After Midnight We Could Feel It All

I saw Beach House live for the second time. They were louder than I remembered and I left the venue with a face fully melted and my liver in need of replacing. Teen Dream will always be my favorite album and it was kind of a bummer that they didn't play more of it. Minor complaint aside, I can only describe Beach House live as a spiritual experience. There is no other band that gives me the ghost. Coupled with the company of someone that I have missed immensely over the years, this was a nice summer send off — especially considering how hilariously tragic it began. I'm sure there could be some poignant way to end this post, but not without sounding too eat, pray, and love-esque. And that ain't me.

Mayonnaise Be Merry and White

My cousin and I had a brief conversation about our shared attraction to the caucasian persuasion and its roots in a white supremacist and hetero-patriarchal society that upholds Eurocentric beauty ideals as the epitome of hotness. I have a bad habit of overanalyzing. For example: is my tendency to open doors for others or step out of the way connected to the subservient Asian stereotype? Maybe. I consider myself an equal opportunist, however, my track record has been overwhelmingly white. Trust, in high school no Filipino guys were checking for me — maybe because I looked like a junior lesbian instead of a car model. As an adult, the same can be said about any person of color. Or perhaps my brain has been colonized to the point that it created a POC blind spot causing me to gravitate towards wypipo with yellow fever. That's not entirely true:

When I was nineteen or twenty, the Filipino fitting room attendant at the Ralph Lauren outlet store told me I had cute dimples. I bought two polo shirts and continually drove 45 minutes outside of town in order to bump into this guy because I didn't have the nerve to ask him for his number. The thirst was very real and very embarrassing. Also embarrassing is the seemingly decade-long crush on a non-white guy that I cannot shake. I am always doing something stupid in front of him in addition to transforming into a giggly teenage girl at every interaction. In summation, my boner is not as racist as John Mayer's.

In an attempt to decolonize other parts of my body, AKA my ears, I have been seeking out music made by POC. I gave Emily King a break to overload on Yuna. Interestingly, or not, I found King by going through Yuna's Instagram account. Her duet with Jhené Aiko is at the top of my Body Roll Summer 2016 playlist.

The live performance gives me goosebumps. I can't YASSSSS it enough. So much Asian slayage. I hope Yuna releases a video for it involving an '80s themed mall with glamour shots and eye rolling at exes at the food court. Also of particular interest is Yuna's duet with Usher titled Crush. Yuna has been making music for some time, so I do not have a good excuse for slacking. I would like to see her a) live in Las Vegas and b) do a buddy cop film with Esther Quek. Slay, Asian ladies, S-L-A-Y.

Take my soul to where it wants to go.

Radio is easily my second favorite Emily King song. At times I am salty about the fact that I possess no musical ability besides decent scores on the ol' Magic Mic. Most of my cousins on my mom's side are musicians because their parents are musicians. Perhaps what I have inherited from my mom is a real affinity for hoarding.

Hey love, time to get up.

When I heard Distance, I thought I was going to combust. Shame on me for not being in the loop earlier because Emily King was in Las Vegas weeks ago. The last time I experienced music on a religious level was when I was introduced to Beach House. It has been years since I have been excited about music. Distance gives me the (gay) ghost. It makes my heart explode and fills me with optimism amidst the hilarity of my own love life in tandem with the horrors of police brutality, domestic terrorism and presidential campaigns. Its video is as visually pleasing as it is ear delicious (shout out, Neil Sedaka). And hello, BYIMM is EV. REE. THING.