Wednesday, May 23, 2007
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
One for the Books
Birthday recap:
It started with 80 freshman cheering while my over-weight co-teacher gave me some b-day spankings. We went to a work party, my first, where we awkwardly met the Korean staff- all women and over 40. They put up with the foreigners but I could tell we were lacking refinement. I then met Bart at the train station and we went to a friend's for some birthday doos. I got the ol' weekend Mohawk and Bart had a maze shaved in his noggin. The band arrived periodically and we examined the bar we'd be playing in the next day. It's a downgrade from our Daejon staple, The Cool Bar, but I thought there were just enough questions regarding this, The Basement, to provide an interesting show. (Plus I was sick of posting concert pics where the only difference came from out clothes.) The drums were just re-skinned, the guitars just bought, the mikes borrowed and we were to be the 1st band to grace this tiny corner of the bar.
Everyone gathered, we toasted new developments and my friends avoided bringing up the Bulls, just as gentlemen should.
Saturday was cloudy but bright as we woke to busy days. The band met in the corner and we struggled through a loud and cloudy rehearsal. A group of six-teen whities took over the subway. I sat on the train, looked at all my friends and realized that, in that section, we were the majority. What a good feeling! I actually was happy thinking maybe the Koreans felt awkward and paranoid that we were all looking at them and judging a country by these few, unlucky people surrounded by foreigners. There may be nothing to that suspicion, but I guess the mind can play tricks when you realize you're so alone.
There was an odd mix of baseball fans and colorful Buddhists celebrating around the baseball stadium. I high-fived a mo-hawked Buddhist and we remained together through the sea of black hair and couple-tees. The game was sold-out but my friend Ryan's Korean wife found a miracle scalper with 16 tickets for sale. (That was the first but not the last time I mumbled something to a friend about the stars being aligned for this birthday.)
1. My co-workers were all working, making up for the previous Tuesday's holiday. I wasn't affected because Tuesdays are my day off.
2. My Korean home, Daejon's team was playing Busan's Lotte Giants so my boys could come cheer on our boys in one of Korea's great stadiums.
3. It wasn't raining on Saturday; A Korean miracle!
4. So many All-Stars, responsible for my lasting Korean memories were able to make the journey south and be with me for the weekend.
5. What a perfect way to forget about my Bulls!
The stadium was over-filled with Korea's most passionate fans. I foolishly showed off my Daejon jersey and chanted to the Busan fans. An entire section (perhaps 100 people) stood up and loudly defended their team. My students had guaranteed a fight if I went and openly supported Daejon. It wasn't quite Yankees/Red Sox but I was scared. That would've ended bloodily in the States, my friend remarked. We went as high as we could and found a ledge to learn against. From this spot we could watch the people risk serious injury to jump the fence and get into the game. At one point, one shameless father actually climbed the fence with his little baby in his arms. Many just looked at him, disappointed as could be.
The game was a well-played 2-1 affair in our favor. The old-timer baseball aficionados would've loved it! We cheered loudly but respectively throughout. The two rows in front of us would occasionally get fed-up with us, turn around and chant, 'cheeb-ae-ga!' (go home!) One joker, 'Kim the Entertainer' offered many bribes for our exit. He gave us Filipino money (what???) and chicken. Only when I bargained for some dog-soup did he give up the joke. As Daejon got the final out, we made hearts with our arms, bowed and repeated, "I love you," until all had filed out without any incidents.
Some heavy traffic and rain after out game proved the biggest obstacle of the weekend. An air-tight buss rushed us through the neon to the concert. We were late but, for the first time, not intentionally late, Axl style. We sang our songs to a crowded bar, accepted drinks, danced around each other like Barry Sanders with a guitar, tripped over chords and, as often happens with booze-filled birthday celebrations, remained on stage much longer than we'd planned. Busan folks seemed to dig our brand of fun but, most importantly, my friends who travelled so far were letting completely loose. We'd jumped a lot of hurdles to be here, in our element.
(The bar owner offered us a well-paying spot as the house-band but we don't have the time nor proximity to learn the material necessary to hold your head up and rock similar audiences month after month. The CockBlockers will play again, but not on schedule.)
We recon veined on the beach chatting, shooting fireworks, doing our best Veloco-rapter impressions, eating Ramon noodles, dancing, wrestling and taking pictures of the great Gwangali bridge. I promised all epiphanies at the beach and I think we all escaped to a private spot, looked at the ocean and thought at least a little sharper than usual. The Noray-Bong (singing room) started with us violently belting Pearl Jam's "Animal" and ended with 7 all-nighters, arms linked and slurring "We are the Children."
