So I'm living in South Korea. Working as an English teacher. It's pretty solid. Here are pictures! Piiiiiictures. Love them or fuck you.

From the top of Surisan

It's me.


Gunpo. The city I live in.

I turned 25 here.

Heather enjoys my blowin' skills. They are mad indeed.

Butchering songs.

The town at night.

I'm much more awesome than yooooouuu.

Life here is pretty good. I like it here and I'm living as best I can. I'm moving apartments this week. It's supposed to be nicer than the one I'm in, but about the same size. It's on the 17th floor of a building downtown.  17th floor? Man.

Soda Crackers

Who the fuck would buy unsalted soda crackers? Seriously? You know who? Someone who didn't read the label. I'm not saying I did, but I just found some properly salted ones and by god have I missed these. For awhile, unsalted. What the fuck? They are just wheat otherwise, what's the point?


And the river crashes on the rocks,
there I see her again.
The sudden cloud of water fades
she with it;
My ghost; My shade.
She haunts my sleep.
Hades is her home,
Pluto her lover
and I, and I am haunted.
My lids grow heavy like lead
dragging my soul
down to her world.
The weight is gone
my eyes open and my senses aware
a sea of green greets me
a whisper carried by the wind calls,
"can you hear me, love?"
To the west the great orb is drug below
his sister rises from her burrow in the east
casting all I can see in twilight.
Long shadows from an unseen force
stretch toward me like vines
the first reaches my feet and
her voice calls louder
"can you hear me, love?"
Compelled to move
I start west.
The orb is long gone now
my world is shadow
still I move west.
Toward her: my ghost, my shade.
The sea of green breaks against the forest
there I stopped.
I looked about my surroundings
the way back, lost to the night.
The way forward a labyrinth of wood.
I peer into darkened woods
and my eye catches the glimmer of a light.
My feet stretch and fall forward without a thought
bringing me into the home of imagination.

Didn't want it, didn't need it, but we knew that we could steal it.

Rain spatters against the mud. Eyes open. Blurred vision. Two figures. Water rolls down his bare back, black hair hangs down his face. His blood mixes with the muddy waters beneath his stomach. His reflection stained and staring back at him. A cough; a stutter. Another fist connects with the side of his face, flesh ripples as a rock drops into a pond. Two figures watch. Watch him flop in the mud. A command, "get up." He pushes down against the mud; sinking to his shoulders. One figure places a boot against him; he rolls his victim on his back.

(no subject)

An update? At this time of day? What in the Hindu god's names could I be doing up now? I'll tell you what, not sleeping. My room is far too cold. I left the window open before we, Mike, Kris, Jon and Miller, went and saw Fear and Loathing. That movie is still hilarious. But it is late, Mel Gibson is crazy go nuts, and I'm out.

Change of plans.

Friends! Romans! Vertebrates!

I am no longer looking for a bookshelf. Now I seek Cinder blocks bricks and plywood. I shall construct my own bookshelf. One for my own needs. Yes, my needs. So if you have any or know someone who has some. Hook a brother up.