So That Was Christmas

I finished work, ran home, and gathered my things. I was on my way to Amanda's house to spend Christmas eve with her and our friends. I ran to the store to pick up hot sauce, cream cheese, and tortilla chips for dip and chips. Back home, I packed the food and a blanket in my backpack, grabbed my guitar, and went out.

I got to her apartment around 11 and our friends were there talking and eating snack foods. Anlee made a wonderful cream cheese and spinach dip. We pulled out the playing cards, played a game called Nerts (or nertz?) then started a movie. Elf, of course! After the movie, we all went to sleep, seven of us, in an apartment big enough for two.

The next morning we woke slowly and got ready. Then we headed off for a turkey dinner in Ansan! We got on the train to Jangnam Station, got off, (a cute Korean girl saw me looking, smiled bashfully and said "Hi") grabbed a bus, and went to the church where dinner waited. But first was the service. 45 minute sermon about how we are separated from God by our wicked, sinful ways, there must have been rejoicing somewhere in there, although it wasn't apparent, my friends apologized afterward, but I wasn't bothered.. just annoyed.

Then the food was served! The pastor of the church (not the one who spoke), stood up and invited us to eat, but sparingly at first, since there was enough to feed 100, and 95 people were there. In the end, I think it served plenty.

It was a fantastic meal: turkey, yams, rice, salad, pumpkin pie and some chocolates..... but it wasn't what my family had back home, that's for sure. Still, I can't complain. It was a nice treat.

After dinner, the friends split and Amanda and I went back to Sanbon where we stopped for a bottle of wine, took it home, and had a glass. She was tired and ready to unwind with everyone gone and I was ready to be home too, although I've always had trouble relaxing in the middle of the day.

I called my friend, Jiyong, once I left Amanda's and we planned to meet up, but when I got home, put my things down, showered, and he called, he invited me to his house where his family had just bought food and his mom prepared it. So I got back on the bus and went back to Gunpo, the town connected to Sanbon.

There was terrible traffic on account of a stalled bus (or was it a wreck?). But once we passed it, it was smooth sailing. However, with that bus out of commission and the other buses stacking behind in traffic, there were many MANY people waiting and getting onto my bus, causing for claustrophobia and confusion, a man's crotch pushed into my space by the pressing people behind and the noise drowning out the call for my bus stop, but I got off where I thought was right. I was wrong.

I called Jiyong, he said to grab a taxi and hand the driver the phone so he could tell him directions, so that happened and the driver dropped me off at the corner just outside the apartment complex where Jiyong lives with his family. We went in and his sister giggled, his little dog sniffed, and his mother brought out raw fish, cooked shrimp, pepper sauce with wasabi, and lettuce to wrap it. A Christmas special played on the big TV where pop stars looked beautiful and danced what appeared to be uncharacteristically sexy for Christmas.. "Oh, I like that," Jiyong would say... "Yeah.. it's not bad," I'd naturally agree.

We finished the fish, Jiyong got ready, and we left. I tried to be as polite as possible, say my please and thank yous... but they of course came out as jumbled words trying to approach manners... but missed the mark. But his mom smiled and understood well enough. At the door, I put on my shoes, struggling to balance on one foot in a small space with two bodies and a clumsy heavy coat on... then we left.

Back outside, the snow came and went, we stopped by the bank, hopped on the bus, drove back to Anyang. It bustled. People were everywhere. Groups, families, friends, couples.. so many couples.. Jiyong and I went to the coffee shop for some make-believe energy, sat and talked and sipped our warm Christmas, then we left for the arcade. We raced cars, shot bad guys, and stepped back out after a job well done.

"Where do you want to go?" "Monkey Bar?" "Sure that sounds great."

We stepped down into the basement shop to Monkey Bar for a drink and to play darts. We sipped our cocktails and Jiyong beat me all three games, then we paid and left for Liverpool Pub where the staff knows me and Jiyong and are very friendly. We ordered a beer each, sat and watched soccer play out on the big screen, then shot darts.

Christmas night and to my right, what to my sight but a husband and wife.. and their five year old child!

Darts and a sip and darts and a sip, back and forth for 7 games and one beer each, then Jiyong and I left.

Jiyong went to Gunpo to see his friends, I went home to call my family. And so, Christmas. None the excitement of home; tradition to the extent of a Christmas tree and a bell behind a red bucket. It snowed. Couples held each other close. It was a lovely night, especially to have someone close, like family, a lover, or a good friend.

Snowflakes and Sugar Plum Fairies

I went to see the Nutcracker with my friends last night. After the lights went down, the music started, and the first dancers appeared, I wept through the first two songs. I can't say exactly why, I feel overly-sentimental sometimes. But perhaps it's that, from/through/despite so much chaos mankind creates, man can yet create such beauty. The dancers were feathers floating after a pillow fight. It was incredible to see the lightness feet, soft landings, spinning pirouettes. Comical and jerky motions were still so smooth and perfect and the joy that was expressed by it all was overwhelming. The music was fantastic and, I learned, composed by Tchaikovsky. I loved every bit of the Nutcracker and strongly recommend it. 

This is the Chinese dance, but the ballet has changed, and changes with each place it's performed (as far as I understand), so what I saw last night was a little different. But the music's the same.


History of the Nutcracker

.. .in progress...

That Lesson I Learned

These lights, bah! These lights!
They drown the choir of laughter.
The sky, flooded white orange and blue
in chaotic chatter
and the soju blinds the beams
from the sky
where a rose,
threatened by wind -
she's so delicate and cold -
and a sheep -
four thorns are such naive defense -
cared for,
blossoms.
I know only from legend.
Bah! These lights' deafening glow!

