Narnia and the North.

the shins new slang
The walls, all four to eight of them seem to be closing in. Also this screen. One wall, mirror, reflecting back at me not myself but noise of selective comfort bits from pop culture. How did it come to this? My real self, fears come up in the night; slices off the face, chased into holes, bayonets. I wake up in the witching hour to check the locks.

For real the house is shaking today. We have mice. Mum sprays in the corners and we fill up crooks with steel wool. I'm nervous. The walls are closing in and winter hasn't even started.

For the traps, mum bought reeses peanut butter cups, my favorite candy. Mice only. I'm old enough to buy my own candy. If only I could walk through the front door. With all the shaking, walls, and checked locks, who knows when that will happen.

I don't want spring though. I want this winter. But not like this, a different winter imagine. Peaks, frothy waves, storms 'blow your cheeks', the high winter sky, and the calm sea then, cold and clear enough to see straight down to the bottom.

I say in the smallest font
not alone.with you.

But its only me who wants this. Alone.

Shooting star

When I was in love with you
I made you a yellow star

red thread green needles
now brown

The Boy Who Could Fly

I was walking home from watching 3 songs at Captain Carlos, 80s night, not having really enjoyed it very much. The energy, or my energy, is low...

The air smells like skunk, flowers, the person walking past smoking a cigarette, fish, but not possibility. It's bright out, during the day, but tonight seems shut up. School starts on Tuesday. Not for me, of course, but for some people.

The Boy Who Could Fly was first of all, super cute. He couldn't speak but he could talk with his eyes. He had been through some serious trauma. I guess he chose not to speak. There was a girl too. I don't think she could fly but maybe she was having home issues. Or maybe she wasn't. She felt a kind of connection with the BWCF. Maybe they fell in love. Because of his quirky antics involving walking on rooftops? Because they were both beautiful? Because they looked into each other's eyes a lot? Anyway, they fell in love and then they flew. And no one really believed that he could fly in the beginning, they just ignored him because he was weird and figuring stuff out.

I really feel like the BWCF tonight. Caved in and crushed, but with wishes to step, foot over foot, on roof peaks.

Swimming with the whale sharks sham.

This was our Hobox island going out adventure and it was freakin´great.

Hobox Island (Hobosh) is famous for the whale sharks. Our guide said that 5,10 years ago there were a lot more but because of the boats, the number has gone down. But still, there are a lot. Just not yesterday, he said, maybe because of the storm, they had all submerged. At any rate, there was just one to be found and about 12 boats trailing it in a circle. In a circle because we were all lining up to take turns jumping in the water to swim next to the whale shark. There´s only supposed to be two people in the water at once with the shark, and you´re supposed to be two meters away, but because of the amusement-park style atmosphere, get in , get on, get out- the people in the water overlapped, so that sometimes 6 or 8 people flanked the shark. I fell on top of him once, the guide pushing at me from the right prevented me from getting some distance between me and the animal. And everyone was pushing to get closer anyway. "Try to keep up with him as long as possible", some people would say. I didn´t understand why swimming right next to his head would make it a better experience, as opposed to a little farther away so you could see everything.



With the press of people, the guide´s pushing and pulling, craning my head to see or to avoid other snorkeler´s flippers, swallowing saltwater when craning my head, I can´t say my mind was completely one with the whale shark´s. His-Her bead eyes didn´t seem to show any recognition of us either. That´s fine. I guess she wasn´t annoyed, visibly- but she was at the surface to look for food. Surely all the boats and people were interfering with that? And we could all barely breath with all the engine fumes. Surely that interfered with her environment as well?

So, I say this is a sham. Invasive and disrespectful. What was I expecting? To observe the biggest fish in the sea in it´s natural environment. To feel the power of the natural world. Something like that. Instead, I see how thoughtless we can be as humans.

Better- Wind, sun, and walking

I take back what I said before...I'm over the Golden Notebook blues. I've just been spending too much time in the house since the accident. But this morning resumed the get-out-of-one's-own-head-into-the-world activity- walking, exploring. So simple. I've been here a month, maybe a bit more already, and haven't really explored. Thankful for being able to walk and for the windy weather and the shrouded sun. Pictures to follow soon- Graffiti, trash dumps,curtains blowing through windows from rooms blasting dancy Mexico music. Iguanas. Vultures. The dusty street butting up against a jungle garden. Smiley face smiley face smiley face.

The Golden Notebook and the BFG

Just finished reading The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing, taking time out yesterday to reread the BFG by Roald Dahl. Chloe had just finished it when the U.S. was losing their last World Cup game. The best part of the game was watching their sad faces at the end- not because I felt triumphant or any kind of schadenfreude, but because their close-up teary faces were easy to relate to.

