Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Sometimes the Good Lord Lets the Sun Shine Down Upon You Again

Fall came, and found me sleeping in a park close to the bar I cooked at. I would come to work every night with my sleeping mat and all my stuff on my back, saying that it was a yoga mat and I had just gotten done with class. I would fall asleep under the lights above the spot next to the storage shed I had deemed most safe from being spotted by cops, yuppies walking their dogs, and the occasional, random, homicidal maniac. I would wake around six every morning, with the next twelve hours to spend walking around the city, at the library reading every newspaper in stock, at the coffeeshop writing my book, at friend's houses, anywhere, until work that night. I could at least get all the food I needed at work, and surreptitiously stock up on various foodstuffs while there.

I finally found a room in a punk house on the northeast side which cost $250 a month, an amount I was able to pay as I had gotten paid as soon as it opened up. I moved in there, to great delight. It was nice to sleep inside, especially as it was getting quite cold and wet in the Pacific Northwest, being October. It was me and a couple of other kids that lived there, all potheads with no jobs, just sitting around watching old horror movies and listening to NPR all day.

In a couple weeks after I was living there, the house was foreclosed on, and its ownership was returned to a bank. We got an eviction which said we had to be out in two weeks, or the Sheriff would remove us. By this time, my friend Jesse, also homeless, had started staying there, in the living room. My other two official roommates moved out, but Jesse and I stayed and squatted the place for as long as the coast was clear, which turned out to be longer than we had been told, as the gears of beurocracy turn slowly with such matters.

It was December first that we had to be out, and I remember laying on my stained mattress in front of the TV, watching Barney on public television, now out of a job, smoking pot with Jesse. We didn't know what we were going to do. We had to be out by nine in the morning, and had nowhere to go, and not enough money to get anything between us but a shared, fleabitten hotel room downtown with crackwhores and other bums for neighbors. Despair hung heavily in the air, despite our wanton attempts at wafting it out of the room.

There was a knock at our door. We both flinched, figuring it was the cops, and that we were going to get into some kind of trouble. Army crawling over to the window, I crept up onto the couch to see who was parked outside. No squad cars. I rose and went to the front door, peeking out of the peephole. It was our next door neighbor, Noel. I opened the door, relieved.

"What's up, Noel?" I said, as Jesse emerged from the darkened kitchen, where the back door was.

"Nothing much. I was wondering if you guys had any grass? I'm all out and I'm freaking over my day at work today," she sighed.

"Of course we do! Come on in," I said, waiving her into the living room.

She plopped down on the couch. Noel was an old hand from the Portland crust/metal scene. We were both kind of in awe of her. She had run away from home and hopped trains at the age of like fifteen, and had tattoos all over her face, crummy dreadlocks, and a very warm presence. I had hung out with her only a couple times, but I didn't know her as well as Jesse did, and he barely knew her. I walked over to the other couch and plucked a mangy bag of nuggets off of the coffee table. Searching around for my pipe and finally locating it, I jammed several pieces in.

"Thank you so much, guys. I am so stressed out I could pull the bumper off of my car with my bare hands."

"No problem. You know you're always welcome here."

She lit the pipe and pulled in a hefty load of black smoke, allowing it to just waft out of her mouth for several seconds of its own volition, then collapsing in a coughing fit. Recovered, she passed me the pipe, grinning. I took a pull off of it, passing it to Jesse.

"So when are you guys out of here?" she coughed. She knew our predicament. Her and her roommate had been scheming to steal the dryer in the basement for several days, before the cops came.

"Actually, we gotta be out tomorrow morning. 9 am. And, we don't know what we're gonna do. Jesse might have a closet he can sleep in in St. John's, but I don't know where I'm gonna go at all. Probably go back to Fremont Park for a little while."

"Well, there's an old RV parked in my backyard that we're not using right now. Nick was staying in there last month but I kicked him out because he was always up in my shit, never respecting my space, always wanting to sleep in my room and shit. Pissed me off."

Jesse and I crept closer, shivering, our breath hanging in front of our heads momentarily in the freezing, trashed, Victorian living room.

"Are you serious? You wouldn't mind? We could pay you money and everything," Jesse said, rubbing his hands together and brandishing the pipe to his lips.

"Yeah, actually. I would like someone to be living in it, and I could definitely use a little more cash right now, with Tieren's school supplies and everything." Tieren was her eight year old son, who I had watched a couple times while she was out at the bar. He was uncannily bright, once correcting me that "a spider is NOT a bug, you dummy! Its an ARACHNID!"

