got a better app for knowing when seoul subways arrive

terrific!

thw official moratorium on drunk facebiok posts has come and so we are here.

remind me in the morning.

glad this has an Android app.

bam

I cannot relate to pop music. Even if the song is catchy, and I even gain pleasure from it, I cannot listen to it. It is almost a sort of moral stance that I have. It seems immature now, but I just do not cross that boundary -- that is annoying to some extent.

But what is most annoying?

Meeting people that I like, truly like, and who are smart, strong willed people, but  just having no musical bridge between us.

Sometimes we play music for each other on YouTube, or get into a request war at a bar... 9 times out of 10, if they aren't from my "scene," I am just shocked & appalled. I am thinking, "I just played a classic & golden anthem of Awesome, and you didn't even tap your foot, and now you're requesting [i]UTTER FILTH,[/i] and entranced by it..."

One of my best friends is incredibly smart, intelligent, great company; I treasure his company and whenever we meet we are excited... He is a music nut, but his music is all electronic; my music is all rock... He DJs, I play in bands. We go to each other's events and we do not enjoy ourselves but put on a mask of enjoyment, and then we confess we dislike one another's performance, but 'admire the energy and display! and oh, that one part of that one song, it was good!' (meaning: for 35 seconds I was not appalled)... Yeck.

"But no, seriously, I admire what you do -- it's really good," he says. And I say "Y'know, it takes a lot of talent to... Do those things, with the arrangement, and put it together... It's excellent work... You saw me dancing!" (by dancing I mean: drunkenly bobbing the entirety of my body in sync with a beat, making sure to hold two different drinks in my hands to have an excuse for not doing more.)

The only thing more annoying than being subjected to loud music you do not like is being subjected to loud music you do not like being performed by a person you like and getting just enough joy out of it through association to be... Ashamed that you are annoyed, and within this, seeking out 'the pleasure' that you do not understand.

I remember I was at a party when I was 14 or 15, and they were playing some 'awesome hard rock music' and a bunch of the guys were like, 'Yeah, cool!' and this girl I liked was 'into it.' Suddenly, they changed it to some dance music and I was like, "Bah, humbug," and she looked at me and said, "I pretended to enjoy your music now you have to pretend to enjoy mine!" I did not think of this as justice but rather as a mutual injustice...

(Luckily, as a midwest American, at all school dances they would do the 30-40 minutes of Top 20 trash, but would always then go into a good 30-40 minutes of classic rock & metal ballads mixed with random Nu-Metal and MTV punk. You could go to the dance and drink pop (soda) and talk for the Top 20s, and then you'd go out and white-person dance to the rock. We always hoped that someone would spike the drinks... It never happened. But when I was 16 I knew enough to show up to the dance drunk and stand away from the monitors while Derrick McFarland or Pat George spiked my drinks for me in the boy's bathroom to maintain the buzz... the next Monday all the kids would be like, "You were drunk?!" [because at this time people were still unsure of such things] and I'd be like, "Yeah, haha, I was drinking Vodka the WHOLE TIME (!!!), and I NEVER GOT CAUGHT (!!!)..." and they'd 'LOL OMG how did you do it?' as if it was a magic trick to bring a back pack and not breath down the neck of a teacher.)

(At this time in my life we'd have other people KNOW which groups of guys 'had the BOOZE' and we looked so cool and mature, so I'd be the cool dude and offer free booze to some girl; I thought that I'd 'get some' -- to midwest white guys in high school, we used the term lightly; there was 'getting some' and 'getting [i]some,[/i]; getting some was awkward making out and maybe you'd [i]touch her boobs,[/i] and she might [i]touch your dick,[/i] and you'd always be embarrassed admitting later it was [i]through the clothes[/i] ( ) but sometimes you could say [i]and it was in the pants/under the bra (!!!)[/i] and everyone was excited to hear that you touched boobs. I remember when someone finally got [i]some,[/i] like real 'sex,' there was this mixture of feeling -- "You're a man, and thus, by association, we are men!" and "OMG disease, pregnancy, eternal damnation, actual adulthood... Our coming of age is at an end!" It was a sobering feeling that this innocence would not last forever.)

... And I insist... This is the aspect that music is annoying.

Nationalism Lite will be defined as:

[b]Having pride & enthusiasm for non-political parts of your nation.[/b]

... And I do say I have met some good Lite Nationalists from many places.

I've met Australian vegetarian revolutionary leftists who criticize the fundamental structure of all government, criticize the concept of 'race' even existing and promoting gender equality that would make everybody & their grandmother blush.

