Monday, February 27, 2006

The Return

1. To say my apartment is a glorified closet would be a compliment. She's teeny tiny. I have enough stuff for about three apartments. However, it's all about the LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION. This place makes my old hood feel like the suburbs. I'm in the middle of a bunch of good stuff over in university town and close to work.

2. Miss Koco's University Tour kicks off (or starts to kick my ass) this week. I'm teaching freshman writing this semester.

3. My communication devices are all currently having issues. I hate this. I have no phone in my apartment yet, my cell phone can only receive calls, no internet. Soon.

It's all coming together slowly. I have no time for socializing, but that's all I've been doing it seems. I have no time to be sitting in a PC 방 either. Let me get up out of here.

I'll post some pictures and things when things start to make more sense and feel a bit more calm.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

fragmented self

No Russian radio this morning. Today starts differently than so many others I've spent here. It's quieter. It's time to go. I'll pick up the pieces here, the pieces downtown, some pieces from home. I'll join them together and take them to a place I do not know yet.

I'm happy. Shhhh... don't tell anyone.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

Toronto

Frigid. Frozen biting winds. This is the balance to the tropical shenanigans of last weekend. I could stay in all day. Last night my baby sis, Miss Giadelphia talked me into going to a hip-hop show. Woah. Wall to wall beautiful people. K'naan, M1 (From Dead Prez), and Sick Sound Syndrome were notable and impressive regardless of the fact that it's not exactly my scene (what is my scene?).

More interesting to me was the debut of 4REAL VENEZUELA, a documentary that gave me chills and reminded me of Eli Jacobs-Fantauzzi and Inventos.

Completely unrelated to the amazing energy and messages of that show, I overheard a guy telling a story to a couple of friends. "At 2AM her vagina turns into a pumpkin," he told them. I had to run to the washroom to write it down. You just don't hear stuff like that everyday. In the ladies bathroom, on the door, someone had scribbled Hemingway's "The Earnest Liberal's Lament" 1921:

I know monks masturbate at night
That pet cats screw
That some girls bite
And yet
What can I do
To set things right?

The "graffiti" in women's bathrooms always fascinates me. I've decided to transport all of the people in attendance last night back to Seoul with me. Or better yet, a warmer climate would be a better idea.

Monday, February 13, 2006

isn't she lovely

The ocean is really quite a sight. The colors of this place are beyond beautiful. We went snorkeling and saw some fish. More, more, more.



good eats

LUNCH



DINNER



BBD, Cox, and Faggots: A Typical Saturday Nite with Malibu Eleni and Miss Koco



After driving around for a bit last night--past Cox and back to her place--Eleni and I discovered Big Black Dick. According to them, "Richard Le Noir" used to wear loud outfits with a red sash--in which he'd stash up to four pistols. He became a pirate and then decided to settle down and make "the best original pirate rum and the hottest sauce in the Caribbean." Dick's Rum Swizzle
sounds pretty tasty to me.


In the middle of an informational quest to find iron rich food, we found Faggots! And not only are faggots balls of low quality pork, a kind of "English haggis," but also a triangular stack of split and salted cod for drying!


Sunday, February 12, 2006

it's all fun in the sun, until somebody gets poisoned

I'm having a ball down on Grand CAY-MAN (rhymes with GAY MAN). I started working on my tan yesterday by the pool. Eleni and I went out last night and found Hammerheads, a nice little bar on the water. We sat down and ordered two sapphire and tonics, which had already been paid for by some dude down the bar. The bartender, Phil, started making shots, and kept the drinks coming, though we weren't asking for them or paying for them. The dj on the radio gave us a welcoming shout out--though she mistakenly called Eleni "Ayana." We were having a ball. We were the center of attention with boys hanging on our every word, fascinated with our wild tales, mesmerized by our outrageous lifestyles, asking us to go out on their boat the next day to tour the island, sunbathe, and go snorkeling. Later in the evening the dj showed up and we all rolled over to a club and got in with the dj chick. It was like a fabulous dream...

Then I vomited. In the bushes. It wasn't Phil handing over free drinks, or the fact that I had sampled half the bar, or the heat that caused me to vomit... I'm blaming it on the Hopia Baboy AND Eleni. I'm getting too old for this kind of nonsense.

To back it up a bit, earlier we were sitting by the pool and saw a bag of snacks on the table. I wondered who had left their Hopia Baboy--cute, yet suspicious, little treats. There was some note on them saying they were "FOR EDUARDO." Eleni figured they had been out there for a while, and that Eduardo wasn't coming for them. She wanted one. So she took two packages, ripped them open and talked me into trying one. Not so bad. Then I discovered that the package clearly stated that they should be refrigerated, frozen even. I'd been poisoned by my best friend. I still hear her in my mind, "I want to try the melon."

When we got home from the club Eleni was fine--drunk, but completely content on the couch eating a bag of nachos with green salsa and watching Pi on tv. I took a shower and thought dreamily about sugarmonk playing and dancing it up in Baltimore. Then I passed out. Posioned.

thick skin

Saturday, February 11, 2006

by the seashore





Grand Cayman. The beach across the street from Eleni's place has loads of brain coral and looks like the surface of the moon. I picked up half a brain. I'm reminded of Florida and it doesn't help that Eleni's apartment complex is named Palm Springs. I don't know, smoking a Cuban cigar seemed like something to try. Going to Cuba would be better.

toesies

About 40% of the traffic I get to my site comes from people looking at my post (or rather the images from the post) about the 4 inch heels that almost killed me.

Well, those were hot shoes, but NOTHING as fantastic (in my mind) as these socks!

Wednesday, February 08, 2006

nyc

Russian radio leads me into consciousness. This morning they played a version of Faith by George Michael. Light pours in through the window and there is a perfectly clear sky, nothing like Seoul. I was dreaming that I was taking the SATs again. It had been so long since I had taken a standardized test, I was completely unprepared. I forgot to bring my calculator and I hadn't studied. I want to go back to sleep, but I'm awake. Instead I lie in bed wondering what I'd do with myself everyday if I didn't have to work. I love this place, so much I miss it already. Yet, I'm itching to go back and resettle myself, get something new started. Staying would mean I'd start to fidget.