I looked at Jesse, and he nodded approvingly. "Well, let's have a look-see," I said, setting the pipe down on the coffee table, stuffing the bag in my pocket.

We walked next door, to her backyard, to see our new prospective home for the next month. It was a 1970s Ford RV with a bed above the driver's and passenger seats, a sink, cabinets, another space in the back for someone else to sleep, rugs, and a power hookup that ran into her house. Turning on the lights, and surveilling the place, we looked at each other, thinking "holy shit...we've got a place to stay in december! Hell yes!"

"We'll take it," I said, scoping the place out, beaming.

"Ok, well, you guys can decide what you want to pay me, but I would like $100 total for the month. I don't know what's going to happen with it in January. There is a chance you could stay, but I think Dumpy's coming back from Minnesota and needs a place to stay then. Its not that warm or anything, but the power should support a small space heater, and maybe a radio or something. But you can have it."

We stood there silently, looking around, and told her we would give her $200 in the morning, after cashing our checks.

It was a cold December, sharing that RV with Jesse. But the Lord was with us, and there was much late night laughter, bent over a Scrabble board, with the all-night classical station on the clock radio, and the vague idea that something out there was watching out for us.

Why, or what, we have yet to figure out.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Assasinations and the Creepy, Bizarre, Evil, Tall People

I had killed someone. I was on a contract job of some sort for some shady group of people I barely knew much about, just needed the cash. I didn't even know the guy I was killing, just a time and a place I was supposed to be. He barely finished his sentence before I took this odd device which, once a button was pressed, shot out a nine-inch long thin metal spike. I put it through his neck. He looked incredibly surprised, and cursed and twisted on the ground while bleeding to death. I took off running, but somehow the cops saw, and began to chase me. Trenchcoat billowing in the wind behind me, i ran through a nondescript rainy European capital, hopping over trashcans and cars, over walls, until they got in their car. The tried repeatedly to run me over, but I supposed it's impossible to actually die in a dream. After failing at squashing me, I hopped onto a nearby taxi, perched atop, clutching th lighted sign. The cops crashed their car over and over into the car I was on top of, still to no avail. My adrenaline was pumping out of my ears. I literally flew off of the car, over a wall with concertina wire, into the parking lot of a giant american style grocery store. I ditched the trenchcoat and tried my best to just calmly walk in.

There was a little dopey cafe area in the back, with hot dogs, nachos, and soda, with yellow plastic booths. All my friends were there, drinking soda, hanging out, jokin.' I sat down next Kar and we began chatting, and I poured her a Coca Cola Classic from a two liter bottle. We then decided it would be a great idea to go get a room at a hotel across town which was extremely luxurious. I remember that the price of the room was $2,000 a night, which I gladly paid, as I had just made a small fortune from the slaying in the rainy street.

Next thing I know, its the next day, and we are walking down a busy street ensconced by gaslamps and grey stone buildings. I hold her hand as we walk, busily chatting about something or another. This man approaches me, in his fifties, plump, wearing an odd, almost RENN FAIREish out fit, and points to my chest, saying "I like it" and nodding approvingly. I look down and I am wearing a grey sweatshirt with the text from Liber Oz printed on it. I look back at him and say "Yes, thank you! 93, brother!" and he looks at me confusedly and walks away. As soon as we turn to continue walking, we are surrounded by extremely tall people, with very long, cartoonish, very creepy faces. The are upwards of twelve feet tall, leering over us, silent. I am leading Kar through this increasingly creepy and bizarre crowd, and turn around and say "are we in some kind of crazy Alice in Wonderland dimension?" Mirroring my thoughts, she nods, wide-eyed, aghast. I am very scared...there is something deeply, repulsively evil about these tall people in casual business attire, stopping over us, leering.

Then my best friend Skyped me, jolting me from the scene.

Happy trails!

Thursday, April 16, 2009

Under the Ponderous and Watchful Eye of the Universe

A sweet envelope encases me, a new, fond perspective on all of the universe's gifts. I will be no longer bothered to oscillate between the good and the bad, the triumphs and the tragedies. I will no longer see the world surrounding me as a perpetual series of games and events with which to grapple and struggle with. I will no longer thrive on self-satisfaction, or temporary boons to my bloated ego, or compliments, affections, and delighted caressing.

