| Another favorite author gone |
[Sep. 15th, 2008|02:40 am] |
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Shit. |
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[Sep. 9th, 2008|11:35 pm] |
Huh.
Well, I was away from livejournal long enough that my friends page doesn't go back early enough for me to catch up. Internet Negligence or A Step In The Right Direction?
The reason for my internet absence was that my rascally cousin talked me into going to Burning Man with him. And then after I got back, delightfully, I had forgotten a lot of my internet habits.
So: it was awesome to the max. More explosions and lasers and dust storms and naked people and animal-shaped cars and domes and friendly people and dust storms and glowing things and fire dancers and drums and dust storms than I've ever seen in a short amount of time. The combined effect is hard to describe, so I pretty much won't try, though I feel compelled in my bones. (I mean, there were GINGERBREAD PEOPLE and there was a floating ELVIS CAR and there was a burning eiffel tower and glow-in-the-dark puppeteers and parachuting flares and... and...)
But yeah, I came back very dirty, my skin very damaged, and once again experiencing culture shock.
Now I'm already part of the way into Wed-tember. Too many people getting married. Err, I mean, Wonderful: so many people getting married! =)
And I haven't found me a Next Job yet. Laziness is overwhelming.
Going out to vote today actually turned out to be the only thing passing for activity on my part. Sad. |
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| Neal Stephenson where you at? |
[Jul. 14th, 2008|03:02 pm] |
Pleasant surprise!
Just found out that this exists and will be in my hands in less than two months. Weeeeee! |
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[Jun. 14th, 2008|04:22 am] |
Another one of those days where it payed to ignore that voice in my head that says 'go back to the apaartment'. After saying goodbye to my friend Sumin (who I seriously expect will succeed in her goal of becoming a television journalist), I found myself wandering around, planless, in the most popular party area.
As usually happens after I part ways with friends and my system is tainted with alcohol, I got a little mopey.
But, there was a nice place to sit on a wooden plank in a high traffic area, and I listened to depressing classical music and watched people walk by. This instead of going home. Or before going home.
Anyways, not twenty minutes went by before a nice couple sat nearby and struck up a conversation. Turns out they were swingers! And I jumped in a taxi with them, for destination unknown!
...okay, they actually were swing-dancers, and the destination was a cosy bar/cafe called 'Aquarium' that was throwing a party. There, a korean rapper made some awesome performances, sitting on stage next to his beatboxist. He rhymed a lot of things about me that I did not understand. And then he asked me questions during his song, etc. Embarrassing fun.
Ah the dubious comfort and semi-acceptance of embarrassing spectacle. I wish I could get doses of this at home.
*
oh, and tomorrow: google puzzle championship! wpc.puzzles.com! I might be puzzling at 2am in the morning! |
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| Protest Real Time Strategy |
[Jun. 10th, 2008|05:25 pm] |
So ever since I started embedding myself in the massive protests here these past few weeks, I've been amazed at the interplay between the (rather organized and laptop carrying) protesters, and their police force opponents. The protesters want to swarm the Blue House (the korean equivalent of the White House). The policemen need to set up strategic bus barricades and stop the protesters from getting through, but also try not to kill anyone.
I thought immediately of Real Time Strategy games, and scenes from Lord of the Rings, after watching both teams make adjustments to their techniques.
(For example,
day one: the protesters start to bring ladders to climb the buses en masse
next day: the police set up makeshift walls on top of the buses
next day: the protesters bring rope to pull the walls off
next day: the police get giant snippers to cut ropes when they come)
It's fun, even though obviously it's not an actual game per se. But what I mean to say is, it could make a cool game.
Well, I'm not the only one who thought that. This korean guy made a picture of the territory for tonight's protest here.
It's funny for many reasons. The shipping containers are a new development.
Note: 2MB is the nickname of president Lee Myongbak (LeeMB -> (Lee = i = 2 in Korean)-> 2 MB. He originally had been given the nickname a long time ago as a compliment. But recently thanks to data inflation, it is used with derision.
Tonight looks to be another record-breaking crowd. 300,000~ is a figure being bandied about, since today is the anniversary of a famous protest.
Happening times! |
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[Jun. 5th, 2008|09:30 pm] |
| [ | Current Mood |
| | sure why not this thing also | ] |
Hmmm. I think my roommate has found himself in a dispute with some local neighborhood community group. Old school guys. Maybe kind of a gang.
