The Sweet – Love Is Like Oxygen. 1978. I was… 13. I didn’t really buy into the “style” – I was too much of a nerd and a reject. But I listened to the music, and still do.
Time on my side I got it all I’ve heard that pride Always comes before a fall There’s a rumour goin’ round the town That you don’t want me around I can’t shake off my city blues Everyway I turn I lose
Chorus Love is like oxygen You get too much you get too high Not enough and you’re gonna die Love gets you high
Time is no healer When you’re not there Lonely fever Sad words in the air Some things are better left unsaid I’m gonna spend my days in bed I’ll walk the streets at night To be hidden by the city lights city lights
Here’s why I sometimes have a really hard time working with opinionated 14-year-olds who have very limited English:
Student: Teacher!
Me: What?
Student: My school 원어민 [native English-speaking teacher] is handsome but you are not.
Me: I see…
Student: You have small head but big 배 [tummy]
Me: It’s very sad…
Student: Why are you 통통 [fat]?
Me: I don’t know… I used to be fatter, you know. I dieted a lot.
Student: 와아아 [wow].
This student is not, otherwise, habitually insolent or impolite. In fact, I like the student a lot. And I know from previous experience that comments, negative or positive, regarding another person’s appearance, are much more freely thrown about in Korean society than in Western culture: long-time readers might remember the time the restaurant owner (a total stranger) in Busan greeted me with “You’ve got a bit a paunch” [in Korean]?
So what do I make of this? Should I take the time, yet again, to explain that this sort of talk will get a person smacked in the US? – Because I’ve explained it before, I’m sure. Does it even matter?
Regardless, it can take a strong ego to survive this kind of thing, can’t it?
Sigh.
Later, I had a more pleasant (but equally culturally interesting) conversation with my boss.
Boss: You [Westerners] like to argue.
Me: Koreans like to argue, too, I think.
Boss: Koreans like to fight.
Me: Fight… argue. Yes.
Boss: No. Argue is rational. Koreans just like to fight.
Me: Hmm. Yes, I could see that.
Boss: You know I’m right.
Point taken.
Tomorrow, my coworker Grace goes on her month-long special vacation home to Canada. That means my schedule is getting massively augmented. I’ll have 30-something classes, for the next month or so. I’m not even really dreading it, though I feel a little overwhelmed by mastering the content of the classes, I don’t feel particularly overwhelmed by the extra time I’ll be putting in – I’m really in a sort of “wanting to forget my dull, unaccomplished life” mood, lately. So I’ll throw myself into my work. I’ll dedicate myself to hearing the unintended insults of a hundred teenagers.
“I bow with a thankful heart and become aware of the serenity of birdsong.”
This is #70 out of a series of 108 daily Buddhist affirmations that I am attempting to translate with my hands tied behind my back (well not really that, but I’m deliberately not seeking out translations on the internet, using only dictionary and grammar).
… 68. 세상의 아름다움을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다. “I bow with a thankful heart and become aware that the world is beautiful.” 69. 생명들의 신비로움을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다.
“I bow with a thankful heart and become aware that life is magical.” 70. 새 소리의 맑음을 알게되어 감사한 마음으로 절합니다.
I would read this seventieth affirmation as: “I bow with a thankful heart and become aware of the serenity of birdsong.”
I’m not absolutely sure that 새 소리 [sae sori] means “birdsong.” But it sounds nice if that’s what if means.
What I’m listening to right now.
Trampled by Turtles – New Orleans. Except this song makes me think of Duluth. Because that’s where the group Trampled by Turtles hails from.
The name “Trampled by Turtles” seems like a kind of Zen koan, come to think of it…
Mostly, I post these youtubes because I want to share the music. Often, the video is irrelevant, or at the least, kind of boring. But in the above, the video is the awesome, main deal. I blame Chris Bodemer at Sullyblog (which is just my way of saying: “hat tip” – that’s where I ran across the video).
I started keeping track of how much I’m running, exactly, starting last Friday. So in one week, I ran 21.6 km. My pace is kind of slow – but it’s all jogging, not walking. If you add in my walking (commute to work six days a week and running errands – I walk everywhere), you could probably say I cover an equivalent distance in walking, too. And that would make about 42 km, which is a marathon. I was somewhat inspired in this project by following – on facebook – the manic walking exploits of two of my cousins, Jori and Trevor, who each covered something over 250 miles last month in a sort of competition between them, posting their distances each day. I won’t get close to that. Not yet, anyway.
I’m glad I’m exercising more. I wish I could feel like it was improving my health, but so far I have lost no weight, and I don’t really even feel much healthier. I will have to be patient. What I’m listening to right now. [Update 2017-02-28: Video embed has been removed due to “link rot.” The song with new video embed has been included here.] Bob Dylan with Johnny Cash – Girl from the North Country. The song makes me think of fall in Minnesota, and camping trips to Hibbing and weekends in Duluth.
