I think you palmed off a Chesterton book on me once. It was a satire of, what? Mid nineteenth century English intellectual culture? You and Dutch bonded over them, and we all know how I felt about my former roommate. (Have you seen him recently? Are bitter herbs growing out of his zealous and repressed heart? What a judgemental jerk.) Anyway, I didn’t get that Chesterton book, I’m afraid, or get into it. That may not be fair. Like a lot of English majors, I’m madly in love with Jane Austen. But movies and my education got me acquainted with her world, so the humor and social commentary make perfect sense to me now. Well, perfect is a strong word. I adore it perfectly, and I think I get most of it. If I happen to see a used copy of a Chesterton novel at my bookstore I’ll pick it up. See, I have a small personal library here that I can’t take home with me, so I have to resell my books for a tiny price, which only gives me credit to buy used books. Not even new books. What a gip.
I know exactly what you mean about snowflakes. I also expected to see those geometric, waffle sized flakes in the air. Despite this winter in NC, you well know we don’t get much snow. So when I first saw snow as a kid I was confused. I thought the small white fluff was there to trumpet in the real, paper-cut-out-deal.
This winter has been the coldest winter in Korea. It’s been awful. Lots of snow and bitter cold. Well, to me, a North Carolina native, it’s bitter cold. The last few days though have been mild and absolutely wonderful. It was sunny most of the time. It rained yesterday. But after months and months of frigid winter, it could have hailed as long as it was in the mid fifties and I’d have been out in it singing and twirling around all Gene Kelly style.
While I was laid up with my sprained ankle I read a couple of Austen novels too. And by golly, afterwards I watched Little Women. Great minds do think alike. But unlike you, I liked the movie. A lot of movies I liked as a kid and teen don’t stand up now, but this one did for me. What’s your beef? Your fiance’s scorn? Puhlease. Lorrie was an uberdork, you say? What? Well, I missed that. Christian Bale can’t be anything but sexy. Didn’t you see The Machinist? If we were in a concentration camp, I’d be batting my sunken eyes and be beckoning him with my wasted finger. (So our correspondence and, ahem, writing exercise, is showing its major theme: Christian Bale.) But listen, I have a bone to pick with you. You said Jo was a dyke. First of all, that is a derogatory term, which didn’t come off as hip or subversive or what not, but dismissive and derogatory. Ms. Pohlig, oh Ms. Pohlig! That is a color I would change. Do you feel properly scolded? I hope it doesn’t smart too much. I’ve accidentally (because it was a stupid habit or because I was a thoughtless snot) said some flippant things in front of a dear family member who is a lesbian. Things which I can’t take back. Moving on.
Pet names are cute. Muff is cute. I think it is also slang for pubes in one of those British isles. My mom called me “sweet pus” up into my teens when I finally couldn’t take it anymore and erupted at her. Poor mom. Apparently “pus” (pronounced like a short for of pussy) meant face, or at least to my mother. Dad called me pumpkin. But what I really wanted to be called was She’ra. Did you ever seen that cartoon? Probably not. Probably you were too busy running around in Africa. She held up a sword and yelled She’ra and turned into some sort of warrior. I ran around the townhouse in Durham holding my hand in the air and yelling it too.
I’m glad you’re enjoying cooking. People tell me it can be a creative and communal experience. Also, vital to survival and financial responsibility. I will humble myself before you and allow you too cook for me. I told a friend here about the stupid chicken we made once. I don’t think my friend got it. I guess it isn’t a story for people who weren’t there. We baked it with what? Orange juice and a Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup. Ketchup? Mayo? Soy sauce? It was, as you said, stupid. If only we knew then to put it into a casserole. I love listening to podcasts while I do my minor domestic duties. Have you been turned on to some good stuff yet? I’m sure I’ve told you my favorites over and over again. How Stuff Works and Stuff Mom Never Told You are great. They don’t have the same kind of reporting and production value as the staples, but entertaining and informative. Kind of like having a good teacher, except no one gives you quizzes. I miss people testing me, just a little. Anyway, don’t listen to them. When I come back I will be filled with all sorts of knowledge I will use to impress you.
Do you know what I did today? It was stupid. I got in a cab. They took me to one of my favorite places, Hyewha. I reached for my wallet and damnit, I left it at home. The driver (a woman! that makes the third or fourth female driver out of hundreds of taxis that I’ve taken), okay, the driver took me back to my apartment, I found my wallet after a few minutes of panic, and then she took me back to Hyewha. That mistake cost me, oh, about fifteen bucks extra. And guess what? I did that last week too. Something somewhere is eating my brains.
It’s Friday night here, and I’m at a coffee shop in Hyewha sitting on the patio. It’s on a very busy pedestrian street. Same location, different country, right? I guess it’s no Caribou Coffee. I drank a lot of fruity, expensive drinks filled with candy. Now I drink expensive Americanos. Ha, Caribou. I hung out with so many interesting people, I guess is a way to say it. I sure had some bum friends! Actual bums, not college student bums like us. Oh, and that delightful couple. Fuck, what are there names? I was dying to get out of Chapel Hill too, which I guess is why I’m on the other side of the world. That, and a drop out philosophy grad student told me too. Your right, I was so unconsolably sad there, but distance and time blurs it out. Thank goodness. I had a dream recently that I was trying to get to Chapel Hill. When I lived in Durham as a wee one my parents went to Breadmen’s for breakfast a lot. Maybe that’s why I like that meat that turns your stomach. That, and I’m an American! We love over processed meat. So do the Koreans. Anyway, the first time I went there as a teenager was with Lauren. We went into Sephora, that makeup store, and I put all sorts of ridiculous silver and red paint on her face and mine, and then we strutted around. I’d say it was half self-deprecating, half what I really wanted to do. It was spring and I they had so many more flowering trees than Apex did. That was my first impression. A lot more flowers. It felt slightly tropical. Plus we were driving our selves in a car! Oh, the magic of my mildly delinquent teen years. So in my dream I was trying to get to Chapel Hill, and it was this flowery, warm destination again, not the over played little town that itched like wool during college. Also, Patio Loca played heavily into my desire to go back there. I guess they closed down a few years ago. Maria was working for the owner under the table, and he picked up and left town one night. He had some sort of outstanding debt she said.
What a rambling mess. I told you my brain is being eaten. You’re a good friend, so I’m sure you at least scanned my drivel. If you miss quizzes too, I can test you on my rambling drivel.
Alright, I’m being kicked out of the coffee shop cuz their closing. I didn’t buy any coffee. Jokes on them!