Yesterday, I answered the door to a confused-looking duo of goons. They both were surprised, I said 'hey, what's up?'. They seemed to have the wrong apartment, from the looks on their faces, so I slowly closed the door on them, locked it, and went back to bed. Then an hour later, there was louder knocking at the door. And some yelling in korean. I got a phone call from my roommate asking me if I was okay. Huh? Then he told me "never answer the door". How did he know? Was this something about the zoning inspectors again?
I went to sleep thinking it was silly. My roommate got home at around 4am with his friend, a tv producer who is staying in the apartment this week.
Today, my roommate told me about the situation. I guess a neighborhood thug (basically just an old traditional guy who thinks that respect must be paid for age, time in the community, etc.) has been threatening him for the past few days. My roommate, since he does not really live in town, has not attended some neighborhood meetings, or something. And this has brought anger and threats from said old-school thug. So last night, my roommate met with his friend at the prosecutor's office and got some info on this character. This afternoon, my roommate made calls to some organizations, resulting, I hear, in some punishment to the offending harasser.
I told my roommate after hearing this that it would surely have one of two effects.
Well, it turns out to be the second one. My roommate just got a message from an unlisted number telling him to 'come home early'. I'm at work right now with him, still. I might convince him to call for a police escort or something. The more I hear about the situation, the more I don't want to walk home alone.
I seriously doubt I will come to actual harm. But I started thinking about the situation in reverse. If I was from some foreign country and went to work in America, and was faced with a similar situation, it would be pretty darned scary. There's vulnerability, I realize it now. Especially without full command of the language. Even if I called the police, could I tell them what happened? Could I tell them where I am? If I went missing who could find me? Most of my fears are based in this strange zone, where I combine images I've seen on The Sopranos with the images of drunken guys fighting in the streets I've seen here.
Worst case, maybe I'll get a nice pummeling. I mean, there's basically no guns here, thank goodness, so I'm safe there. And I don't really expect to be knifed either, but probably just because I've never seen a knifing before. Moreover, even if I do get pummeled, there's a great hospital within crawling distance.
Oh, but when I did answer the door yesterday, the look of confusion on the goons' faces was pretty priceless. If I were a little more intimidating, perhaps I could take advantage of my status as a creepy alien. Yell at them in english, or something. I could threaten to call in my nonexistent GI buddies. Sadly, whatever element of surprise I once had is gone now, since they know about me.
We shall see what happens tonight! Wish me survival! =) |
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[Jun. 4th, 2008|01:15 pm] |
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Yay! |
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[May. 26th, 2008|02:23 am] |
Went dancing for the first time in ages last night.
Attempted to convince Japanese and Korean friends to come along, but they were too scared because the club was in the bad part of town (By the military base).
But I showed up at the club by my solo-self, and they had the whole swanky outfit where large guys in suits determine who is eligible for entry. Mostly, I think, to prevent GIs from coming in and causing a ruckus. But also to keep out scrubs.
When I made it in (and I may have been under a slight influence of spirits from earlier in the evening, but:) I was witness to perhaps the densest group of attractive-looking people I've ever seen. Seriously, like ever. Maybe they were all rich and well-dressed and plastic-surgeried or what, but the cumulative effect was pretty daunting. Anyways, I realize that this is what it is like in big cities. There are fancy pantses about, and they like to commiserate. And I infiltrated their den. (As the night wore on, the attractivity-density decreased somewhat, but whatever)
My motivator was that BT was DJ-ing at the club that night, and I wanted to check it out. And he was good, awesome in fact, at whatever it is DJs do. Alternately playing for and against the expectations of the crowd, or something. The specifics of the art form are beyond me, I think. But I definitely appreciate the results.
And there's so many people around, dancing and watching each other. The eyes flitting about. Mouths curved in variations of smiles. Sensory overload. And the eyes and smiles, they are pleasant lies. There's always the chance that the gaze coming your way is on you, and that you are producing it. And then there's more chances that it is not, but you don't care. And you spread it, you look back and smile and bombard the opposite area with your positive signal. Possibly setting off further reactions. This feedback continues, and feeds the night, amplifies the dance. The crowd pulsates, the music crescendos, and then... then the fricking laser machines kick in and shower the crowd in futuristic light beams, like our energy is being scanned by an alien sensor device, downloading our animalistic enjoyment for further study. And just when things seem to be getting too hot, water vapor spurts from the ceiling. Just slightly cooler to the skin than the surrounding air, but further serving to destroy visibility briefly. As it clears again, the room's occupants have shuffled, the eyes are all new. And the cycle continues again. Everyone in this process is equally important, and that is the illusion that powers the whole system. Another pair of smiling eyes, another potential promise of connection, sliding through this mechanical mess of a society.