I haven't embraced by Bday like this in years bu tI was so happy some ominous signs convinced me to this time. I mentioned feeling alone earlier but this weekend reminds me how momentary those times are. After spending 2 hectic, stressful days organizing a weekend for my crew, I watched them all jump trains home and could'nt believe how badly I wanted to follow them and meet in sweet ol' Daejon. I think that's something.
I'm trying to get pics of my last couple programs but this website is cockblocking me! Stay tuned!
It started with 80 freshman cheering while my over-weight co-teacher gave me some b-day spankings. We went to a work party, my first, where we awkwardly met the Korean staff- all women and over 40. They put up with the foreigners but I could tell we were lacking refinement. I then met Bart at the train station and we went to a friend's for some birthday doos. I got the ol' weekend Mohawk and Bart had a maze shaved in his noggin. The band arrived periodically and we examined the bar we'd be playing in the next day. It's a downgrade from our Daejon staple, The Cool Bar, but I thought there were just enough questions regarding this, The Basement, to provide an interesting show. (Plus I was sick of posting concert pics where the only difference came from out clothes.) The drums were just re-skinned, the guitars just bought, the mikes borrowed and we were to be the 1st band to grace this tiny corner of the bar.
Everyone gathered, we toasted new developments and my friends avoided bringing up the Bulls, just as gentlemen should.
Saturday was cloudy but bright as we woke to busy days. The band met in the corner and we struggled through a loud and cloudy rehearsal. A group of six-teen whities took over the subway. I sat on the train, looked at all my friends and realized that, in that section, we were the majority. What a good feeling! I actually was happy thinking maybe the Koreans felt awkward and paranoid that we were all looking at them and judging a country by these few, unlucky people surrounded by foreigners. There may be nothing to that suspicion, but I guess the mind can play tricks when you realize you're so alone.
There was an odd mix of baseball fans and colorful Buddhists celebrating around the baseball stadium. I high-fived a mo-hawked Buddhist and we remained together through the sea of black hair and couple-tees. The game was sold-out but my friend Ryan's Korean wife found a miracle scalper with 16 tickets for sale. (That was the first but not the last time I mumbled something to a friend about the stars being aligned for this birthday.)
1. My co-workers were all working, making up for the previous Tuesday's holiday. I wasn't affected because Tuesdays are my day off.
2. My Korean home, Daejon's team was playing Busan's Lotte Giants so my boys could come cheer on our boys in one of Korea's great stadiums.
3. It wasn't raining on Saturday; A Korean miracle!
4. So many All-Stars, responsible for my lasting Korean memories were able to make the journey south and be with me for the weekend.
5. What a perfect way to forget about my Bulls!
The stadium was over-filled with Korea's most passionate fans. I foolishly showed off my Daejon jersey and chanted to the Busan fans. An entire section (perhaps 100 people) stood up and loudly defended their team. My students had guaranteed a fight if I went and openly supported Daejon. It wasn't quite Yankees/Red Sox but I was scared. That would've ended bloodily in the States, my friend remarked. We went as high as we could and found a ledge to learn against. From this spot we could watch the people risk serious injury to jump the fence and get into the game. At one point, one shameless father actually climbed the fence with his little baby in his arms. Many just looked at him, disappointed as could be.
The game was a well-played 2-1 affair in our favor. The old-timer baseball aficionados would've loved it! We cheered loudly but respectively throughout. The two rows in front of us would occasionally get fed-up with us, turn around and chant, 'cheeb-ae-ga!' (go home!) One joker, 'Kim the Entertainer' offered many bribes for our exit. He gave us Filipino money (what???) and chicken. Only when I bargained for some dog-soup did he give up the joke. As Daejon got the final out, we made hearts with our arms, bowed and repeated, "I love you," until all had filed out without any incidents.
Some heavy traffic and rain after out game proved the biggest obstacle of the weekend. An air-tight buss rushed us through the neon to the concert. We were late but, for the first time, not intentionally late, Axl style. We sang our songs to a crowded bar, accepted drinks, danced around each other like Barry Sanders with a guitar, tripped over chords and, as often happens with booze-filled birthday celebrations, remained on stage much longer than we'd planned. Busan folks seemed to dig our brand of fun but, most importantly, my friends who travelled so far were letting completely loose. We'd jumped a lot of hurdles to be here, in our element.
(The bar owner offered us a well-paying spot as the house-band but we don't have the time nor proximity to learn the material necessary to hold your head up and rock similar audiences month after month. The CockBlockers will play again, but not on schedule.)