It’s not that I don’t like classical music. I was raised on a steady diet of Dvorak, it seems like, alongside the Grateful Dead and Cat Stevens and the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack and other eclectica. But in my day-to-day life, I don’t listen much to classical music, to be honest.
I think part of the reason for that is that it has never worked well for me as “background music.” Unlike most other genres, it’s very difficult for me to listen to classical music and do other things at the same time – whether it be jogging or studying or surfing the internet. Perhaps my ad hoc musical education, mostly a gift from my bestfriend Bob, was a little bit too thorough, and I find myself listening too carefully to classical compositions.
I don’t think that’s it, entirely. I have always struggled more with the rhythm aspect of all music than with, say, melody or counterpoint. I find that the lack of overt rhythms in classical music (unlike such as are provided by the backing drums or synthesized beats of almost all other genres) almost makes me uncomfortable, at times. It’s almost as if I have to work harder to “follow” what’s going on in music without explicit rhythms. I know that sounds strange – and it’s hard for me to explain.
OK, whatever. Returning to my initial point, away from my digression: I do, in fact, listen to and enjoy classical music, occasionally. And I love hearing live performances of it.
One of my favorite pieces, by far, is Rachmaninoff’s Concerto Number 2. It’s one of those pieces that I will find running through my head sometimes, unexpectedly. Perhaps that just confirms that I’m a hopeless romantic sap, deep down inside. The picture, at left, is borrowed from the wikithing. It shows Rachmaninoff with a redwood tree in 1919.
What I’m listening to right now.
This youtube, above, is my favorite part – the first movement – apparently from a 1929 recording (!) in which Rachmaninoff himself played the piano with the Philadelphia Philharmonic. I also like the third movement, though, for which I found a different recording. I often find snippets of these two movements running through my brain.
Me gusta recordar mi tiempo viviendo en la Cd de México, en 1986. Canciones como esta me ponen rete nostálgico – se tocaba en el top 40 en la radio capitalina en aquella época.
La letra:
Yo seré el viento que va navegaré por tu oscuridad tú rocío beso frío que me quemará
Yo seré tormento y amor Tú la marea que arrastra a los dos Yo y tú Tú y yo no dirás que no… no dirás que no… no dirás que no…
Seré tu amante bandido, bandido corazón corazón malherido seré tu amante cautivo, cautivo seré ¡ahum!
pasión privada dorado enemigo huracán huracán abatido me perderé en un momento contigo por siempre…
Yo seré un hombre por ti renunciare a ser lo que fui Yo y tú Tú y yo Sin misterio… Sin misterio… Sin misterio…
Seré tu amante bandido, bandido corazón corazón malherido seré tu amante cautivo, cautivo seré ¡ahum!
pasión privada dorado enemigo huracán huracán abatido me perderé en un momento contigo por siempre… Seré tu héroe de amor
Seré el amante que muere rendido corazón corazón malherido seré tu amante bandido bandido seré ahum!
y en un oasis prohibido prohibido por amor por amor concebido me perderé en un momento contigo por siempre…
If I were a Korean middle school student, I'd be grumpy, too. But I think one reason I don't really enjoy teaching middle school students is because unlike with elementary age children, I don't really know how to deal with adolescent grumpiness. With the younger ones, I can be a clown, I can regress myself, and more times than not, I can pull the kids out past their grumpiness and we can move on. But with the older kids, I just get drawn into it. Older kids are more stubborn in their anger. I had a hard day today.
I don't really have much more to say. I ran 5 km tonight, when I got home from work. Unlike most people, exercise never puts me in a good mood, and I question whether it really serves to lessen my depressive tendencies, for that matter. My time in the military, when I exercised daily and was in the best physical condition of my entire life, was – as some who know me well will recall – also one of the most depressed periods in my life. Still, there were many factors contributing to that. What I mean by this is only that I challenge the commonplace that holds that regular exercise is a legitimate way to combat depression. But I do need to be healthier, and lose some weight, so I'm pursuing building this habit, regardless of how grumpy it seems to be making me.
What I'm listening to right now.
Sarah Jarosz – Long Journey:
I have just begun A long journey that will run The length and width of summer time And the cool fall air will guide me home Yea the cool fall air will blow me home
You'll be miles away I want to go, but I wanna stay The music beggin' me to go But your love can guide me home Yea your love can guide me home
Stary nights and summer sun I think you just might be the one With this mountain pass keep runnin' on And I wonder if your love and guide me home Oh yea I wonder if your love can guide me home
I’ve been playing around with trying to figure out how to calculate the distances of my evening jogging. I have just been guesstimating up to this point, but today I found an app connected to google maps called mapmywalk.com that works fine for South Korea. So I used it. It turns out that the route I was thinking of as 5 km was actually a little under 4 (so much for guesstimating, right?). I worked out a slightly different route that was a little over 5, and tonight, I ran it. And here it is. I like map-apps.
