I spent today getting interviewed for a documentary. Then I had fish and chips at this place in Haebongcheon. I sat and read a bit. Then I thought about how I'll be back in California in less than five weeks. That scares me because I have to get an apartment and move our things from storage in Boulder by myself. I don't particularly like moving. I wonder what Long Beach will be like. I suppose it'll be the same as here. Like Dariusz Rawa said, "Wherever you go, there you are."
Later, I stopped over to visit a friend's apartment on the way home. It was your typical Korean ex-pat party. A play station was on in the background, while a varied group of foreigners from America and Canada sat sipping on rum and cokes. I was encouraged to join in. I was even given the choice of 7-up, since the host knew I wasn't big on drinking. I took the 7-up. Then people started talking about how I was making movies and criticized the books I was making into movies. Then one guy started talking about how people who see movies like mine are "suckers."
I thought that was really peculiar. I thought about arguing with these people. I didn't though. I would never see them again. They were also drunk, so I don't get into arguments with drunk people. I just thought they were douche bags in my head. Then I realized how people are quick to tear other people down if they feel intimidated, so I felt bad for them and disgusted and still thought they were douche bags, but in an even more pathetic way, so I left.
Now I am home sitting in the dark. I will go run around the track near my in-laws home. Then I'll watch Argentina beat Germany. Both will give me a different kind of pleasure. Running into the douche bags gave me pleasure too. I wouldn't have a story to tell about douche bags, unless I met them. That's why I figure douche bags exist. They make for good stories. They also usually say "preposterous" things that would be even funnier if they were trying to be "preposterous" on purpose.
I thought this thought as I texted Sogee: "rain coming. heart warm."
"What about yr dick?" she wrote back.
"yEs," I texted back.
I thought it was pretty good that she could see the truth behind my poetry. I wanted to say "dick" all along. Then I changed my mind. I felt sexual for a moment. Then I changed my mind. I thought being less sexual was what I was actually feeling. But she was right. I was really talking about my "dick."
I married the right person.