We recon veined on the beach chatting, shooting fireworks, doing our best Veloco-rapter impressions, eating Ramon noodles, dancing, wrestling and taking pictures of the great Gwangali bridge. I promised all epiphanies at the beach and I think we all escaped to a private spot, looked at the ocean and thought at least a little sharper than usual. The Noray-Bong (singing room) started with us violently belting Pearl Jam's "Animal" and ended with 7 all-nighters, arms linked and slurring "We are the Children."
I haven't embraced by Bday like this in years bu tI was so happy some ominous signs convinced me to this time. I mentioned feeling alone earlier but this weekend reminds me how momentary those times are. After spending 2 hectic, stressful days organizing a weekend for my crew, I watched them all jump trains home and could'nt believe how badly I wanted to follow them and meet in sweet ol' Daejon. I think that's something.
I'm trying to get pics of my last couple programs but this website is cockblocking me! Stay tuned!
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The Good News
Birds and Bees,
I'll be home in less than a month. I can hardly believe that even as I type it. This time, I'll have enough time for everyone to grow sick of me once again. Ha, so narcissistic, I know. I'm coming home immediately after entering my final grades on June 16th. I'll be home through most of July. I look forward to the essential Bs; Beer gardens, burritos, b-ball and bar-b-ques. I learned last time that being home, without responsibilities, a car or a cell phone can be miserable at times. Anybody got any spare jobs, cars or phones? I'm thinking too that I'll have enough time to go on a road trip of sorts. Suggestions? Oh, and how about a rock festival? Twine/H20 reunion? Let's plan this comeback together......
I'll be home in less than a month. I can hardly believe that even as I type it. This time, I'll have enough time for everyone to grow sick of me once again. Ha, so narcissistic, I know. I'm coming home immediately after entering my final grades on June 16th. I'll be home through most of July. I look forward to the essential Bs; Beer gardens, burritos, b-ball and bar-b-ques. I learned last time that being home, without responsibilities, a car or a cell phone can be miserable at times. Anybody got any spare jobs, cars or phones? I'm thinking too that I'll have enough time to go on a road trip of sorts. Suggestions? Oh, and how about a rock festival? Twine/H20 reunion? Let's plan this comeback together......
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
Beach musings
I fasted through the gray, ominous clouds. I waited with my stomach for a time to come out again.
We were caught in all the I-don't-knows. Maced an entire race, while old folks in bright clothes stroll. They walk this same beach walk everyday. Young love swims int he early tides. A race to wash their feet in the sand. But it's gotta be something more. A reminder we've not gone too far. We can still live together. (I hope I haven't gone too far. I hope we can still live together.) The metal clanks away their hopeful, youthful dreams. Intriguing like a uniformed Asian girl hiding under a palm tree to sneak a smoke. Everyone wishing they'd spent more of their childhood in a tent, listening to flamenco, swimming in the dark, forgotten night, riding bicycles down unsafe clumps of construction, running out of stores with stolen baseball cards and eating the stiff gum as they imagine a big-leaguer would, deciphering songs as if they were their own, holding their breathe in hopes of getting older.
We were caught in all the I-don't-knows. Maced an entire race, while old folks in bright clothes stroll. They walk this same beach walk everyday. Young love swims int he early tides. A race to wash their feet in the sand. But it's gotta be something more. A reminder we've not gone too far. We can still live together. (I hope I haven't gone too far. I hope we can still live together.) The metal clanks away their hopeful, youthful dreams. Intriguing like a uniformed Asian girl hiding under a palm tree to sneak a smoke. Everyone wishing they'd spent more of their childhood in a tent, listening to flamenco, swimming in the dark, forgotten night, riding bicycles down unsafe clumps of construction, running out of stores with stolen baseball cards and eating the stiff gum as they imagine a big-leaguer would, deciphering songs as if they were their own, holding their breathe in hopes of getting older.
Sunday, May 06, 2007
A Few Words in Waiting
The meat should've overtook us long ago
The smoke and the swollen nodes
Each day, we're given another day
How should we properly spend it?
Look on the lattes, smell the dried squid from beaten, blue trucks. Eat rice in wraps and raise my hand to each curious passerby. I hear the constant sounds of their stories but understand nothing. A roller-coaster of intonation telling me I've stumbled upon a world I wasn't meant for. How then, should I spend each given day?
The smoke and the swollen nodes
Each day, we're given another day
How should we properly spend it?
Look on the lattes, smell the dried squid from beaten, blue trucks. Eat rice in wraps and raise my hand to each curious passerby. I hear the constant sounds of their stories but understand nothing. A roller-coaster of intonation telling me I've stumbled upon a world I wasn't meant for. How then, should I spend each given day?
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