[UPDATE 2024-04-27: The embed link here rotted, I happened to notice. And I have no idea how I could reproduce / recover the cool map that was shown. Thank you, internet!]
Meanwhile. I’m feeling a bit grumpy about work, today. The “write me a textbook” project is going badly, and I felt like a kind of boring, crappy teacher today for the classes I had. Sigh. Not every day is good, right?
What I’m listening to right now.
The National, “Conversation 16.”
This song has awesome lyrics. Check’em out.
I think the kids are in trouble
Do not know what all the troubles are for
Give them ice for their fevers
You’re the only thing I ever want anymore
We live on coffee and flowers
Try not to wonder what the weather will be
I figured out what we’re missing
I tell you miserable things after you are asleep
Now we’ll leave the silver city ’cause all the silver girls
Gave us black dreams
Leave the silver city ’cause all the silver girls
Everything means everything
It’s a Hollywood summer
You’ll never believe the shitty thoughts I think
Meet our friends out for dinner
When I said what I said, I didn’t mean anything
We belong in a movie
Try to hold it together ’til our friends are gone
We should swim in a fountain
Do not want to disappoint anyone
Now we’ll leave the silver city ’cause all the silver girls
Gave us black dreams
Leave the silver city to all the silver girls
Everything means everything
I was afraid I’d eat your brains
I was afraid I’d eat your brains
‘Cause I’m evil
‘Cause I’m evil
I’m a confident liar
Have my head in the oven so you know where I’ll be
I’ll try to be more romantic
I want to believe in everything you believe
I was less than amazing
Do not know what all the troubles are for
Fall asleep in your branches
You’re the only thing I ever want anymore
Now we’ll leave the silver city ’cause all the silver girls
Gave us black dreams
Leave the silver city to all the silver girls
Everything means everything
I was afraid I’d eat your brains
I was afraid I’d eat your brains
‘Cause I’m evil
‘Cause I’m evil
‘Cause I’m evil
Look out of any window
any morning, any evening, any day
Maybe the sun is shining
birds are winging or
rain is falling from a heavy sky –
What do you want me to do,
to do for you to see you through?
this is all a dream we dreamed
one afternoon long ago
Walk out of any doorway
feel your way, feel your way
like the day before
Maybe you’ll find direction
around some corner
where it’s been waiting to meet you –
What do you want me to do,
to watch for you while you’re sleeping?
Well please don’t be surprised
when you find me dreaming too
Look into any eyes
you find by you, you can see
clear through to another day
I know it’s been seen before
through other eyes on other days
while going home —
What do you want me to do,
to do for you to see you through?
It’s all a dream we dreamed
one afternoon long ago
Walk into splintered sunlight
Inch your way through dead dreams
to another land
Maybe you’re tired and broken
Your tongue is twisted
with words half spoken
and thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do
to do for you to see you through
A a box of rain will ease the pain
and love will see you through
Just a box of rain –
wind and water –
Believe it if you need it,
if you don’t just pass it on
Sun and shower –
Wind and rain –
in and out the window
like a moth before a flame
It’s just a box of rain
I don’t know who put it there
Believe it if you need it
or leave it if you dare
But it’s just a box of rain
or a ribbon for your hair
Such a long long time to be gone
and a short time to be there
I'm not sure how I'm feeling about work. On the one hand, it's mostly pretty unstressful. On the other hand, I'm not having as much interaction with kids as I did at Hongnong nor even at LBridge: because Karma combines "test prep" with regular English curriculum, during this midterms cycle the kids get pulled out for special test prep courses, which is great if the stress of giving classes gets to me, but it is annoying if hanging out with kids in class is the highlight of my work day. At least at Hongnong, although I often had no classes to teach, I still got to interact with kids around the school and at lunch, etc. There's no deskwarming at Karma, though. Mostly I'm filling my time with curriculum development work – I'm writing a textbook, supposedly (which is really hard, actually), and doing iBT (TOEFL) prep tutoring with a really smart 9th grader.
I really meant to enroll in a Korean language course for the mornings, but I've been unable to summon the gumption. It's not the idea of 12 hours a week of language class that's putting me off (that's what most of the courses I've looked at offer), it's the additional 12 hours a week of commuting time that it would entail – none of the courses are closer than Hongdae or Jongno, both of which would involve more-than-an-hour-each-way commutes. I hate commuting.
I've been looking into trying to find a tutor who I could pay for one-on-one classes, out here in Ilsan. But I'm kind of picky about who I'm willing to pay as a tutor – most Koreans don't know squat about their own language, from a linguistics standpoint, and I find it very frustrating trying to learn from them. Unpaid hanging-out style efforts at conversation is fine – I can approach it like a field linguist doing research. That's what many of my Korean friends are for.