I've met a born-again Christian Chinese who despises the Chinese government beyond words yet has a longstanding and subtle pride about his nation's culture & history, as well as cheers on his team.

... And don't get me started on the Iranians, Koreans , Germans, Japanese and Russians that I've met, with painful histories and complex political situations that make the topic sticky in and of itself.

There are a thousand examples of that...

But it is always refreshing to hear them speak of their country in [i]terms that could be nothing but endearing.[/i]

A nation really isn't it's politics... Oh, of course the politics are a very defining feature for better or worse, but sometimes the politics are mere reflections of negative aspects of the society and not the whole of it, or they are not even a reflection at all but something imposed by autocratic government.

More than anything a nation is made up of the countless, quiet neighborhoods & villages that foreigners rarely go to because there is no reason. It is about the households, schools & restaurants. It's about what Friends do when they are bored, and what Families do on holidays & sleepy Sunday afternoons.

My girlfriend is an Iranian, and through her I've become friends with many of them. I know a few who are connected with their government and have loyalty and respect to the Islamic Republic as it stands today, and I've met another who had been arrested and now is living in exile, fearful of the day they may have to go and face the music. But when Iran played South Korea just a month and a half ago they showed up at World Cup stadium in force with their flags & banners cheering them to a 1-1 draw. All politics were cast aside and the girls in Hijab and the girls in the stylish trappings of skimpy outfits were together.

No one was cheering for the Politics, but they were cheering for 'Home.'

Likewise I've never thought ill of the Axis soldiers taking arms against the far more noble caused Allies. Faced with limited choices & options they traveled great distances to die lonely deaths for a now universally despised cause.

What I think puts it into perspective is if you meet foreigners curious about [i]real life[/i] in your country.

It is a weird mix of emotions to think of 'Life as a Whole' in your nation, being intimately familiar with its shortcomings and its advantages. But when they look with curious eyes and you have the opportunity to enlighten them about the fundamentals of your own culture it is a pleasant and reflective experience that puts things into more perspective.

I'd say it felt vaguely ridiculous cheering on USA in a rural USA context... For hundreds of miles in any direction the only expected response is devout loyalty to Team USA and suddenly you've never noticed how gallant the Swedes look in their yellow jerseys, and there is a sardonic smile in your heart that wants to see your team lose because there is something comical about the Giants being toppled...

But, ahhh... It's just wrong.

Today I woke up and saw I had a text message that came at two AM -- a guy named Yongwook killed himself last night. He jumped off of the Yanghwa bridge... Euh.

It has put a great damper on my day.

Yongwook was not a close friend, but from the years 2005-2007 or so we were frequently consuming booze together at punk shows. Literally every weekend it'd be me and him and usually another 10-15 people that we would regularly have with us. We'd go to the punk show then drink all night, and often times we slept in the same little apartment in Ahyeon at our friend Jonghyeok's.

I remember him as being very quiet but often smiling. I never had a serious conversation with him -- everything was jokes & laughs or we'd be talking about music or gossiping about this or that. Nothing ever important... Which now seems suspicious? Should I have known something? Naturally, as anyone who knows someone who has killed themselves, there is a bizarre sense of guilt that is eating me up as if I could've done or said something different...

After sometime around 2007 Yongwook stopped coming out often. I saw him less and less and that was not abnormal because people would 'grow up' and in Korea that means getting a job where you work absurd hours and pursuing a relationship that begins to suck up most of your free time. I never thought anything was afoot.

In the last two years I literally had seen him zero times until two weeks ago.

He showed up outside of a punk show. I remember it well because it was so strange to see him... I was talking to Boram, Jongjae, Donghyeok, and Minji and I suddenly saw him and I was like "WTF?! It's been forever!" He laughed and we waved at each other. He commented that my hair had gotten long and I commented that he was still skinny as hell... I do not remember the rest of it, but after some small talk he walked away, and I never saw him again.

And now he killed himself a short time after, and I suddenly realize that he came back to the punk show in a sense to say goodbye to everybody.

I do not know what is supposed to happen, now, but I have a thousand small memories of him going through my head. I am angry at him, and I am sad for him, at the same time.

I snorted when I heard he took his shoes off before he jumped into the Han River... If you're going to die, why worry about your shoes being wet? Or did he leave them as a morbid marker of his passing? I heard he left a note there... I bet he put the note near his shoes...

He never told me any of his problems. I wonder if it was a 'zero sum' suicide, where our friend Yongwook just made a very objective call on the direction of his life and decided to hit the Buddhist reset button, or what?

I wonder if it was a sad, desperate affair. I wonder if it was a decision that came to after months of torment and suffering. I wonder if there was anything in his childhood that caused him to feel this way... Was there something in his brain chemistry that programmed him for self-destruction?

