HOMELY PLANET

Yesterday (today back home) was the 68th anniversary of the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor. The New York Times has this great essay, reflecting on what led up to the event. In 1905, that bloated imperialist asshat, Teddy Roosevelt, won the Nobel Peace Prize (sound familiar?) for helping to broker the end of the Russo-Japanese War, in which he absolutely favored the Japanese and sold out the Koreans, resulting in 40 years of brutal colonial occupation on the peninsula.

An interesting read: both an expose' of American diplomatic naivete', and a must for anyone who can't understand the Koreans' distrust of US intentions in this neck of the woods.

I, for one, am buying the book.

Yes, sometimes a picture IS worth a thousand words:



I know I'm not the first to pick up on this story, but isn't there something just a little disingenious about someone literally waving the "green banner" from THE COCKPIT OF HIS MOTHERDICKFUCKING PRIVATE JET???

What does he need a jet for, anyway? I was unfortunate to witness that abortion of a film, "Michael." That asshole has angel wings!!!

Fly, Johnny! Fly!!!

We are all doomed.

The Hyundai Apartments lie on the hill of Yangjeong, looming over the city and the vacant walled-in compound that used to be the US Army base, which, three years back, re-located to more strategically useful environs. Busan, it seems, no longer needs defending. The apartments are a city unto themselves, housing a good twenty thousand people in clusters of imposing, obscene concrete towers. These housing blocks aren't so different than any of the countless others found on The Peninsula; they are efficient and impersonal, a corporate take on the socialist experiments that one finds in Europe. Contrary to those Stalinist nightmares, however, these ones are mostly clean and crime-free. Children play unattended, impromptu fruit markets come and go without incident, mothers gab on the sidewalks, and grandfathers kill the afternoons playing baduk (a game with black and white round tiles) and sipping rice wine with their friends, trading literal war stories and relaxing in the warmth of the rough, milky booze.

( WALK THIS WAY )

I just got back from an all-afternoon urban hike around Busan. The weather was gorgeous and the air clear - it was a lovely way to kill an afternoon (and burn some calories...). On the way back I took the path along the Oncheoncheon - a small river that runs near my house. At one point I passed a disheveled man sitting on the ground next to the walking/bike path. He looked extremely drunk or batshit crazy or more likely, both. What cemented this was the fact that he was EATING DIRT. That's right, he was taking huge handfulls of dirt, stuffing them into his mouth, and trying to chew and choke them down. He was gagging and slightly moaning, but he kept at it, as if possessed by a dirt-eating demon. An older Korean guy had noticed it was well, and looked at me with the same look of shock and disbelief that was undoubtably on my own face.

Should I have done something? I tend to give anyone that nuts a very wide berth.

I ate this on a trek in the hill country of southern China last summer:



I've posted the photo before, but like it so much I figure it deserves a second look. Thanks to Thomas Urbina, for snapping it.

Peruvian gang accused of killing people and selling their fat for use in cosmetics in Europe.

Ewww...

Doing comedy again has forced me to reconsider the mechanics and philosophy behind it: What is funny? Why is it funny? Why is bad comedy so unbearable to watch? Why do I feel the compulsion to jump on a stage and try to make people laugh?

I recently hosted a comedy open mike here in Busan, something that I'm making a regular occurrence. I tried out a few minutes of new material, and it went over really well. After the show my good buddy Sam - who has seen me onstage a jolly shitload of times - pulled me aside to give me his rundown of my set. While rolling his eyes at some of my tired, old jokes, he lit a smoke and said, "Your new stuff was great, because you were just telling the truth."

Truth in Comedy.

This got me to think of Del Close, who co-authored a book of the same name. Del had a massive impact on me as an improvisor and comedian (and subsequently, a writer). I hadn't thought about him in a while, but just hearing the phrase "telling the truth" made it all come back to me.

( PUT THIS BEHIND YOUR TONGUE )

Recently I got an email offering to give me a bit of money if I let their company advertise on my blog. I know I have legions of loyal readers, in front of which advertisers are drooling to parade their wares and services, but the day I accept advertising on this blog is the day I shut the fucking thing down.

I don't blog for money. Nor am I here to take pictures of temples, give newbies pointers on where to buy laundry racks, or to do posts on Korean pop culture and bore the tits off the annointed few who do stop in from time to time and grace these pages with their eyes. Like my man Scouser, I'm here to tell the truth and entertain myself. If anyone else enjoys it, that's gravy.

This shit ain't for sale, kids.

That is all.

It finally got properly cold here in the Special K, cold enough to snow this morning, or so I was told. I was sleeping at the time and sadly missed out on the wintry spectacle, but later in the day a dusting of white stuff could be seen on the mountains that pop out of this rough-and-tumble town.