But if I'm going to pay someone, I want them to know their language's phonological inventory (and know how it differs from that of English, for example), and I'd appreciate if they could recognize the difference between an auxialiary verb and an example of verb seriality, etc., and have them subsequently be able to try to explain these things to me – you know, like actually teach me.
I suppose my complaint about the people I've paid to teach me Korean, in the past, is the flipside of the same, utterly legitimate complaint lodged against so many of the English speakers hired to teach English in Korea – the fact that they can't tell a modal verb or English prosodic vowel reduction from a hole in their posterior means that Korean students aren't really getting much bang for their won, in teaching terms.
What I'm listening to right now.
I jogged my 5km route last night, dodging drizzle and rain drops. I listened to this track on my mp3. I'm becoming incredibly annoyed with the fact that I've gotten back to a 4 or 5 night-a-week jogging habit, and I'm still not losing weight.
This morning, I'm listening to it again. It's raining hard against my windows, and the sky is the thick gray that makes it feel like the sun didn't quite finish rising.
It's been raining a lot – yesterday there was a respite, but aside from that it's been raining almost continuously for approaching a week now. Yey summer in Korea.
The lyrics.
Pour Me Another (Another Poor Me) From the album "You Can't Imagine How Much Fun We're Having"
V:1 And all she wanted was a little bit of solid, Feels like love, it doesnt matter what you call it, Heal those cuts, or hide em underneath the polish, Break another promise, And take me as a hostage, Hold your job down, And let the zombies crowd around, Thankin mommys god, but its a cops town, Keep it safe for me, While I chase a fantasy, Swerving through the galaxy, Searching for a family, Happily surrounded by planets and stars, She was stuck uptown, you was landed on mars, Its all fucked up now, caught your hand in the jar, Another small step back, for that man at the bar, Spill a little bit of blood on the street, For love that goes to those who know, That they drink too much, And hold your own glass, Up to the heavens, Take the little time to try and count the seconds, It goes
[Pour me another, So I can forget you now, Pour me another, So I can come let you down, Pour me another, So I can remember how, True that I am to this addiction of you,] x2
V:2 Drink it all away, numb it down to the none, Stay awake tonight and wait for the sun, You say you hate your life, you aint the only one, Let your frustration out the gate and watch the pony run, One double for the hunger and the struggle, Two for the fool tryna pull apart the puzzle, Three now I smile while I wait for your rebuttal, By the forth shot, Im just another child in a bubble, Tryna play with the passion and the placement, Just to see what these people let him get away with, Still tryna climb a mountain for you, Hammer in my hand, still pounding on a screw, She no listen, so he dont speak no more, Nobodys winning, cause neither is keeping score, Dont wanna think no more, just let me drink some more, Pour me another, cause I can still see the floor,
[Pour me another, So I can forget you now, Pour me another, So I can come let you down, Pour me another, So I can remember how, True that I am to this addiction of you,] x2
V:3 Live life tipsy, stiff if it dont fit right with me, Kiss my whiskey; lift my lips press to my angel, Swallow it and leave her empty bottle on the table, Let the past fall, Making faces at that clock on the back wall, Countdown to last call, Ask all of these people that make sounds, How long does it take for the pace to break down? Another lonely little trophy, If only I can walk a straight line, Id make it home free, And everybody in this bar thinks that they know me, And my story, Like poor me, I could count the days till you come back, Or I could follow them sunrays down to the train tracks, I can stumble drunk, over hope and love, Or I can just keep drinking till I sober up
[Pour me another, So I can forget you now, Pour me another, So I can come let you down, Pour me another, So I can remember how, True that I am to this addiction of you,] x2
Bottles, pints, shots, cans, Couches, and floors, and drunk best friends, Models, and whores, and tattooed hands, Cities, and secrets, and cats, and vans, Good times, laughter, bad decisions, Strippers, and actors, and average musicians, Mornings after, and walks of shame, This bartender knows me by my real name
Eleven years ago, this week, Michelle committed suicide. We were separated, but we hadn’t really figured out if we were divorcing or not. It was a hard time, obviously. I’d spent nearly two years away, first in Alaska and then in L.A. where my dad was, while Michelle and Jeffrey were still living in Lansdale, Pennsylvania. Our last phone conversation included the words, “Are we getting divorced?” to which the other of us answered, “I don’t know.” She also uttered the phrase, “There’s a better place for me than here.” I kind of knew where her mind was. But what could I do?
This piano piece by David Lanz was never really one of my favorites, but Michelle was deeply sentimental about it. She once told me, eerily, as we sat cuddled on the sofa in better times, “I hope I die to this music.” I could be misremembering, but I think this was, indeed, what she may have died to – it was in the CD player in the bedroom where she took her fatal collection of pills. This is hard information to dwell on. So I call this piece “Michelle’s Suicide Music.”