But then I think of him on that fucking bridge and I can't help but be upset.

It was kind of cold yesterday -- I remember coming home and thinking I wished I had brought a jacket.  A bit later I was at home watching TV and eating dinner, and he was taking his shoes off on the Yanghwa Bridge... This is the view from the bridge:
[img]http://pds10.egloos.com/pds/200808/20/61/d0050561_48ab980802df7.jpg[/img]

I wonder if it felt like he was somehow returning to nature. I guess that is what I would ask him. I wonder if you can [i]feel yourself being recycled.[/i] Well, there are other questions that would be more appropriate, but I am sure others would ask those questions before me, so I would just ask him that one. I do not think he needs anyone to try to lump more guilt, accusation or pain on top of him... I think I can see Yongwook laughing and describing to me the sensation of hitting cold water & whatever comes next... He'd find a way to make it funny, probably, and he'd be happy that I wasn't using my question time with him to guilt trip him over his death.

It'd be a gesture that if I told others they would look at me like, "Verv, why would you say such a thing?" but it is a gesture that I imagine he now understands.

Tonight I have plans with some friends and I am supposed to drink some alcohol, as per usual.

I'll have a shot for him. I'll let myself go deep into the drink and see how much I can feel my own mortality in this altered state of mind.

Tonight at about 2 AM, nice & drunk I walk through the streets by myself until I am into the back alleys of Seoul, where the only light is that of the moon and the very dim, outdated street lamps that put everything in a pleasant, yellow light... And I'll take a few minutes to take a meditative, reflective cigarette and piss and think of [i]the old days.[/i]

Life can be a painful experience, but it is easy to take everything with a grain of salt and even easier to find joy in small things...

Well, we all hope you've found your peace.

Perhaps life really was that bad for you, and perhaps this was the right decision.

Save a seat for me at the big Izakaya in the sky, bro.

I've got great news -- one of my long-time friends and fiancee of one of my best friends is becoming a tattoo artist. She is very naturally gifted and thus needs guinea pigs... Thus far most people have proven only willing to get small, little doo-dads (little diamonds on shoulder blades and little birds on ankles and tribal arm bands, etc.) and it looks like after getting a moderately sized piece on my left arm I might be the person committing to give the entirety of my back to her for a free back piece.

Of course, there is some risk -- she is a beginner, and artistic talent does not perfectly translate into skilled tattooist, but I have confidence in her and "free" is a much better price than $2,000 USD.

My first tattoo, ever, was a few days after turning 18 and I could legally get them. It was a large piece that took up the entirety of my inner forearm. The tattooist asked me if I was sure that I want to get something below the elbow -- I was. I had a  philosophical concept that I would become [i]a slave to my freedom[/i] and that no matter what became I would always be [i]marked by my wild days & my youth; changed forever by idealism, however youthful and misguided, that society is fundamentally wrong and that the permanent marking of the body as a sign of separation, a branding of RAZZAPARTE (a breed apart), was right.[/i]

Years later... I still agree with that decision.

I have always  looked at every tattoo after that as just another link in the chain to becoming fully tattoo'd from the neck down to the wrist up. You can call it disgusting... I call it "art" and it does have something to do with the fundamental rejection of mainstream social values. Part of being heavily tattoo'd is being able to look at the entirety of society and say [i]you're wrong about how you've decided to live and I have little to no regard for you people as a collective.[/i]

(Of course, then there are 'GANGSTAZ!' and 'THUGZ!' and groups like the Yakuza that are also heavily tattoo'd. Some of them are buck toothed inner city imbeciles incapable of wearing their pants correctly that will say it's "cuz I'm down fo' miiiinne!" and I claim no association with these imbeciles, nor do I claim ideological or identity proximity to the Yakuza.)

And with that...

I've never understood the demands of the Gay movement to be able to shout their homosexuality from a roof top and not anticipate judgment or scorning. Likewise, I've never understood the people who attempt to make their atheism or anti-religious or just generally anti-social view known in a formal setting...

For a long time I have been wearing long sleeves to formal events... And yes, that means when it is 33 degrees out and the humidity is approaching 100% I am in long sleeves, sweating, looking absurd. Yes, I've spent 5 hours on a Church bicycle trip wearing long sleeves in the middle of summer. I've had to take taxi cabs to many locations instead of public transportation simply so that I could get into the air conditioning -- why? Because on previous days I tried to walk it and I show up sweaty and thus smelling like sweat all day.

Summer can only be described as miserable. But this is a part of tattoo'd life...

