Tag Archives: drinking

Is that a YOLO?

Infant

I learned this week that partying with kids, while still doable and fun, can ultimately be uncomfortable and sometimes awkward. I’m at a point in my life now when I can finally “feel my age.”

My work got featured in the arts magazine Wake Up Screaming. Thanks to Matt Witt. The edition’s theme is “In My Town” and it features my move from Winnipeg to Seoul, and how my old Winnipeg no longer exists.

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Inktober is for Jerks

stag

Being an artist who mainly does ink drawings, it’s a bit odd that I’m missing out on Inktober. I’d like to blame Jake Parker, the man who created Inktober, for not listing Rotring pens as one of the best ink drawing tools. If he can’t recognize the superiority of the German rapidographs over any other technical pens, then the man must be insane and the movement a sham. Sure, Copic Multiliners and Pentel Pocket Brush Pens are good, but that’s if you’re a child. If you’re a grown man, you use Rotring rapidographs.

Actually, the real reason I don’t do Inktober is that I already draw almost every day. That and I don’t really maintain my Facebook or Instagram account that much. Despite the occasional good that we get from social platforms, I really think that Facebook is a cynical sham built on a foundation of narcissism and the desire to peek into your ex’s life. It sounds like a conspiracy theory, but I’d rather not provide a multi-billion dollar company personal content for free (or at least try to limit my use of it).

In any case, any movement that gets people drawing more is good with me (despite the misleading title). At least it’s better than Movember, when people grow hipster mustaches and don’t bother donating to cancer research or getting their prostates examined. Less hipster, more drawing please.

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Flowers Phone Alcohol… baba booey baba booey

flowers_tentacles_pitchers

I kinda missed out on the whole beer home-brewing thing. I feel like living in a small apartment, I’m not really equipped for it. Also, I’ll probably end up drinking a whole lot of bad beer. There’s already enough bad beer I could buy locally. I don’t need to make them myself. The same goes with wine. I don’t drink enough wine to start making my own. And though I know enough to know what bad wine tastes like, I don’t know about making my own bad wine.

I make an exception with Korean makkeoli however. Makkeoli is a traditional Korean alcoholic drink made from rice. It’s often referred to as rice wine, but it’s not really wine. It has its own unique taste and is quite easy to drink. The downside is that some brands of makkeoli leave drinkers quite gassy. Now, I don’t drink makkeoli often, but it is something that I enjoy with my father-in-law (a better alternative to soju).

I’m planning to try making makkeoli this month with my mother-in-law. She still knows how to make makkeoli, although the last time she made a batch was decades ago. Her daughters are taught how to make kimchee, and I often help out in their annual kimchee making tradition. But I noticed that none of her daughters were taught how to make makkeoli. My wife’s not interested, and I doubt if her niece or nephew would even bother learning about it. It’s just not very high on their traditions compared to kimchee. Alas, their family recipe (I assume there is one) is about to die off.

So I’m going to learn how to make makkeoli. My in-laws have a lot of space so it’s perfect for brewing. Also, this gives me another activity whenever we visit. Hopefully, I’ll end up with something worth drinking.

My phone is dying on me. I’ve had my phone for four years now. I’m not really too keen on upgrading since I only use my phone for calls, podcasts, Howard Stern, texting, Twitter, and the occasional net surfing. I don’t really need something too high end, and honestly, nothing out there has really been that exciting, in my opinion. I’ve had an iPhone all of these years, and I’m really considering switching to Android just for the sake of divorcing myself from iTunes. I like the phone, but I’m really not a big fan of the software.

That’s an understatement. I hate iTunes. I hate how it limits what the customer can do with their products.

The new iPhone is a tad too big. I’ve heard too many horror stories regarding Samsung phones. Also, their latest designs are kinda lame and gimmicky, in my opinion. The Sony phones are kinds intriguing, especially since I own quite a few Sony products that I can integrate into a whole ecosystem. But I’m just not sure yet. Anyway, we’ll see until my phone finally dies.

 

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Cock Violence

bloody_cock

I’ve been to a couple of cock fights, not in Canada of course.

The first thing that struck me was the amount of attention the owners gave their cocks. They would continuously stroke their cocks prior to entering the ring. some would even speak to their cocks, whispering who knows what. It truly was as if they were grooming a prized fighter. And yes, I suppose they were prize fighters. Some men would walk around with their cocks and people gave way as if they truly were somebody, like we were in Las Vegas, not in a tropical village somewhere.

The second thing I found peculiar was the betting, particularly the way people took bets. People yelled around pointing at cocks, gesturing at people around the ring, nodding, making signals, confirming with a dead-set serious look on their eyes. I did not see any notepads. People just yelled out bets, made some hand signals, and it was set.