For a person who doesn’t believe in ghosts, I’ve accommodated Michelle’s ghost with a great deal of faithfulness and peculiar ritual behavior. Once I dreamed that she (her ghost) was stuck at the Incheon Airport, having come looking for me. One day shortly after that, I took the bus out there to show her where I was. And in the fall of 2009, when I had the chance to pass through Philly, I stopped by Quakertown, where she died, to see if her ghost was there.
Sometimes I feel as if she’s looking over my shoulder. I don’t feel she’s angry. More just tagging along, curious to see what I’m doing with myself. Other times I feel as if she has found her “better place” and still others, that she’s this seething knot of sadness and regret. I’m sure mostly these are all my own projections onto what was once her.
Picture: circa Christmas, 1994, visiting my father’s house where he used to live in Temple City (next door to the house he grew up in, in fact). Jeffrey was, perhaps, bored, but Michelle was really happy during those times – we’d exchanged our “secret vows” the preceding month, when I’d returned from my 6 months in Chile.
In English, the song title is “You and I are both fools.” It was in the soundtrack of a drama called 궁 [gung = The Palace]. I didn’t like the drama much, but I liked the song. So, this is the only Korean song I’ve ever tried to sing in a 노래방 (Karaoke room). It was, I have to say, a total disaster.
The lyrics.
난 바보였었죠 내가 바보였었죠
후회해도 늦었죠 알죠 돌이킬 순 없죠
그댈 볼 수 없어요 나도 알고 있어요
내가 정말 잘못했어요 정말 미안해요
그땐 얘기하지 못했죠 너무 어리석었죠
이제와서 이렇게 애태우며 난 용서를 빌어요
당신은 나는 바보입니다 자존심 때문에
미칠듯한 그리움에 망가지고 있죠
당신은 나는 바보입니다 아직 사랑하기에
하루 종일 펑펑 울고만 있죠 그대도 나도 모두 바보처럼 그러진 말아요 다시 생각해봐요
우리 어떻게 여기까지 힘들게 왔는데
다시 생각해봐요 후회 하실꺼예요
내가 정말 잘못했어요 정말 미안해요
그땐 얘기하지 못했죠 너무 어리석었죠
이제 와서 이렇게 애태우며 난 용서를 빌어요
당신은 나는 바보입니다 자존심 때문에
미칠듯한 그리움에 망가지고 있죠
당신은 나는 바보입니다 아직 사랑하기에
하루 종일 펑펑 울고만 있죠 그대도 나도 모두 바보처럼
그대 없이 난 한순간도 살 수 없어요
머릴 잘라도 술을 마셔도 눈물만 흐르죠
당신은 나는 바보입니다 자존심 때문에
미칠듯한 그리움에 망가지고 있죠
당신은 나는 바보입니다 아직 사랑하기에
하루 종일 펑펑 울고만있죠 그대도 나도 모두 바보처럼
이제 더 이상 망가지지 마요
I remember buying this album on vinyl in 1982 when it was released, at a record store in Eureka during a weekend visiting my dad’s house there. It was not the first record I bought, but for some reason I remember the day I bought with weird clarity. Why does music work that way, sometimes?
If you want something profound about the symbolism of the song, I will leave you with this obscure philosophical reference: it’s about Orwell and the surveillance state (which I think was what inspired me to go ahead and buy the album despite the “soft rock” top-40 stigma surrounding it, which didn’t necessarily impress me at age 17). It seems weirdly prescient from where we sit now. It makes me think of how Foucault deploys Bentham’s panopticon concept as a metaphor.
The video, nevertheless, I concede is cheesy. You have to concede that the concept of the “music video” was only a few years old at this point.
Well, I managed to run across a novel problem, for this new Background Noise “feature” of mine: I couldn’t find a youtube for the particular music track I was listening to. So, being the resourceful type, I made one. I can’t find the lyrics for this song online, either. I might try to transcribe it at some point, I think it’s pretty interesting for Nuyorican Rap.
The pictures I added to the video are lame – I was in a hurry, and I just slapped in a few pics I found via the goog. The last picture is something I found that’s not even in NYC, it’s in Chile, but it seemed like a good picture to put on at the end.
To change the subject a little bit, but still on the topic of Nueva York, I was thinking some more about my entry the other day about “all the world’s people in one city” – questions of density. Here’s the fascinating thing. Paris was the densest city mentioned in that graphic I posted at that last entry.
But I thought to myself, surely there are places more dense than Paris. And of course, listening to Spagga & friend, this evening, I thought: Of course! Manhattan!
I ran the numbers. If all the people in the world lived in a city of Manhattan’s density they would fit in an area almost exactly the same size as… get this… South Korea. Interesting, huh? Can you imagine this entire mountainous little republic covered in high rises? It’s pretty easy to do – they’ve made a heckuva start on it already.
