I'm making a commitment to update this blog at least once a week for the rest of the year. Not an easy task, I'm sure, but since my mind is constantly working to keep straight an ever-expanding accumulation of interests, personal memories and world events, it seems that writing it out is the path to keeping sane. Also, I am about to embark on a whole new journey on a small Asian peninsula.
I left Houston one week ago. Being on the road again, even if it's actually flying in evil planes and actually staying in familiar family's houses, is what feels most like home. I've started journalling again in earnest, reading longwinded fiction in the form of Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, using the beautiful & awesome new Slingshot to keep organized and learning basic Korean with the help of these badass Koreans.
In Denver, everything was covered in snow and huge icicles, a reminder that yes, it is still winter and I'll be in for a rude awakening in my new home. Also in Denver, my Russian-speaking grandfather remains largely the same and despite his being 60 years my senior, I can't help but call him out on statements like "Listen to a woman, do the opposite," "Humans are evil (or something)," "The East is a dark place," etc. etc.
Now I'm in the Bay Area, reconnecting with my cousins, college friend Michaela, and filmmaker Rob Nilsson. Rob and I had a pretty interesting conversation about art, politics & society today. It was sunny, I was in a good mood and I felt like taking the side of fighting the system by doing our own thing and not overly concerning ourselves with the system. On other days and depending on who I talk to, I'll take a far more critical and negative view of the situation radicals, especially radical artists, find themselves in. In general, though, my distaste for authority cuts through everything and I feel that putting some kind of artificial standards and rules on creative expression still does more harm than good.
Oakland and Berkeley have evolving resistance communities and I could spend years exploring them as I could Boston or Denver or Lille or Houston, but all I have is these few short days. The reality is, I will very soon be pulled away from all these familiar elements of life. There will be no readily accessible anarchist social spaces with books and consensus meetings and shows and vegan food. No regular community bike rides. No women's discussions. At least not in Gangwon-do, where I will spend the majority of my time. There will be a vast number of new places, people and memories that I can't even imagine as I sit here. No matter how much I absorb from books and the Internet, I could never adequately prepare myself for the massive change that is about to take place in my life. The biggest one yet.
Korea, take me in...
I left Houston one week ago. Being on the road again, even if it's actually flying in evil planes and actually staying in familiar family's houses, is what feels most like home. I've started journalling again in earnest, reading longwinded fiction in the form of Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle, using the beautiful & awesome new Slingshot to keep organized and learning basic Korean with the help of these badass Koreans.
In Denver, everything was covered in snow and huge icicles, a reminder that yes, it is still winter and I'll be in for a rude awakening in my new home. Also in Denver, my Russian-speaking grandfather remains largely the same and despite his being 60 years my senior, I can't help but call him out on statements like "Listen to a woman, do the opposite," "Humans are evil (or something)," "The East is a dark place," etc. etc.
Now I'm in the Bay Area, reconnecting with my cousins, college friend Michaela, and filmmaker Rob Nilsson. Rob and I had a pretty interesting conversation about art, politics & society today. It was sunny, I was in a good mood and I felt like taking the side of fighting the system by doing our own thing and not overly concerning ourselves with the system. On other days and depending on who I talk to, I'll take a far more critical and negative view of the situation radicals, especially radical artists, find themselves in. In general, though, my distaste for authority cuts through everything and I feel that putting some kind of artificial standards and rules on creative expression still does more harm than good.
Oakland and Berkeley have evolving resistance communities and I could spend years exploring them as I could Boston or Denver or Lille or Houston, but all I have is these few short days. The reality is, I will very soon be pulled away from all these familiar elements of life. There will be no readily accessible anarchist social spaces with books and consensus meetings and shows and vegan food. No regular community bike rides. No women's discussions. At least not in Gangwon-do, where I will spend the majority of my time. There will be a vast number of new places, people and memories that I can't even imagine as I sit here. No matter how much I absorb from books and the Internet, I could never adequately prepare myself for the massive change that is about to take place in my life. The biggest one yet.
Korea, take me in...
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