Unicorn Years, Humar War Film Update, Imaginative Writing Workshop, and Sam Gay Tang Joint

I made another painting. It took me about two months. I had to paint in between doing other things. I probably would have finished in two weeks if I didn't have so much going on. Who knows? Maybe, paintings need to take two months to finish. In any case, it looks a lot better in person. I'll have to buy some good lights to take a picture of this one. The fluorescents keep reflecting off certain parts of it. 

Thomas and I have a deadline to finish the final draft of The Human War script. We are then set to finalizing a budget, showing it to Noah, and then casting actors. If you are interested in being part of the film, let me know. Our goal is to make this be as much a community project as it is a professional film set. Don't you love that? I do.  

I went into Loren's "Imaginative Writing" workshop this week. The class was so relaxed and fun. Loren said he wanted me to come all the time. He also told me that I say "sort of" too much. I told him it was because I was suffering from "language deterioration". 

"I've been in Asia too long," I said. "You ever feel like that?"

"My language has been deteriorating for years," Loren laughed.

I sincerely doubt him. Both he and his students are turning out some wonderful work into the world. I'll be curious what they're doing when I visit again towards the end of the semester. Who knows? Maybe, I could offer a class on social commentary in art without saying anything at all. I wonder if the students would like something like that. Who knows? I have no idea.  

I wonder how Jim Goar is doing. I haven't talked to him in a month. Last I heard, another issue of Past Simple came out. I would like to hear how his adventures in England are going. That would be nice.

I talked to my brother on google chat. He is ready for me to come to L.A.. He also says he'll help with the soundtrack of the film. That would be great.

So Gee's Mom and Aunt took me out to a Sam Ga Tang (chicken soup) joint on Sunday. It is supposed to be the best place in Seoul. It was pretty good. The chicken was soaked in a broth filled with scallions and ginseng roots, and you could amp up the spice with these pickled radishes drenched in red pepper paste.

"No," So Gee's mom said to me, and pointed at the radishes. "No!"

I like it when she treats me like a five year old. It makes me feel loved. It was even better when they all decided to visit my tiny apartment.

"Uh," I said. "I need to clean."

"Yes!" So Gee said, with a worried look. "It's too messy!"

I looked at my new Mother-In-Law and Aunt. They didn't know what So Gee just said. They were just looking at me like I was about to do something extraordinary. They couldn't possible be discouraged by a bit of messiness. Who knows? Having seven family members in a tiny 500 square foot studio might be fun. It would certainly be memorable.

"Okay," I declared. "Let's go hang out at my apartment!"

My mother-in-law and aunt were thrilled at the announcement. They sat on either side of me on the car ride. Each took one of my hands in theirs, stroked the hair on my hands, and made jokes about the possibility of bugs.

"How do you keep him clean?" my mother-in-law joked to So Gee. 

"He takes two showers a day," So Gee said in my defense.

"Maybe, there are still bugs," my aunt snickered in Korean, and examined my hand more closely.

I smiled.  It is fun to be loved by two doting mothers.

"Have you ever been with two women?" So Gee's mom joked in Korean.

"This is my first time," I said.

When we got to my place, I just played them slideshows of photos I had taken on our last family trip and a smattering of a film called "Air Guitar Nation". They dug the photos. They even asked for copies, so I made those for them. Then they asked me to perform on the guitar. I played a couple songs. They were disappointed. They wanted me to play "Yesterday" by the Beatles and "Imagine" by John Lennon. I didn't know them. I told them I would learn the songs and play them next time.

"Imagine," my aunt said with a pout. "John Lennon!"

"Okay," I said. "Next time."

