the tale of a blip
written 26 January 2001 copyright © 2001-present James Sanghyun Han (a.k.a. steal this and DIE)
| i always have a cute boyfriend he's usually English, black Irish, German, and/or Italian his eyes are blue and/or green and he brags to his friends about me about his cute Asian guy i have a cute boyfriend he likes my squinty, small eyes he likes my flat blob of a nose he likes my smooth body, nearly devoid of hair he likes it cause i barely - if ever - smell, never need deodorant he gets hard when i wear my Japanese robe and he thinks he's so cool to be with me he's so cute he thinks i'm novel he thinks i'm different and even though he may be right, he doesn't know the half of it he patronizes my slanted eyes by seeing not what lies beneath them he patronizes my "cute" nose and smooth body by praising those things alone he patronizes by implying my only assets are the race and culture i am categorized under and he forgets that i am more than just hairless legs and exotic eyes more than an image more than rice and "kimchee" and tae-kwon-sushi he forgets that i am more than just a sexually-fixated geisha boy cause he's too busy thinking he's so cultured and unique to be with me and then he gets to know me better and this boy this boy who'll only listen to shitty music if it's made in Tokyo this boy praises me less cause he sees the human and the personality and he stops loving me, not because what he sees are unsavory but cause it kills him that he's not prepared not equipped to deal with anything but his perfect one-dimensional image and oh, how it kills him that i need to be more to him than an extension of his attempt to seem unique and so, he leaves me and since we Asians are so smart and since i'm such a sensitive, loving little geisha boy he attempts to let me down gently he employs his arsenal of lies, half-truths, and double-speak trying to add "the good guy" to his self-description and then the inevitable silence when he drops the pretense and he goes on living and he inflicts his half-baked simulation of love on others and he leaves me here to decide whether my blip on his radar screen has left any sort of afterimage on his unique and cultured self |