Fear and panic in the air
I want to be free
From desolation and despair
And I feel like everything I sow
Is being swept away
Well I refuse to let you go
I can’t get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over
Life will flash before my eyes
So scattered and lost
I want to touch the other side
And no one thinks they are to blame
Why can’t we see
That when we bleed we bleed the same
I can’t get it right
Get it right
Since I met you
Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over
Loneliness be over
When will this loneliness be over
Kalafina, “Oblivious.” [UPDATE 2021-12-08: link-rot noticed and repaired with new youtube embed, above]
This is undoubtedly the only song that is part of my mp3 rotation due to my having read the title over the shoulder of a stranger on their cell-phone screen while riding the subway (see relevant blog-entry from 2008). In point of fact, that’s a really weird way to acquire a song. But it suits my postmodern affectations well, I confess, that I did so.
Don’t get the weird idea I understand the Japanese. I can barely identify some of the vocabulary. And what few kanji I can identify below, I tend to pronounce in my head by their Korean hanja readings, not their Japanese ones, which I don’ t know. But in any event, I’ve always had a weakness for JPop, especially associated with anime. So here are the lyrics – just for the sake of completeness, and if I ever decide to study Japanese again.
本当は空を飛べると知っていたから
羽ばたくときが怖くて風を忘れた
oblivious
何処へ行くの
遠くに見えるあの蜃気楼
いつか怯えながら
二人の未来を映して
よるべない心二つ寄り添う頃に
本当の悲しみがほら翼広げて
oblivious
夜の中で
真昼の影を夢見るように
きっと堕ちて行こう
光へ
いつか 君と 二人
夜を 朝を 昼を 星を 幻想を
夏を 冬を 時を 風を
水を 土を 空を
we go further in the destiny・・・
oblivious
側にいてね
静かな恋がほら始まるよ
いつか震えながら
二人の未来へ
oblivious
何処へ行くの
遠くへ逃げてゆく水の中
何て綺麗な声で
二人の未来を
歌って
No me dijeron que pagara por lo que haces Simón vas a joder a los demás The more you get, the more you don't forget put them down y empieza un nuevo show Don't pay por lo roto y ve por lo otro que si se regresa, say your prayers, reza hablas mal traicionas a tu carnal, de eso vas kuleka but it comes back The people's choice now es el anti-support güey, it's gonna go down, si sigue that way trata a tu brother como a tu carnal, say "all we are sayin' is give peace a chance" ESTRIBILLO Man kills man -y se felicitan- Save your alma -que la necesitas- Man kills man -y se felicitan Karmara -todo lo que sube tiene de bajar- Vi a un maestre cargando su trinche no sabes man cuando entrega el estuche vi a otro maestre cargando su hoz De este planeta prefiero irme en paz Se hierve sabroso su pasado de laza alivianame ñor por pensar en venganza por todos los grillos que viva la tranza de la libertad solo queda esperanza The final day el día del botón rojo Karmara man a mi nadie me lo dijo Vamos mal pasándola por culpa de otros el cambio verdadero se encuentra en nosotros ESTRIBILLO
This song always makes me think of long walks (really long walks) through the Arcata Bottoms (out along Lanphere Road, where my step-father’s house was), in the rain, in about 1979.
Lyrics.
Miles from nowhere
I guess Ill take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there
Look up at the mountain
I have to climb
Oh yeah, to reach there.
Lord my body has been a good friend
But I wont need it when I reach the end
Miles from nowhere
Guess Ill take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there
I creep through the valleys
And I grope through the woods
cause I know when I find it my honey
Its gonna make me feel good
I love everything
So dont it make you feel sad
cause Ill drink to you, my baby
Ill think to that, Ill think to that.
Miles from nowhere
Not a soul in sight
Oh yeah, but its alright
I have my freedom
I can make my own rules
Oh yeah, the ones that I choose
Lord my body has been a good friend
But I wont need it when I reach the end
Miles from nowhere
Guess Ill take my time
Oh yeah, to reach there.
I didn’t discover the Afghan Whigs until fairly recently. But they are a true 90s band. I feel like their sound is the halfway point between the Psychedelic Furs and Nirvana. That’s pretty impressionistic. I’m really stuck on this track, at the moment.
I’m trying for a new “feature” on this here blog thingy. I’ve tried things like it before. I could grandiosely call it: The Soundtrack to the Film Version of My Autobiography. Which is to say, TSttFVoMA? Maybe let’s just call it: Background Noise.
My brother posted a link to this video in facebookland. It’s worth repeating.
Who doesn’t remember the Sesame Street Martians with love in their hearts?
I think these aliens were my single most favorite things about Sesame Street. Their telephone routine is as clear as a bell in my mind, 40 years later (well, I’ve probably seen it since then a few times).
This little dubstep remix is appealing for its combination of that kind of nostalgia and modern trends in music. Very cool.
IamPumpking, “The Yip Yip Martians Discover Dubstep.”
I have just recently discovered the musical oeuvre of Bill Callahan (also formerly performing under the name Smog). Recently released album: Apocalypse. Track: “Drover.”
