(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?"
"Yes."
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."
"Okay."
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?"
"Yes."
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."
"Huh?
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.
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