But it’s not all bad. Compared to last year – the camp I did then, where I was just waiting in limbo for it to end, I think this one is going to be more fun.
The kids are pretty smart, and so far, motivated too.
I am currently doing an experiment by bringing the laptop with me, but I don’t understand wireless networks. I thought if my computer found one, and it said it was unsecured, that I would be able to connect to it, but it seems not. Plus it’s raining heavy again, and the keyboard and all are just a bit too unweildy to use on the bus or subway. Maybe I could get used to it if I was doing it every day but I prefer sitting it on a table of some sort.
But anyhoo – as with all english camps there is some performance aspect to it, and a perrenial favourite is snow white, and in great korean tradition we will mix gender roles for titilation and novelty value. I have a boy playing snow white. It’s going to be fucking spectacular—I’ve never actually been fully at the helm of something like this – and at a size of 10 kids (grade five or six) it should be managable. And yet more than that because they’re all really into it. The script I was given is quite short, so easy to modify. As writer and director I’m going to win that damn contest.
Yeah, so while I have had many-a-thought of small things to write here during my lengthy transits, when I do actually have the means to write to it almost directly, it all seems like so much dross.
I started this camp week and am spending 2 to 2 and a half hours travelling on PT either way. The time part isn’t that bad, I’ve been reading, gawking, trying out different podcasts—but the regualar invasions of personal space are trying.
It’s the way things are here, I’ve known that for a while, and tollerated it each weekend when travelling through the metropolis, but ya know – I am a country boy, from a very sparsely populated continent. I am not homophobic, but I am hetero and therefore I don’t enjoy having some guy rest his leg or arm against mine. It’s second nature for guys to do that here, but would be unusual on, say, the train from Geelong to Melbourne.
Additionally because of the meat drinks and protien and doughnuts, the people in this country are getting wider, fatter, beefier, call it how you want—the problem is that they aren’t fitting well onto the subway seats anymore. The seats should be bigger.
It’s funny when some kid is trying to explain something to you and then they look up some word on the electric phone dico and the 1. definition is: have bitter experiences. Like, “excuse me, I’m having a bitter experience here”.
have [get] the worst of it; have a hard [bad, rough, tough] time (of it) (with a person); pay dearly (for); have hard luck; suffer severly (from); catch it hot; burn one’s fingers; have a dreadful experience.
I was down at the spa last night and ended up talking to a couple of Slovenians. My ideal self diverged from my real self directly after asking them ‘Where are you from?’ The ideal self, perhaps like that fascist Tintin, or that fascist 007, when told, “We’re from Slovenia”, would’ve been able to reply in Slovenian, Hello, How are you? and How’s the weather? But in reality there is a vague, foggy grayness over that part of the map where Slovenia is and nothing more.
I was thinking that if I said anything about it, it’d all be guess work and I’d probably get them confused with who ever was opressing them for however long it was. I looked it up on the ol’ wikropedia when I got home and as it turns out, Slovenia is actually a pretty well-off country. Good for them.
It was a father and son. The father was a psychiatrist and the son a chemistry student attending some debate in Busan.
I think part of the reason why I write less here these days is because since they stuck my desk in a room by myself I don’t even have to pretend like I’m being productive—tapping away on the keyboard makes me feel so much like I’m actually doing something.
It’s been raining here like the blitzkrieg.
I suppose it’s testament to how much water this country gets because it’s amazing how unruffled the workings of society have become. Australia would’ve ground to a standstill because it just doesn’t get rain like this ever. It’s been raining pretty much solid for three or four days—sometimes heavy and some light—but always.
That’s the river that bisects the metropolis and while it may not look impressive to those unfamiliar with it, it’s bizarre to me to see it up so high, as I did when catching a bus over it on saturday.
That piece of gutter trash, K Scene magazine, had an unusually decent article on things Punk. It mentioned the city of Cheongju (정주) as being something of an out-of-the-capital nexus. So yesterday I went there looking for punks. Maybe it was too early in the day but I didn’t see any. I did however observe quite a bit of Bavarian influenced architecture. Go figure. Pictures at my pony flickr.
I’m about ready to murder the old lady next door and her yapping little dog. They’re both insane and they’re making me insane. I feel like that guy in Dostoyevsky’s /Crime and Punishment/ – I just don’t see any other way out. Except perhaps moving to another apartment, which I may well do over the inverted commas summer break.
I almost chucked a spasty because Duran Duran’s ‘Ordinary World’ wasn’t an option at the noraebang (that is, kareoke). It’s one of my dreams to be able to sing the one off well as is doing cartwheels. But so I went for Blue Suede shoes, which admittedly was pretty good fun and within my tonal range. ‘Can’t buy me love’, wasn’t but I still had a crack at it, and dueted with the ex-dance teacher on the whitney huston song that goes I will always love you. I don’t kow that song at all but what the hey—it’s hard to say no when ur out with 4 lovely ladies.
