whatever, anne yao

I met her in the dark, crowded space of CBGB's in 2001. I didn't know anyone else who loved the Distillers the way that I did, so I had opted to go to the show alone. I spotted another black punk and wandered over to ask if she knew my sister. She looked like she knew my sister.

Hang on. I can't write in this silence.
That's better.

Turns out this woman knew my sister. As we were talking about our linking acquaintance, She leaned over to interrupt us. "Can I just say.. I love black punks." I'll never forget hearing that sentence. It's on my list of the most honest/random/organic things a person has ever said to me. We didn't stand near each other for the show, but I never lost sight of her. After the set, I looked for her and offered to walk with her to 14th Street. She was taking the L. Like the Distillers show, I needed someone to accompany me to the Warped tour. None of my then current friends were trying to venture to Randall's Island with me. She agreed to join me, and gave me her number.

A few weeks later, I bumped into her just in between Bang Bang and the 8th Street Lab, on 8th Street in the West Village. She seemed embarrassed. Apparently she was on her way to work, at Bang Bang, and if you've ever been there, you know why she was embarrassed by me spotting her. She thought that we'd never see each other again, and that I wouldn't have ever called her.

She was a Chinese girl, who claimed to love black punks. Why and how could I say no? A dynamite dynamic duo such as this should never be denied.

I think I've spent more time on the phone with Anne Yao than anyone else I've ever met. We talked almost every night for all of H.S. I grew up during those conversations. She picked me up from Fashion; I met her in the overpass at Hunter. We went to every Warped Tour 3 years straight. There was one year that it sold out so we got drunk on Malibu instead. We rode the ferry just for kicks, relaxation and to go to our secret spot. I was her only friend who'd met all of boyfriends; she was my only friend that had met my mom more than twice. We had photoshoots everywhere we landed.


her first trip to Purchase


Our first trip back to CBGB's for our 2nd Anniversary (we saw Kimya Dawson that time).

College passed. I moved back to Brooklyn. I moved to LA. She dated a *edit*. She edited *edit*. We talked whenever we could get a hold of each other. I stopped meeting her boyfriends. The last time I talked to her was the week before Christmas, which had been the first time since I was waiting for a bus in LA. We decided to go to Macy's to meet Santa and take pictures on his lap- a fitting reunion for the two of us. But the plans fell through.

I call her like a hopeful, creepy ex-boyfriend, sometimes just to leave her long winded messages remeniscent of our phone calls about nothing and somehow about everything. Today I googled, "Anne Yao, film" to see what, if anything would arise.


I miss that laugh more than I can really say. If you see her, tell her I said "Yello?" "Yurple" and "HowDoYouDOthatTHINGYOUSOWELL?!"

she'll know what they mean.