Wednesday, 30 June 2010
Shut the hell up! I needed little socks, and they didn't have any plain ones. Honestly, they didn't. My favorite is the little assy fellow on the bottom left. I'm gonna be a babe-magnet! As long as I'm not wearing the pink top-hat teddy bear ones. Fuck, something must be wrong inside my head.
Monday, 28 June 2010
I wanna dress up in furs and run hooting around a campfire with some other folks, arms hanging low. As the night progresses, I imagine the furs would come off, and we'd be naked. A small hooved animal would be introduced to the frenzy, and would be torn apart instantly. We'd then of course smear ourselves in warm mammal blood, and scream like primal banshees at the wind.
This idea was first discussed with my singular friend Hamish, in a shady club in Shanghai a few years back. He took me first to this decadent place called Zapata's, I think, where we jumped about on the bar, while sexy eastern European bar staff poured liquor down our throats straight from the bottle. Then I met some Germans that bored the shit out of me. They were all "Vee tear down innevecient bildinks, and zen rebuild zem more evecient." Thrilling. Before, that...wait, that was another night. But another wild night in Shanghai, we snuck our way into a ritzy Euro-rooftop bar on the Bund, and watched with glee as Euros punched it out with stunned Chinese bouncer-types. Getting back to this eastern European bartender situation, Hamish sweet-talked his way to this other bar afterward, with the girls. It was an after-hours dive called 'Eager Beaver', run by a Kiwi. So Hamish is sitting at the bar, charming these girls, when I go outside to have a nap. Every time I opened my eyes, a toothless old Chinese dude with a Fu Manchu was sitting a little closer to me, grinning his gums at me. I was like "I see you, you sneaky little bastard!" I eventually came to and shook it off, then headed back in. I was confused, because the Euros had been replaced by four Mongolian girls. They were exotic-looking, and Hamish was playing an intense drinking game involving dice with them. He spoke fluent Chinese by the way. I sat back and watched him work, but I believe the Kiwi owner, slightly more fluent in Chinese, cock-blocked him, and they bounced. I think we were out of money at that point, but kept drinking, because life is short and brutal. Hamish promised the dude we'd come back and pay him later, but I don't think he did. The Kiwi was an asshole anyways. Oh, so the whole mammal-blood dervish around the bonfire was originally floated as an idea for quirky theme weddings.
Sunday, 27 June 2010
Turns out we bought the wrong Jabulani. We purchased the inferior 'Jabulani Glider', and not the match ball. I feel so cheated. Picked up some cleats today, now I feel like a a real footballer. Soccerer. Had a 2 hour session today, ran until I puked in my mouth. Feels good to sweat. Sweat! I still can't aim worth a shit. Interesting/boring and rainy weekend. Never stops fucking raining. Cobain and I sit around and bitch and complain a lot.
Friday, 25 June 2010
Thursday, 24 June 2010
Jeez, Cobain and I went and picked up one of them new-fangled Jabulani balls. We're such consumers. Way to fuel that Korean economy, us! The old one was rock-hard, and downgraded our well-being. The Cobain-ster also got his own goalie gloves, as mine were 'too big and sweaty'. Fine. The vaunted ball flies like the proverbial homesick angel. We hauled our frog-backs around the poorly-lit field for over an hour, sweat pouring, lungs wheeza-wheezing. Soccer is kinda fun. I am not calling it football. Gonna rain all weekend. Fuck that noise.
Up the Hill. That's where we used to sit around, compare beards, sip 40's of beer and whatnot, shoot the shit, and listen to T-Rex and Neil Young vinyl in the un-air-conditioned heat of cat hair summers. Dance Vatek was there, as was Humdinger, Resolute, and Jaro Tackson. We've since scattered.
Bang a Gong:
Children of the Revolution:
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
Hey hey m'man! Your car is a factory silver Hyundai. It's not a BMW, and it's not a Harley-Davidson. Placing a remote-control police car on the dash and sticking a bunch of jazzy bullshit all over it is both sad and unnecessary. It's weak. Four hood ornaments? You're so far over the line. Weak.
Tuesday, 22 June 2010
Another great band name. They would sound either like The Prodigy, or like TYR. Speaking of SMO, I wrote a 2-chord song called 'King Smo' when I was 17. It started "Caught in the rain, without a brain, cigarette's down, wet and brown, gotta get home, before I drown..."
Sunday, 20 June 2010
Red Bull is terrible. I used to drink it so often in Taiwan and Australia that I swear I could hear my heart misfiring. They don't really have it in Korea, but you can make Red Bull yourself in 3 easy steps:
Step 1: Buy Coke and 'Saing Saing Teun' (a Korean energy drink made from the synovial fluid of Chinese prisoners).
Step 2: Mix the 2.
Step 3: Drink and regret.
Best bird of the day yesterday wasn't a bird, but an insanely good-looking little Ussuri Mamushi pitviper. Venomous as hell, their Japanese nickname apparently translates to '3-step snake', cuz that's as far as you get after getting tagged by one. This is the second one I've almost stepped on. We also spotted a Tiger Keelback taking a swim. Venomous as well. I had good pics of a Dione Ratsnake I was gonna put up, but I can't find them. They're missing, inside my computer.
I've been a terrible birder of late, daydreaming through the end of the spring migration season, mind clouded by other pointless pursuits. I figure I've dipped on about 15 good lifers this spring, cuz I'm a bonehead who's also human. So it was good to catch up with 2 good birding friends this weekend, one of whom flew down from Seoul to see the Black Paradise Flycatcher. Nice bird. Birds! Geez, anyone need any glass cut? My nipples are available. For cutting glass.