Day 512

Tuesday | July 23rd, 2013

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It rained today for a whole minute. Okay maybe three minutes. And by rain I mean that several hundred glops of warm water from the hot sky managed to land in our courtyard.

Meanwhile, I’ve married my fan and Meow has married hers. Each of us is convinced that our sweaty corner of this old hanok is cooler by that precious single degree of Celsius to make us advocates of our spaces and increasingly bitter that the other “doesn’t want to spend time with me”. It’s all high summer bullshit. The difference between the rooms comes down to fundamental differences in fan operation philosophy.

Meow has hers parked directly in front of her, on low, not turning. Mine is parked near the coolest outside source, on at least medium and always turning. ‘You need the fan to turn and circulate the air,’ I say. Meow insists that this is crap and my fan is just eating electricity and blowing hot air from the motor in my face. And so the vacation goes. My vacation anyway. Meow doesn’t get her week until next week.

We went out to eat today. I didn’t want to put on clothing and leave my fan, but this is one of those special Korean days where Koreans are supposed to eat a certain kind of food. Basically, there is the Gregorian calendar on which most of the world (and much of Korea) operates, then there is the Buddhist calendar which has all sorts of fun stuff like birthdays that are on different days each year and special days to eat special foods. Yesterday was 중복 (jung bok; middle summer; the hottest day of summer) when, traditionally, Koreans would eat a piping hot bowl of dog, but nowadays eat 삼게탕 (sam-gye-tang; whole chicken soup). We went for pig meat because I can’t wrap my brain around the whole chicken thing anymore. Seriously, it’s a small bowl with a whole (gutted and beheaded) chicken, but I’ve never seen a chicken this small, so it’s probably pigeon and that makes me want to vomit in my mouth just writing it down. I’ve eaten this before, in the back days, it’s great hangover or completely protein deprived food, but if I’m not either of those things, all I can muster is picking out some of the breast, drinking some soup and pushing the bowl the fuck away. It’s fucking pigeon after all and I raised pigeons; my father raised pigeons; I grow up around pigeons; I’ve removed and buried dead pigeons, so I’m fucked in the head and can’t eat this.

Pig meat. I had a pet pig. There are only so many pig meat evenings I’ve got left in me, just like there are only so many chicken meat meals left that I can eat before I regress and go vegetarian, again.

Cycles and shit.

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Oh look. A free game/app that lets you compose music abstractly with shapes, awesome. Wait … I don’t got time for this shit.

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