I learned both songs today. I am much better at playing "Yesterday" so far. I'll have to practice "Imagine" a couple hundred more times. That'll be good. I like learning songs. They're so easy. I've barely ever done it. Might as well learn a bunch to please the In-Laws and other folks who aren't willing to hear original things. And I completely understand. People want to sing along. They want a radio station that is live. I can do that. I am not here to destroy all cover bands. That was a former identity. I am now here to support cover bands in their quest for world domination. I will even play in one when I get back to Los Angeles. I think I'd like it to be a Pirooz Kalayeh cover band. What would that sound like? Hmmm...

I already know what they'd be called: Best Cover Band Ever - For Realz! or BCBEFR! for short.

Funny Video Response to American Economy and Politics

I have not ever seen the original commercial, so I have no frame of reference. I did like the noise though. Noise can be fun. The message about the Coatrack was interesting. I wonder how he will do. Probably the same as all the others. People can help make real change. I like the hope though. Hope can be fun.

This video came courtesy of Zach. : )

Not Too Old to Get a Foot Massage

This week I gave birth to a baby boy. I named him Andromeda. We were together for about 17 seconds. Then I disowned him. I decided babies are not cute anymore. I don't want one. I would rather go and get plastered with So Gee. So I did. I drank an ecstatic mix of endorphins and chocolate and ran off to Itaehwon, where dreams come true

First, we watched some little girls performing at a local festival. This only affirmed my aversion for children and their disgusting nature. 

"A blaspheme upon you!" I cried in a fashion one might have cried during the original Continental Congress. "A pox upon you, you young malcontents! You rapscallions! I shall be drunk and wear you as a dress..."

So my speech continued into the night. I don't think I stopped talking like one of the founding fathers, until we breached the walls of the Hard Rock Cafe, and I felt a bit of Elvis-snarl curl under my lips.

I had never been to the Hard Rock Cafe with So Gee. In fact, I don't think we had been out for a night of drinking since last December. 

"I like doing this with you," So Gee told me.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"This," she said. "Going out."

"I like going out," I said.

"You do?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said.

We had a margarita, apple crisp, and lemon drops, while we watched a Korean rock act mangle Radiohead and The Pixies.

"They're pretty good," I said. "They just need to turn up those guitars. And that singer. I can't tell what language he is singing in. Is it Korean?"

"No," So Gee listened for a moment. "Is it English?"

"No," I said. "He must be Martian."

"I drank too much," So Gee said, as she looked at the assortment of food and drinks in front of her. "Oh, I am so drunk. I am drunk. Oh my God! I drank so much."

"Okay," I said. "Let's go then."

"Oh, where do you want to go? What do you want to do? You want to dance? We can go to J.J.'s!"

"Where's that?"

"It's at the Grand Hyatt-"

"No, that's too far. I'm tired. What time is it?"

"It's 9:30."

"That's it?"

"Yeah," So Gee laughed. "We're getting old."

"You're getting old," I grimaced. "I'm just getting started."

I walked five steps in a brave and resolute way. Then I stopped abruptly.

"I'm tired," I said. "Let's go home."

"Okay," So Gee said. 

She held my hand. We walked for a half a mile. Then a cab picked us up. 

The next day we met at a U.S. Military Base in Seoul for a cookout. It was like a fourth of July back home. So Gee and I even wore matching cowboy outfits. We hadn't planned on doing that, but everyone thought we did. 

"Oh, you're so matchie!" So Gee's Korean friends said.

"Yes," So Gee smiled. "We planned it telepathically."

I didn't do much at the event. It was nice to talk to Americans. Some had just gotten off commissions in Ethiopia or Brazil. One was going to work for the United Nations. Their lives seemed interesting and fulfilled. I even felt pleasant enough to let those who were enamored with the hair on my arms to pet me like a chihuahua - a popular pastime among Koreans who haven't ever seen foreigners. I think it was more of a joke in this case. Who knows? It doesn't really matter. I like petting zoos too. You should have seen what happened when it was my turn. 

On Sunday, we had a nice tennis adventure, brunch, and luxuriant Chinese massage. My brother and sister-in-law came down for the occasion. It was a nice experience. We played tennis for an hour, got in a taxi that went over 3,000 miles an hour, and chatted about So Gee's wiping adventures as a youngster. 