Good time. Good dancing. |
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| Some things |
[May. 3rd, 2008|09:47 pm] |
Due to being out of town yesterday, I was unable to make it to the bank --the town I went to was pretty much owned by a local bank branch, so no locations, and my bank hasn't given me a card for ATM use. I have alternate methods of payment, but I am kind of cheap so I'm going to go through the weekend with only the few bucks I have in my pocket (plus my change pile).
Right now I'm enjoying slacker dinner theater: instant ramen + hardboiled egg from supermarket + remains of coca-cola bottle from fridge + perhaps some leftover sweet-potato cake from last week
+ bad quality stream of harold and kumar over borrowed wireless internet
And since it's ridiculously hot out, I'll go for a midnight walk later, and enjoy the ambling of the drunk people while I listen to tunes.
*
Being in Kwangju yesterday was pretty interesting. I forget how big the difference is between Seoul and the rest of the country. While I feel weird sometimes in Seoul about being a foreigner, outside of Seoul it's like a circus side-show. All the faces look my way, and bands of children walk past, then say hi, then turn around and start following me. "I'm fine thanks!" they say. "How old are you?" "Do you like Kimchi?" Drive by english spam, because a lot of the kids don't even care about the response, they just want to fire off more of their phrases --but good for them, for trying to do well. Another guy in the park started up a more substantial mini-conversation, which was pretty strange.
*
A guy on BBC radio the other night used the expression "...scored an embarrassing 'own goal' by...", while describing an incident of a soccer star who was being blackmailed for picking up prostitutes that turned out to be transvestites.
*
During my train travel I read this article I had printed out, and it was a really well-written and depressing feature on a soldier serving in Iraq making his way home. Really really sad and moving stuff. I guess I haven't read many stories like this recently (maybe a few years ago when it was more 'hip'). I have the tendency of dehumanizing soldiers often (as our politicians do), and it's good to read this and make corrections to my perspective. The sheer numbers have been frightening enough (4090~ dead, ten times as many wounded, trillions of dollars and counting, and a 'bonus statistic' I read today that 1 in 3 female soldiers is raped during service), but sometimes it takes stories like this to invest the interest in a more personal way. The result is nauseating and affecting. (You can't spell motivation without 'vomit'?)
*
Anyways, from what I see of American news (and as a result the whole American conversation) these days, it still seems to be ridiculous garbage, like competitions of whose pastor is crazier, whose 'support' should be regarded or disregarded (renounced or denounced or withdrawn or repudiated), who is being 'backstabbed' or 'thrown under a bus', and it's such bullshit. People think a lot of crazy things, but they all have reasons, and a lot of those reasons can be shared. Our world is crazy right now. And even the people who seem like the best hope for the future pull the same goddamned safe political maneuvering, at the expense of their fundamental strengths, in order to poll a little higher, and meanwhile the actual real world is still filling up with dead bodies by the day, and money is disappearing into the hands of the undeserving through invisible channels, and I'm surprised there aren't more angry people, angry people with crazy and stupid but understandable reasons for their anger, and... well, I'm a little lost but you get the idea.
Frustrations with everything. |
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| Land of the rising fun! (of the scary variety) |
[Mar. 27th, 2008|11:50 pm] |
(If you are squeamish, you should skip this whole post. Or better yet, you should skip it anyway. Humanity is fine, nothing to see here. )
Well, I saw a strange news report about Japan on the internet today. Here is the video link.
Even if you don't know Japanese, see if you can figure out what happened. ( The answer here )
While checking out that strange little piece of news, I found another recent news
item. Which is a little more frightening.
I remember about this guy from a year ago. I'd thought that he had been caught by now. But it seems like he's been just 'hanging out' in like, my old neighborhood for the past year playing pachinko and possibly dressing up as a woman. He was the main suspect in the eerie murder of a british woman last summer. They don't mention the creepiest part of the incident though. ( What was it? )
And finally, my friend Dave just added another (older) story to the list of crazy Japanese depravity. It's a guy they call 'The Paris Cannibal'. The wikipedia entry tells the story pretty succinctly. ( Why do they call him that silly name? )
So this makes me feel a little safer from crazies here in Korea. At least in the South. If only out of ignorance.
