So What. Say What?

To Remember:

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Nothing would be humble.
.

Bad pictures of little things....

Time Control

I've been thinking a lot about our perception of time. Lately when I've had a couple hours in between classes, it feels like it lasts a really long time. I can usually draw as well as get some reading done and still feel like I've had plenty of time. What if we could control, to some extent, the way in which we perceive time?.....would some live "longer" than others?


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Sometimes Its frustrating.

Its like I intentionally do something just good enough so it feels like more of a fuck up. 

Into the Depths.

Pretty loose ^, holding the pen at the opposite end.

Sometimes it feels like a drawing (^) takes me too deep, not that it has anything to do with any particular drawing. It's like I'm connected to everything around me and yet it as though i'm not even there. To the point of focus where I can no longer draw, I lose all function and even thoughts are only a flicker. I only sit there and soak in nothing until it begins to wear off.  

In the wake. For the first time I felt as though I would rather be painting, even though I know nothing of it. 

quickey taday in between classes...

That which I Regret Most:

....

not much doin.

 ive made a few changes to the stem since i took the photo. up for suggestions on this 

one particularly. /jubs

i have the hardest time trying to take the pictures level.

What kind of day.

So after indirectly scandalizing a sweet 12yr old Korean girl today (<-wished I would never have to say that) I felt like an asshole. I made it until 11:20pm until I decided to spend some of my last won on a 2L of soju. I gathered my 3,200 in coins and headed over to the little convenience store across the street.

 Its a bit cold these days and had apparently been raining a little since I got home. I walked in the store and selected the large green bottle from the shelf, turned around and placed the bottle on the counter then proceeded to shamelessly extract the 34 coins from my pocket and quickly stack them on the counter. It checked in at 4,200. She backed away from the counter as I counted which said: "There is no way this Ape is this broke....I can't believe that he is doing this." Seeing that I didn't have enough coins I reached for the last bill in my wallet. Oh shit.......... "My wallet is not in my pocket." I thought, out of obligation.

Not to be denied I ran back across the street and got my wallet and was back in what had to be less than a minute. I pulled out the 1,000 won and gave it to her. She said something mildly scornful. I just sat there and she made a shooing motion out the door that basically told me not to come back. As I was heading out the door she picked up one of the two 50won coins and held it up at me and said something that I'm sure was "What the fuck is this, you hairy piece of shit."

-Mission Accomplished.

//

After exploring the pros and cons of mindless internet pissing contests and all of the enjoyment that they bring to might little [finally decides to go get soju-----returns] alien heart. I have found upon the reflection of play and violence that I believe I have a rooted frustration. The frustration is not one of any offense or one towards any particular people or ideas. I struggle with words. Communication in general, I guess, but particularly that of words.

I really don't think thought in words. They are more like shapes. They are not of a physical or tangible sort. Just shapes of thought. I can read, yes. But the words, or sentences rather...perhaps paragraphs, pass through some sort of vortex as my mind filters out the form and molds the assumed meaning to some glob of an idea. There sits a sculptor that never rests, using whatever clay is available at that moment. He likes reading as it will amass more material to build and learn to build. He is also a mute though he wishes to speak. Sometimes he forms the clay in the shape of words and orders them out the door only to sit there confused, as a two year old wonders why his Play-doh doesn't look like a real face. I then result in manipulating what ever system I can get my hands on and throw it around and splash it on the walls (kinda like in that Hellen K. movie...but perhaps a bit more happy).

There is a chained Beast within my chest. A large, amorphic, DUmb Beast.

Another Weekend

Sorry the pictures blow. 

Drunk Drawing at the bar.

I've drawn this drawing before....i f-ing hate that

this was awesome...grown ass man pouting/begging in public while his 

girlfriend dumps his ass stone cold. it went on for about 45 minutes.

Plenty of drunk sleepies to draw on the subway...^dis might be
my fave of the group.

this was actually a screwed up drawing of a shoulder

that I decided to fix

muah

Drawin...the origin of whatever you want

trying to draw like Rob

there's a few skinny peeps here...and some have magic hands

Korea MAne.