You never let any boss or fellow employee know that you are heavily tattoo'd unless you totally know where they stand.

No, it's not like being a homosexual... It's [i]worst[/i] than being a homosexual. You do not walk around looking like an idiot in the summer. You also do not have to worry about being 'found out' by merely going jogging with short sleeves... You only get caught if you're holding hands or locking lips with your partner; I could get caught if I roll up my sleeves on the way home from work.

I've never been able to join the Crying Sing-along Together that is the homosexual movements demands that it be expected that every man, woman and child accepts them unconditionally. That just isn't [i]fucking[/i] life.

Ideally, people would view being tattoo'd heavily as 'art' or some other bullshit, and I'd be able to teach children proudly displaying my ink... But you think that highly of society? 

There are just two things you got to learn:

(1) 90% of humans are herd animals distinguishable only by vocalized language & the ability to use tools.
(2) It isn't that bad.

First: if you ever want to know what a dog would say, or what a goat would say about something, just ask a very normal person their opinion. I always imagine it is roughly equivalent to what any social animal would say if they could talk.

Do you think the human beings in Germany in 1933 or the human beings in Cambodia in 1975 or the humans in Rwanada in 1994 are that different from the humans surrounding you right now? Of course not!

The only difference? The humans you are with now tout a different party line because they were taught a different set of values. If they had been born in different times they'd be the first ones throwing Jews into ovens, gunning down school teachers & massacring Tutsis.

Very few have any real ideas or concepts or 'value systems' that exist independent of what they've been taught  by society.

You think that somehow you've 'ACHIEVED!' something if you can get a society to be socially accepting of your homosexuality? OK... Well... Har? Har? Har? I am unsure why that would even matter -- but then again, I forgot that 90% of homosexuals are probably just like 90% of humans: dumb, naive, subject to flights of fancy.

They follow the Pack just like any other animal: they do it for safety, companionship and the promise of sex & food.

Second: It isn't bad.

You just do your job for a year without complaint and then you can probably even let your boss in on your "secret." Or hell... You do not even have to worry about hot days, so why ever tell anyone? Because you want to show off your "partner?" Puh-lease... Do you really, actually give that much of a shit about your co-workers that you would truly make an effort to bring them into your life to such a high degree?

I have had a very strange month -- both in good ways and in bad ways, ranging from things such as my girlfriend leaving the country and also just a large amount of financial issues & academic stress.

There has also been the stress of time -- only one day a week do I have "free," and when you only have one day that is free you push all of your obligations back to that day and it ceases to be a free day but becomes a day of miscellaneous, necessary tasks. Suddenly, you have no free days...

Your life becomes a long list of necessary tasks and you have no time to stop and smell the roses.

I looked at my schedule for these two weeks... I realized there just is no way I could accomplish these tasks very well and guarantee a success without an incredibly stressful amount of time invested.

If I were to try to accomplish all of these tasks I think that I would do a poor job at all of them, and do well at none. If I were to also lose track of it and simply work mindlessly at these tasks, the results would also not be as good. I've noticed results are always best when I 'whistle while I work' and complete a task without stress. Work done in a stressful, painful way looks stressed and painful and smells of death.

I think that I need to just relax, unwind... Work on the tasks reasonably, fairly, and let that be that.

There comes a time in any meaningful life where man is overcome by a general sense of despair -- it is merely the existential situation that modernized living has brought us. Life is no longer a struggle but to paraphrase Fenriz (of Darkthrone), it comes from the general exhaustion of easy living coupled with a sense of alienation from the world as it stands. Of course, previous eras have also had it, but I imagine it was quite easier to ignore the minor problems when there were greater ones concerning merely staying alive and avoiding the calamities of pestilence, famine and violence.

Inner, existential despair is chiefly the product of dealing with the isolation & meaninglessness of continued human existence without great worry about threats to life. Existential despair is often times the mere reward we receive when we've conquered the challenges to our continued physical existence. It is ironic that the prize for overcoming natural selection is the sharp pain that this entire endeavor was meaningless -- and it is in this modern era that we've never even gotten to receive the triumphant feeling of conquering the natural menaces to life.

Since around the Spring of 2007 I have felt this existential despair. The catalyst was losing a very meaningful lover -- a lover that ascribed meaning to my life and gave a future that was transcendental; a future that put hope into the concept of family. I received the feeling that any nature born animal species of significant consciousness feels: the idea of procreation and the continuation of my individual self through family mixed with the joy of sexual fulfillment.

