I Heart Korea

I am starting to enjoy being in Korea again. I have simply accepted the weird idiosyncrasies that make up this country. 

1. I have to accept that people spit on the street. 
   
2. I recognize that it's reality that people don't speak English. 
   
3. I don't fret when people tell me they can't do something but can't explain why. 
   
4. I am happy with Korean men yelling at me for no reason. 
   
5. I can stand another Korean woman giving me a scowl for saying hello to them. 
   
6. I don't mind that it takes an hour to make it past the U.S. beef protests near City Hall. 
   
7. I can look forward to a foreigner fresh off the boat asking me about what I do. 
   
8. It will be my pleasure to guide folks through the subway system. 
   
9. The smell of kim chi in the morning is awesome. 
   
10. It would be a good thing if I am challenged about reality and feel frustrated. 
    
11. I am ready for another six months in Korea. 
    

Eight Days a Week

I am almost home. As such, I have cleaned, packed, and set an itinerary. I am the ultimate nerd. Hopefully, I have squeezed enough in for the first four days in Los Angeles.

Day One - W

• Arrive at LAX at 5 p.m.
  
• 5-7 p.m. Pick-up rental car and check-in to hotel.
  
• 7-10 p.m. Visit Panauh and walk around old neighborhood.
  
• 10-1 a.m. Dance.

Day Two - Th

• 9-11 a.m. Run and hike Griffith Park
  
• 11-12p.m. Have brunch at the 101 Diner
  
• 12-3 p.m. Drive to FIDM and check out campus for So Gee.
  
• 3-5 p.m. Drive around Hollywood (Koreatown, Beverly Hills, and Westwood)
  
• 5-7 p.m. Have dinner in Santa Monica.
  
• 7-8 p.m. Drive back to hotel
  
• 8-12 a.m. Go to comedy club and out to clubs.

Day Three – F

• 9-11 a.m. Run and hike Griffith Park
  
• 11-12p.m. Have brunch somewhere.
  
• 12-5 p.m. Take So Gee shopping.
  
• 5-7 p.m. Have dinner at El Coyote
  
• 7-9 p.m. Hit Melrose.
  
• 9-12 a.m. Meet with friends at Rainbow Room.

Day Four – S

• 9-11 a.m. Run and hike Griffith Park
  
• 11-12p.m. Walk to Farmer's Market.
  
• 12-1 p.m. Visit Amoeba Records.
  
• 1-4 p.m. See movie at the Arclight.
  
• 4-7 p.m. Walk Hollywood Boulevard.
  
• 7-10 p.m Have dinner.

Day Five – Sun

• Travel to Pittsford, NY.
  

Courting Robin

It's 5:30 a.m. I am trying to convince Robin Williams to be in a film for my brother's production company. He mentions how it would be hard to move away from the big boys with the numbers they are pushing. 

"Look, Robin," I say. "There comes a time to make a choice." 

I look over at my brother. The rest of the production team are in the wings of my periphery. Everyone is anticipating. I can feel my palms sticking like rubber glove, but I'm relaxing into it, like a snake peeling itself to reveal a better version of the truth.

"You're not going to get a better person than Paiman to see you through this. In fact, everyone here in this company is out to make a great film. We're a family here. Now the big boys may be calling to you with promises of dividends, but can they promise the same care and integrity you see here. Take a look at these folks. These faces are hungry and ready. The only thing we need is the perfect lead. That's you, Robin. If you look, you might see it." 

Robin looks over my shoulder at the team. He laughs a bit. 

"I know you know best for you, Robin. You'll make the best choice. I trust that. I also trust that we've made the best choices for us.  Paiman leading this project is exactly right. This production team is an exact fit for him. Now all we need is an ideal actor for this part. I know for me it's Robin Williams. The only question is if it's right for him."

Robin nods. He shuffles a bit and begins to walk off in the courtyard. Paiman follows for the close. They circle around us. We catch the last bit as they come back towards us.

"It's going to be different and exciting," my brother finishes. "It's you."

"Okay," Robin winks. "I'll think about it, boys."

