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.