At least I didn’t make any really bad choices – like going Doors’ The End after others have sung Hey Mickey you’re so fine, and Let’s Go Crazy.
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I went back to zee immigration bureau this morning to pick up my papers. I see they have a bus with bars on the windows in the car park.
Having a creditcard is good because you can take advantage of suckers like Emusic.com. They have a free trial where you can get 50 songs. I would say it was an alright website except they’re missing large chunks of good music in their selections. Here’s what I schnaffled:
I shot JFK
I don’t care about you
and Stepping Stone—by Black Velvet Flag off of Come Recline with … Kind of surprising that it was there – maybe GoKart Records got bought out by one of the demon-labels.
Kid Koala’s ‘Live From the Short Attention Span Audio Theater Tour’ ep
The Dirty Three’s most recent album, Cinder. Eventhough I still loathe Warren Ellis and this is probably the more commercial of their stuff, I cannot deny that I thirst teh Australian Rock—and with that ->
Scientists – Blood Red River—because it’s good to know your hard rocken australian history.
4 tracks from Stereo Total’s ‘Oh Ah!” album.
And with the last two of my free fifty, I was thinking I realy should get my money’s worth so I went searching for the extra long live version of dazed and cofused, eventhough I already have it, I thought I would d/load it from them just out of spite. But then I came across one of those groups of classical musicians who are willling to pwn themselves for the dollar and record roktrax—They are called The Hampton String Quartet and they do a cover of Ded & Ced, and also Aqualung.
Y’know I’ve heard from depressives that it is that part of the day when the daylight lessens and night gradually comes on – I’ve heard that’s when they get antsy. I’ve heard just in general that sunday evening is when normals get the downers. Not me—I can sometimes get a subtle feeling of dread on a sunday morning, usually because there are a million things that I shoud do or want to do and I’m lucky if I get two of them completed. It gets to midday and I can see the day slipping away like a jeep slowly sliding sideways down a muddy embankment. But once it gets to evening and I’ve had dinner and I can have a shower and get in my jaamies—then I can think well at least that’s over.
It seems I have got myself involved in another camp, this summer at the uni in seoul called yonce-ay. Teaching little kids, which’ll be a welcome change. I was grading some on saturday. Sitting at a desk with a little 6 year old on the other side and asking them what job they want to do when they grow up. I had to read it because it was on the sheet.
I discovered a way to cut a whole 20minutes out of my morning routine. All I have to do is not make or eat breakfast and coffee.
I was doing surprisingly well too up until 11am. And it wasn’t the lack of food that hit first – it was the where’s the caffeine headache. It was like my temples were were being suctioned and crumpled from the inside.
I keep thinking about Dennis Hopper’s character, Frank, in Blue Velvet and how fucking good he was. In particular, the scene where him and his cronies are taking Kyle McLachlan for a ride and they are at some dood’s house and Frank says Let’s have some beers, what kind of beer ya like neighbour? – to Kyle. And the young guy leans in and you can’t hear what he says but Frank screams in surprised anger, “Heineken!? Fuck!… ” and so on.
Is it wrong for me to feel like wanting to name a possible progeny after Frank?
That was all Tuesday. Yesterday there was more suction. I mistakenly went to the doctors. Rule of thumb not followed – don’t go unless there’s something wrong. There wasn’t but they gave me a voucher for a free check up. Stuck a torch in my ear and recoiled in subtle horror at what was in there and said I should go see the ear guy to get that shit cleaned out.
I did but had to wait for ages, which just isn’t good enough when you’re actually paying for it. I was thinking that to make this worthwhile I’d have to come out of it hearing in crystal clear FM Fucking stereo.
I did another train adventure – this time the yellow line, which has no number. Apparently double digits is out of the question, and line nine, for all its rhythm, is already taken.
It was boring because it was all underground ad there wasn’t much to look at when I did get to Bojeong either; just highways and highrises. I was looking at them and trying to figure out what it is that brings the dread when I look at them—I mean – little miners cottages all used to look the same too – and just because they’re tall, does that mean they are devoid of feeling?
But yellow line takes it for most amount of good station names:
starting at seolleung – and thanks for the fish
Hanti – anty
suseo – suzy-oh
Tapyeong—sounds like a fish.
Moran – hey that’s an english surname, they used to own the milkbar down the street
yatap – yes you do
Imae – or I mae not.
Sunae—sunnay – funnay!
and Ori – sorry.
a Tapyeong fish about to be t-boned by a turtle.