I think, this morning, I figured out how to stand above the duality of pain versus pleasure, of happy versus sad, of intimacy versus lonesomeness, of companionship versus abandonment. I am beginning to know that I am here to accept the gifts the universe hands me, and to learn from the fleeting agonies, with the sole purpose of prospering as a rejoicing being who was shuttled back into this time/space continuum once again.

For "all existence is pure joy, the sorrows are but as shadows, but there is that which remains." Existence itself, and the way I now know I must interact with it, is not dependent upon whether or not my infantile self sings its praise, but that it is I myself who is dependent upon whether or not I sing its praise and rejoice in it. I have been handed the gift of life, and I can freak out over it and whether or not I like it, or I can lie down in the light and grin.

I am laying down in the light and grinning, although I accept any and all things that may come. I only wish to be a vessel which is as open as possible for the life that the Lord may pour into it. I do not wish for attachments, or security, not health, wealth, family, or friends, but to allow for that golden spark which comes and peeks out every once in a while, that "bluebird in my heart," to continue thriving and growing and chirping ever louder.

A moment of bliss goes a long way. An unexpected epiphany establishes empires in the soul. No one can give you that realization which throws you back into a state of total awareness...you earn it. My problem was always looking for it in other people.

I have not resentment towards anyone. Even my biggest enemies have my blessing now. I do not want to tread this earth with antagonisms, or with debasing attachments to others.

Into the arms of the Savior within may I instead tread, ever towards that whose name I do not yet know, but whose face I have once again glimpsed, and have found myself rejoicing.

It is within, not without. What a nice fucking thing to finally grasp.

For all we have here is rejoicing.

And, brothers and sisters of the light, who are my fellow beams of that primordial light, may we indeed rejoice.

By the way, I'm making margaritas this weekend at Hyundae beach. Come and enjoy yourselves.

Happy trails, and all the Love...

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

Sometimes the Good Lord Lets the Sun Shine Down Upon You Again, If Only Enough to Know He's There

Fall came, and found me sleeping in a park close to the bar I cooked at. I would come to work every night with my sleeping mat and all my stuff on my back, saying that it was a yoga mat and I had just gotten done with class. I would fall asleep under the lights above the spot next to the storage shed I had deemed most safe from being spotted by cops, yuppies walking their dogs, and the occasional, random, homicidal maniac. I would wake around six every morning, with the next twelve hours to spend walking around the city, at the library reading every newspaper in stock, at the coffeeshop writing my book, at friend's houses, anywhere, until work that night. I could at least get all the food I needed at work, and surreptitiously stock up on various foodstuffs while there.

I finally found a room in a punk house on the northeast side which cost $250 a month, an amount I was able to pay as I had gotten paid as soon as it opened up. I moved in there, to great delight. It was nice to sleep inside, especially as it was getting quite cold and wet in the Pacific Northwest, being October. It was me and a couple of other kids that lived there, all potheads with no jobs, just sitting around watching old horror movies and listening to NPR all day.

In a couple weeks after I was living there, the house was foreclosed on, and its ownership was returned to a bank. We got an eviction which said we had to be out in two weeks, or the Sheriff would remove us. By this time, my friend Jesse, also homeless, had started staying there, in the living room. My other two official roommates moved out, but Jesse and I stayed and squatted the place for as long as the coast was clear, which turned out to be longer than we had been told, as the gears of beurocracy turn slowly with such matters.

It was December first that we had to be out, and I remember laying on my stained mattress in front of the TV, watching Barney on public television, now out of a job, smoking pot with Jesse. We didn't know what we were going to do. We had to be out by nine in the morning, and had nowhere to go, and not enough money to get anything between us but a shared, fleabitten hotel room downtown with crackwhores and other bums for neighbors. Despair hung heavily in the air, despite our wanton attempts at wafting it out of the room.

There was a knock at our door. We both flinched, figuring it was the cops, and that we were going to get into some kind of trouble. Army crawling over to the window, I crept up onto the couch to see who was parked outside. No squad cars. I rose and went to the front door, peeking out of the peephole. It was our next door neighbor, Noel. Whew. I opened the door, relieved. "What's going on, Noel?" I said, as Jesse emerged from the darkened kitchen, where the back door was. "Nothing much. I was wondering if you guys had any grass? I'm all out and I'm freaking over my day at work today," she sighed. "Of course we do! Come on in," I said, waiving her into the living room.