I've been sleeping a lot lately. October was such a ball bustin' month that I've been exhausted for much of November. I'm still lightin' the firecracker from both sides and really don't rest too much on the weekends, so once Monday rolls around I find myself sapped of all energy and just in the mood to sleep, when not teaching English or learning Korean. I've been back in Korean class for a couple of months now and some new stuff is sinking in, though I'm pretty lazy about studying hard outside of the four hours a week class time that I actually attend. This makes real concrete progress hard to measure, but I look at the Korean language as a huge mountain, and I'm up against it with a chisel. I'll just keep chipping away as long as I'm here. It's all I can do. I enjoy studying language, but trying to learn this one is a fucking challenge. It's really difficult. Really.

I have a new rock and roll band going on which is always a hoot. We're called "The Headaches," and I'm lucky enough to have both one the best bass players and one of the best guitarists in town on board, along with a hard hitting and very grumpy Kiwi drummer. We're gearing up for the Busan "Battle of the Bands," which kicks off this weekend, so we've been putting together some original songs, and if our Halloween show and last rehearsal are any indicators, we got a rockin' combo. We're sure to lose "The Battle," as we have no friends and will horrify the Korean girls who want to hear sweet pop songs, but rock we shall, muthafuckas.

I'm also just starting prelimary work on a big writing project. I can't go into any more detail about it here, but I'm really excited about it and let's keep our fingers crossed that everything works out.

Winter vacation is coming up. I was going to stick in Korea the whole time to save extra money to pay to take my girlfriend to America next summer, but seeing as how I no longer have a girlfriend, I'll take off to warmer climes to escape the urge to slash my own throat with a steak knife. I think I've settled on The Philippines this year. I'll mainly concentrate on the island of Palawan, where I'll do some serious chilling, as well as get my open water diving certification. I plan to do some dives at some sunken Japanese ships from WWII, along with taking in all varieties of coral, mollusks, and pyschedelic-looking fish. I also hope to get some work done, and figure if I stay in one general area, rather than zipping around the whole country like some meth-addled backpacker, that I'll have a better chance of concentrating.

My contract is up at the end of August, and I'll definitely go to The States in the summer to recharge and see what's left of my family. I've also decided to take a six month hiatus from my job (or just quit and get a new one upon my return) and travel throughout Mexico, Central America and South America. I speak decent Spanish and would like to level it up. But more than that, I've always dreamed of checking out that part of the world, and figure I need to do it soon. I feel the window closing. Though I am single now, I may not be for long, and the older I get, the more attractive the idea of marriage gets. Perhaps this is just because so many Koreans bark at me about it, but I really don't want to be the creepy old guy at the bar.

Come to think of it, I kind of already am.

South Korean ships fired on a North Korean naval vessel that crossed into southern waters. Evidently the ship was heavily damaged and limped back into the workers' paradise.

This is the first naval skirmish in a few years, and undoubtably will raise tensions here. I'll be practicing my breast stroke in the meantime.

Morrisey storms off stage in Liverpool after getting beaned in the head with a water bottle. This is the place where a few years back, a Morrisey impersonator walking down the street was hit in the head with a brick.

I can just hear them now: We 'ad off those Mancs, didn't we la'?

Arvo Part's "De Profundis," which pretty much captures how I feel today. Just audio, but put it on, turn it up, and see how it hits you.

Savage weekend.

Halloween was obscene. Hundreds in the streets. Pandemonium.

Band kicked the shit out of the shit.

Casino antics = a load of cash.

Profligacy at its height.

I spent most of Saturday holed up at my hotel. As I mentioned before, it was a sweet suite, so I lounged and ended up hitting the sauna, where I had a good soak, trying to beat the shitty-beer hangover gripping my innards from the night before.

That afternoon I wandered around Kangnam, taking in the lovely fall weather and attempting to orient myself with my Seoul surroundings. At one point I ran into a group of three foreigners, two of whom were wearing big-ass cowboy hats. At first I assumed they were very enthusiastic Americans, but when they opened their mouths, hard to pin-down accents came out. Turns out they were South Africans on their way to a "gay cowboy" theme party. We made our way down to the Han River to take in the spectacle of big water in a big city. They drank out of cans of Hite as they walked, which is a bit gauche in Korea. There are no real laws against drinking in the street, but it's pretty much not done, and it doesn't make us foreign-types look to good in local eyes. It's funny, because just yesterday I went onto this guy's blog to take him to task for taking others to task, but I will concede that staggering down the road with open beer should best be avoided here. It's the total mark of a newby feeling liberated in Asia. Do it if you want, but know you will be looked at like a mucksavage.