Then, the match started. And as quickly as it began, it ends. Many people think it’s cruel. And yes, it is cruel. You can go to Youtube now and see how quickly the matches can be. What began as a ferocious looking cock with a blade strapped on its like quickly becomes this limp, pathetic, little thing, lying on the dirt and leaking blood. What’s eerie was that as loud as cocks can be, after all, you can hear them all over the barrio in the morning, they do not make a sound as the slowly die after a violent affair. No gasping for breath, no animal cries. The referee would pick up the loser cock, see if there’s any fight left, then leave the poor animal on the ground as he declares a winner. Whoever owns the losing cock would pick them up, tsk tsking from what I imagine is regret for losing a match than mourning for a beloved pet.

I guess losing cocks end up getting eaten. After all, I didn’t see any cock graves. It’s like what George Wallace said about chickens, “A chicken never dies of natural causes.” Now I’ve never eaten cock, but they must be pretty tough because those birds are bred to fight. It doesn’t matter whether it’s dark meat or if I sink my teeth into some breasts, I’m sure it’ll be a tough meal.

At the end of the match, crumpled money is either handed or thrown across the room to whomever is owed. I guess that’s what amazed me the most. Maybe it was because I watched it in a village where most people know everyone, but the honesty and the memory were unbelievable. I mean, who remembers who owes what? I couldn’t even tell who was making bets to whom. Does eye-contact hold up in court?

Both times, I ended up drinking after the matches. Whoever won the most from the cock fights ended up paying for most if not all of the food and drinks. It’s generous but it makes me wonder. Do people really make money out of these cock fights, or do they end up blowing it all on celebrating?

Oh well, that’s me talking about cocks.

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Another Year

Bulls

Celebrated my birthday over the weekend. I use the word “celebrate” loosely since I don’t really like making a big fuss of my birthday. Who the heck am I? And what really did I accomplish in the past year? Seems rather indulgent. I just went out and had Russian food with my wife, which is a treat in my book. Later, I ended up having our drinks paid for by some famous Korean fashion photographer. It sounds pretty random, but sometimes random stuff happens to me, which is another treat in my book.

I actually can only recall having only one birthday party as a child. Now, I don’t mind. I really don’t like having all of that attention on me. But I guess ever since I was young, I was never fond of birthdays.

 

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Lightning Alley

beer

Writing poetry…

The bead curtain rattles, Sally’s skirt sways.
She does a jig on the porch like I was hallucinating
As the CD player plays.
Bob Dylan rambles about the depressed,
He sounds like he’s singing about me, and I only want Sally.
Don’t send me back to my apartment,
I don’t want to watch Frasier re-runs tonight.
Don’t go inside as well,
You know exactly why I came here.
I know you’re terrified and know
That you’re almost forty
But you should believe in this drug that I’m on.
You’re not that pretty but you would do,
And that’s okay for the time being.
You can cower in your blankie
And cross-examine whatever’s making you ill
And you can make ornaments out of your exes,
Throw daisies when it’s pouring out,
Wasting your holiday break praying
For some decent fellow to come out of the neighborhood
I’m not that guy, everyone knows
All I could offer is my mediocre body
Underneath this sweat-stained hoodie
With the small likelihood that we could live to retirement
But what else is there?
Just open the window wide open
And let the Saskatchewan air mess up your hair.
Tonight is full of possibilities
And the road in front of your house goes both ways
We only have one chance in our lives
So ditch everything and get inside my Dodge Stratus.
Can we hold hands? I could drive one-handed.
We’re going to the land of Abraham
Via Lightning Alley
It’s right there, like John Wayne Gacy at large.
The clock says 2:00 am but we should book it.
Via Lightning Alley. Let’s go.
Via Lightning Alley.

Of course this is all a goof. I submitted this to a poetry Webzine, wondering whether they’d catch it or not. But now I don’t know… maybe they like Bruce Springsteen too.

 

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Male Bonding

mannequin

More Website problems, GRRR!

I was talking to a Korean businessman about the drinking culture in the country, and how it was part of doing business. The thing is, in many cases drinks don’t just end in drinks. It often ends up in rounds two and three… these sometimes involve drinking with bar hostesses or worse, something more “involved.” (I’ll leave that to your imagination.) Now, part of the reason why people drink is to be more comfortable… and in Korean business, it is to unwind and be closer to your colleagues or business partners. But when it comes to being out and about with women to varying degrees, it is akin to forcing a bond, a memorable experience, where there was none. Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s characters would often reflect on their first sexual experiences or talk about one particularly memorable or strange dalliance. The same thing with business here. Have a particularly great time, and your partners in crime will be that much closer to you.

Despite Westerners condemning the particularly strong drinking culture at work in Korea, especially the shenanigans that happen while drunk, I do find that the people I had tremendous amounts of drinks with, the people I have seen things with, are the ones that tend to stick out and I end up being closer with. It’s a rather gruesome and faulty comparison, but it’s like those boys in “Stand By Me.” You never forget who you were with on that swamp.

 

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