"When I was little," So Gee said. "My mother used to wipe me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I was like a baby. My mom helped me after poo."

"Okay," I said. 

"Once, I was in the bathroom, and I needed someone to wipe me and my mom wasn't there. 'Dong!' I yelled in Korean. That's Korean for poo. 'Dong!' My cousin came running into the bathroom. He looked around and didn't know what to do. I explained to him that I needed him to wipe me. And he did it. But it was not a good wipe. It was not like this." 

So Gee held her hand outstretched as if she had some imaginary TP and scraped it across my forearm in a vigorous sandpaper-like motion.

"Ow!" I yelped. "Jeez!"

"Sorry," So Gee laughed. "But he didn't wipe me that good. It was like this."

So Gee barely touched my stomach in a up-wipe motion.

"Like that."


"When I get together with my cousin, we always laugh about how I screamed dong at him and he didn't know what to do." 

Ken and Jin enjoyed the story immensely.

"We have not heard a story like that in quite sometime," they said in unison. "We must reciprocate with a story of our own."

"Hear, hear!" we all said in response.

Then it was on. They told us a tale about the three dragons who were blind and made cheese for a living. I had heard it once before, but it was still a tale that filled me with joy and merriment. It was the perfect precursor to a Chinese massage. That's right! Nothing says beat and knead me to death like a Lorenzo & Sons pizza on South Street than a story about three dragons making cheese. 

I think everyone liked the massage. They were all sleeping as I sat there wide awake in pain. Those Chinese masseuses sure know how to pretzel the body into various contortions. My legs were literally lifted and stretched as if I was a child, and then - to my amazement - one of the masseuses got on my back and used their feet to activate pressure points. It was like getting a massage from a gymnast. I waited for the time when the masseuse was going to do a one and a half for his perfect landing. Thankfully, no one was killed during the making of this blog post.
The owner was convinced I was an actor from a Kung Fu film. He asked for my picture. I told him I would give it to him if we could get massages for free. Miraculously, he agreed. 

It's amazing what a person can accomplish with a little gusto. 

Transformer Spotted, Dominatrix Heaven, The Davidian, and Hard Rock Pleasures!

(Above: My first Transformer spotting ever! Color me with Turtle Wax and slap some salami on my shoulders!!)

This week Fall has brought its chilly evenings to my bedroom with a blessing of mosquitoes who whiz past my ears like helicopters chasing down a bunch of kids on a Monday night in Los Angeles. 

"They are whispering me secrets," I tell So Gee on the phone. " 'Oh, stop it!' I tell them. 'You're too funny!!' "

"That's poetic," So Gee says.

"Is it?"


So Gee and I talk a couple more times on the phone throughout the week. She doesn't mention mosquitos. She does talk about her trip to Singapore.

"Aren't you going to miss me?" she asks.

"Yes," I say.

"Bathtubs and Singapore," she says. "Now you will always use those against me."

I have questioned So Gee about moving in with me, Her underlying reason to stay with her parents was the space and luxurious spa-like bathtub at their house. "I will be with you in America soon," she says after the truth comes out. "Don't hate me."

I don't hate her. I am not going to use the bathtub or the fact that she is going for a weekend getaway without me be grounds for laying guilt trips on her now or in the future. Guilt just isn't my style. I do like humor though.

"I will only mention Singapore and the bathtub for humor," I say. "Because it's funny to say, 'You would leave me for a bathtub!' when it isn't true."

"Yes," she says.

So Gee leaves me for a bathtub later in the week.   

I decide to meet friends. Mina Lee (pictured above) is the mastermind behind the animated clips on my website. Without her, I wouldn't have been able to tie my shoelaces. In fact, during the process, she tied my shoes once and said, "Now, you do it, punk ass!!"