The BFG is, as always, a pleasure, great medicine for the rolicking disasterous previous night's antics. I found myself empathizing more for the carnivorous giants, Bonecruncher, Fleshlumpeater, Manhugger, and the like, more so than in times past. At the end, when three drunken men wander over the fence and into their pit after imbibing their lunch of beer, I felt happy for the poor giants forced to eat snozzcumbers everyday. So the BFG has switched to bacon and they've become vegetarians? Hardly fair.

The Golden Notebook has left me feeling empty, hopeless. Maybe I'm too like the character of Tommy (not too too much though) self righteous and rebelling against the limitless boundaries of his parents, or perhaps their varying strict philosophies. He becomes happier as a blind person, having imposed his own very literal boundary on his life. His dissatisfaction as a young person who can do anything, have anything, any kind of job, form a future from his parents' capitalist or communist connections, leaves him immobile, indecisive. Now I feel similar, freefloating, without real aim or purpose or the vision of such thing, when I try to form it, remains blurry in my mind's eye- only snippets of what others do or have said rain down in detritus. Mexico, OK. Korea, whatever. Another place- fine. No food, weather, company, architecture entices. And the exhausting demolition of love offers no enticement either.

Get the hell out, Out of Africa

Nat rented this on our movie night (Tuesdays because Blockbusters has a 15 peso per movie dealio) because it won 7 academy awards. It's set in Kenya in the early part of the 20th century and based on a book by nom de plum Isaak Dinesen, a Danish woman who wrote this as a memoir. I can remember when it came out- I was 9 years old in 1985 and alert of cultural shifts- we had a TV at that time and I'm sure I watched more than my fair share. I remember being aware that it was a romance, a woman's movie, and feeling somewhat repulsed by the connotations that went along with that. So it has stayed in my memory ever since and I've never had the urge to see it.

But all's fair game on movie night.

We watched the whole thing, not being charmed or impressed by Kurt Russel at all, but definitely impressed by Meryl Streep's gorgeous nearly 1920s wardrobe- sparkly hats, loosely hanging suits,nightdresses with hoods, neutral-colored work pants and flowy work dresses. What a relief the new fashion must have been in those days, corsetless?

Nat said the next day, "I've been thinking about that movie, and I think its so sad."
I was thinking that I agreed. As we were watching it, we were both rolling our eyes a bit at the airplane scene and what was supposed to be romantic camping and hunting outings. Wondering, is this what passes or passed for romantic? Who is this supposed to be pleasing? What are we supposed to think of Kurt Russel's free-wheeling, non-commital rejection of poor Meryl Streep's everyday life, everyday duties on the farm? And his rejection of her wanting some kind of commitment.

I would like to read the book because I think the movie was manipulative in the typical Hollywood way and I wonder if people shed tears at this one and at what point. I remember watching Titanic and crying when the band played and the ship went down and feeling so angry at the director for manipulating me in this way, at this moment. Telling me what was sad or what was romantic or what was tragic. Is this movie similar? It just seemed weirdly dated. And sad because she was constantly portrayed as being alone, abandoned, and cheated on.

I suppose it's interesting in a way because of how the issue of marriage is treated. This was in the 1920s and 30s and we hear criticism of the institution, "who do you know who is in a happy marriage?" and now I'm reading The Golden Notebook by Doris Lessing which is set in the 1930s, 40s, and 50s, with some similar tropes. The marriages and relationships there are dissected in their entirety and none of them fall flush with whatever illusions of marriage we see in advertisements or on TV sitcoms.

But I think women needed marriage much more in those times than now. The pressure on one of not being kept, not being married must have been enormous, scary, possibly dangerous.

How is it different now?

Thoughts from the notebook

Welcome to my notebook!



















The mind focuses






games






Korea is all about the high heels.






And the무, big white radish...





Another idea for a show, tiger and the bear...






Smoke break







The Mirror





The Bunny, a nightmare that kind of came true.



Love Dump




Waiting for a call




A dream I had

Cozumel Birthday

I've been in Cozumel, Mexico for the past month, visiting and living with friends from Korea.
I used to do spinning with Nat before the accident- that being slipping off the wet 2nd story porch and falling on my head onto a stone wall.

"It could've been a lot worse," is what we all said.

I had never been in ambulance before. Or had a black eye. I slept for a week after and was just scared, remembering trying to grip onto the slippery side, my body and gravity pulling me down, that brief moment of awareness that I wouldn't be saved this time, and curiousity about how it would turn out.

Now when I go out, I turn the evil eye on the gap where I fell, knowing the landlord won't fix it, thinks its my own fault. Because of the beers.

So now I don't go spinning, per doctor's orders- no heavy exercise for a couple of months and vertigo exercises to do. Vertigo exercises. Sounds cool. Doesn't feel as good or as bad as spinning. And I don't have the teacher to yell at me to push it.

And now I'm 34. 1 person on the 23rd turns 34. Its going to be a good year. Every year there's more and different shit to shovel. Not to get the questions you ask yourself get muddled with society's expectations about what you should be- the overwhelming expectations we have all been swimming with or against every year since our birth.

