, Ala. — Lakshminarayanan’s hometown — and she compared this to offensive jokes. “Sometimes comedians want to do material for the sake of being ‘edgy,'” she said. “Freedom of speech — do it, but what are you creating in society? Are you creating understanding, togetherness, and laughter?”

As for the Klan, Lakshminarayanan wasn’t fazed. “If you make it a big deal and you act afraid of them, you give them power,” she explained. “But think about it. They’re in weird costumes, they can’t really see. I’m surprised that they’re still able to walk in a straight line. If they’re going to impose racism on others, they should at least have their body free. I mean, do some kinesthetics!”