I tied my shoes right after she told me. I have also done it continuously since then. Even right now, as I relate this event, I am tying my shoes. That is how big her effect has been on me. 

"You're right, punk ass!" Mina menaces behind her megaphone she uses to communicate artistic secrets to me because of my failing ear drum and lack of respect for her dominatrix lifestyle. "You suck!!! Now be more artistic and start writing and publish all these books you have!!!! You chump, monkey butt!!!!"

"Yes, Madame Mina."

"Get to it!!"

"Aye-aye, Skipper."

"Tie your shoes, Tonka-Truck-head."


Madame Mina and I joined up with the Davidian, the gargoyle monkey, for dinner at an Australian restaurant in the northern part of Itaehwon by Ho Lee Chow's. 

"Hi Davidian, the gargoyle monkey," I said.

"Yes," he said. 

"You would like to eat?"

"Yes," he said. 

"Are you going to eat my children as well?"


I am glad the Gargoyle Monkey has a sense of humor about his vegan lifestyle. He doesn't even mind when I floss the big gap between my two front teeth with a lamb chop bone. That's how PC he is.

"Yes," he agreed.

Anyway, the Davidian and I left Madame Mina to join in her Saturday night soiree, while we headed up Hooker Hill for a little Splash-in-Mash. That's right. We went to the Grand Ole Opry for all the peanuts and sawdust we could afford. 

Want a beer?" the Davidian asked.

"Sure," I said.

Since the Davidian was talking a bit more. I listened to his latest escapades securing a French whore for military purposes on the wing of a 757. I found the tale to be delightful, but a bit too bold for our company at the Grand Ole Opry. Serveral women of ill repute tried to carry me away from the Davidian and his evil ways with whispers that sounded like "Iwannatalktoyou," but I was too enamored with the Davidian to take any notice of the women dressed like sailors or the sailors dressed like French prostitutes.

"Look at that sailor!" the Davidian smirked.

"Huh?" I said. 

"The sailors!!" he smiled again.

"Uh..." I was truly under the man's spell. It wasn't until a quick turn in the conversation had me discussing the finer points of Eckhart Tolle that I repositioned myself squarely in reality and decided to do away with the Davidian and his parlor tricks. 

"I shall be gone from you, Davidian," I said. "I am off to deflate my ego with a discussion of other people's greatness at the Hard Rock Cafe in Seoul."

"Okay, numb-nuts," the Davidian laughed. "You go get some ointment for your wounded asshole."

"What?" I said in shock. 

"Yeah, get spiritual, bitch!" he shouted.

"I'll eat you for dinner," I mustered.

"I'll bring your mother."


It was clear I needed work on both my put-downs and spirituality. The whole way down Hooker Hill I only spoke to three transvestites who told me I could hold them while I cried about chicken wings. 

"You mean it?" I asked.

"Bienvenue, mon cherie," they said in unison. "Wewannatalktoyou."

If their salutations weren't so French and clingy, I would have been more spiritual and slept with them to make a few bucks. Unfortunately, I had to settle for the reminder that I was hungry and my lamb chop toothpick was now close to a nub in need of refueling. 

"I need meat and decadence," my egoic mind reminded.

"Yes," I agreed with the little me. "You are always right. If I didn't have you, I would be 150 pounds, open to suffering, and able to comprehend the cosmos for brief instances."

"You have me though," the egoic mind chuckled.

"You're right," I laughed. "It's good to act like a crazy person and talk outloud to myself while walking down Hooker Hill to the Hard Rock Cafe in Seoul with you, my egoic mind."

"We're going to the Hard Rock Cafe?" my ego I asked.

"Do you need a toothpick?" I said knowingly.

"God or my continual refueling with inconsequential form-based ideas be praised."

This is the Davidian. He is gargoyle-like in all his furiosity. Rarely, does he smile for a camera, but I managed this shot by tickling his butt hole with my toes. That's the surest way to ensure a healthy and crime-ridden evening. 

