Dec. 12, 2009
Haemaru-gil, Bldg. 24
Momentary engagement with home. This American Life, Nov. 23, 2009, Episode #369. The bird takes off and flies up the stairs, perches on the window in the widow’s office. She speaks to the bird and says, Come to me. Her sons are on the other side to the door. The bird flies away. Mysterious sights, an Irish tradition, this week’s stories on poultry and magic. I’m listening in from Haemaru-gil now.
Whenever Paul thinks of rain, swallows fall in a wave, and tap on his window with their beaks. Whenever Paul thinks of snow, soft winds blow round his head, and his phone rings just once late at night-like a bird calling out, Wake up, Paul. Don't be scared. Don't believe you're all alone. // Rennie Sparks // Handsome Family
Last year, the scene was coffee, toast, and radio every Sunday morning. The address is one forboding shadowy manor on Franklin Street, a grand place last century, but now inhabited by spiders, singing quail, and students. Deb is my listening companion. Wake up to Ira, feed Almondine, Pilaf, and Tettrazini, and look for their brown, spotted eggs. Read the paper. Stretch. Yawn. Wipe the cast-iron, no soap. What are you doing this afternoon? Anything you like.
Overseas now, Soosoobaby, annyeoung-haseyo. Different scenery, continuation of the same dream. Jack-hammers and construction next door. Same onion truck. Last month, an 8-story building came down on my block. I came home from school one day, and it was just gone, the space clean and gutted down to the basement. Orange ribbons and flimsy posts are all that stand to keep passersby from walking into the perfectly-geometric, 15-foot hole in the ground. And each day after, concrete pours a new floor, building up again almost as quickly as it came down.
And each week, glass walls and doors erecting in the Seoul Metro. Why do you have these, I ask my friend, J. They are to prevent suicides, simple as that. We have more now, due to the recession. Escalators that change direction, for example, the set at Seoul National University stop. Duct-tape arrows all over the station to re-direct commuters. But they go largely unnoticed, and logjams and crowded, pushing turn-arounds result in the chutes for weeks. Public service announcements encourage citizens to walk on the right, pass on the left. This is how other parts of the world do it. But this is against what the older generation is taught, which is to keep left in walking, so chaos all around.
A five-year-old boy, with a teddy-bear pack. Brown curls and plaid. He is led by the hand by an elegant haraeboeji, with the slightest halt-gait. We are at Younan-budu, the port outside Incheon, ready to depart for the West Sea. A rollicking group of young Americans to my right. Loud voices. The magnificent entrance to Chinatown across the street, a 10-foot thorny green sculpted into an Oriental dragon. Waiting in the shade for friends to arrive, last days of summer.
Ajumma on the subway, her tote bag reads “Love me // Love me // Love me”. English phrases on t-shirts, bags, and children’s pencil cases. Maxico (sic: Mexico?) and Atlanta Braves caps. Atlanta! I say, but no one has related to me yet, it is just a cap. Mottoes of Korea-Sparkling, ever-optimistic, heart-wrenching prose that speaks to love, ice cream, and everything shining.
Pretty 2 color. Choose the way of happiness leading you to sweet time. // iBono
Vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce is my favorite. Is there any more of that chocolate ice cream left?
Love everyone around you. Love is the ultimate humanist ideal. Believe in the best! // Omnibus // Made in Korea
Don't you remember? In the past we used to talk for so many hours about things that only we could understand. The special moments we have had. Walking always hand in hand through the good times and the bad times. Outside the sky is light with stars. There's a hollow roaring from the sea. The wind is shaking the almond tree. Everything reminds me of you. I miss you, my dear friend.
I think a friendship that will never end. When you are weak, I will be strong. Helping you to carry on. Call on me, I will be there. Don't be afraid. You are the best friend in my life.
Morning Glory. // Hugs. // You are the best friend in my life. // 12-year-old’s pencil case
Haemaru-gil, Bldg. 24
Momentary engagement with home. This American Life, Nov. 23, 2009, Episode #369. The bird takes off and flies up the stairs, perches on the window in the widow’s office. She speaks to the bird and says, Come to me. Her sons are on the other side to the door. The bird flies away. Mysterious sights, an Irish tradition, this week’s stories on poultry and magic. I’m listening in from Haemaru-gil now.