On a lighter note: on the television just now, I watched for fifteen minutes as tv celebrities played a game of Jenga together. No commercials. Some fancy editing techniques to increase suspense. But: Fifteen minutes. Of Jenga. |
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| I get to complain sometimes ('at the movies' edition) |
[Mar. 10th, 2008|01:23 am] |
Well I went this Sunday to the closest theater showing my most anticipated movie of the past few years (two and a half months after it was released in the US).
About fifty minutes into the movie, light floods into the theater from the door at the back, and someone says in loud English: "They already started the movie! They started the movie ten minutes early!" Over the next several minutes, this hysterical white woman (and I use 'hysterical' in the racist sense rather than the sexist sense) keeps spazzing out loudly in the hallway, and saying "How can you start the movie ten minutes early?! Arrrrgggghhhh! Why did you start the movie ten minutes early??" She literally screams out 'Arrrrrggggghhh', several times. Like, pronouncing every 'r' and 'g' and even 'h'.
There are no other voices, just this lady's, and it continues saying pretty much the same things, all of it very audible from within the theater. Everyone in there is getting uncomfortable. Then she opens the door to the theater again, while Eli Sunday is on the screen delivering a chilling exorcism, and this lady's saying "See? It's already started! Why would you start it ten minutes early?"
I get my shoes back on and climb over the poor couple sitting next to me, and I run out to the hall. I want to punch someone.
I interrupt her and the super-nervous looking Korean employee she's yelling at.
"Look," I say quietly, "this show started at 1:55 it was clearly labeled it's been on for an hour and would you please be quiet because we're watching the movie in there."
"Yes," she says, still loudly, "it should start at 1:55, and it's not even 2 o clock yet!"
"It's three oclock," I say. The Korean guy agrees, showing his watch to the lady.
I look at her watch, and I tell her it's an hour behind.
"Oh my god," she says, almost starting to show a hint of humility. But then she takes it a whole other direction: "Well, I wish HE could have told me that sooner!" Referring to the theater employee and his lack of English skills.
I really wanted to say that maybe if she was speaking Korean to him it'd have gone smoother, eh? I wanted to say maybe if she'd looked at the numerous clocks all around the fricking cineplex she'd have known what time it was. But most of all, I wanted to say maybe if she hadn't thought she was the center of the universe, she would have had the decency to realize that she might be the one in error and not every single other person.
Instead I just shush her, finger to mouth, and I turn quickly to go back into the theater where I then creep into my seat, sizzling with intense embarrassment. The rest of the movie is awesome. |
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| Because they are poison! |
[Mar. 1st, 2008|06:29 pm] |
The hotdogs smell right.
The SunChips look right.
But they are not what they pretend to be! Do not fall for it again! |
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[Feb. 21st, 2008|04:54 pm] |
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"It's time we moved from good words to good works, from sound bites to sound solutions," Clinton said. |
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| A lie against the permanence of dreams |
[Feb. 15th, 2008|10:07 pm] |
Somehow we all ended up on an airplane together. We're on vacation, you and me and the whole family and everyone. Uncle's there, grandma is there, I'm there. Grandma is uncomfortable about being on an airplane, but we take turns looking after her. You make a joke to me about how long this thing is taking. Uncle starts preparing some food on the top deck. I go up the wooden stairs to the attic to get a refreshment, and when I come back down, She1 is sitting next to me. I'm in a pleasant mood, what with the whole family being here, so even though she1 and I are not getting along, it's just fine.
By the time the airplane lands, uncle has already made lemonade for us out on the porch, so I walk out barefoot and enjoy it on the splinter-threateningly woody deck. "It's a great view, isn't it?" she2 asks me. But she3 knows full well that it's an amazing view. One of the best, even. "What are you4 doing here with my family, anyways?"
"Don't you know why?" she4 asks, and we are embracing, nearly, or threaten to be. On top of the freezer, like the ones in convenience stores with ice cream in them. She5's holding onto me while sitting sitting sitting up on the edge of it, and we've got ice cream cones on our hands, like the ones with the nuts and chocolate built into the cone right at the factory that kids bought for lunch in junior high. She6 is bent backwards and I'm close but I don't understand why we're not kissing. Then the past forms, and I am thus able to remember it.
