O N A L E R T & O F F A L E R T

I should shy away from Gangnam for at least a month or until my regular status slopes. The pool of caucasion women is suffering from exhaustion. Apgujeong, the reasonably affordable Seoul version of Beverly Hills, is far better. Apgu is a touch out of English teacher's income and I can hide in their lofty restaurants or at the Ritz. Ate Beijing duck at Covo yesterday with Taiwo and Danaher. We got the looks, but we were served warmly when we flashed our huge wads of 10,000 Won notes. They say the drunker you get the more Russian you speak. In Korea, the more dollars you have, the more English they speak. Here you can find a small bar and make it your own in a matter of few weeks. I owe Taiwo quite a few favors now. He's a loyal friend.

I'm sitting here at 9p.m. in the office with a South Korean army private, a KATUSA. I ask him if he thinks we will go to war. In fragmented but understood English, he says no. I explain that war is eventually possible. He says that war will never happen because everyone on the peninsula will die. I suggest to the SK army private that maybe inside whatever may happen that deep down he believes that he will survive, when everyone else will die, and that when you acknowledge a bully who gets his way by threats and fear, only threats and fear will continue.

O N M Y M I N D

I'm listening to KMFDM's "Looking for Strange" and "Megalomaniac" on youtube and eating olives as my Thursday night slips into your Thursday morning.

There is nothing I rather think about at this moment other than how many North Korean bucketheads I want to kill. Cool.

I have to open the window to let all the smoke out of the room, but quickly shut it because the Yellow Sand blowover from China irritates my sinuses. My apartment is a renovated hospital. Below me is the Alcohol and Drug Control Office. :)

My mother sends me emails and I delete them without reading no matter how many !!!'s she tacks on. I do not care. Mah, you can fuck off. I divorced myself from all problems pertaining to U.S. of A. mainland some time ago.

I feel alone and naked without my M-4 or M-9 locked in the armory. When I carry them I feel happy and fulfilled. There is only the need in my life for bigger guns and the distance it creates between me and other people, though I need people to feel the rush.

Working 15 hour days allows for only so much. Sometimes I wish there was only 15 hours a day so I wouldn't miss the other 9. I begin to understand why people drink themselves into comatose immediately upon the closing of business. I could go on forever. I get very tired of relaxation and the trip it puts me through.