While at the Hard Rock Cafe, I witnessed a group of young teenagers playing some mediocre punk rock tunes. I was unimpressed. That is, until the soundman got his act together and balanced the mix. After that, I was curious where these sprites came from. I even made my ways of an introduction by pouring my undrinkable Guinees into three glasses and positioning them on the stage by the children's feet. Those in the club who watched me seemed to find my gesture a bit unruly for the fact that they were only a meager 18 at most. But I know they were only jealous that I had noticed the band's rockabillytee (one word in the original Latin) before their puny egoic minds could say John Frusciante drinks goat milk in an Anthony Keidis smorgesborg from hell-Pantera-Slaughter-Michael Jackson's shoes-crap on the wall-Cafe!

The sprites noticed my gesture and were thankful. They rocked. And I helped them start a substance abuse problem. Life was picture perfect. That was when I realized it. There is no need to see things in a black and white way anymore. The world isn't much fun if it's always hooker makes good on bargain deal at mattress warehouse store or fiddler climbs barn only to fall to his death for six dollars in change. We've got to look at the big picture. Then we can see how there are no closed doors. Life just keeps opening its cradle of degradation and self-misery to all who would like to scream inside themselves for their egos to continue to control who their beautiful, partner, car, and home are. 

Jeez. It's good to be an American in Korea. I almost feel like Gene Kelly without pants. 

Gye Cheon Jeol: A Berenstein Bear Family Trip to Yong Pyoung, South Korea with My In-Laws

I am in kind of a daze today. I just got back from a three day adventure with my In-Laws. I don't know whether it was all my new relatives doting over me and my ability to speak Korean, or the incredible amount of traffic we all suffered through to make it out of Seoul. My instinct tells me it has to do with sleep and needing it. Before I head in that direction, I will share some tidbits from the mackdaddy event. That's right. Macdaddy is coming back with a vengeance. I just decided.

The trip began with my encounter with this incredibly colorful frog outside my apartment. I tried moving him off the side of the road, but he curled himself up into a ball on his back in what I can only assume was frog-possum or frossum as it is known by red planet dwellers.

Eventually, I just coaxed him off with a water bottle near his tuckus. Somehow I didn't think touching the little guy was okay. Later I would find out that this was a good move on my part. Apparently, my new friend was a poisonous frog, according to my uncle.

"Is poisonous," my uncle said in his broken English. "Colorful frog is poisonous."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes," he said.

Our trip was to a southern province in Korea known as Kangwon Do. It is a popular destination spot for most families in Seoul, so the roads were an inch by inch race to the next traffic jam. It took three naps and a couple stops before we finally reached Yong Pyoung, a ski resort town in Kangwon province that is hoping to be the next home of the Winter Olympics in 2018. Of course, there wasn't any snow yet, but the cute, little bungalows were done up like one would see in their Boulder and Aspen equivalents in America, with hardwood floors, fireplaces, and fancy steam rooms for the uber, chilly.

I was very impressed with the view from the front porch. I stood there for about 15 minutes. My uncle soon joined me to give me his recipe for jaehoi.

"You have jaehoi with those trees," he said.

"What is that?" I asked.

"For Buddha's people, they say jaehoi with the things from before. You have jaehoi with that tree, with me, with that rock."

"Oh, you mean like karma?"


"When I find out you were going to be in this family, I think this is very good. I have Iranian customers. You are Iranian. I have been to Iran. We have jaehoi."

"You mean I could have been Korean in another life and you could have been Iranian."


"I like this idea, this jaehoi."

My uncle and I peeled garlic until dinner was ready. We didn't talk about jaehoi. We didn't talk about anything at all. It was a long drive. Everyone was feeling it a bit. 

I was enlisted as a remedy with my massage abilities.   

My mother-in-law kept screaming in pain. I kept going "Ohhhhh!" Then I would press harder.

