He was silent all through “Charlie’s Angels,” but Crispin has a lot to say in person.

I recently saw Crispin Hellion Glover at the IFC Center in Manhattan.  He was in town promoting his films “What is it?” and “It Is Fine, EVERYTHING IS FINE” with readings from eight (!) of his books in something called a “Big Slide Show,” which preceded whatever film was being shown that night. I went both nights to see both films.

Glover’s books are essentially antique texts reformed into new work with added writing and pictures, creating an often amusing and unsettling effect.  During the slideshow, Glover reads through slides of pages of the book, dramatizing the words and interacting with graphics.

Then there are the films.  A lot has been said about them and I really can’t add anything more, apart from how they made me feel.  They both pushed me into unfamiliar territory and I felt uncomfortable, which is sort of thrilling for me, since I’m incredibly jaded about many things (yes, Asians love jade).

After each film, Glover launched into an exhaustive 70 minutes-plus Q&A/talkback.  One question could launch a 15-20 minute reply.  Glover was well aware of how much he was talking, saying that he’d read online about how people felt that he “rambled” during the Q&As; yet, by doing so, he was answering a lot of other unasked questions.  True enough, as the night went on, there was a sense that all potential queries were addressed.

One of the most important things I had to hear was that when he was younger (playing the father-in-the-past in “Back to the Future”), Glover said that he would turn down work because the characters and the stories wouldn’t fit the psychology that reflected his interests.  Later, though, he realized that he could take roles that would help his acting career, make more money and pour it into films that he really wanted to make, hence “What is it?” and “It Is Fine, EVERYTHING IS FINE.”  Those movies were basically funded with the role he took in the Charlie’s Angels films.  Once he was in that mindset, he discovered he could actually have fun acting in movies he didn’t necessarily find fulfilling to his personal artistic sense.

On the second night, I picked up the three books offered for sale (Oak-Mot, Rat Catching and Concrete Inspection) not so much because I enjoyed his slideshow presentation of the books, but really as souvenirs for one (two?) of the most strange, compelling and generous live performances I’ve ever seen.  Also, Glover is still recouping for the films with the shows.  He says he can tour at a more leisurely pace now, with the success of Alice in Wonderland.  These tours take a lot out of him.  It’s easy to see why.  He did the equivalent of two solo shows each night.

I salute you heavily, Crispin Hellion Glover, as a man who approaches his art whole-heartedly!

I shoulda been a hand model!

Your local bookstore is great for a lot of reasons, but surely one of them is that it is hosting one of my readings.

Now check this out.  The amazing singer-songwriter Cynthia Lin has made an extremely limited number (200) of these really cool letter-pressed bookmarks and they will only be available to people who buy books at my upcoming readings.

I came up with the idea for these after I went to see a friend’s reading.  This woman in the audience sitting next to me nudged me and said she was going to buy her book online.  I pointed out that she should support the store for hosting the reading (which like most readings, was free), but she waved it off.  She also didn’t care about not having the author autographing her book.

I would like to say that she didn’t know that I was a writer — but she did!  She was Chinese, too, so that probably explained the complete lack of tact.

Sure, there are always outlets online that sell books at a major discount.  But think about it.  You may save a few bucks by buying online but you are paying for the gas that powers the bulldozers that knock over your local bookstore.  Bookstores are kind enough to allow authors to read on their premises, creating local events that make your community more fun and interesting.

I can’t remember the last time Amazon sponsored a reading.

But anyway, if I’m not coming near you, I strongly suggest you try IndieBound to support your local store.

How come Asians never sit in the front row?

At the Page Turner festival a few weeks ago, I read a short piece in which I channeled my mother — accent, broken English and all.

During the Q&A, this Asian woman asked me if I would read the same piece to a “white” audience, because in front of an “Asian” audience, “we’re all in on the joke” with the accent.

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I was annoyed and sort of mean (when the event is posted to YouTube, I wonder if they’ll include that part).  I said something along the lines that I was trying to authentically portray my mother and that I read for myself without trying to tailor my work for any particular audience to seek approval.

But the question still annoys me.

For one thing, it assumes that all “white” people are ignorant jerks ready for a laugh drawn on stereotypical lines.

For another thing, my mother accent isn’t “the joke.”  What kind of jackass would I be for counting on a Chinese accent for laughs?

Essentially, my short piece is saying, “This is my mother.  She’s quite a character.  If you ask her to tell you a ghost story, this is what you’ll get.”

Let’s give “white” people some credit.  They are not all ignorant jerks out to screw over people of color.  Certainly not the “white” people who show up for book readings.  Larry the Cable Guy is not going to come to a Snakes Can’t Run reading.

