Archive - Sep 2007

I am in Seoul this week, working for the big company that shall remain nameless. Unlike Manila which was freakily scary, Seoul feels a little like a giant picnic in the sun.

Seriously, I have heard it is very conservative, sexist etc.. and certainly no-one has a good goddamn clue what I am saying when I try to pay for a tube of spicy guacamole pringles. But it doesn't feel like the quasi police state that I'd been led to imagine by one of my co-workers.

I mean maybe if I ran down the street yammering about my amazing feminist principals while wearing a shirt that said; "Ask me about being an unmarried gaylord professional who wants desperately to raise anti-establishment children in an open and permissive environment" - okay but again, no-one would understand me, or very minimally.

I love my home, especially I think, because I cannot really afford to live in it. I am sitting here in the living room. Through the window I can see some trees blowing around, and a gray sky, the light in here is warm yellow, on the floor the dog is twitching in her sleep. I am on the couch, and have been since the day began. There is a stack of books to my right, and a small teak drinks table holding a variety of cracked tumbled with words from literary masterworks engraved on their sides to the left.

It's a Saturday evening, I am on way out to buy ricotta on credit, for a lasagna I'll be making later this evening. I haven't got much debt in comparison to others, but on an afternoon when I do no work, I can feel small expenditures piling up like snowdrifts around the front door, miniscule at first until one morning, the only way out is to shovel or to burn.

#1/ The last time you held a steering wheel was while playing a racing game on your friends Xbox.

#2/ You had to ask your dad which direction to turn the wheel when parallel parking.

#3/ You have watched this video three times and will perhaps write a crib sheet on a piece of kleenex and sneakily drop it on the floor of the vehicle in which you do your test.

#4/ You consider your cleavage, depending on the sexual preference of the person who does the test with you, the only factor that stands between you and abject failure.