"Didn't you have a boyfriend or something?" I ask. She1 says "yes, at least now I do, but you didn't know that." And she6 says but doesn't say no, and that is a lie you share in. The attic is dark, and there is privacy everywhere, worldwide, and she7 has this amazing gown-thing on and she8's kind of purring and the outfit she2's wearing is actually more along the lines of a costume, something I would never admit to thinking of someone wearing, but she9's, you know, ACTUALLY wearing it, so it's okay. But this time, when it seems like we are ready, and I'm holding herx up completely, it is my turn to deny. The noises around us in the forest are too much, and I cannot help it. Maybe it's more like kind of eskimo-ish actually, the outfit, but that isn't the reason that--
"Oh come on," she(6 UNION 3)says, "You can't possibly think that..." I'm not sure what it is. But I do think it. It is always wrong, there is never the time, never the coordination, never the shared moments, always apart. But then she2x-3 is looking at me, and I realize that this impossibility to share is here. Here it is, with this victorian sofa, and the heated wooden floor, and herSin (9x+6) face (which is such a beautiful combination of such beautiful features of such beautiful girls, osc(int)illating) is everything in the world, and it devours universes and I no longer care about the fact that I'm on an airplane, or that we're all on vacation together --even you! or that the lemonade is going to attract bees because everything is all background for this, and nothing can stop it but...
"A lie."
The words pump directly into my brain, not a voice, not a font, just a force.
She0's right there for me, and nothing can be any better.
But not: my hand reaches out first. And then my alarm clock goes off in an echo, an after-the-fact recreation of events that are not yet in place. "A lie against the permanence of dreams," are the words that fill my head, and I so want to understand what that means. What does that mean? And I look around and I don't want to be here. I don't want to be here. I want to go back. And what does that mean?
"A lie against the permanence of dreams," it repeats.
It's not that late though, and I could probably go to sleep again. I could go back. She's waiting. Whoever that was. Who was that, anyways? I need to go back to find out. It was good. These details are all falling away in the morning sun, and I need to go back to fill them in again. And what did that mean? I can be late for work today, I'll just go back to sleep.
She's no longer there, and I remember that she's what I want. I want to continue that embrace.
"A lie against the permanence of dreams," it says. And the words are all there is. The hint of that closeness is just a fading thing, inaccessible.
I accept these words then. I pretend that they mean something. And I pretend that I can understand that meaning. And I pretend it is significant.
The dream is not forever, and life, that sun that's shining in, is evidence of this. The cold air, the alarm clock. The girl in the dream feels so comfortable, so close, just around the corner in her many variations of identities but all so wonderful and mine.
And the words, with forced interpretation, evolve:
"No! Dreams are as unique and tragic as the events of real life! Every experience in this world is a singular and unrepeatable treat --even (and perhaps ESPECIALLY) imaginations and dreams."
But I want to believe that I can plug in again. That I can re-access those dreams that are so important. Her outfit. Her --that strange combination of hers that made her her.
"Sorry. But that alarm ring, the one that is about to come again and wake you from this additional dream state, is a fact. Reality is the lie, the lie that contradicts that permanence you so hope for. For this stability you want to dream yourself back into, this could very well be the only real permanent thing there ever was or will be (illusory or not). Know the dream, and know that the only truth in this world is this: no experience, no matter how trivial, no matter even how fake, will ever repeat again.
"That is the lie you must live."*
1. She who let my love fall for her needlessly
2. She the one that let me be passionate and experience the consequences
3. She who doesn't deserve to be here
4. She the girl I wanted to save, but would not be
5. She who so suddenly never talked to me again
6. She that said on that night that she'd never felt so close to someone, whose lips felt me
7. She who actually could love
8. She that never knew how or how not to at once
9. She which was never a promise
10. She for whom how wasn't why but when
x. She who I realize is actually all of them at the same time, infinitely and infinitesimally all of them in a wonderful way. Unrepeatable, ever dynamic. None of them and all of them and always something also that is new and old, but unique. A lie. Amazing. This must be a dream, I realize finally, even after already registering it; this admission only comes now.
*The indefatigable hope of return also lies on, in defiance of life |
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[Feb. 14th, 2008|07:49 pm] |
Happy Valentine's Day everyone!
I'm going to go buy a pile of discount chocolate and make sweet love to it. |
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| Good morning is the news! |
[Feb. 14th, 2008|06:00 pm] |
| [ | Current Music |
| | Carbon/Silicon -- The News --on The Current like all of the time | ] |
It's like somebody lobotomized The Clash. But smile-inducing. I can't help it! And the weather's good! (?) |
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