Today Mr. Moon showed up at my Hotel room, half an hour before he said he would, to take me to my apartment. He asked: "Uh you are uh tyrred of staying here yes?" I said: "sure." but I knew that the apartment that I was moving to was probably going to be about a quarter of the size of my hotel room and not have free movie channels on my 32" tv or be less than a block from the school and a big grocery store, so I really didn't know how to answer the question except to say "sure." Usually all he tells me is that I should talk "vewry much" to the students. No joke, he has told me every time he sees me at least once.

We packed up everything into his car and drove a little ways--its not far--to my apartment. I carried almost everything, which ok because he is a little older and very small, up to the second floor. He showed me how to use the keys and we went inside. It was clean and small but sufficient.

I had moved everything into the apartment except two paper handle bags from the grocery store full of various things. I went to pick the last bag up and all I heard from under the bag was a crashing wet sound hit the tile floor. The cool thing about extra virgin olive oil is that it usually comes in a glass bottle, which is nice because if it is dropped it will smash and spill everywhere. Hadn't even opened it yet, though I managed to clean it up with only about two and a half rolls of tp. They don't really do paper towels here...or napkins for that matter just toilet paper rolls everywhere. Although you don't really "clean up" olive oil you just spread a thin layer of it over the surface.

Mr. Moon: "you can clean up and uh, I will go and be back."

It has been a good two weeks on the whole though. As I am here everything from home, in my mind, is much sweeter, so in a way I am enjoying home more now than when I was there. I believe that the feeling will continue as I go through this year and return home in 12 months or so. The music has come alive especially the ones that are from my homeboys and rap music and Bach. The more I listen to music, the more I want to listen to Bach.  Rap music because it is probably the exact opposite of these people--so American. It keeps the American swag in my step. It keeps me strong when I am unsure of myself or a situation.

In all truth, when I have been a little uneasy, I could just turn on some music from home and feel it so strong. It can change my entire presence. This is such a nice experience for me as I used to conceive of myself as an aspiring musician though I haven't felt to be in control of the notes for a several years. True music is the the sound within the spirit of the composer. There are many different musics, but if the soul is not willing to sing it will not sound any of them. My guitar is looking sexy again.

Side note: the barista at this coffee shop is, I believe, playing american music because I am the only customer inside. His last choice was Celine Dion's "All by Myself".....Hiweryous.

Drawing and Reading are doing better as well. Time is disapearing which is when I can think. Brothers Kov is gooood.

Picture time:

Good bye cruel World

Date: 10/22/2011
Weight: 191 lbs
Beard: in tragic remission


Cut my beard today. Less than two days till liftoff.

Sometimes Life Catches You With Your Pants Down......

trying to build

I need bigger papers

What to do...

"But the truth is, that while the art of medicine gives health, and the art of the builder builds a house, another art attends them which is the art of pay. The various arts may be doing their own business and benefiting that over which they preside, but would the artist recive any benefit from his art unless he were paid as well?"

Plato, The Republic

So what is it?......A drawing. (repeat many times)

....

We build cities in our minds and our thoughts inhabit them. Thought is like the world, many nations and many cities. They are built and torn down over generations and seconds. In the past our thoughts were wild creatures that lived in tents and foraged for food surviving more on their own instinctual experience. As time has progressed and our thoughts collected together, they formed cities and empires, like the Romans who sought to conquer the Barbarians. Those that they didn't slaughter were converted and taught to speak Latin. Laws were written and governors were in place to oversee thoughts.

Thoughts are at the same time individual as well as apart of a family and government even as they are aware or unaware. Like the world it is impossible to paint the clearest picture of the state of things at this very appointment. There are heros and villains, rebels and saints; and they are all born of man and even if outcast they at least speak the language of their fathers. Some have many offspring and their line passes down while others are barren and die in their old age, and there are still yet hermits in the mountains who have no children and will never die.

Ive got a fever...