And speaking of people of color, I put “white” in quotations because Asians come in all colors.  That “white” guy sitting next to you could have a gay Korean dad.

Believe it or not, the Asian-woman questioner later came up to my wife to compliment her on her performance in “Children of Invention,” in which her character speaks with a Cantonese accent!

Not quite the journey of a thousand miles.

You may know that I am attending the Bouchercon in Indianapolis.

You may not know that I am taking Amtrak there and Greyhound back.  It’s about 22 hours each way.

I honestly want to see if mass transit is a viable alternative to air travel.  It’s also green, man.  And I’m all about the green.

I will be updating the traveling there and back as well as the Bouchercon/Indianapolis in the upcoming days. You may be amused by keeping tabs on my Twitter and Facebook.

All the action starts 4:30 AM EST Wednesday.

Why, it’s the DO-nation!

Yes, I ripped that off from somebody who ripped it off of someone else, but it is a wonderful sentiment.

You know as well as I do that this country has experienced, shall we say, a bit of an economic malaise over the last year or so?  It’s only now that people are contemplating whether or not we’ve hit a floor.

Let’s give this man a sidesmile!  Donate today!

Banks and financial institutions get government bailouts.  Arts institutions get the shaft.

I’m not going to get into a “art is more important than food” sort of argument.  Rather, I’d like to point out that a society is judged by its cultural legacies rather than its accumulated wealth.  Yes, excavations of the ancient world have yielded priceless treasures, but those very items are priceless not because of the precious metals or gems but mostly because of the workmanship (workwomanship, also) that wrought them.  Most valuable of all are the literary works uncovered — think of the various iterations of the Egyptian Book of the Dead and bamboo strips containing the earliest version of the Dao De Jing.

You can see where I’m going with this.

Hell, I think you should go here and give what you can.

I am acting out of selfishness, you know.  Not only do I like hanging out at the Asian American Writers’ Workshop (and hold two awards from that fine institution), but I have a new book coming out in the early spring and I want to make sure the place is not only intact at that time but vibrant and that Ken Chen is smiling.

Official verbiage follows.  I’m quoted again, in case you can’t get enough of me:

No, not here, though I wish!

Hey, all, I want to let you know about an event coming up this Sunday.

Bad news: it’s not in New York City.

Good news: it takes place in Paramus, New Jersey!

More good news: I’ll be on a panel with the beautiful Wendy Lee and equally beautiful Sung Woo.

Sunday June 14, 2009, 1:30 PM – 2:00 PM

Books NJ 2009
Panel Discussion – The Immigrant Experience (yeah, bay-bee!)
featuring Wendy Lee, Ed Lin, Sung J. Woo.
Paramus Public Library
116 East Century Road
Paramus, NJ 07652

Grant Hart, a one-man band who knows how to wage psychic warfare.

Well a whole bunch of things have happened lately that I haven’t been blogging about.

I’ve seen The Vaselines twice again when they came through Manhattan and Brooklyn in mid-May.  I didn’t bother write about the shows because they have been so extensively covered I didn’t know what else I could add to it and also I wrote about their two shows in the New York City area a year ago.

I’ve also got another book coming out sorta soon, Snakes Can’t Run.  It’s the sequel to This Is a Bust, and it’s coming out in hardcover (my first!) on St. Martin’s/Thomas Dunne/Minotaur in winter 2010.  I haven’t written too much about this because there are still some things that need to be done, including the cover design, which I’m sure will be an awesome graphic for a blog entry.

And, well, I recently turned 40.

Forty!  Jesus, am I really 40?

I won’t lie.  I was freaking out a decade ago when I was going to turn 30.  I thought it was going to be The End.  Y’know, the end of fun and the beginning of getting a will hammered out.

In all honesty, I have to say I have had more fun in my 30s than in my 20s.  I used to worry a lot more.  I’d work every extra overtime shift at the news service to try to make more money to move out of my large but ultra-crappy apartment in Boerum Hill in pre-cool Brooklyn.  What was so crappy about it?  Well, the month after I moved in the kitchen ceiling collapsed because it apparently had been holding a quantity of water that had leaked in from somewhere.  A few months later I had a flood that left two inches of water on the floor.  The worst part about that was there were mice parts (not whole mice, for some reason) floating in the murky water.

But it was there, on that then crappy place on State Street that I’d fire up my Mac clone and helplessly punch out a short story or another page to a another doomed novel.

It was tough.  It was the hardest thing in the world to do.  It would have been so easy to stop at the bullet-proof Chinese place on the way home from work and pick up half a fried chicken and french fries with Chinese hot sauce, and then zone out in front of the TV.  Or hit the PlayStation with my neighbors.  That happened often enough, but the fear pushed me.