She plopped down on the couch. Noel was an old hand from the Portland crust/metal scene. We were both kind of in awe of her. She had run away from home and hopped trains at the age of like fifteen, and had tattoos all over her face, crummy dreadlocks, and a very warm presence. I had hung out with her only a couple times, but I didn't know her as well as Jesse did, and he barely knew her. I walked over to the other couch and plucked a mangy bag of nuggets off of the coffee table. Searching around for my pipe and finally locating it, I jammed several pieces in.

"Thank you so much, guys. I am so stressed out I could pull the bumper off of my car with my bare hands."

"No problem. You know you're always welcome here."

She lit the pipe and pulled in a hefty load of black smoke, allowing it to just waft out of her mouth for several seconds of its own volition, then collapsing in a coughing fit. Recovered, she passed me the pipe, grinning. I took a pull off of it, passing it to Jesse.

"So when are you guys out of here?" she coughed. She knew our predicament. Her and her roommate had been scheming to steal the dryer in the basement for several days, before the cops came.

"Actually, we gotta be out tomorrow morning. 9 am. And, we don't know what we're gonna do. Jesse might have a closet he can sleep in in St. John's, but I don't know where I'm gonna go at all. Probably go back to Fremont Park for a little while."

"Well, there's an old RV parked in my backyard that we're not using right now. Nick was staying in there last month but I kicked him out because he was always up in my shit, never respecting my space, always wanting to sleep in my room and shit. Pissed me off."

Jesse and I crept closer, shivering, our breath hanging in front of our heads momentarily in the freezing, trashed, Victorian living room.

"Are you serious? You wouldn't mind? We could pay you money and everything," Jesse said, rubbing his hands together and brandishing the pipe to his lips.

"Yeah, actually. I would like someone to be living in it, and I could definitely use a little more cash right now, with Tieren's school supplies and everything." Tieren was her eight year old son, who I had watched a couple times while she was out at the bar. He was uncannily bright, once correcting me that "a spider is NOT a bug, you dummy! Its an ARACHNID!"

I looked at Jesse, and he nodded approvingly. "Well, let's have a look-see," I said, setting the pipe down on the coffee table, stuffing the bag in my pocket.

We walked next door, to her backyard, to see our new prospective home for the next month. It was a 1970s Ford RV with a bed above the driver's and passenger seats, a sink, cabinets, another space in the back for someone else to sleep, rugs, and a power hookup that ran into her house. Turning on the lights, and surveilling the place, we looked at each other, thinking "holy shit...we've got a place to stay in december! Hell yes!"

"We'll take it," I said, scoping the place out, beaming.

"Ok, well, you guys can decide what you want to pay me, but I would like $100 total for the month. I don't know what's going to happen with it in January. There is a chance you could stay, but I think Dumpy's coming back from Minnesota and needs a place to stay then. Its not that warm or anything, but the power should support a small space heater, and maybe a radio or something. But you can have it."

We stood there silently, looking around, and told her we would give her $200 in the morning, after cashing our checks.

It was a cold December, sharing that RV with Jesse. But the Lord was with us, and there was much late night laughter, bent over a Scrabble board, with the all-night classical station on the clock radio, and the vague idea that something out there was watching out for us.

Why, or what, we have yet to figure out.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Puttin' the SMACK DOWN

When I began teaching here in Busan, I arrived at the school straight from the airport, to observe two 45 minute classes, as I was to start with my own classes the next day. Of course, my head was not the clearest, after having been up for about 40 hours, traveling. I had told them I had no experience, but it didn't seem to matter. The next day I showed up, freshly shaved, in shirt and tie, nervous as all hell. I was handed about 12 books for the six classes of roughly ten kids each, told which pages to start on in each of them, and shuffled off to the first classroom.

Of course, it's not that difficult to explain the difference between a list of present and past tense verbs to anyone, unless they talk constantly in a foreign language, point and laugh at you, and sometimes jump up out of their seats and tag each other. It could be incredibly exasperating at times. There were a couple days when I was walking to class thinking "what did you get yourself into THIS time, you dolt!" I don't want to make it sound like they were all bad days. But there were enough of them to make it really hard to enjoy. The first day in class with your new students is crucial- it decides how they perceive you and if they are going to take you seriously or not. And I was far too lax that first day. I mean, I didn't know what the hell I was doing. I had those students for the past seven weeks.