As Robin walks off, the production team files in a circle. Everyone is chatting and smiling. A couple people on the team say it's good to have me back. 

"I didn't know I ever left or was part of anything," I say.

"It's good that you back though," they say again.

My dream trails off. I wake up and start writing in bed with no pen or paper. I draft a couple openings about a non-reality television program. "Reality TV is not reality," I think. "Why not expose that? I could do a satire." 

I stare at the clock on the mantle. It is 7:15 a.m.. I wade back into the dream. I am watching it over again like a film. I think about how I would like to have a family production team and make movies with my brother. I wish he did too. I stand up. I can't tell if I'm dreaming or not. Weezer's "American Gigolo" is playing loudly in the room. There is no one in the courtyard and the credits are rolling.

GIRDS < BIRDS

I went to the Yonsei Severance Hospital today. I finally got a chance to speak to an American doctor. It looks like I have been diagnosed as having G.I.R.D.S.. As such, I will have to go on a stringent diet to see if I can improve the condition. In the next six months, I will try and drop 10-20 pounds. The doctor said this might help. He also let me know that the condition may be lifelong.

Things I Cannot Have:

1. Cigarettes

2. Caffeine

3. Fatty foods

4. Tomatoes

5. Orange Juice

6. Chocolate

7. Alcohol

8. Sugar

I suppose I will do a fruit fast. Maybe, this will help. Who knows? The funny thing is that with this list it certainly looks like I will be a vegan before this month is through. It looks like my body is looking out for me.

I can eat rice. I can have salmon. I can eat salads. I can have fruit. I think that will be it. 

Boy, does this suck. I am heading back to the states, and I won't be able to eat anything. When I visit my mom, she is going to have a fit. I hope she doesn't force food on me. 

I will survive. I will beat this thing.

I am off to play tennis. I will not have chocolate afterwards. I will not have fatty foods. I have bananas. I will eat bananas. 

Bye,

P.  

Mike Doughty in a Well

Put Up Your Dukes!

I almost got into a fight this past Saturday. Well, let me put this the right way. I wasn't planning on fighting, but there was an altercation on the tennis courts. I had asked a guy moving through our courts to close the gate behind him since we had dogs running around. At first, he complied. After I asked him a second time, he got hissy though. He asked me to come stand in his face, so I did. I stood there and remembered how the last time I was in this situation, I had gotten into a bar brawl when I was 23. Thankfully, the fact that I will be turning 32 in a couple weeks, might have given me the youthful wisdom to simply say, "I'm sorry. There's been a misunderstanding." 

Once his bark was used up, he left the court. Then the lot of us that play tennis on Sundays, discussed how what I said could have been misconstrued. According to the native Koreans who were present, my request was not polite enough. They said that if I had ended the phrase, "Can you close the gate?" with 'please' that the situation wouldn't have escalated. I'm not so sure though. Sometimes I feel like people have got you on their shit list no matter what you do or say. Then the only thing is to grin as cutely as you can, and hope they figure out that their anger has nothing to do with you.

I'm glad I was able to diffuse the situation. In the future, I will be sure to say 'please'. It may go against my rebellious nature, but I am cool with being a rebel for peaceful resolutions. As my friend, Darek, remarked about certain altercations I have related to him about Korea: "You are such a diplomat." Who knows? Maybe, that is where I'll head in some capacity. I do like seeing stressful situations come to resolution. It's like working on an art piece that has no clear end point. It could go completely to shit, or suddenly turn majestic. I guess I like to see myself wander between these two extremes. I would like it to lean more heavily on the majestic side, but going to shit has its benefits too. I do get to see how I've been an idiot. 

In the tennis altercation, I would say I was a bit too bossy and snooty about the whole affair. It wasn't necessarily wrong, but I can see that if I'm going to remain in a culture that is not mine, that I will have to find a good compromise. I can say 'please'. I can even say 'thank you' on cue. Just watch me grow into a Congressman. It could happen. I would probably run in Minnesota. I don't know why. Maybe, because Minnesota sounds purty. Then again, I could just be psychic and see the future. That's been known to happen. 