Lyrics (poetry).
The real people went away But I’ll find a better word, someday Leaving only me and my dreams My cattle and a resonator
I drove all the beast down right under your nose The lumbering footloose power The bull and the rose Don’t touch them don’t try to hurt them My cattle
I drove them by the crops and thought the crops were lost I consoled myself with rudimentary thoughts And I set my watch against the city clock It was way off
Yeah one thing about this wild, wild country It takes a strong, strong It breaks a strong, strong mind Yeah one thing about this wild, wild country It takes a strong, strong It breaks a strong, strong mind
And anything less, anything less Makes me feel like I’m wasting my time
But the pain and frustration, is not mine It belongs to the cattle, through the valley
And when my cattle turns on me I was knocked back flat I was knocked out cold for one clack of the train track Then I rose a colossal hand buried, buried in sand I rose like a drover For I am in the end a drover A drover by trade When my cattle turns on me I am a drover, double fold
My cattle bears it all away for me and everyone One, one, one, one, one, one …
Yeah one thing about this wild, wild country It takes a strong, strong It breaks a strong, strong mind And anything less, anything less Makes me feel like I’m wasting my time
I get settled into my apartment. Meanwhile, I keep myself entertained by periodically surfing youtubes. Here’s an embed of a video I’m very stuck on at the moment: this wacky bit of South Asian hiphop by Panjabi MC.
I’m packing. I’m listening to Minnesota Public Radio’s “The Current” (dumb name, great programming). Radiohead’s “Lotus Flower” comes on. Nice track.
So. Where did I get all this crap? Wait… don’t answer that. I’m packing.
I went to Gwangju for a few hours, today. It was stupid – I needed to get some cash, and my bank has no local branch in Yeonggwang County. So I used it as an excuse to say “goodbye” to the City of Light, and procrastinate on some packing.
Inside the Gwangju subway, they post poetry. At the 송정공원 station, I saw this poem (above, right).
I had brief feeling of linguistic victory, as I managed to parse the first two lines of the poem without having to resort to a dictionary. The poem’s title is “Paper Boat.” I think that’s what it’s about. The narrator launches a paper boat into a stream from a bridge. Etc.
The Gwangju subway is desolate and not very useful. It only has one line. Mostly old people ride it. Here is the context of the poem I saw on the wall – note – there’s no one in the subway on a Sunday morning.
When I was leaving my home (well, my apartment, and only for two more days!) earlier, I walked past the school’s playground, and took a picture of some springy trees.
… I saw fields green with the young spring barley.
… I saw a man kneeling beside the tollway next to his SUV, which had a flat tire.
… I saw a banner with a Japanese flag and the words (in English): “Don’t give up, Japan.”
… I saw a motel designed to look like a Russian Orthodox Church.
… I saw a single broad patch of snow on a hillside of brown grass, near Gongju.
… I saw a shed on fire, in a field, with a great billowing cloud of white smoke.
… I heard “Aguas de março” sung by Elis Regina and Antonio Carlos Jobim, on my mp3 player.
… I saw a cow sleeping in some dirt.
… I saw a reproduction of a watercolor painting of Paris’ St.-Germain Square on the wall over a urinal at a tollway rest area.
… I heard grumpy old people with thick Jeolla accents pronouncing Yeonggwang as Yeom-gang.
… I saw a tall young man with tight jeans and shiny purple combat boots yelling into a cellphone and dropping his iced coffee onto the pavement.
… I heard Talking Heads’ “Found a Job” on my mp3 player.
… I saw brick farm houses with solar panels on their flat roofs.
… I read 50 pages of Haruki Murakami’s Kafka on the Shore.
… I saw many, many pine trees dancing under the sky, their roots sunk in the red-gold earth, looking like ink-drawings.
… I heard The Cure’s cover of David Bowie’s “Young Americans” on my mp3 player.
… I saw tiny villages packed up into narrow valleys, limned with leafless trees, where all the houses had blue tile roofs.
… I saw an angry-looking euro-dude with Miami Vice sunglasses, spitting onto the sidewalk like a Korean.
… I saw a giant statue of a squirrel.
… I ate something vaguely resembling tater-tots, with a spicy sauce.
… I saw a bridge over the tollway that had trees planted on it.
… I saw hundreds of plastic greenhouses, filled with hothouse vegetables growing, looking like large worms swimming in formation through the still wintery fields.
… I heard Juanes’ “Fijate bien” on my mp3 player.
… I saw families having picnics at the graves of their ancestors at random locations on hillsides alongside the tollway, and there were many children hopping happily, too.
… I saw a crow perched on the sign that indicated the Yeonggwang County line. I was almost home.
[this poem is a “back-post” added 2011-04-24, copied from my paper journal. I added the embedded youbube videos because the poem needed a sound-track. A scan of a picture from the paper journal page added 2013-06-14.]
