Ramblings and Roamings

See some of my new writing:

http://litchaos.com/2006/vol2/rmc.htm 

What is this bullshit about A-rod? How can New York fans boo him. It's totally unfair to attack A-rod and praise Jeter when the fact is A-rod is more talented so pitchers go after him more. I hope A-rod learns to enjoy playing the villain role so that he gets on his game again.

Lit Kaosu

 

 

In Thailand a t-shirt said:

 

2001 Bomb Alert

2002 SARS

2003 Bird Flu (Avian Flu)

2004 Tsunami

What’s Next?

 

One t-shirt had the Pepsi symbol and colors but said penis; another coke said cocaine; another said coke in Thai, all you could recognize if you didn’t know the Thai alphabet was the swirl; one said FBI standing not for the government agency but for Finest Butt In Thailand; same same but different; everybody loves an Asian girl; all these shirts were for sale on the street with vendors who would come toward you with their hands out and say, “hello my friend! Hola mi amigo! 안녕하새요! An-nyeong-ha-sae-yo! Konichiwa!” and they got mad if you didn’t take their outstretched hand—the crazy bastards!

 

That was then. Now:

 

There is a pale woman sunbathing in the nude. She’s voluptuous. She seems like one of Dali’s women, except she’s real. Her hair is blonde but it’s not light. Her hips are round and ample and seem to possess her mind in them. She’s on the ground which is sort of a desert. There is nobody there. Nobody is left. She’s memory of the entire human race, a relic of organic life, built to reproduce but sin (the seed); replaced by silicon life.

 

†.

Monica is her name. Isn’t everyone these days either a Rachel, a Phoebe, or a Monica? They used to be all Mays, then all Jennys. Trends come and go. Life itself may be merely a trend. I named my daughter Atomic. Atomic Roosevelt, it seemed to go—had a certain undeniable consonance. Better to be named after a bomb—radioactive and real—rather than a phony TV sit-com character. I may be insane, but I am genuine. Sure, I started the nuclear holocaust but it was my only option, my only tick to survival.

 

†.

Dark gray color. Metallic luster. Resonance runs on wavelength. Goethe described it as three angels: Michael, Raphael, Gabriel. However, perhaps it’s nothing more than infrared light, transmitting, resonating. Just like Silicon Valley’s semiconductors, but wiring the whole universe. It was inevitable that carbon-based life would end. Wasn’t it? Monica thought so now. Surely Antoine Lavoisier knew it. Knew it the moment of silicon discovery. Identifying. Surely he would be happy to see Monica sunbathing in the nude. But he passed, like Silicon Valley. Surely he would have liked Salvador Dali. Surely. Surely he would not miss the irony of silicon not being silicone, of it having nothing to do with Monica’s spectacular breasts.

 

†.

There are too many things going on here. The algorithms and the Turing machines, the silicon-based life—collective cells. Why not? Life is a strange thing in the first place. Why you decided proactively for the nuclear holocaust is another story.

          This one is just about buying those t-shirts on the street. What’s next? I think it was Tommy Lee Jones as K who said, “There’s always an Archillion Battle-cruiser or an Intergalactic Plague waiting to wipe out life on this miserable little planet.” Aint that the truth? The t-shirt knew it too. The weather got worse. Nuclear assault was the only way to reorient the earth. Like cutting out a malignant tumor. It worked. But now there was nobody to touch Monica, to start the process—the panspermia. She’s like an Eve on her own. Drifting through an interstellar beach where the vendors once stood. Sunbathing.

 

 

         

Time always seems to move so fast. I want to go to the gym but pretty soon I have to go to work, so is it worth it? Not really. If you go two days in a row and lift weight a lot it's something similar to having the flu. The body gets so tired and heavy. It's a strange feeling. Is there any way to stop that feeling or at least decrease it? When I am at work I feel like I am half the man that I am used to being.

What's going on with Sex and the City? It's the worst thing ever. The last season has none of the charm, which was already minimal, but all of the trash materialism and same old stereotypes. All the women need men, gross, but luckily there are shoes. Shoes make everything okay. That's the motto of the shoe, I mean show. Salman Rushdie said fifteen years ago in Haroun and the Sea of Stories that trash romance novels will soon be nothing more than shopping lists.