Whenever Paul thinks of rain, swallows fall in a wave, and tap on his window with their beaks. Whenever Paul thinks of snow, soft winds blow round his head, and his phone rings just once late at night-like a bird calling out, Wake up, Paul. Don't be scared. Don't believe you're all alone. // Rennie Sparks // Handsome Family
Last year, the scene was coffee, toast, and radio every Sunday morning. The address is one forboding shadowy manor on Franklin Street, a grand place last century, but now inhabited by spiders, singing quail, and students. Deb is my listening companion. Wake up to Ira, feed Almondine, Pilaf, and Tettrazini, and look for their brown, spotted eggs. Read the paper. Stretch. Yawn. Wipe the cast-iron, no soap. What are you doing this afternoon? Anything you like.
Overseas now, Soosoobaby, annyeoung-haseyo. Different scenery, continuation of the same dream. Jack-hammers and construction next door. Same onion truck. Last month, an 8-story building came down on my block. I came home from school one day, and it was just gone, the space clean and gutted down to the basement. Orange ribbons and flimsy posts are all that stand to keep passersby from walking into the perfectly-geometric, 15-foot hole in the ground. And each day after, concrete pours a new floor, building up again almost as quickly as it came down.
And each week, glass walls and doors erecting in the Seoul Metro. Why do you have these, I ask my friend, J. They are to prevent suicides, simple as that. We have more now, due to the recession. Escalators that change direction, for example, the set at Seoul National University stop. Duct-tape arrows all over the station to re-direct commuters. But they go largely unnoticed, and logjams and crowded, pushing turn-arounds result in the chutes for weeks. Public service announcements encourage citizens to walk on the right, pass on the left. This is how other parts of the world do it. But this is against what the older generation is taught, which is to keep left in walking, so chaos all around.
A five-year-old boy, with a teddy-bear pack. Brown curls and plaid. He is led by the hand by an elegant haraeboeji, with the slightest halt-gait. We are at Younan-budu, the port outside Incheon, ready to depart for the West Sea. A rollicking group of young Americans to my right. Loud voices. The magnificent entrance to Chinatown across the street, a 10-foot thorny green sculpted into an Oriental dragon. Waiting in the shade for friends to arrive, last days of summer.
Ajumma on the subway, her tote bag reads “Love me // Love me // Love me”. English phrases on t-shirts, bags, and children’s pencil cases. Maxico (sic: Mexico?) and Atlanta Braves caps. Atlanta! I say, but no one has related to me yet, it is just a cap. Mottoes of Korea-Sparkling, ever-optimistic, heart-wrenching prose that speaks to love, ice cream, and everything shining.
Pretty 2 color. Choose the way of happiness leading you to sweet time. // iBono
Vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce is my favorite. Is there any more of that chocolate ice cream left?
Love everyone around you. Love is the ultimate humanist ideal. Believe in the best! // Omnibus // Made in Korea
Don't you remember? In the past we used to talk for so many hours about things that only we could understand. The special moments we have had. Walking always hand in hand through the good times and the bad times. Outside the sky is light with stars. There's a hollow roaring from the sea. The wind is shaking the almond tree. Everything reminds me of you. I miss you, my dear friend.
I think a friendship that will never end. When you are weak, I will be strong. Helping you to carry on. Call on me, I will be there. Don't be afraid. You are the best friend in my life.
Morning Glory. // Hugs. // You are the best friend in my life. // 12-year-old’s pencil case
Say kimchee,
and I'll see you soon.
freak! alex, i didnt know you had a blog!!!! way to keep me updated by not telling me you're keeping everyone updated through a blog. ugh. ha ha ha jk.
ReplyDeleteAlex-- *wonderful* writing. What a lovely stream of words-- perfect represents the Korea experience, but in a dream-like, fantasy film kind of way. I can't wait to read more.
ReplyDeleteAlso-- I LOVE Ira Glass. I used to listen to This American Life every weekend in NYC and all the time in Chicago (where I believe he started his radio days).
Glad we have this in common.
~ r