On his new album, Fishscale, the Monster of Don a.k.a. Ghostface Killah does what he does best—spitting crack tales in vivid details. To illustrate that he is still the hardest-working dopeman in the business, Ghost chucks out the hooks and pushes 64 bars straight in “Shakey Dog” right off the bat. He sounds hungrier than ever. Packing words into the beat like a crack dealer stuffing his cocaine into a bag, Ghost’s energy brings a filmic experience to his narration: “Frank pushed me into the door / the door flew open / Dude had his mouth open / Frozen, stood still with his heat bulging / Told him, ‘Freeze, lay the fuck down and enjoy the moment.’ / Frank snatched his gat / Slapped him, asked him, ‘Where’s the cash, coke, and the crack?'”

If I need a recipe for making cocaine, no need to look further than the crackmasters in “Kilo.” With Raekwon who is also a descriptive lyricist joining him, Ghost lays down the process of manufacturing coke like Emeril prepares his favorite soup: “Big heavy pots over hot stoves / Mayonnaise jars and water / With rocks in ’em / Got my whole project outta order / Kilo is a thousand grams / Beige, gold, brown, dirty, fluffy, tan / Extract oil come from Cuban plants.” Another flavorful collaboration between these two Wu-Tang members is “R.A.G.U.,” a violence scene in which Ghosts finishes with, “Yo Lord! I knocked out his teeth / Now he’s rocking those false joints like everything’s peace.”

Fishscale’s productions are tight, but what drive the recordings are Ghost’s dynamic deliveries. In “The Champ,” Just Blaze’s orchestration is crazy—hard beat fused with chaotic guitar and harsh horns arrangement—Ghost’s flow is crazier, and he lets nothing overpowered his voice. On the sentimental “Whip You with a Strap,” the late J Dilla sampled Luther Ingram’s “To the Other Man” and provided a soulful beat for Ghost to reflects on his childhood memory in which he was belted by his mother for his rudeness: “Mama shake me real hard / then get the big gat—that called the belt. / ‘Help me,’ as I yelled / I’m in the room like ‘huh, huh, huh’ with mad welts / Ragged out, bad belt / Yes her presence was felt.”

With a solid release filled with aesthetic qualities, Ghost has proved that he still stands strong in the hip-hop community at the age of thirty-five while many of his peers have gone. He has not only maintained his style, but also improved and refined his techniques over the years. Fishscale confirms that Ghost is keeping the game on lock.

I have tremendous respect for Thinh Nhat Hanh and his work as a peace activist. I’ve learned to calm myself and connect with my interbeing (Tiep Hien) through his Being Peace. The book is an eye-opening reading for me, especially when we’re in the world full of temptations, because it taught me to appreciate my presence and to live life one day at a time. I was so impressed with his teaching that I have wanted to learn more. I began to read his other books, but disappointed by the same concepts, only different stories. His simple writing style becomes a drag to read, and his idea gets unreasonable to the point where I begin to doubt his credibility.

On the subject “We Are What We Eat” in his Anger: Wisdom for Cooling the Flames, he talks about the food that we eat contains anger. For instance, cows raised in small barns are filled with anger because they are trapped; therefore, when we eat them, we inherit their angriness. His point is interesting, but I am not sure how realistic it is. As someone who loves his pho (Vietnamese noodle) with a side dish of uncooked beef, I guess I consume kilos of madness on top of mad cow disease. But I doubt that my anger will subside if I stop eating like a cannibal. Let’s assume that he is right on “we are what we eat,” how would he explain the angriness from people who don’t even touch meat? I know quite a few women who eat only the greenest vegetables and the freshest tofu, yet I can’t even believe the words that came out of their mouth or their evil intention. I am sure we all know someone with those two qualities.

