Flame, Glass and Ink are Poems, essays, and reading notes by Stefania Joori Suh

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  • ‘Idol, Burning’ by Rin Usami

    Idol, Burning by Rin Usami

    My rating: 4 of 5 stars

    We are such starstuff made of fire, spirit, and dew that we are instantly drawn to stars that sparkle and shine. And what do we call the beautiful star (and young, of course) that sings, dances, and acts even? If we call it a singer, it is also an idol. Akari calls it Masaki, puts him in the constellation of super idols and worships him like an Apollo to whom she gives meaning to her life as if he were her lighthouse on the dark ocean. He is her God, the Idol, and the Guiding Light of her lonely life. Then what?


    Masaki is a member of a boy band called Mama Maza, which feeds on the cult devotion reminiscent of Dionysus accompanying the Maenads sans frenzied ritual of animal-human ripping of fleshes. Akari is something of the high priestess of the cult, running fan blogs filled with tributes to the exalted, glorified awesomeness of her Idol. Her life is centered on, evolved around the solar system of Masaki, and everything she is about, all the things she does about, is because of him. So imagine what is it like when her God becomes mortal full of human frailty, fallen from the constellation of the stars? An emotional vacuum is soon filled in her heart, leaving her lost in the direction of life, wandering about, wondering about the sense of purpose in life ahead. Her sense of void in life with the declination of Masaki from stardom illustrates the existential dilemma that struggles to find a new objective in her life in which the meaning of life depends on achieving the goals in daily tasks, which were to follow any updates on her figure of love, the source of her life energy.


    Of course, the love of one’s favorite entertainer is not to be criticized. Beatlemania was not a hysterical totalitarianism but a collective popularism that entrained the ears and minds of people. The gist of this book echoes what Marcel Proust advised: “Never meet the people you admire. You’ll be disappointed.” There’s a reason for it.



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  • Once More unto the Breach! Here comes my New Year’s Resolution

    Once More unto another year, once more!

    As the first day of the new year has almost ended, I feel the urge akin to duty to make a new year’s resolution. There’s not much but high hopes for low heaven, with a reasonable scope of expectation and humble measurement of happiness. And since none other writers know about the depth and breadth of humanity than Shakespeare, I deem it fit to match his quotes with the contexts of what I have resolved to make this year of Rabbit fruitful and blissful.

    1. Be Not Afraid of Challenges
      ‘This is a step on which I must fall down, or else o’erleap. For in my way it lies.’ – Macbeth
    2. Don’t be easily crestfallen
      ‘There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’ – Hamlet
    3. Read More, Write More, No Matter What
      ‘We know what we are, but we know not what we may be.’ – Hamlet
    4. Keep it simple with humor
      ‘I was born to speak all mirth and no matter.’ – Much Ado About Nothing
    5. Let not a curse be my light purse
      ‘I say, put money in thy purse.’ – Othello
    6. Be vigilant at all times
      ‘Love all, do wrong to none, trust a few.’ – All’s well that Ends Well.
    7. Overcome existential malaise
      ‘Then I defy you, stars!’ – Romeo and Juliet

    Nobody says life is easy, and we know it to the point that such a saying has become a cliche. But life itself shouldn’t be and is not because we are such stuff made of spirit, fire, and dew, harvesting sunlight and starlight. Now that I have listed my New Year’s resolutions as above, I feel fresh of spirit charged with new energy like the Energizer bunny to keep going in my life, even if perils will lie ahead. But in the meantime, let me be that I am who I am as I write this post in my tiny room with my two cats, Toro and Camille, and seek not to alter this moment of simple pleasure.

  • Cat Mom’s Diary – 1

    My babies -Toro and Camille-

    I spent the whole day with my two babies, Toro and Camille at home. Initially, I planned to go to the gym in the morning, but since Camille became a family, I had been working full-time more than 8 hours a day outside the home, so I changed the plan. Besides, Toro has never seemed to be off guard of his young brother whom he punches with his front paw whenever he feels irate. In light of the above, they needed me all day today.

    2-year old Toro

    Toro is a timid tabby who tends to be startled by a sudden change of movement. He wasn’t like this when he was a kitten, though. Toro was and still is an affectionate, sweet, and lovely cat, but he doesn’t like a change in his environment. He needs constant care, which is impossible for me because I have to make a living outside the home. Besides, I have a mother who is the most difficult person to live with. I feel guilty for not providing an ideal environment for Toro, but I try to dispel the weight of guilt with the love of Toro. I wish he would know it. I hope he will understand my purpose in bringing Camille as his younger brother to play with.

    7-month old Camille

    Camille is an unbelievably affectionate and sweet black cat whom I believe of a Bombay cat breed because of his velvety shiny, ebony fur. And he eats like an elephant. I always have to give him at least two cans of wet food per meal a day. Last night, I woke up to his throwing up sound, which made me swear that I would be more strict about satisfying his voracious appetite. But that was only a fleeting caution. He’s back to his usual self, which means eating like an elephant.