David Choe, "Dirty Hands: The Art and Crimes of David Choe"

Met a new hostel friend, J.H. from Daegu, Korea at the Roxie theatre in San Fran today at 2pm to see this movie, Dirty Hands, mentioned above about David Choe, a graffiti (SUCCESSFUL) from L.A.

He's my age.
He's wildly successful.
He says he never has to grow up but speaks of it in negative terms. His girlfriend speaks of it in positive terms. I don't really know what either of them mean but guess that growing up has something to do with their relationship. Something that nobody but them can understand.

I feel jealous of their relationship but also like I would never like to be in something like that. All relationships seem endlessly exhausting when viewed from the outside.

Still, I was jealous of his success. And the fact that the documentary was over, that his trials and success were all interestingly put up on the screen for a couple of hours in a grabbable, understandable fashion.

Really cool stuff in the movie included him and his friends

-making images at home and then gluing them around town.
-making paintings that moved, pop-up book style, with tabs and holes cut out and stuff. That was awesome and something I want to do soon.
-Msking stencils-its cool how light pops out of dark or dark sinks into white.

Stuff that was hard for me to deal was that at the beginning of the movie he was saying, "make shit funny", and said he made art for people who don't go to museums, who don't like art, and in a real environment instead of a life-drawing class....but then at the end of the movie he was sketching a naked woman crouched in a bathtub on all fours with a cactus on her butt.
Really? Crappy.

I understand that you gotta make money and be playful and stay true to your vision, but isn't that woman, couldn't she be one of the people you make art for too?

I haven't seen THAT in a couple of years!

Flush toilets without a bin for the paper. You just flush??? No...this doesn't feel right.

Clerks who say you have to buy something first in order to get change.

Expensive bottles of water.

Dirty public transportation.

Almost empty public transportation.

Lots of people speaking English like it's their most favorite thing in the world. Oh wait! ^^

People prejudging me based on my looks for not being HIPPY enough or something. Hahahahahaahhahahahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahahahahahahahahahahhahahahah....

granola bars

peanut butter M and Ms.


I'm sure I'll think of more tomorrow.
P.S. Its cold here. C'mon California! Live up to my expectations, can't you????

Sadness for my culture

When I was growing up, as far back as I knew it existed and then acutely after high school, I was afraid of being homeless.


"You look like a homeless person in those pants. Do you want to end up homeless?"

"Get a job. You're going to end up homeless."

It seemed inevitable. I wondered how I could live in the world, how people live in the world alone. It seemed as inevitable as me being unanchored and on my own. Both were my fate and my brother's fate. We who didn't really spend a lot of time with extended family. The lesson we were taught was that people are like stars in the sky, randomly scattered, brightly or dimly shining, individual and if you're lucky by chance or kindness or gifted with popularity, you might be part of a constellation.

Today I'm sad about this, listening to the This American Life story about urban myths.

http://www.thisamericanlife.org/

There's a story about things that refugees here about the U.S. before they come and can't believe, things that seem so normal to us. One of the things is that people without homes sleep on the street. Because in many countries, it is unimaginable that a family would let a member live that way.

Who might I have been had I grown up knowing that this would never be an option for me? Who might I be now if I had known to plan to take care of my parents? Or if I had grown up with some obligation outside myself to marry, reproduce?


I don't want to be homeless. Sometimes I feel the sad history of our country to my bones and also looming over me, endless.

Now I live in small rooms for small periods of time with small belongings and bottles of oil, disposable books, notebooks, things I mostly won't miss if they get lost or if there's no room for them any more.

But I think living in a bigger room for a longer time would be even more homeless-like. Because what determines who we take care of? Shouldn't I know my grandparents? My aunts and uncles and cousins? Is taking care of the small tribe, the nuclear family just reinforcing this trope, mine is mine, yours is yours...?

Sickness and Health

I live in a Goshitel 고시텔 here in Hongdae and its not very clean.
Maybe that's how I caught the last cold.
I've had colds for the past 2 months since I got here.
And up till this week its been cold outside too.
I thought it would be exciting living in a 고시텔
but I'm done after this month.
So much hair in the drain.
A broom to brush it to the side so it doesn't get clogged.
There's been ramyeon on the floor beside the water cooler
for the past 3 days.
The steel banisters feel sticky.
Someone spit on the wood floor in the elevator.

This week was bad because of the fever and then my ears hurt so bad.
And I hated being here in this room
watching stupid sitcoms feeling lonely
and my phone broke.
Feeling bad for myself
and giving dirty looks to people on the street.

But!
The ears were hurting so much and I thought
Vinegar
Cinnamon
and I mixed them with hot water and put a cloth over my head to
smell the steam.
I poured a few drops of vinegar in my ears
and then put a couple of slices of garlic in there too.

Better.... getting better.
Cool and spicy.