Another disappointment with Anger is when Thich Nhat Hanh switches to fictional writing. In the tale of “David and Angelina,” he writes, “[David] was a lonely person. He did not have friends. Often he did not go to the campus cafeteria. Instead, he stayed home and ate instant noodles. You may have already guessed that David is Asian.” Besides the stereotype that only Asian people eat instant noodles, his setting is problematic. David is a college student in America, which is more or less closer to a modern society, yet Thich Nhat Hanh tied it into a fantasy world. I just could not read on when the beautiful Angelina comes to life from a painting that David has been obsessed with ever since he bought it from the market. This is not Weird Science, and I didn’t know Thich Nhat Hanh could write cai luong (Vietnamese opera).

I am in no way attempting to disrespect someone who works hard all his life to bring the world some peace. I guess it’s the evil in me, from eating too much angry food, drinking too much inflamed liquid, and listening to too much evil music like jazz and hip-hop, that fuels the flames instead of cooling them down when reading Anger. I know I am going straight to hell when I die, and it’s not so hard to tell. In fact, the mental life I am living in isn’t better than hell; therefore, I admire Thich Nhat Hanh, and wish I could be as spiritually free as he is.

What I missed the most about Tupac Shakur a.k.a. Makaveli was his realness. True, he was a dope lyricist, but it was the sincerity in his delivery that brought his rhymes to life. So when he said, “Fuck the world,” I felt him. His death shook me because he always rapped about gun and annihilation as if he knew he would catch them sooner or later. His posthumous The Don Killuminati: The 7 Day Theory (the only piece of my ex I have not destroyed) sounds like he has planned his earthly departure.

On the opening “Bomb First,” Pac’s ferocity gushes like adrenaline rushes—as if it is his last chance to rhyme before fading to black. In the beginning of “Hail Mary,” he screams, “Uhh, feel me!” I could sense the hopelessness in his voice; therefore, when he rhymes, “I ain’t a killer but don’t push me / Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to getting pussy,” he was convincible. The antagonism continues on “Me and My Girlfriend,” a Pac’s version of Bonnie and Clyde that laced with sex and violence: “I love finger fucking you, all of a sudden I’m hearing thunder / When you bust a nut, Niggaz be ducking or taking numbers.” On “Just Like Daddy,” Pac wants to become a father figure to his girl and promises to take away her pain. Not sure how he would do that since he claims that you’re “screaming like you’re dying every time I am fucking you.” I suppose he takes away her emotional pain by giving her pleasurable pain. But that’s Pac, a man who had nothing to hide when it comes to speaking out his mind. And the self-expression is what I love about hip-hop.

A few readers still find it surprising when I write about hip-hop. Their perception is that I am not the hardcore or tough type of guy. What does my personality have to do with the music I listen to? My appreciation for hip-hop based purely on its aesthetic values: the beats, the flows, the rhymes, the structures, the techniques, the deliveries, the wordplays, the imageries, and the experiences. Hip-hop is a form of art that allows artists to truly bare their soul, and that was exactly what Pac did.

Today is mom’s last day at her job. She is finally retiring at the age of 69. Now what? I will have a personal chef again after four long years. More food to come.

Diggin’ the way Nguyen Khang massages the hook on Tuan Khanh’s “Mua Em Troi,” especially near the end where he maneuvers the last word in each bar. His performance is an example of making a sugary pop tune unsweetened.

White Out, a badass, head-whacking video featuring the sexy Jenna Jameson. Produced by Tronic Studio for Adidas’ spot.

Designchuchi, a breath-taking site design with a creative CSS layout.

Thank You for Smoking, a gorgeous typographic motion. Gotta love that trumpet solo!

Phu Quang is a renowned songwriter who treasures every second of his life. 69’59”—the title of his latest work (Phu Quang Vol.11)—signifies the pulses of his heart and the lifespan of his songbook as he welcomes listeners into his “Quan Thoi Gian” (Stall of Time) performed by the young singer Ngoc Anh. Their collaboration is a fruitful one because she brings beautiful drama to his simple, lyrical compositions with her gravel pit of a voice.