    Although Toro and Camille are not the best cat duo, there’s hope when I see Toro let Camille devour his plate of wet food. Also, they sometimes sleep side by side on my dilapidated bed sofa. Rome wasn’t built a day.

  • Merry Christmas

    A Baby on the straw bed
    In a stable on a cold night
    Beneath the stars Bright
    Brings joy to the world
    And hope to the beholder.

  • On Reading ‘Listen, World!: How the Intrepid Elsie Robinson Became America’s Most-Read Woman’ by Allison Gilbert and Julia Scheeres

    Elsie Robinson (1883-1956) was an unforgettable writer whose nationally syndicated column “Listen, World!” spanned over 30 years and garnered more than 20 million readers. Yet, her legacy has not met with the justice of recognition, forgotten in the careless oblivion under the shadows of her contemporary starry women writers. Nelie Bly was sensational as an undercover in a mental asylum and an ambitious challenger to Phileas Fogg of Around the World in 80 days. But Elsie Robinson was a champion of writers whose heartfelt writings touched the finer tissues of the millions of hearts who found solace and support in her words. She was honest, and her words were real, alive, and alike, and there was none other like her.


    Robinson was my kind of model writer who wrote from her experience and heart. Edgar Allan Poe would praise a type of writer with a passion for intoxicating the heart and the truth to satisfy reason. The fates had let her go through trials of life, but her mind exceeded the compass of her wheels. She didn’t mind working as a miner as a single mother before a tide of fortune finally took her to her literary career in the Oakland Tribune. While her peers and contemporary writers took the naval-gazing, angst-ridden narratives a la mode, Robinson used her writing to communicate with readers seeking elbow room in her column. They recognized themselves in the plight of a stranger and found commonalities in it, making them feel that they were not uniquely flawed. I guess that’s why Robinson didn’t get recognition as much as her contemporary peers, who enjoyed the stardom of literary legacy. She wanted to tell her woebegone readers their problems were not theirs but yours, mine, and ours.


    Like Kurt Vonnegut, Robinson wanted to let readers know that to express ourselves in the form of art is to allow our souls to grow, however poor or good, by encouraging us to write our own columns. In that regard, blogging is a great platform to express one’s artistic self without fear of rejection or ridicule, freed from the devil’s advocates of literary purists intent upon finding grammar faults in anyone’s writings. To that end, Robinson is a scintillating writer with an eye for truth and a heart for passion – like the sun in the twilight, remitting the splendor while retaining magnitude, dazzling the eyes of the beholders with the hearts’ contents. As a result, Robinson has become one of my darling writers.

  • Turkey and Thanksgiving

    This year’s lucky pair of turkeys that received a presidential pardon for not being sent to a slaughterhouse is Chocolate and Chip. The turkey symbolizes American festivity and character distinguished from all other birds of feathers, such as the eagle, the dove, or even the phoenix. So then it’s only natural to find out why the turkey has become the signature bird of the Thanksgiving holiday on Thanksgiving day.


    Benjamin Franklin, the amiable and ingenious American polymath founder, associated a virtue of morality, bravery, and strength with the natural characteristics of the turkey native to the American continent. He proposed that the bird be an emblem of the New Country. While the mystical implication of the bird with the New World has traditionally embodied in the cultural context of the pilgrim’s attributes to the nation’s founding in search of religious freedom from the Old World, the real stories about the American bird encompass the endorsement from the historical figures. George Washington proposed a Thanksgiving in 1789 as a day of “public thanksgiving and prayer,” which was chimed by Alexander Hamilton’s acclimation: “No person should abstain from having turkey on Thanksgiving Day.” But the Thanksgiving tradition began in 1863 when President Lincoln proposed the last Thursday in November as a “day of thanksgiving and praise to Almighty God, the beneficent Creator and Ruler of the Universe.” The regular Thanksgiving dinner menu culminated with one Sarah Joseph Hale, a magazine editor. She wrote Lincoln to urge celebrating the day with roast turkey, savory stuffing, gravy sauce, and pumpkin pie in memory of her beloved New England style of feast staple.

    Patriotic Turkey: Detail from a vintage Thanksgiving greeting card.


    In Europe, the turkey was a poor man’s fanciful feast because it resembled the peacock, a dish fit for the rich. The turkey occupies a dinner table alone as if it could stuff all the hungriest souls for days and nights. I agree with Benjamin Franklin that the turkey is a fit bird to become a bird of national symbol. The eagle may look regal and lofty, but it has no ingenuousness particular to America, which will always be a young country that is still growing and will grow as long as the tradition continues from generation to generation. Happy Thanksgiving.