I just had to use that diary entry title.

I can't tell you how reading that book in the sixth grade made me so appreciate that I am a man. I think I am thinking about it simply because I cut myself shaving. I truly do hate to bleed. I avoid it whenever possible. I can't imagine that whole bloodletting thing on a regular basis. It makes me think that if men had the ability to have children, there would be much fewer people in the world. Think about it?

Okay, you're a journal, an inanimate object...I was being rhetorical. Men, and I am one, would not put up with the whole birth thing. Don't get me wrong, we'll help make'em, but carry'em for nine months? Don't think so. Anyways, I got to buy some new razors. I hear they are coming out with a new seven blade razor. It will literally apply gel as it cuts across your face. I can't wait. The whole toilet paper on your face is so tired. Even in Korea.

So today I actually got a chance to witness my first drunken brawl in a foreign country. I can't say it will be my most memorable moment, but it's up there. I tell you drunken, pissed-off Korean men fight just like drunken pissed-off American men. A lot of talk and not much punching. I admit, I probably shouldn't have taken pictures, but hey, I'm a tourist. Capturing moments or people's souls is what is expected of me. I wear my camera around my neck proudly. I butcher languages without thought. I am American after all and that right there allows me some leniency. Jesus, they love Pepsi and BayWatch here. Who doesn't want to be like me? Again, I was just being rhetorical. So the fight. It was like watching WWF in slow motion, but not as exciting and you would have to imagine the fireworks in your head.

These two guys obviously had an issue. I could tell as they pushed each other back and forth against the orange cart across from the KFC. I have to tell you that the pacifist in me screamed out to get involved. Help settle the fight and assist each of them in maintaining a sense of social order. But the guy who was dealing the cards kept asking me if I was in or out and if I was out why the hell did I come to play cards in Korea? Oh, I don't think I mentioned that I was in the middle of a high-stakes poker game with poorly washed men as I turned to notice the two-man drama playing out on the street. Like a true poker player, I nodded, kicked in my money, and showed no fear. Unfortunately when I turned back to the fight, the two guys had moved out of my line of sight. There were overturned food vending carts leading north, but basically for me the show was over.

Goodness look at the time. Seriously, look at a clock. I don't have any clock here in my room, but I do try to use the moon and sun to help guide me with time. According to my moon dial, it is 23:12 hours. They use military time here in Korea which I think is very militant of them. Sometimes, on cloudy nights, this moon dial doesn't work for shit. But so is life.

I look forward to what ever other stories I will see outside my window or any other window for that matter. In the meantime, I am just going to investigate if they have a Korean understanding of the word "taco". God I miss carnitas.

Thanks for listening Diary. You are the best!

Warm tortillas and happy thoughts,
E

Well it happened. It was bound to happen sooner or later, but it seems that I had my first dream in Korean.

That's right. From beginning to end I dreampt in Korean. I have been told that when you dream in another language, it means that you are becoming closer to the culture, the people. The thing that was a little unnerving was that I couldn't understand one damn thing anyone was saying. It was like they were all speaking a language that I had not one clue about. I'm serious. It was like a series of scenarios, of course I was naked in each and every one of them, but that wasn't the weird part. I mean one minute I was riding a purple pony attempting to find gold with my fellow Korean miners and the next second I was slipping down a waterslide with a group of Korean nuns. I mean, typcial dream stuff. But it was all in Korean. As I held on to Sister Kim(I say her name was Sister Kim, but really I didn't know for sure. All I know is that water slide was pretty damn steep so I was hanging on to her leg for dear life) I screamed as loud as I could with chlorine water rushing down my windpipes, "For Godsake's Sister Kim I can feel your calf hair poking through your stockings. Shave them damn you, shave them..." It was at that point I became aware that I was in a dream...A dream in Korean about Korean people, in a dreamlike waterpark. I tried to wake myself up, but could not for the life of me think of the words for "wake up" in Korean. Well, I just had to let the dream play out all of its twisted, disturbing, oddly titilating scenes before I thankfully woke to wakefulness. I can't tell you how exhausted I felt.