Ngoc Anh has the right chops for the bossa-nova “Lang Dang Chieu Dong Ha Noi.” She knows how to float her dirt-flecked timbre around the Latin-inflected groove and the exotic keyboard licks. And she pours when she rains. Ngoc Anh streams her heart out on the acoustic guitar in “Khuc Mua Thu” and drowns her emotion in the sentimental “Truoc Mo Cha.” With “Chieu Phu Tay Ho,” she surprises the listeners with her handling of traditional folk. Her overcooked quality gives the piece a soul-soothing touch.

69’59” is a savory album because Phu Quang’s compositions are easy to listen and his lyrics are straightforward but never comes across as mundane. The producers—Thanh Phuong, Do Bao, Vinh Tam, and Viet Anh—also earned their proper for the effervescent arrangements. As much as I admire Ngoc Anh’s dark, warm sensuousness, I am still not contented with her aspirate delivery. Although she has reached deep into the music with her soulful interpretation, she needs to silence her breathing to complete her perfectionism.

As I am listening to Nguyen Khang’s rendition of Dieu Huong’s “Vi Do La Em” from his boxed sets with the same name, I wish that he had applied to this track his rough, raw, and rugged delivery that was used on Elton John’s “Sorry Seems to Be the Hardest Word” from his debut Cung La Tram Nam. The result would have been so damn wicked because he has the ability to metamorphose the basest metal. Imagine what he would sound like kicking off the song with, “Khong can biet em la ai” in his thuggish flow. Too bad, he played safe and performed it in a straightforward approach. If I get a chance to see him in concert, I’ll make him sings the ballad the way I want to hear it (dream on, Donny). Speaking of live performances, the collection included two exceptional recordings—Pham Duy’s “Tam Su Goi Ve Dau” and Vu Thanh An’s “Tinh Khuc Thu Nhat”—in which he ripped live like a professional assassin, efficiently perfecting his execution. Out of all the forty tracks selected, Nguyen Khang made more hits then misses on the standards of well-known songwriters including Trinh Cong Son, Ngo Thuy Mien, and Tram Tu Thieng. I have accumulated both Nguyen Khang’s box sets from Bien Tinh Music, but I rock Vi Do La Em more often than Trai Tim Ben Le.

The remaking of the classic opera Nua Doi Huong Phan is another artless piece of shit from Thuy Nga Production. The actors’ performances are passable (with the exception of Manh Quynh whose acting skill is equal to none and whose face always has that chicken-swallowing-rubber-band paleness to it), but the editing is horrendous.

Who are they trying to fool by incorporating shots of Viet Nam sceneries into the actual production outside of Viet Nam? The differences between the two are significance. A typical scene would start out with a shot of a ghetto part of Sai Gon then cut into a half-assed setting of a broken home somewhere in the States. For the sake of art, if Thuy Nga wanted to capture the visual aesthetics of Viet Nam, film the entire show in Viet Nam. If they don’t want to deal with the politics, just do it in the States. Mixing and mashing the two places together is disorienting and annoying.

The worse element of the film is the sloppy sound editing. A dialogue is loud and noisy but when the actors are about to do an opera soaring, the sound switches to a studio recording, which is quieter and clearer. In one act, Hoai Linh was doing a superb job of conveying an angry dad and he yelled real loud, but suddenly the studio sound cued in and dropped his voice. I know right away, he is about to sing.

What is up with the make-up artists? They tried to make Huong Lan looks older by drawing lines on her face. As she stepped into in scene, my first reaction was like, “What the heck is a cat woman doing in Nua Doi Huong Phan?” So when she sobbed, her face was a big mess. Looking at her face reminded me of my own back in 1991 when I needed a trick-or-treat makeup, and my sister did a much better job than Thuy Nga’s artists.

So if you’ve been caught up into the whole Thuy Nga’s buzz about Nua Doi Huong Phan, save yourself twenty bucks. If you want to cry a river, try to look for the infamous rendition with Thanh Nga in it. Did I purchase the DVD? You’re crazy!