You know how you sometimes get a song stuck in your head, and it just won’t leave you alone? And you go and download it somewhere, and you start playing it over and over again?
This is a hip hop group from Minneapolis, that I heard on a “local sound” type radio program the other day. This track isn’t that … interesting, from a lyrical standpoint. But I love the way it sounds. A little bit like Atmosphere (another Minneapolis group), with a hint of something like Linkin Park maybe. Anyway… just sharing.
I drove late last night, and slept at a rest area. What road trip is complete without a few nights like that? I surfed the late night radio as I drove across the North Island. Some items of interest.
1. Item. There are Maori radio stations. They speak in a mixture of Maori and English, and play a lot of reggae and R&B. What's with that? Relatedly, what's with all the LA-looking gang tags on rural bus shelters in this country? I should try to get a picture of one. Interesting.
2. Item. NZ is crazy for the NZI sevens tournament this weekend, in Wellington. Which is why the ferry across from Picton yesterday was so crowded that there were no seats. I sat on the deck. They love their rugby. A lot. And talk about it, too. At least I more or less understand when they talk about it, whereas when they talk about cricket, I can barely figure out that it's a sport, and not some kind of abstruse mathematical recreation.
3. Item. Racism and rants, part 1. There seem to be a lot of Limbaughesque clones ranting on the radio about entitlements and lazy, freeloading Maoris and the need to limit immigration and the like. It's depressing.
4. Item. Racism and rants, part 2. On the other hand, I heard a story about a Cambodian grocer / reataurant owner in New Plymouth who had another local businesswoman who owns a pizzeria handing out blatently racist literature in front of his establishment, urging the community to boycott his business. The hurt was compounded by the fact she is a member of the town council. But… the community rallied around the grocer, and he says business has improved a huge amount, because of the many people coming to his establishment to protest the councilwoman's protests. "I think everyone needs a racist. It's been so good for business," he comments, good-naturedly. It's uplifting.
What I'm listening to right now.
Kanye West – Runaway. This thing is getting almost constant airplay in NZ right now. So in this way, Kanye West becomes permanently associated in my memory and imagination with rural New Zealand. Is that wierd, or what? [I added this youtube link later (2011-07-21)]
One of my fellow foreigners-in-Hantucky (who I don’t know well at all but whom I follow in facebookland) posted a video, there, by Japanese polymath Genki Sudo. I was impressed, and couldn’t resist putting him here. The guy is the real-life-person who most reminds me of the Buckaroo Banzai character (well, except for the brain surgery and battling-aliens-to-save-Earth parts). He’s a martial artist / wrestler / Buddhist activist and author / musician / dancer / calligrapher / graduate-student-in-public-administration and who knows what else – regardless, like any competent 21st century denizen, he’s an effective self-promoter. I have to agree with Carl-teacher – the best part in the video is when the kids are joining in. Watch it (the embed didn’t work that well, you can link out to youtubeland) – it’s worth it.
Music track stuck in my head, by Norwegian techno group from the top of the world (Tromsø), Röyksopp. The track, entitled "You Don't Have a Clue" (album "Junior"), I would describe the sound as: "ABBA goes to an all-nite rave, somewhere in a cave, tucks away a tab or two of x, and gets lost in itself. Forever."
I like being in Seoul, the city stimulates my creativity. My mind feels far-ranging and vast. But unfocused. I bought books today. I'm already restless to be back home in pitiful Glory County. It's not that I like it better there than here, it's that I'm really becoming a homebody, these days. Needing that feeling of stability or something, maybe.
That somebody is Yellow Ostrich. Plus, I like his music marketing strategy: pay what you think it’s worth. Embedded, a video of one of the tracks of his Morgan Freeman EP (“Inspired by Morgan Freeman’s wikipedia page.”). Brilliant. And here’s a review. A commenter muses, “this is post-irony, I thnk.” Uh-huh-yeh. Thanks to Chris Bodenner, guest-blogging for Andrew Sullivan at The Atlantic, for pointing to this.
I don’t really know the name of the street. It’s one of basically two streets that make up Hongnong town. There’s a “High Street” and a “Low Street” – I mean these literally, because one street is farther up the hill than the other, and they run parallel to each other, with little alleyways between, for about 10 blocks in length. The bus terminal is on the southwest end of “High Street” and the elementary school where I work is on about two-thirds along the same street, toward the northeast end. Beyond the elementary school is the middle school and the fire station.
Here’s the little video I made – all shakey and walky but whatever… it sorta captures the town. Although that morning I didn’t run into any of my students, like I normally do. The music is “Fractured” by Zeromancer. Awesome track.
(Sorry the resolution is so poor – I’ve been having nightmares with uploading large files from home, so I cut the video output filesize way back, to make it tolerable on upload – it still took 25 minutes to put it on youtube.)
Time on my side