Fear and worry.  Fearing that I wasn’t cut out to write a book.  Worrying that I wasn’t trying hard enough. I pushed myself like my parents wished I did for my piano lessons.  I spent many nights huddled in my futon, wondering if I could put together a manuscript before my apartment caved in and killed me and worse, knock out my hard drive.

Those days seem so long ago because they are — nearly two decades.  I need to thank that guy for all his effort because it helped instill the writing discipline that I have now.

My 30s were spent writing regularly and certainly at a more-measured pace.  I started going to a gym for cardio/upper body/lower body workouts, and I think I’m probably in better physical shape than I have ever been.

I also started going to see live music again.  I had stopped attending in my mid-20s EA Sports days.  I think it started when the Knitting Factory had three great shows in a row in spring 2004 — the Undertones, the Weirdos (with the essential Cliff Roman in the lineup) and D.O.A. It was awesome being there (although my wife still wants to kill me for exposing her to the “pit” at the Undertones show — it was a small place and there really weren’t any “safe” corners).

I have been to many more shows since.  In fact, in the last two weeks or so, I’ve seen the two Vaselines shows, Kylesa (who are awesome!) and Grant Hart.

One rule I have in going to see shows is that I actually attend early enough to catch all the support acts.  While this has led to stretches of pure agony (though such experiences are awesome for future writing material), I’ve also discovered amazing bands that are astoundingly good live acts.  Back in 1989, I saw Nirvana open up for Tad at Maxwell’s.  I saw Sunny Day Real Estate open for Velocity Girl in 1994.

This year I saw the BellRays open for the Damned.  And “damned” if they didn’t top the headliners in pure adrenaline, sweat and effort.

But I broke my rule on Monday when I went to see Grant Hart.  You see, Grant was opening for Death Vessel, a band I’m not familiar with and whose music doesn’t rub me the right way.

Grant, next time you come, play “Now That You Know Me”!

Grant was awesome, just him and his electric guitar (“One thing you can say about little amplifiers,” he chirped between songs, “They’re real easy to carry.”), starting out with “The Girl Who Lives on Heaven Hill,” from New Day Rising, one of 15-year-old Ed Lin’s favorite albums.  The last time I saw Grant perform was 19 years ago at CBGBs when he cranked out songs from his recent solo album, Intolerance.  I had asked him after the show why he didn’t do any Husker Du songs, and he had spat out, “If I start playing Husker Du songs, that’s all anybody will want to hear.”

But that wasn’t true back then and certainly wasn’t true Monday night at the Bell House.  Thing is, he now treated us to many other classic Husker songs, including “Flexible Flyer,” “Terms of Psychic Warfare” and “She’s a Woman and He’s a Man.”  He shook in some expected solo stuff, including “2541.”

The goofy and lovable Grant — a man closing in on 50 — belted out songs, clearly feeling the pleasure in playing songs he loves.  Watching him on stage made me try to remember what I was like in 1990 at CBGBs.  Even back then, although I was only writing two short stories a year, I wanted to write novels.  I had no idea how far I had to go.

After Grant’s set, I noticed that the top knuckles of my big toes were hurting for some reason (I hadn’t been standing on my toes, I swear).  Ed Lin from two decades ago would have stuck it out, seeing a band he didn’t necessarily like just to be true to the integrity of the show.

But I left.  There was no way it was going to be better than Grant Hart singing Husker Du songs and I wanted to leave on a high.

When you’re 40, you owe yourself some breaks.

I strongly suggest you be there!

A Korean chain opens their first American outlet in America! In NYC! Kimchi and hotdogs and bulgogi all in a wrap!

And speaking of wrap, here’s a wrap-up as to why I haven’t been posting as of late.

I’ve been busy, mostly holed up writing and watching many, many movies.

Yes, I said writing!  The sequel to This Is a Bust is coming out on St. Martin’s/Thomas Dunne/Minotaur in Winter 2010, but the specific “pub date” has not yet been set.

Whew!  I have never written a sequel before and though it was possible with a Chinatown mystery, surely there could never be a sequel to one of the best books ever about Asian American/coming of age/sexual discovery ever?

In any case, it’s been great hanging out with my old pals Robert Chow, John Vandyne, the midget, Paul and of course, Lonnie.

But if you, my real-life pals, miss me — and I mean really miss me in the way that I do you — I heavily suggest you spend your next 66 minutes wisely and go here and watch me.  It’s a reading and Q&A I did last week at Hunter College.

By the way, like many Asian-American studies programs on the East Coast, the administration is messing with the one at Hunter and I strongly suggest you go here to get the full scoop.

In other news, I’ve put up a link for Ed Lin merch.  No, I don’t get any money from this, Mr. IRS Man, but I’m glad to have loaned my image for a good cause.

More soon.