|While Elsie the Cow turns her back|
Sunday, 28 July 2013
|A rare Pistachio Moth. Not the moth I book-slaughtered|
In other book murder news, I killed a huge fly with a book the other day, and when I examined my kill I was grossed-out when I saw several maggots writing their way free from Mommy. Sick.
It was so hot and humid yesterday that my boobs were sweating.
I love when Ving Rhames says "I'm pretty fuckin' far from ok."
Wednesday, 24 July 2013
Today a song shuffled in and it reminded me of an ex-gf and made me morose, so I skipped it. Then two songs later a song came up that also reminded me of an ex, and made me angry. Then I thought, fuck it, I won't have any more songs left at this rate. So I skipped back to the original song and took it back, like U2 did.
Definitely time to sleep.
Die Antwoord is neat, even if they are a gag.
|NO WAY OUT|
|JumBo Roll Tissue (Jeju stoyelle!)|
|U.S.A. Spinal Protection System|
|Armed Communist Guerillas were annihilated|
|NO SLEEP GUM|
In other news, Fela Kuti rocks.
Creatures hate me:
Wednesday, 17 July 2013
|Choppers and ballers and ewoks|
|3rd Line Butterfly - pretty awesome|
|Jesus Lizard lite|
|I sure am|
|Super Curmedgeon and his sidekick Conman discuss the talent|
I hit up Home Plus to grab a tent, but the camping section was all out of cheap tents. So, I hit up the kid's section, and boom, I got a perfectly good tent. Shut up, it works.
The ride up was amazeballs, of course. Have I mentioned that I enjoy the riding of the motorcycles? So anyway, the musical acts at the festival turned out to be pretty fuckin solid, without a whiff of K-Pop. Third Line Butterfly in particular mesmerized us drunk lads, their lead singer lady whipping her hair around like a sexy maniac. The last band was pretty heavy too, like Jesus Lizard lite.
Sooo, the organizers of this festival decided to install what was essentially a free vodka tap (donations suggested), which in my opinion was a bad idea, especially with so many foreign devils around. It was this overabundance of the creature that led to something I wish I could unsee. A portly and tanned bald white guy with a goatee running across the stage naked - twice. The cops were shocked, but no one wanted to touch this guy, so he got away clean. Also shocked were the many children in the audience, who I can tell were not prepared to see wobbling male genitalia at this point in their lives, diminutive though it may have been. I heard the guy panting 'I'm drunnnnk!' triumphantly as he jumped off stage. Dummy. We're talking like a ping pong ball and a baby carrot.
Oh, last story. I awoke as the sun was coming up to the sound of Iron Man's zipper opening. A white chick pops her head in. I may have (or I think I may have but I hope I didn't) mumbled 'There's room,' while patting the ground next to me. She said something like 'Oh, I thought I was staying in an Iron Man tent.' before vanishing. I'm fairly certain she was a thief.
|End of the road/useless infrastructure|
|Near Yongsu Reservoir|
|Lunch on the reservoir|
|Back to the old Kamikaze fields and the lovely rebar Zero|
|Seotal Oreum massacre site|
|Japanese bunkers (again)|
At one fork, I got lost and ended up at the 'Jeju International School', I believe it was called. A big cluster of outsized and ugly buildings in the middle of literal nowhere. Creepy was the zombie infrastructure that ringed the place. Random parks for kids kilometres away from anything - perhaps months old but already overgrown with weeds. Endless grids of streets with nothing on them, most of them leading absolutely nowhere. Ah well, I guess we gotta keep those ajosshis working, innit?
|Sweet sweet Halla hovers above me|
|Cheap ring-stinger brekkie at a blue collar dive|
|Let's have a closer look, and yes, what a confirmed fucking horror|
This morning was a big morning, a real one, a good one. I went down to sweet sweet Geolmae (soccer and birds, together at last!) to sweat profusely, huff and puff, and chase a soccerfootball around in the scorching mid-morning sun. Good times. Cobain long gone (currently in Myanmar for some odd reason), and predictably unable to raise a posse of (or indeed a single other) like minded people (or person), I played with my ball alone. Heh.
Then I grabbed a ring-stinger brekkie-lunch with my homey who just got out of the army after his two-year stint. He was up on the border and told me an interesting way to ID high-ranking Nork officers at a distance - the fatter the officer, the higher the rank. Haha, strewth.
PS the fish had sick teeth.