Da Nhat Yen is my video girl. I love to watch her on Asia. I am not ashamed to say, her moves groove me most of the time. She keeps me looking forward to her performances on Asia series because of the constant transformation in her concept and execution. Under the guidance of Truc Ho, musical director of Asia, she could maneuver her ways around various styles. With her Princess Entertainment (still distributed by Asia), however, she is drowning in her own pool of potpourri. Her album, which has no title, is ranging from bubblegum pop, pop rock, pop jazz, disco rap, Latin cha cha to Vietnamese ballads. I wonder why she can’t pick out a title track. One song can’t represent her entire repertoire.

The album starts off with R. Williams and G. Chambers’s “Kids,” a pop/rock production from Peter Siebert. Joining along side DNY is the girlish-voiced Justin. Their duet on the refrain annoys the hell out of me. On the club-friendly “Voi Anh Dem Nay,” penned by DNY and Sy Dan, the Vietnamese-English hook is nerve-raising. I thought Spanglish is bad, until I hear how DNY weaves English into Vietnamese. With the new-wave groove, Sting’s “Send Your Love,” DNY sports a Twista’s speedy flow. The main problem is that I have no idea what she is singing with her unclear enunciation.

The worse cover has to be Jesse Harris’s “I’ve Got to See You Again.” DNY can’t express the sex quality like Norah Jones could. In particular, when Jones phrases, “To not touch your skin is not why I sing,” her smoky contralto makes us want to get our freaks on, but DNY comes off so mundane. Another significant difference between the two renditions is the musical production. The intoxicating Latin flavor on Jones’s piece is perfect for baby-making music while Nhat Trung’s banal arrangement and Vu Anh Tuan’s toneless saxophone is more appropriate for elevator music. Again on Pham Dinh Chuong’s “Nua Hon Thuong Dau,” the ear-breaking sound waves of the saxophone makes DNY’s weak, breathy voice sinks like a Titanic.

Why be so tough on such a sweet darling who tries her hardest to bring us some entertainment values? I have nothing against Da Nhat Yen. In fact, I still have mad love for her, but crafting an album takes skills and experiences. Can’t just throw in everything for everybody. Be selective, be focused, and be original. But don’t lose the eye-candy juice, baby!

Adventurous uncle makes audacious dish. His latest chef-d’oeuvre, Lau Chua Cay, is heaven-sent. Fresh seafood and veggies combined with spicy, savory broth produced an “instant orgasm.” I love those “Bong He” (grass-like vegetables with buds). Their nectarous flavor, when drowned in boiling hotpot and complemented with a dollop of fish sauce, seduces my taste bud. Now I see why women fall for men who can cook. Men with culinary skills must have much easier time picking up girls. They don’t even need to use those obnoxious pickup lines. All they have to say is, “taste it baby,” and let the food does all the talking.

Bonsoir Monsieur Chu (Xin Chao Ong Chu) is a spendid short animation about a simple Vietnamese lifestyle. The film, produced by Stéphanie Lansaque and François Leroy, is well executed. The synopsis (in French) and the credits could be found at ARTE. (Thanks Quynh Tram).

Vassar Innovators. Idea, research, and written by Julia Vandevelder, and designed by Chris Silverman.

SimpleBits realigned. Like the colors, but not too crazy about the fluid columns.

Simmons College. Rich use of colors, clean, and organized.

Coudal. Just dig the simplicity, what more can I say?

Quark rebranded once again.

Dave Devries’s Monster Engine. Dave takes children’s drawings and renders them into freaky monsters. Might frighten your kids, especially the Wonder Woman, so be careful!

Lil’Kyle, a friend’s kid, got that pimp juice from me.

“The Friends, the passion and the simplicity in Trinh’s music” (The article is written in Vietnamese). The Friends will hold down a Trinh’s music night in memory of the talented musician on April 1 in Santa Ana, Ca. From the article, the band is going to incorporate jazz and semi-classical flavors into Trinh’s compositions. Sounds very interesting! If you’re in the area, come out, enjoy the show and let us know what’s up? (Joseph, I know you’ll be there.)