Honestly, it was like that one time I convinced myself I could run a marathon and just started practicing running long distances without really keeping track of my time or the actual distance. I'm talking even tireder than that. I am not sure if tireder is an actual word, but you get my meaning. I hope. Anyway, I am now a little afraid of sleeping here in this beautiful, foreign place. I have already taken quite a few "No-Doze" pills that I bought at what I assume is a pharmacy down the alley from my apartment. If you hold the bottle sideways it kind of spells out No-Doze, so I am waiting for them to take affect as I write this.

I do feel some sleep trying to creep into the corners of my eyes, but I have a spatula at the ready. Tap-tap-tap and sleepy eyes all gone. It's getting a little painful and I am being careful not to slap myself so hard that I leave the imprint of the spatula on my face.

Tomorrow, after all, is my big karaoke debut here in Seoul. I only hope they hold Tom Jones in the same sacred place I do. I am thinking of opening up with "What's up PussyCat" and closing with "It's Not Unusual". But that routine is so "tired". Thinking of raising the bar a bit and going to try it in the sequined-crotchless number I picked up before arriving in this magical land. I'll let you know how it goes. My horoscope said, "Be prepared for the storm that is against a broken window at sunset". I don't quite know what that means, but it doesn't sound bad.

Break a leg kid...Thanks Diary. Will try to get a sketch artist to capture my performance.

Well that's all for now. Remember, sleep is for the weak.

Energy and snuggles,

E

Hello my warm, comfort pillow from the nether places of my mind. Are you really there? Are you part of my imagination or am I part of yours. Jesus, I hate hacks. So why am I on cloud nine right now? Is that what you are wondering dear diary? Dear, sexy, inanimate piece of...oopsie, I am kind of in my own thoughts right now. Yes, I am feeling good. I am talking about, smoke'em if you got'em and if you don't got'em get yourself some.

Yes. I watched my first nasty Korean movie today. And diary, in case you were wondering (which is impossible I know, because you can't even think for yourself) it was all that you imagined that it would be. I never knew that a film could get as nasty as the film I saw today. I'm talking nasty beyond any kind of Western notion of nasty. Sure. We have our people who love their barnyard animals. That's been a litle played out. Yes. I know. There have been groups that have tried to take us to levels of nastiness never before captured on grainy video. But Diary. Big D. What I experienced tonight goes beyond all of that. Leave "that" for the Western fools who suckle on Jerry Springer's teat. That's right, you heard me. That is strictly for the tourists. Because dear diary, I have been baptized in new levels of nastiness. That's right. I feel like a skin has been literally and painfully ripped off my unkowing eyes into the underworld/underbelly/under-fill-in-the-blank etc., etc. ... etc. Just trust me on this one, it was superb in it's nasty.

Which reminds me of yesterday. Talking about nasty. I tried to hail a cab in this strange, wonderous place, but to no avail. Now, I admit, I should have been wearing pants, but then I don't like to confrom to anyone else's sense of fashion obligations. So while I was standing on the rain-soaked corner hailing a cab that never came I realized that tightie-whities leave nothing to the imagination. They have this funky opening in front that has never made sense to me and I had to stop and think. Boxers? Why not. I imagined all of thew people who were walking by me and pointing at my thin, bare knees as boxer wearers. Why not try boxers? Who was telling me to continue the commitment to tightie-whities and why was I so not seeing the bigger picture in undergarments? It was at that moment that I realized wearing my tightie-whities in public was allowing my undergarments to become my outergarments...it was either that or the fact that people began pelting my with lit cigarettes that I ran for the solice of my studio. Yes D, it was a very nasty scene.

On the whole though, I feel refreshed. I plan to but three boxer shorts in the morning. Consequences be damned. In the meantime, thank you for listening. I fall asleep now with new found nasty thoughts dancing and girating hypnotically in my head. More about that when you grow up a little bit.

Warm snuggles and preverted thoughts,
E