Before the show, I joined Sam, Angry Steve, and Will in Itaewon, where we grabbed some pretty good Mexican food - by Korean standards. We caught the end of the Korean baseball final game on a sidewalk TV, which was a thrill-fest. It was 5-5 in the bottom of the ninth, and the Gwangju (Kia) Tigers hit an out-of-the-park home run to win the thing. Amazing, really. You couldn't write a more classic ending.

The show was packed - a younger, sold out crowd. My set was decent, if not stellar, though Brian and especially Kerry slayed the fuck out 'em, so the kids got their money's worth. Methinks I could benefit from some more fresh material. I'm workin' on it, though. At the show I met wondershot, who joined us for a drink afterwards. He's up in Seoul and read about the gig here, so came out to give me a handshake. It's always interesting to meet invisible internet friends in the real world. I've only done it a couple of times, and it gives you a face to the icon.

Will and I ended up at the Walker Hill Casino, where we stayed all night and won a big stack of cash each, which takes the bite out of the castastrophe I had a few weeks back. The next day Sam and I ate breakfast at the Rocky Mountain Tavern - the Canadian joint where I always end up. They do a decent eggs and bacon and have some tasty beers on tap, which we supped mightily until good and drunk, my casino profits pickin' up the tab.

I fell asleep on the KTX with my MP3 player in my ears. Sam reports that my MP3 was "shushed" by one of uniformed train blackshirts. I don't even have to be talking or awake to get shushed on the KTX.

The last two days I've been back at work. I've been in a foul temper and spent last night and tonight at home, where I've cooked and curled up with the cats to watch a couple of obscure foreign movies that I picked up in Shangers.

I was going to have a date this week but I'm not quite in the mood. I'm feeling pissy and depressive, and just want to be by myself for a few days. Today I didn't want to talk to anyone and really felt the everything sucked. The approach of winter is grinding in the reality of my parents' deaths, I'm bitter about my sudden breakup, and feel spent from the rollercoaster stress of doing comedy. The alcohol isn't helping matters, either, though I've been sober for a couple of days now, for what it's worth.

This weekend I have a show with my new band, which I'm not yet excited about. We have barely rehearsed and kind of sound like shit. More practice will help, but I barely have the time and am running out of energy quickly. It is Halloween though, so a couple more days of rest and I'm sure I'll be chompin' at the bit. I love Halloween.

I think I'll get back with my cats and read until sleep comes, if it comes.

I'm currently at a PC room in Kangnam - "the Beverly Hills of Korea." It's the moneyed part of Seoul, and I'm being put up at a sweet hotel here, as part of the two-night standup show I'm doing.

I've been back at standup for five months now, and it's been a great run so far. I've delivered some really solid sets and even knocked it out of the park a couple of times. People have laughed and I've had a helluva time.

Until last night.

I smelled trouble when I walked into the club, "The Kabinett Wine Bar." I despise "wine bars" and their nauseating bourgeois trappings to begin with, but a gig's a gig. I had also done a rocking show there over the summer, so my expectations were high.

The first thing I noticed about the crowd is that they were OLD. I have nothing against performing for aged folks - I'm getting on myself - but they can be stingy with their laughter. It's like getting a Canadian to pick up the check. They also looked well to do - the "international business set" - you know, the kind of douchebags that they advertise to on CNN Asia. And, apart from the Taliban, upper middle class white people are the most offend-able people on the planet. They were quiet. They were serious. They were quietly looking "sophisticated" and sipping wine.

Brian, the host, went up and slowly warmed them up, though he had to work for every chuckle. Then he brought me up.

I bombed.

It's not like I ate a dick because I didn't know what I was doing. I delivered my set well. Words were coming out of my mouth and I FELT like I was funny. And looking out into the sixty or seventy people in the room, there were about five or six people who thought I was funny as well. Not quite enough to wipe the scowls off the rest of the khaki and button-up shirt, crowd, though.

It was like performing for driftwood.

Kerry, the headliner, got up and managed to kindle a fire, but he lost them for big stretches, only to get them back some great lines. Kerry was a proper professional in Canada for ten years, and if he can't get a room going, the night's fucked. When the crowd likes me I can slay it, but I'm still figuring this shit out.

I'm not sure if the wine and cheese crowd is my thing. My comedy's more suited for dive bars and rock clubs. But tonight should be a younger, hipper crowd - not one that just got off work at the investment bank and wants a monkey to dance for them. I've killed at this place before, so I know it can work.

Standup comedy is a strange beast, though. You NEVER know what you're going to get. Never.