But yesterday, I got ALL NEW students, 70 of them in total, among six classes. This was an opportunity to change the way things worked. I walked into the first one, with a big goofy grin on my face and said "HELLOOO!!! HOW ARE YOUUUUU? MY NAME IS ANDYTEACHER!!!" They were very excited to see who their new teacher was and laughed and screamed and whispered to each other. I walked up to the front of the class and asked them all how they were doing. I told them I was very happy to be their teacher and looked forward to getting to know them. Then, I turned around to the dry erase board, and made a big 1, and a big 2 underneath it. I said "there are two rules in my class, ok?" They all nodded expectantly. I said "number one is that you don't speak korean in my class, unless you are helping one another, OK?" I wrote it next to the big 1 on the board. They all understood. Then, I said "number two is that you raise your hand when you want to ask a question, or answer a question that I ask of you, OK?" They all nodded. I thought "we'll see how this works.

They were the most orderly, well-behaved, and quiet classes I have ever taught. I taught more in those six classes than I ever had in any class in the past seven weeks. It was a joy. I realized how much more I would enjoy my work now. I had put the SMACK DOWN on the first day-- the crucial ingredient.

Our new story book we read twice a week in class is taken from Disney's Atlantis, a movie which I had actually rented and watched with my best friend several years ago in Kansas City, when we were REEAAALLLYY high. So high, that the choice, which took upwards of an hour, was between "The Land Before Time," "The Jungle Book," and "Duck Tales: the Movie." We sat wide-eyed, compelled at the story. I think I even cried at one point. So, I knew the story and really liked it. Anyhow, the point is that yesterday I successfully explained this concept to 70 korean children:

that millennia ago, a highly advanced island civilization existed, until it was threatened by a giant tidal wave, coming to swallow it up. A glowing, blue crystal which was floating in the sky over the island-city sent down beams of blue light, which raised the queen up into the crystal, while her baby daughter, the princess, called for her mother. then, the crystal shined more blue light down over the island, forming a giant "protective bubble" around Atlantis, shielding it from the tidal wave which seconds later crashed against it. the island was saved, however it sunk deep into the ocean, a lost city hidden from everyone and everything else.

yeah, sounds like a crackpot scenario, right? well imagine trying to explain it to a bunch of kids who don't know 80% of the words involved. through drawing pictures, gesticulating wildly, and making myself hoarse, I got the kids to wrap their little heads around this story. I actually felt quite proud of myself.

Today, we're learning about musical instruments. All of my classes now are in the same grade, so I only have one lesson plan and three books to work with all day, teaching the same material six times in a row. Its pretty nice. I can show up in class far more prepared than I was before, when I had four different grades.

So, things are going much better now. Now I just have to learn all their names.

Happy trails!

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

Some Updates On the Brewing Tension On the Korean Peninsula


It is going to be a tense weekend/next week here on the Korean peninsula. North Korea has recently announced it's plans to launch "a satellite for peaceful purposes between 4-8 April," according to a two days old BBC News article. I have found no apparent explanation for the purpose of the launch on the part of the North Koreans. However, it appears that "the United States, Japan and South Korea say the North will in fact use the launch to test its Taepodong-2 missile." From a bout of cursory research, it appears that the Taepodong-2 is capable of traveling a maximum of 2,300 miles (falling short of Anchorage by several hundred miles) and delivering a payload of around 500 kg. It is unsure whether or not the Taepodong could support an alleged North Korean nuclear warhead, as so little is know about the North Korean nuclear program. A US spokesman said that "two destroyers were sent out from the South Korean port of Busan," but that they were headed into an area near North Korea for monitering purposes only. In fact, US Defense Secretary Robert Gates said that the US would only shoot down the missile or become involved if "we had an aberrant missile, one that looked like it was headed for Hawaii." Japan has stated that they will shoot it down if it appears that any piece of what is launched by Pyongyang will fall anywhere near their territory. South Korean President Lee Myung-bak said that it was "not in anyone's interest to test-fire a missile, or whatever it is." However, he also said "What I do oppose is to militarily respond to these kind of actions."

It seems like the only real danger is in another country stepping in and shooting down the launch, depending on what it is. I have not looked through the relevant international laws yet, but this could be called an act of aggression enough to validate an even greater response by Pyongyang, and that's where things could get pretty hairy.

We'll see what happens.