I am the devil. I also know how to play cards. I taught the uncle I have jahoi with how to play the Persian card game, Passur, or "Eleven" as we call it in my family. He played non-stop with his wife. Sometimes he would try to cheat and she would hit him.

The picture above is domestic bliss. I wish I had a shot of them beating each other to a pulp. That would be exciting. I would like to see people so competitive over a card game that blood is spilled like in the Wild West. That did not happen though. 

The three ladies in my immediate family made dinner and I watched them set the table. I was not allowed in the kitchen. I did the dishes though. Something my Iranian-Korean-jaehoi-uncle told me was the reason he would do dishes later that weekend. Who knows? Maybe, I started a trend. I was very professional. I told everyone I would wash dishes quickly and effectively and I did. It wasn't until I was scolded for taking bad pictures by my mother-in-law that this feeling of egoic superiority dissipated into horror and guilt.

"Bad picture," my Mother-In-Law told me in Korean. "I want to see the face of the home behind me. Give me the camera!"

At least this is what I think she said to me. I know very little Korean. I  simply saw her point to the home behind her, yell at me, and then point at the camera. 

Eventually, I took a picture that met her objective slightly, as she snorted a "humph" that insinuated that another picture taken would be more trouble than my ability to actually get it right within the next hour.

To make-up for my lack of photographic skill I decided I would become the best mountain climber the Kwon family has ever seen. I held So Gee's hand and we climbed like two, nimble goats. We were, in fact, so good, that no one could keep up with us nor did they want to. We were already halfway up to our destination before we noticed that the rest of the clan had ventured into the side of the mountain for a more adventurous path - a phrase I had heard before from other weak and ungraceful mountain climbers in the past and was able to translate for So Gee as the tired-mountain-climber-jargon for "easier" path, or as I correctly foretold: an-excuse-to- head-back-down-the-mountain path.

"How'd you know?" So Gee marveled.

"I am a bad photographer," I replied. "But I am a nimble and goat-like mountain climber. Would you like to run down the mountain like a goat?"

"Yes," she said. 

This is where we ran like goats. No picture was taken. We only took photos before the goat incident.

Here is So Gee in a tank-top moment. It is rare. I am glad I got it on film. Her mother came up after this photo to cover her sexiness. I got a taste though. I will be back. 

So Gee says I look good in this picture. I think it's my mountain-climber-nimbleness playing tricks on her sexy frame.

Once we reached the bottom of the mountain, everyone got a rub down. 

Then we ate grapes.

On the way home, I saw a dead grasshopper. 

"Beautiful," I said.

Then I saw a Praying Mantis that was alive.

"Beaulifut," I said. 

"Huh?" So Gee asked.

"They're almost extinct. My dialogue is poetry."


"It's like fifty dollars if you kill one of these in the states. Want to dance?"

"You're weird."

"I'm glad I got this picture. I can frame it next to my frog picture."

"I am the best photographer," So Gee said.

"You are a good photograsshoper," I agreed.

As we rested from the hike, we got news of the death of Choi Jin-sil, a famous Korean actress. The whole family was glued to the television as the details of her suicide by hanging and clips of other famous Korean stars were shown in a non-stop repetitive fury that only a media in a pursuit for higher and higher ratings would be capable of mustering. 

I didn't understand anything because it was in Korean. I also didn't want to watch another E! True Hollywood Story done Korean style either. I was more interested in being alive. 

I took a picture of a father and son riding a motorbike instead. 

Then my Father-In-Law arrived. He wanted to take all of us to the ski resort's lift. We were going to see "the mountain".  

I took a picture of my uncle (이 머 블, e-ma-pul) and aunt (이머, e-ma). 

"This is the best picture," I announced to the others in the lift.

My Father-In-Law immediately announced contention. "Take a picture," he said.

"Okay," I said. "But it'll be tough to top."