The repercussions have been severe and chilling. They awoke a feeling of darkness that enfolds my emotions and inspires brooding. In sobriety, it produces either an inadequate hope of one day returning to the romantic cocoon that once was or it produces a general sense of loathing aimed at an imperfect society. In drunkenness, it produces self-hatred, shame, and feelings of inadequacy.

Since that time I have attempted to overcome this existential anxiety through countless ways, ranging from the positive of merely hoping for the better and 'trying new things,' to the negative which encompasses such actions that are too foul, pathetic or foolish to attach my name to.

There are others who escape this pain through achieving an inhuman state of existence. These folks are Holy People, whether they be Buddhist, Hindu or Christian, who've renounced the very fundamentals of the world. They are philosophers like Zhu Don Yi who stared at a flower for days on end until they collapsed of physical exhaustion and subsequently dedicated themselves to trying to explain the entirety of the universe. Amongst them I assume there are many others who planted themselves firmly in other disciplines and practices that brought their consciousness to a different place and removed it from the imperfect human reality.

It seems the answer to problems is either fulfilling the desired end or removing the desire from having a prominent place in one's existence.

Over the last years, I have been incapable of accomplishing either one of these. I guess you could call this a personal tragedy.

For my next trick, I will see if I can overcome existential despair through... I am not sure.

But I'll get back to you on that.

(This is inspired by some talk in TLTE)

If you look at some of the great creative forces in history you can take one look at their sex life and see what has inspired them to greatness, and what potentially would have made them mediocre men.

Van Gogh cut his ear off and sent it to a prostitute; he was sent to a mental asylum where he painted Starry Night. What if the woman loved him and instead of cutting his ear off he got a sensible job & settled down?

And what of Poe? What if his 13 year old bride did not perish?

Where would existentialism & Christian existentialism at that be if Soren Kierkegaard did not break off his engagement with the love of his life, Regine Olsen? Would he have wrote about despair, or would he have gotten a lackluster job and spent his days trying to find new ways to rub his boner against his wife in public without drawing attention?

Let's not even get started on Beethoven or St. Augustine.

I think all great people have some sort of great struggle in their lives; as a person who is from a free, democratic nation with a thriving economy, I do not have the luxury of a 'struggle' being handed to me on a plate.

I am in the 'danger zone' for mediocrity & pastoral bliss. I could easily become happily married. I would never know if I had something great to offer the world because I would be too busy going to parent-teacher conferences and making sure that Your Local Business has enough of Their Local Product to satisfy Your Consumer Needs.

I'd be the pudgy, cheerful middle class guy that sent you Christmas cards from Holidays in the sun updating you that Child A is superior for their age in the field of piano & mathematics and that Child B is still into their youth soccer team. I'd even put my dogs in sweaters in the picture because, we all confess, animals wearing people clothes warms the heart:

[img]https://www.peoplepets.com/images/001409313.jpg[/img]

'Partying with Verv' would go from passport urination punk rock alcohol indulgence to... "Oh jeez, Verv is sooo crazy. Last night he got a little tipsy and he confessed he once ate a bowl of dog soup! He even used the Lord's name in vain in reference to our local sports team and his wife was so embarrassed!"

When I got heavily tattoo'd part of the idea was to be enslaved to my freedom; that somehow, this would prevent me from mediocrity. I quickly found out that long sleeve shirts cancel out this effect and also succeed in making summer a particularly miserable time of the year to go to work.

I guess at this venue I can only say that I must be careful with how I choose to play my cards. I am 26 and others my age are entering their career fields and wrapping up their loose ends; they are beginning their search for modern day, comfortable living. I would be a liar if I said that my mind was closed to the idea of 'meeting [i]the one.[/i]'

I guess we just have to promise ourselves that we will never allow a certain corner of passion in our hearts be jeopardized, and that even if we end up working our sensible jobs with our sensible families there is always a small portion of our hard drives dedicated to a [i]higher purpose.[/i]

I've decided I cannot marry someone who would demand me to spend time away from the boys & the band & didn't allow me to sit in front of the computer an hour a day letting shit-garbage-piss flow from my fingertips to the anglophone's internet.

I would no longer be Verv if I did not have a few nights a week cleaning out the stuffiness of the mind with some alcohol, nor would I be Verv if I was not working on some form of extreme music with other social miscreants.

I could accept that perhaps, one day, I'll no longer desire to do the above, but it must be on my own terms and in a relationship where no pressure exists for me to sacrifice these aspects of my person. I must always have enough time to clear the mind, play some tunes & do some creative writing.

It does not even matter if I really have no gift to give to the world like Kierkegaard or Beethoven; I drink, play & write for me. I just cannot bear the idea that something would somehow become sacrificed.