Fall comes late around here, at the bottom of the peninsula. Though we're officially a month in, the trees are still green and the days are warm. Many of my students still wear shorts, and some of the girls have yet to hang up the miniskirts - not that I'm complaining. It has cooled down and the nights require a coat, but it's not yet close to cold. Summer lingers here in Busan, though the threads that connect us to it are fraying by the second.

My girlfriend and I broke up almost three weeks ago, now. It was sudden and ugly - a demon exorcised during an otherwise ideal trip to the moutains with some friends. I felt it coming on as soon as I met her at the bus station (I was late), and it percolated throughout the weekend until it became a geyser that couldn't be stopped. And like Old Faithful, there were plenty of people around to be awed by the spectacle.

The truth is that our relationship was poisoned a long time ago by an event that I had nothing to do with. I accepted it, forgave, and moved on, but she never could, and eventually her anger and hostility was turned onto me personally. I was willing to try to work it out for a while, but I only could endure so many outbursts and attacks out of nowhere before I bit back.

I could go on and try to justify my actions and explain hers. I could condemn her for destroying something that I knew was good, but I know best to let it rest. I am angry, but I refuse to be a sad sack over a relationship that didn't work out. I've been that chump before and never will again. I'll never give someone that power over me.

We had three years, on and off, but despite our love for each other, our foundation was cracked, and it's good we didn't marry. We would have both been miserable. I'm choosing not to wallow in my loss, but rather roll up my sleeves and jump into my life even deeper.

I've gotten through this year by making myself so busy that I scarcely have time to really think about the awful things that have happened. My dad's memory is warm, yet fading; to contemplate my mother's final months of suffering and death makes my skull literally feel like it's about to rupture. My chest wants to cave in and I gasp for air. ONE DAY I'll have to come to terms with it, but I cope by doing as much as I can and then nightly blurring my thoughts with alcohol. I realize this is not healthy, but at least I'm being productive.

I have a music gig tonight, two big stand-up shows in Seoul this weekend, and another band thing next weekend. I've got four hours of Korean class each week. I have a big writing project on deck and work a pretty full teaching schedule. I'm also meeting my friends - who have helped to carry me through these last two sad, strange years - as well as flirting, dating, and hoping to find her, whoever she is.

I've been fortunate enough to enjoy the company and comfort of women, but despite that, I know what it is to be alone. I've spent long periods being just that. And though I do have good friends here, I am alone. I'm single. I have no kids, no parents. It's just me in the end, and that really doesn't frighten me as much as it should.

Even though it's still warm here in Busan, we're listening to summer's death rattle. Soon it will be windy and cold, and we'll have to hunker down for one more long, long winter.

I've had a paid account on LJ for a couple of years now. I used to spend a lot of time posting here; I put tons of energy into it and figured why not cough up for the extra benefits of a paid account.

The other day my paid account expired, and for a short time my journal was back to free. I figured I'd just keep it that way, until a friend of mine left a comment saying that there were now ADVERTISEMENTS on my main page.

Ads?

This used to not be the case. There was an option to have a journal with ads that gave you a few more benefits, but the free journals were free of cost and free of ads.

I don't think I'd ever advertise on my personal blog. I was actually approached not too long ago by a Korea-based company that was interested, but I blew them off.

I ain't bloggin' for money. I generally loathe advertising, and would rather pay to not have it on my blog than to be paid to host it.

So I signed back up for a paid account last night.

I seem to have let this blogging thing go... after five years of ferociously posting, something's happened.

Is anyone reading anymore?

I used to get tons of comments on this blog. I could FEEL it getting read, but now, like a sad, discarded toy, I sense that it's floating in the ether, far away from inquisitive eyes. My partner in crime Scouser comes along, but aside from him, it's perty qui-et 'round these parts.

That's my fault more than any, since if I had something more compelling to say, more people would be reading. I also blame another culprit:

Facebook.

Since signing up for facebook a year or two ago, it has gradually consumed more of my time. And A LOT of people who used to come here and read my blog, can now see it when it's imported over there - which isn't really the same, now is it? This blog loses a lot of its power when viewed on facebook, and it just doesn't LOOK as cool.

I also used to get a lot of traffic from pusanweb, but they've changed their blogroll for the worst. Again I'm imported over there (when I tag it), and any comments left must be done so at THEIR webpage - which people gotta register for, and get a password, and jump through a bunch of ball achey hoops that NO ONE wants to do.

Maybe this is for the best. I'll keep this blog around but I do have a lot of other outlets these days, and not all of my writing is meant for public consumption anymore.

I appreciate those of you who have stuck around, though.

Gangsters in Rio shot down a police helicopter.

Damn.

Can't say I didn't fantasize about it once or twice while living in L.A.

Walking, talking, inflatable sex dolls; raw fish and eel. Not a bad way to say so long to PIFF.