However, I know
what matters
cannot be seen with eyes.
That which says nothing
always shouts most loud;
but laughter,
always silenced behind anger,
maintains,
like that rose,
cherished, loved,
tamed;
and her love,
tamed.

Bah! all these boastful lights,
these screaming neon banners.
My heart sees that rose
and that child.

Take my eyes, Anyang.
My heart knows what matters.
The horned fox told me.

just a thought

I look into the cooked eye of my dinner - scales, fins, and innards - and think to myself, "I can't believe this is normal."

Miniscule while life-threatening bones cling to the fishy meat stuck to its flesh. All the things Papa told and showed me how to remove still string the length from mouth to middle. I pick around, swallow down what I can, and wash it with dry steamed rice.

We need to find a new delivery service.. .

three stories

Youth Dew.

The youthful day bathed fresh in dew
the calm of morn’, life renewed
golden disc risen to blue
its burning streams spoke of You.

The dew trickled up my legs
returning to clouds as the day’s heat sweat.
‘Shall we to the water hole?’ ‘Yea! Let’s!’
And the day burned to speak of You.

Arriving I saw naked beauty.
Bashful, nay – Heaven’s purity.
Placid flesh, soft breasts divinity –
she threaded the water to speak of You.

Cream flesh through gray silk,
body soft as silt,
though Devil tried, no flower twould wilt
as she wrote poetry to You.

Out of the water she shouldered the weight
of the breeze drying her dripping grace.
Her delicate form, erotic and chaste
required no effort to prove You.

She enquired to why I stood in dress.
I explained, “I’m shy,” and the rest.
She reached, unbuttoned my thoughtless vest,
Told me our bare selves liken to You.

‘Are not the trees raw?
Does not the night thaw?
Is nature not law?
I abide,” said she. ‘What say you?’

* * *

She chuckled for my naivete,
cried, ‘We ought live life joyously!’
In her gentle hand she took me,
smiled, ‘Come! I will show you!’

We entered a foggy meadow.
Sun had sunk and damp moon followed.
Fireflies flickered to an fro.
Bare as palms, we lain, and I saw You.

light steals sight

I sat beneath trees in high altitude NM
and peered through the needles to watch the stars glow
in a speechless fury. Silent like God,
the cosmos spin without worry - I laid back on the sod.
My company, in his machismo, demanded a flame -
I sighed with eyes closed. 'I can't see,' he claimed.
For me, the trees cast shadows neath moonlight;
for he, only burning bulb or blaze would suffice.
He piled the brush and lit the nest in the center,
stacked logs on top that cracked and splintered.
I opened my eyes and saw bright faces, then beyond, shadow -
the stars disappeared behind the fire's glow.
Around I saw tree bark, outside I saw nothing -
my hair cringed by the heat of my company's musings;
the light of the flame, bright and demanding,
stole my sight from the stars and confused understanding -
my panoramic view of the forest beyond
was gone.















Delinquency with a Slab of Ham on a Fishing Pole
(abstract as poetry)

Dope Pony led the mob to sand
but left the map behind.
Ant lied atop a golf tee.
When – his biggest fan – handed him a top hat,
said, “Rum?” “I prefer a meal,” Ant replied.
“Not an option,” said When.
They saw the Fox, Her Fist, and Fee.
Fee wore mink and Fox wore feaux.
Her Fist smoked a fag, lit a bomb, and lent an oat to a bum.
“No worries. We’re set,” Dope Pony told the mob.
They proceeded to applaud.
Sand storm came.
“I bid adieu,” proclaimed Dope Pony.
* * *
Peck Dabbles said “Let’s eat”
and handed out plates of meat.
so in the middle of the sandstorm everyone ate.
Storm Settled – he’s naïve – “Station a thousand
for fun. Shoot questions
with waste. Catch the big ones
with a hole and never leave late
but always be last.”
A bird flew across the ceiling in an excellent display of Date and Time.
Everyone looked up and said, “oh.”
Half were excited. Half said
after while “Hold it there! Once he told us
this was a game;
now my daughter’s missing.”
“But what about all that meat,” replied Peck Dabbles.
“Oh” said the mob. “Right.”
“Yeah.
Don’t forget the meat.”

robots

If

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling

I first knowingly discovered Rudyard Kipling (happens to be the author of The Jungle Book, I later discovered) when I was moving Grandma Runge out of New Mexico. The books were many and mighty old and plenty had my great-grandfather's name in them. I wish I could remember his name. _____ Houghton. I look forward to returning to these and holding some for my own in the future.

Christmas Song

I don’t know why. Maybe it’s the clean room that attributes to my good mood. Life breathes easier with less clutter, we all know that. Sure, the clean room is nice, but so is the smell of chestnuts I’m roasting on the stove, their sizzle and crackle, listening to old songs, and rainy Sunday bowing goodnight.


I spent Sunday night home and cleaned my pigsty one-room and roasted chestnuts on the stove-top, which happens to be quite easy! You can also roast them in the oven, but I don't have an oven.

Either way, you must rinse your chestnuts thoroughly.


Then, it's vital to cut an X into the shells. This allows steam to escape and prevents the chestnuts from exploding. (One chestnut did explode and it was startling, but looked really cool, like a firework, in fact.) It also makes peeling much easier.


Next, spread the wet chestnuts on a cookie sheet (for oven) or skillet (for stove) and put over the heat. Set the stove to Med/High. The oven should be preheated to 425. Either way, cook for 20-30 minutes. On the stove, it's a good idea to cover the skillet (although I didn't) and rotate frequently.


Ahh, chestnuts with warm coffee and good music. Delightful.