These are the Forbidden City Glamour Girls. Quite stunning, aren’t they?
Back in the 1930s and 40s, Chinatown nightclubs flourished. These girls were from Charlie Low’s legendary nightclub “Forbidden City” in San Francisco, California. Opened in 1938, Low named it after the Forbidden City in Beijing and served as the master of ceremonies. At its peak, the club drew hundreds of locals, Hollywood celebrities, and GIs. Forbidden City also put on comedy skits and music shows featuring an all Asian cast of singers, dancers, and vaudeville performers during a time when Asian Americans could not find employment in the entertainment business due to discriminatory laws and hiring practices.
For further reading: Arthur Dong “Forbidden City, USA: Chinese American Nightclubs, 1936-1970
And kid, you’ve got to love yourself. You’ve got wake up at four in the morning, brew black coffee, and stare at the birds drowning in the darkness of the dawn. You’ve got to sit next to the man at the train station who’s reading your favorite book and start a conversation. You’ve got to come home after a bad day and burn your skin from a shower. Then you’ve got to wash all your sheets until they smell of lemon detergent you bought for four dollars at the local grocery store. You’ve got to stop taking everything so goddam personally. You are not the moon kissing the black sky. You’ve got to compliment someone’s crooked brows at an art fair and tell them that their eyes remind you of green swimming pools in mid July. You’ve got to stop letting yourself get upset about things that won’t matter in two years. Sleep in on Saturday mornings and wake yourself up early on Sunday. You’ve got to stop worrying about what you’re going to tell her when she finds out. You’ve got to stop over thinking why he stopped caring about you over six months ago. You’ve got to stop asking everyone for their opinions. Fuck it. Love yourself, kiddo. You’ve got to love yourself.
Everything seems to be exhausting me, no matter how much sleep or how much coffee I drink or how long I lie down, something inside me seems to have given up. My soul is tired.
Nothing can wear you out like caring about people.
S.E. Hinton, That Was Then, This Is Now (via c-oquetry)
Human beings are funny. They long to be with the person they love but refuse to admit openly. Some are afraid to show even the slightest sign of affection because of fear. Fear that their feelings may not be recognized, or even worst, returned. But one thing about human beings that puzzles me the most is their conscious effort to be connected with the object of their affection even if it kills them slowly within.
Late at night, I picture you laying here with me just like it used to be. Even when I don’t want to. Even when I know it’ll only make me miss you more. I imagine you with one arm around me and your body pressed onto mine. Somehow, I can hear you breathe. I can feel your steady heart beating. You make me feel safe. You are my home. It’s you that helps me sleep at night and you don’t even know it.
I came to a point where I needed solitude and just stop the machine of ‘thinking’ and ‘enjoying’ what they call ‘living’, I just wanted to lie in the grass and look at the clouds.