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  • U.S. Repatriating Blues: Dark Reflections after a Decade Away

    There isn’t any easy to put this, so I’m just gonna be blunt: being back stateside suuuuuuucks. From top to bottom, there doesn’t seem to be any light. It is a worse off cultural wasteland than when I left it, and considering I’ve been living amidst Asians for little over a decade, this recognition is felt doubly so. But fair warning, it could be me.

    So here are the observations of a healthy male, educated, married to a lovely woman, socialite, with probably an above average proclivity towards bi-polar disorder, whose traveled deeply into, if not lived in around thirty different countries.

    The U.S:


  • (SPOILER ALERT)Bird box metaphor.

    Something that started in Russia has now spread to the states. The very atmosphere has become demonically possessed, and you basically need only to look into the outside world to be immediately driven to suicide. However, the (criminally) deranged (it seems) portion of the population see something so beautiful in this otherwise demonically possessed atmosphere and instead of being driven to offing themselves by the most immediate means available, they feel compelled to show others the view, by force if necessary, with total disregard for their well-being. Regardless of the film’s quality, the metaphor was a maga-nificent!

     


  • Grateful Dead and the Traveling Soul

    I told Althea I was feeling lost
    Lacking in some direction
    Althea told me upon scrutiny
    That my back might need protection

    There are many tales as to how the Grateful Dead arrived at their name, but the best is rooted in pre-modern Britain, and can still be of help to any traveler looking to juice some new town karma.


  • Think Global Act Local: Alienate Fascists

    “We believe that we believe but we do not believe”

    -Merleau Ponty

    Me attempting to keep out of the discursive ambush that comes with unleashing on the last remaining MAGA trolls that haven’t exited my Facebook cosmos:


  • The decadence of “white boy/girl” problems.

    There’s a mutation in the latte wielding left’s discourse, a phraseology new to this six-year long expat, and it’s more decadent than a Cinnabon/coke combo at the connection airport. Here’s a bite: “Oh I know…(its my) white boy problems” or the “yeah….white girl issues..I know”, among other similar sentiments. What to make of this curious new flourish in mainstream American discourse, which agonized my soul’s stomach on several different occasions during my summer’s re-acquaintance?

    The “they” opposed to the “we” of the “white-boy/girl” implied in this methane ass cloud of self-indulgence has expanded out to include all minorities regardless of their “first, second, or third world” (an obsolete metric, if it were ever cogent) status. Simultaneously, the rectal offenders insinuate that all white people suffer from this decadent state of affairs, regardless of how many ironic tattoos they don’t have.


  • Buddha has long been evicted

    ….long banished by the newest people of the peninsula. He was slowly inched into his final refuge in tiny cordoned off mountain asylums without any say in the new country’s day-to-day operations. His polyvalent homes, spotted throughout the façade of meaningful mountains live in a parallel universe that is only allowed a whisper, a peep, and a peak into ours, every now and again. Things, things upon things consciously constructed, unconsciously deconstructing. Where once silence sat supreme, there is now the unbroken sound of modern man’s noon-day panic. A pacing implacable existential ennui awaiting us in the space just past the day’s finish line and before the next’s beginning. We lay awake mapping out our careful tip toe through life unto death, averting every corner of modern uncertainties, as we descend deeper into the trick maze.


  • Buddha has been evicted

    ….long banished by the new people of the peninsula, the Koreans. He was slowly inched into his final refuge in tiny cordoned off mountain asylums without any say in the new country’s day-to-day operations. His polyvalent homes, spotted throughout the façade of meaningful mountains live in a parallel universe that is only allowed a whisper, a peep, and a peak into ours, every now and again. Things, things upon things consciously constructed, unconsciously deconstructing. Where once silence sat supreme, there is now the unbroken sound, that is made aware by the existential ennui awaiting us in the space just past the day’s finish line and before the next’s beginning, where we lay awake mapping out our plod through modern uncertainties unto death.


  • Logan’s Dystopic America, Hopeful Canada, & Invisible Korea



    ***Spoiler alert for the X Men movie: “Logan”***


  • I saved my soul by coming to Korea

    Dramatic as it may sound, it is true. I used to regard my tenure here as a “time-out” of sorts. A “time-out” out of the grind of life in the United States that seems to befall all who are partaking in the race, rich and poor alike. “I’ll get to live in a Buddhist nation, (albeit heavily capitalistic as well – as I write this two Buddhist monks just walked into the Starbucks I’m at, judge away but I swear by Buddha its true)” I fantasized. Experience the collectivism of East Asian culture, which has been such a delight (I know this is a generalization, and I don’t give a damn…it’s a good one). “I’ll get to travel deep into Asia, India, Nepal, Thailand, THAILAND anywhere.”


  • The M&M Trail of Sulawesi: Makassar to Manado

    The M&M Trail of Sulawesi: Makassar to Manado (via The Togean Islands)

    Sulawesi-800

    Part 1 (of 2)


 

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