October 1st: Independence Day

On October the first I get connected proper to the internet. I am not familiar with Ontario's residency laws yet but I thought just to be fair I'd give Chapters one week's notice that I was moving out. I'm going to miss the lady who sits near the fireplace with an eight pound stack of magazines, and the man who fakes reading a geography text book in the corner of Sci-Fi and Fantasy so he can sleep when the store is low on nerds.

With the internet will, I hope, come the death of the cable t.v. being on. The one bedroom is not condusive to ever being somewhere that you can't hear the t.v. when it's on. If you had asked me, "Kyle, do you think you have the burning need to watch reruns of Community that you've already seen five times before?" I would have said no, not if I had my mind on my money and my money running out because I'm jobless. I was wrong. All of our crotchety Grandparents were right, and our vegitable Grandparents who couldn't be torn away from T.V. classics even to come to Thanksgiving dinner were just the first victims of it. The television is a devil box. It's not because reality shows are a flipped Geo away from being a literal human-trainwreck and it's not because CSI can't get through an episode without killing a stripper, interviewing a stripper or staking out a strip club. It's because there are sixty shitty shows on at any one time and when those end there are another sixty on. You can spend fifteen minutes just flipping through all those choices before you verify, because there are always a few on commercial, that all of the shows on at that moment are awful, but by then you may as well catch the end of something. Standards fall infinitely low unbelievably fast. You reaquaint yourself with watching commercials. I can name all three current cover girls. And it goes on, and it goes on. Even if you download an entire season of something, an end comes. It might cost you four days and breaking a date you forgot you made on Plenty of Fish, but an end does come. The natural human emotion of remorse stands a decent chance of shaming you into not downloading again for maybe a week.

I just want it to end. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to drink and watch Independence Day. It's on A&E.

Big Teasy

No dogs, I never left you.

Dying to know where I've been and what I've been doing? You're a god damn liar. I wrote a nine and a half part mini-series about South East Asia anyway because I know you all have too much time on your hands. You're not stopping to find out the issue of the day from the guy with the binder on the corner of the street. You walked right past him and his big smile, you can read this:

Part 1  Take Off
Part 2  The Phillippines and Effects of Anti-Malarials
Part 3 - 9.5 LATER OK?

Those links go to articles on NearlyRobots.com, which is website I started with Brittney and other friends you probably don't even know unless you are them. I thought all of my friends knew about this venture because I've been flogging it like a dead horse that took fifth place at the Kentucky Derby on Facebook. Yet still people who I assumed placed great weight in my status updates have proffessed their ignorance. What good is the Facer if you don't live on it?

I need a new phone. Thanks for the hand-me-down lil'sis but it turns out once a Telus phone always a Telus phone and the only way I'd ever go back to that company, that ugly ugly baby of a company, is if their brand of brain cancer waves was also found to cause heat vision. This is unfortunate because I spent a solid thirty minutes convincing myself that I didn't need the internet in my pocket and a $55 bill every month to be one of the cool kids. I'm wearing blue and orange plaid right now, button up. Have a fallen so far as the Galaxay SII?

Two days in Toronto and we don't have internet yet. I'm staying in an appartment connected to a church and they've got three wireless networks, all locked, (Anglicans - am I right?). WTFWJD IF HE HAD WIRELESS, HUH? He'd share his access to information with two mid-twenties peaking over the edge of their elongated adolescence, scared and trying not to eat Subway every day in THIS, OUR NATIONS LARGEST CITY! Hurumph. So far all we've got is Tim to come over visually inspect our toilet. He agrees that it does leak every time it is flushed. He'll back back with his wrenches and his cigarette smells tomorrow.

I live three minutes from where they film Much Music interviews. Much Music is Canadian MTV for those that don't know. They are similar, but MTV features much less teen pregnancy. I know what you're thinking, but the UN already condemned us for it so there is no use writting them another letter. Thanks for your concern though, it is admirable. .

Yesterday I was related the story of a girl who accidentally attached a photo of Nicholas Cage instead of herself to a job application. The 'buzz' generated got her an offer from a big social media company. No one ever tells you the way things really are until you're in the middle of it. My new resumé is either going to be an eight by ten glossy of Matthew Mcconaughey's bicep or me with a fake mustache glued to my butt. Expect to hear big things by the end of the week!

Last legs

We don't much have the patience to rifle through the guest houses down accommodation lane. I just smell the pillows and ask how much. I don't have a hat any more because I cut my hair and look like an idiot in a hat. I left the jeans I brought on the railing of an airport in Indonesia. I left a gray long sleeve Old Navy special on a bed in Laos. It's always been too damn hot for either of those things save for in the North of Vietnam. I don't have the sunglasses I bought in the Philippines but I bought an identical pair in Vang Vieng. I don't have a parasite, that I know of.

I don't have a sunburn currently, although I've got another week to get a last one. I don't look at much in the markets anymore. I don't want their stuff, all their same stuff everywhere shipped from China to hawkers stalls from Sumatra to Siem Reap.  I don't have a handle on what's been happening in the world, I don't have the internet much. I know people aren't happy in Quebec and Syria. I don't mean to be crass. I don't get a lot of sleep these days.