Yesterday, I went to see "Kung Fu Panda" with my students. As the film was about to begin, one of my students passed me her cell to show me a pic of her dog. "If I had a dog like that, I would name it Cookie," I said. 

"What?" she said. "My dog's name is Cookie."

I have been in a lot of strange moments like that really. I'm not quite sure what to make of it. I'm not sure if I believe in psychic abilities, and I certainly haven't had any sort of inclinations down that road in that past, but there seems to be a shift in that direction. Tonight I had another moment like that, when I asked my colleague whether she played the clarinet in her high school band. 

"I played the flute," she said. "Why did you ask that?"

"I'm psychic," I said. 

"Yeah," she laughed me off. "I played first chair all through high school and college. It was a big part of my life."

"Man, I wish I had said flute. I could have gotten that right."

Maybe, I'm not psychic. I am going to be 32 in two weeks though. I will be flying to L.A. on the first of July, and then my birthday will land octagonally on the 11th. I think I will throw a party for myself. Anyone is invited to the festivities. I think I'll open a video conference with anyone who's anyone. We can pretend I am a Congressmen or even a cowboy. I think a cowboy would be better. The Persian cowboy. He owns a turban and a gun. He's coming to theaters near you. Hide your saffron. Turn up your amplifiers. I am coming for a song and dance. I might even smile and show you my silver tooth. If you're lucky, I'll tell you about my date with Sasperella in the moonlight of Albuquerque. We had seven daughters lined up to receive Sheikh Bashamuddin. He asked for a recitation. I told him that spirit runs into desert heat/melts meat with strangers/ stuffs pockets with sulfur/ streets of Itaehwon/ turned inside out.

Night Out at the Theater

The evening started with So Gee getting hungry. "I have to eat," she said. "I can go to this bakery."

Loren called a few minutes later. So Gee was in the middle of her crab cutlet sandwich. "I am eating faster," she said, and chomped.

I don't like being late for theater performances. I think this is well known by my friends.


We met up with Loren and his students ten minutes later. They were all very cute and full of youthful wisdom.


We watched the rock musical, "Line One". It was about a Chinese-Korean immigrant to Seoul who loses her way up and down the line one subway route, befriends a prostitution ring, the homeless, janitors, and street vendors, and then finds salvation in this unsuspecting, empathetic community who show her that Seoul is full of smog and corruption, but loving kindness as well.

The music was done very professionally. Band members were situated above the stage behind a scrim, and from what I could tell, it was only a five-piece group that included a saxophonist, drummer, bassist, guitarist, and keyboard player.

I liked the keyboard player best, because she was wearing a semi-sari on her head that made her look like she was on an African safari, and that made me think about safaris, which is a nice thing, because safaris make me think about lions, and I like lions.

The production was very professional. Everything was very choreographed, and you could tell that the performers had all been trained under a stringent director. At the same time, the rigidity of the performance did show up as a bit hammy at points, and if I was directing, I would have tried to leave more room for improvisation to shape the piece in different ways.

The highlight of the evening was a rap in Korean, where a subway vendor touts his goods in a very Tom Waits fashion - going through an escalation of more and more dramatic sales pitches, until finally he removes his hat to reveal a rubber glove - the original sales item - attached to his head.

When he started bobbing his head left and right to the 120 BPMs of the song, he looked like a cross between The Beastie Boys and a rooster, I just lost it. Very funny. During the rest of the production, my only hope was to get a picture with him. I know. It's very Princess Leia of me., but the performance was that inspiring.

Luckily, the picture above is with the entire cast.


After the musical, we all went to a jazz club. Loren ordered a feast for his students, and we chatted about the prices of apartments between Los Angeles, New York, Seattle, and Seoul. Since most of the students had lived in most of these cities as well, there were many interesting assessments made. Probably the most fascinating of them all, was that I felt very much like I was home in a conversation like this. Loren's students are truly wonderful and extraordinary. I think if I had classes with the lot of them, I could last out in Korea much longer then my deadline. I could even take their advice and get a nice duplex in Miami.