This was 16 years, 11 months, 12 days ago

korea korea korea.
seoul seoul seoul.

I'm back and two weeks overdue of some sort of reflection. I'm back and I'm sleepy and I feel like settling into a rhythm, an aesthetics of a lack thereof, ugly apartment buildings and garish red sidewalks, et cetera, this city breathing hey hey jumble jumble JUMBLE and a haphazard lack of attention to overall visual appeal. Instead of focusing on everything fitting together there's a micro focus on individual design, tree than the forest, and the resulting hodge-podge of neon signs jutting: horizontal flat, vertical flat, jutting out neon wires moving up, around, a hearted up and inside out and the longer distance between transfers on the subway and the more time spent standing thinking wondering, the yearly revisits and self-evaluation, all of this.

This city. I find myself criticizing things when I come back, aiming my eye with the proud-chested self-professed position of someone on the cultural fence, neither inside nor outside, identifying with or against. QUESTIONS: Korean identity: blood vs. nationality? Cultural pride: artificial self-propagandizing vs. exoticism/idealization of the foreign? I voice these thoughts in conversation with others but at the same time I know that these opinions have more to do with me versus Korea, a personal agenda rather, Hey I came back let's fight jackets on and everything I missed you and you rubbed off on me and I've got to fight you now because of this sense of identification that I have with you. This sense of agenda and opposition to be thought against, fought against, argued against is somehow my way of nestling back into this rhythm; before I realized it on one Saturday night I was attempting to mark an identification with this country/culture/rhythm/color, lifting my right leg, standing still, making it mine.