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.