He didn't understand me though. I didn't say it in Korean. Not that I can. At least not yet. I would be so much more naughty if I could.

I am working on it though. That's the whole point of learning languages. Being naughty. Yup. The end.

I caught one tree that changed colors already on the mountaintop. All the rest of my shots came out too blurry or with the flash reflecting off the glass of the lift - a sign of my abilities as "best photograsshoper". 

"You see this pine tree," my Father-In-Law said pointing at a tree in front of me. "That is a national treasure in Korea. It's over a thousand years old."

I immediately felt sexual awe. I had to get me some action. 

Then the whole family got a group photo. 

I am the Martian up front. 

My antennae are hidden. 

I could still sense that this was a large rock pile that made all others I have seen on this planet pale in comparison though.

I am a nimble Martian.

My brother-in-law and his wife got their photos taken next to a cut-out of some actors from a famous Korean soap opera called, Winter Sonata, or something. 

I thought that was cute. The picture that is. I haven't ever seen the drama. I am in the middle of John Adams at the moment. 
Ji Hyun, my brother-in-law's wife, told me to take a picture of him next to a bear statue. 

I listened to her. She is very nice and kind. I don't even have to check her intentions. I will listen to her without fail. 

"Dance now!" she might shout.

"Okay," I could say.

"You are a good dancer," her dialogue continues.

"Sometimes," I might say.

"It's true," she could say.

"U-Know-it," I might say if any of this was reality and not spoken by a 1,000 year old pine tree named Biff.

So Gee wanted to take some crazy ride down the mountain. I really did not want any part of this adventure. She likes speed. I like old men in bathing suits. It was a bad combination. Half the time I was screaming for her to slow down, while she spent the other half telling me to speed up. It's definitely the recipe for our sex life. 

I won her a prize to make up for my fear of heights though. It was at one of those crane jobs. Somehow I have mastered their mechanics. Either that or I have jaehoi with the crane. 

"You were once a stuffed Tazmanian Devil," my uncle said in my imagination, otherwise known as the blue, pastoral sea OF EXCHANGE and reaRRANGE.

"Sey," I said. "Mour."

"Moor," he laughed. "Eeeee."

That night we had a mini-celebration for my In-Laws 30th wedding anniversary. I was enlisted as the official photographer. I took exactly one photo as part of my duties. Then I was re-assigned as official gambler. We played some game with sticks. It was like CHUTES & LADDERS. I don't know what it was called.

"What was it called, So Gee?"


"Oh, right."

So we played Yut. It's this game where you throw four sticks on a towel and then move four pieces with a partner around a chutes and ladders like maze. If the other team rolls on your square, then they get to send you back to the beginning and get another turn for doing so. If you roll a Mo (모) or Yut (), you get to go again.*

The winner of our game wouldn't have to pay for karaoke later.

So Gee and I won. 

She says it has to do with our prayers before tossing. 

When we got to the singing room (노러반ㅇ), my In-Laws took over with dancing, singing, and an all out war to make everyone look like they hadn't been married thirty years. 

It worked.

My brother (초너, cho-na) and his wife sang a hip hop song in Korean. It was so fast I had a flashback of hearing MC Solaar for the first time. 

My former life mother known as my uncle sang Korean country songs in a Johnny Cash lilt. I was deeply moved by his chagrin and salty demeanor.

Then the gruesome-twosome took over again and it was all dismemberment and Huckleberry Finn - a phrase commonly used by nimble goat herders who pose as tennis players.

And pose I did. On our last day, we all got to play a match at a local high school in the area. I was given a 30-Love handicap on every game. So Gee and I lost to my uncle and father-in-law in a game of doubles, but when I played both of them alone (minus a So Gee handicap), I won 6-3. That felt good. I would like to do it again. Who knows? Maybe, there will be another one of these family trips before I am home in February. 

*My Korean writing is made courtesy of my one week completion of Korean I, a class that includes physical violence for those who do not study like myself.