good king wenceslas

Despite my best intentions to become a travelling glockenspiel player I seem to have fallen back into a rhythm of playing the same four chords over and over on a guitar.
I was out looking at effects pedals the other week. Golly they sure have changed a lot since I was a lad. ‘Ere look at this then. Wot you fink o’ that then?


There actually has been stuff happening but I’ve been too freaking busy to write about it, or “blog it” as they say. I have pictures. I went to a photography museum thing from the 1900-1920s. Here is the postcardy thing from it.


I tell ya, I’ve never been more productive with my goofing off time at work as I am now. I’ve been writing applications to get another job.


after a year of only the koreans (top rate) choices for english television programming,
(ie. obsession with celebrity and crap hollywood cinema)
i’ve had to re-adjust to the too many options back home in the states.
i generally gravitate towards indie flicks and stuff that makes me brain exercise though occasionally i get pulled into something unlaura-like.
the latest being a reality show where they film a medium contacting spirits for clients.
it got me thinking…

during the drunken years i was stuck in an existential nightmare, a record on skip.
no god (skip) no god (skip) no god, just this, pull yourself together girl (skip)
it wasn’t until i sobered up 5 years ago that the record finally stopped skipping.
first i settled into a comfortable surface buddhist practice
(leaving the deeper doctrine for the professionals).
i could swallow it. it tasted sweet like a lollipop,
after so many years of my life lacking vibrance and comfort and anything lovely.
still i found the god concept difficult. damn my inability to have any faith.
i had faith that my ma and pa would always love me, beyond that… nothing.
(and after a life time of internal struggle perhaps i’ve always had the answers.)
perhaps the answer for me has always been to shut the fuck up.
figure out how to quiet the voices and silence the questions and just breathe…
just wake up,
just stretch,
just walk my puppy,
just be prepared and teach,
just eat my leafy greens at lunchtime,
just drive,
just read my amy tan novel and imagine a long ago china,
just drink my tea,
just sleep,
just take care of my responsibilities and love my family.

i may never have any answers to some of the big giant questions.
not here and now anyway.
#1 on my fear list is losing my mum and dad.
i would like there to be a heaven and/or god to welcome them. (and me. ME TOO!)

last night this tv medium met with a woman who had lost her dad.
she wanted some final communication, some questions answered.
the hollywood medium was successful in finding spirit dad,
saying they tend to be nearby loved ones so it is easy.
pops comforted his living daughter saying he was safe and at peace and even now getting along with longtime enemy, her mother.
i liked hearing this.
regardless of whether it was real or not.
it was comforting to both myself and the woman speaking with her spirit father.

reminded me of my youth.
my mum dragged me over to grandmas house one saturday afternoon.
my punk ass teenage self was not pleased,
far too caught up in the pursuit of my own selfish agenda.
that night i dreamt of grandma.
she passed through my dreamy land just to let me know that she was ok and not to be sad.
early next morning my grandfather called to tell us that she had died in her sleep.
(it was very unexpected. she was healthy and happy and fairly young.)
i recalled her words and as a result, i was not sad.

further ado

We here at sunny breaks have been trying for some years to expand the number of voices bleeting away from one, to more than one.
And today that finally happens.
Please say hello to accidental tourist, who may or may not introduce herself at some point in the future.



I don’t know what the rest of you do about lunch but it’s all collectivised here. Most places are like that. When I was doing a temporary gig for Hyundai down south, I happened to see through into the “kitchen” – and of course you know it’s all done on a big scale, but I was still a bit surprised to see ’em mixing some vat of food with a shovel.

The current place of employment is slightly smaller scale, but only slightly. That’s not what this is about. This is about this custom they have that when you get up from the table when you’re done eating. You have to move really gradually, slide the chair out gently – no sudden movements – and stand up slowly while picking up the tray.

But all this effort is mostly in vain. Nine times out of ten, one of the people who is sitting next to you will start patting you on the back just as you make to leave. Once that starts you know what’s coming no matter how you behave. The last pat turns into a full whack. It doesn’t really hurt that much — it’s just fucking weird and, open-minded as I am, I have never been able to figure out while they do it.

There’s this really short guy who works for the adjoining establishment. I occasionally see him at lunch but that’s it. At first I was dead fascinated with him. Just like a regular person except short arms, short legs etc. He wears a woolen vest and gold-rimmed glasses just like any other doofus except for the whole bordering on midget status he’s got.

I think for me midgets and clowns fall into the same category – that is I fear them. I have these very low level feelings of wanting to do violence to them and maybe kill.

Who knows really? Maybe I would’ve been friends with the midget if he was friendly. But he’s not. Here’s another thing I find difficult to reconcile about this place: it’s not law of the jungle, it’s oldest first. Once or twice there’s been these times where the midget has brushed past the back of my chair just a little too carelessly, or not got out of the way when he should have. And this is offensive to my sense of what’s right, because I could beat him to a pulp if necessary.

Anyway, the other day the midget started choking on a chunk of gristle or something, and it wasn’t dislodging. I was across the other side of the table and a few down, so I didn’t do anything but for some reason, neither was anyone else. He dead-set choked and passed out. The canteen staff dragged him out by his ankles.


Wow, it’s been ages since I attempted anything technico with the site, and as a consequence thing have become a little reset. It has also been a long time since I wrote a little thing that solely said I changed something. I used to do that all the time in years gone by.

jingle jangle

Golly it’s been a busier week than I thought. And I’ve been more unmotivated than I thought.

Here is a great foto of the Kim Sisters circa 1960s, with their 4001s and 330s and whathaveyou, who I only just found out about. I stole the foto from the Rickenbacker site.


You should take a look right through their gallery o’ fotos because there’s some classics including:

John and his Guitar Group.

Jerry Byrd about to be bashed by Roger Rossmiesl while playing a B-7 guitar. Don Randall, president of Fender, and Forrest White look on.

– The Transonic amp looking very 2001.

Anyway, last sunday I went to Jangam and got a pretend rickenbacker, called Academy pictured here. It’s very neat looking. I am happy.

sinking the bismarck

For some time now I’ve wanted to do this minifotoprojekt. The first foto of four would be a picture of me standing side-on near the kitchen sink. I’d be holding my hands in front of me in a thoughtful way not dissimilar to that picture of Michael Barrish and while that might seem like a passing reference, when the photo is being taken I would be consciously thinking of trying to look like him.

The second foto would be of me, from behind, heading down the jungangno (plaza) at night. In the orange phosphor streetlight walking — snapped with one foot kind of in the air–on the half-step.

Then in the Dunkin Donuts and side-on I am standing by the brightly lit cabinet, tray and tongs in hand, fishing a bismark out of the slanty shelf.

Forth of four would be me about to bite with gusto into the end of the bismark – it probably wouldn’t be a pretty sight but it’d be real. I don’t know where this one would be set yet.

I’ve got to find a friend to help me do this thing.


I'm dragging myself kicking and screaming through the last five days of this unit of linguo studies and as such, there will be no updates here at leat until saturday. Boomshanka.