Last week I went to the Post Office to mail a package. One meek young cashier helped a client while two others waited behind and others milled about. There was a male senior worker with his undershirt visible through his white office shirt who was standing near a back desk eyeing the mounting clients--apparently aware of the need for more tellers--but he only called out to his young underling to look at an unopened box on the ground that she should later open. He didn’t open the box himself, nor did he help the growing gaggle of customers-in-immediate-need. Surely this man is good at his job, whatever tightly defined thing that might be, but when flexibility and the ability to see the current needs came into the picture it was hierarchy before common sense or critical thinking. Is this a fluke or is it symptomatic of Korean society at large?

Since I came to Asia two and a half years ago I have seen almost no stress placed on liberal arts where a student learns critical thinking. With all this diligence for studying there seems to be little understanding of why one should study or how things work.  This makes a society of yes men (and women) rather than thinkers, and yes men (and women) can only accomplish so much. Recently countries such as Singapore, Thailand, and Malaysia stress the importance of thinking outside the box. Where does Korea stand?

In many ways lack of liberal arts education leads to a lack in critical thinking ability which in turn leads to a lack in the ability to solve problems—like efficient post office service. This accounts for the relative inefficiency of the Korean workplace even though there are long work hours. Also, foreign companies are cautious to start up or invest here based on what seems like local irrationality. In addition the youth don’t really challenge or change the system in any meaningful way because they do not have the tools or capabilities to understand it and deconstruct it. So for all the technological and economic advances Korea has it still seems to somehow lag behind other countries, of seemingly lesser standing, in major areas. Stress on liberal arts at the high school and college level can change this.

Since I am a poet, I often comment that there are few Korean poets available in English. Compare this with the great, English-speaking, Indian literature. A poetry translator must be a quasi-poet herself and then also be well versed in the poetic form in which the target poet wrote. Then she can translate from Korean into English. This person needs years of training—how to think, how to see, how to translate feelings into words—before even being considered for the job. However, as things stand there is nobody in line for that position. The liberal arts education is too weak. Likewise, there is poor understanding of Korea in the outside world. This is a shame.

The responsibility lies here in Korea: in the education system. There are many things at work but one of the most important is the fact that there is no real freedom until you can think. Liber, of liberal arts, means free in latin. Until you can challenge why and how an idea came into being you are not free and there is little meaningful use of saying yes to it. Learning any idea or carrying out an order has no purpose to the person doing it. The yes men and women accomplish very little of substance and value. These people have very little freedom. And freedom is a quality that is rare and beautiful and prized and sacred and not to be taken for granted. To grasp this, though, one needs to think. It all begins with the ability to think critically. It all begins with well-rounded education: liberal education.

 

Tiger Woods won the British Open with no real challenge and now he has won 10 majors, putting him, as he said, “in elite company. Watson can’t say that.”

            At Wimbledon, Federer won his third straight by obliterating Andy Roddick—world No. 2—who lags far behind the Swiss genius of the felt ball. They call Andy A-rod like Alex Rodriguez of the Yankees. It’s an A-bomb from A-rod means it’s an ace or a homerun respective of the Andy in question. Even after getting his ass kicked, Andy remains in good humor—playing around at the post-match press conferences. Does he lack the fire necessary to win? Is that good humor what will keep him and No. 2? Or because he can’t beat Federer—much like Agassi to Sampras—is he developing into the role of talkative, gracious, entertaining runner-up No.1, a star of charisma more than champion? What tortures him on quiet nights alone after his gorgeous girlfriend has washed her face and gone to sleep?

Today is annoying as I have waited for a girl I used to date to have dinner with her but she has stood me up. She says I said I wanted to meet her next weekend not today but I don't recall saying that. I am upset because she would have stripped for me at some point and she has small nipples which I love to play with, but moreso I am upset because I don't want to eat out alone and have absolutely nothing in the house.

Today is nothing special. The subways in Seoul are to crowded. I feel my heartrate jump and then I am sweating. My glands get swollen afterward and bother me for a couple of days afterward. If you died while in the subway, your body wouldn't even fall down.

The New York Yankees have lost again.