I have a not quite healed broken toe from a 3 on 3 basketball game in the Philippines. I have a new scar on my wrist from when I nearly went through a wicker door in Cambodia. I have a crippling addiction to 'Toasties', a grilled ham and cheese pocket that can only be purchased in 7-11's in Thailand. Each day I have a new personal best in the category of "longest elapsed time without shaving." I have learned and forgotten how to say thank you in seven languages. I have a bamboo gun that shoots small rocks for someone as a present. I have bought a plane ticket that says "June 17" on it. I have an affliction much like a child has before Christmas. I have trouble getting to sleep because I am excited to see you.

Don't see the Hangover 2

Tonsai is a hippie beach in the South of Thailand. The hippies come equipped with fisherman's pants, light draw string affairs that pillow from the waist in earth tones. The fishermen of Thailand prefer a poly-thorine/lycra blend for the fabrics quick drying or a simple high-cut speedo for optimum mobility in and out of the boat. I am saved from the cross cultural obligation of purchasing a pair of Thai "fisherman's" pants due to a friend years back gifting me with a pair. Thanks Hamish.

The hippies come equipped with beards much greater than mine. Long time followers will no doubt wince at my approach of this sore topic again. But why do theirs grow so proud and even and mine only find its legs under my chin, along my neck. Why Does the hair at my jawline radiate away from my face like rays from the sun? I will need to be granted strength to bring this beard all the way home to show you.

The hippies come equipped with rope and harness, with chalk in bag and tape for fingers. The hippies like to go up. They walk around the cliffs that cut this beach off from the mainland and make the peninsula a defacto island and study it at dusk. They put their hands above their head and imagine where they could put their fingers in the wall. I sit in an alcove with a tall Leo beer purchased at the corner store offering the cheapest drink and watch the water. I will be friendly the first chance I get. It is beautiful here sitting at the bottom of the rock and I would welcome their company. They are only here to become better acquainted with the rock wall though, not me.

The hippies come with money. The afford the most expensive drink prices at the nicest hippie bars at the edge of the water. Yes the pillows are free but the Leo's are almost double. Shouldn't they be in this alcove with me? Don't the two dozen pictures of Bob Marley feel a bit contrived to them? I can't help but feel like Bob would be embarrassed. Bob would be in the alcove with me I think.

Overnight bus to Bangkok in one hour. I'm going to go stock up on imitation Oreos.

Air Minerals

I am in Kuala Lumpur and the Chinese kids at the far end of the internet cafe are yelling "FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKOKOKOKOKOK WAY! WAY!"

Tonight we're on a bus to Penang which is great because I love to look out the window in the dark and watch the lights go-go-go past me as I move, forward!, to the next-what-comes-next. Also I like not paying for accommodation.

The day we got to Kuala Lumpur we played try-all-the-food-stalls and I lost. The last few days have been Kuala Dumpur, heavy on the ump. Sorry to get so graphic.

Kuala Lumpur is spoiling us. All the rooms have air conditioning and the taxi drivers don't use lariats in their attempts to get you into their cabs and there is India food. Praise Ram there is Indian food. The economy is strong with this one though, things cost more money. Lucky for us last night we had a financial backer, a young 30 English-Man who sat down at our table and, desiring our company for the evening, bought the drinks. He wanted all his money gone and we certainly helped him some. At 4 in the morning I gave him my watch. I hope he made his flight to Jakarta.  Time's up.

Oh Toto, we aren't in Korea any more

Medan is a largish city on the island of Sumatra, Indonesia. I am on that island, in that city. Right now the call to prayer calls. I do not necessarily respond, although it is stirring. Today we visited a mosque and I tried to remember the five pillars of Islam. I think they are:

1) Allah is the one true God
2) Mohammad was his Prophet
3) Pray five times a day
4) Something about charity?
5) ???

Today we also went to a Sultan's palace. The Sultan is the last sultan of Delhi, which I thought/think is in India and I'm not about to ruin that kind of potential ignorance with a google search. He's got a palace here in Medan but it's pretty crumby. (I hope The Sultan isn't reading this, I went back and capitalized all previous uses of the word 'Sultan' just in case to soften the blow.) - HA I JUST KILLED A MOSQUITO DIE YOU MOTHER - So the palace doesn't have any gems or moats or anything. The shiniest thing was The Sultan's ruby violin under a glass case. In the same glass case there was also The Sultan's drum and  The Sultan's accordion. We walked on The Sultan's porch and admired The Sultan's wolf head bathmat that was drying on The Sultan's drying rack. There was another room in the back but we weren't allowed to go in because we aren't Muslim or Moslem which is what got me thinking about the five pillars. There's always a temptation to insta-convert just to flip some lids/prove a point/ generate a decent facebook status update.

On The Sultan's grass I kicked a soccer ball around for about twenty minutes with three boys, ages ranging from six to twelve, roughly. They referred to me as 'Mister' and I showed them how to do a waterfall. (The waterfall is such an easy trick that I can't find a youtube video of it. The ball starts behind me then goes up over my head, imagine it.)

At the Grand Mosque afterwards a man came and greeted us outside. He wanted to be our paid guide and he went about applying for this position by following us around and telling us random things and not talking about the money he wanted. Eli told him we weren't looking for a guide, (Eli also sent me this video of a slow loris just now. Maybe you've seen a slow loris with an umbrella but I hadn't) The man got kind of upset. He said that everyone needs guides for the jungle but no one thinks they need guides for buildings. He said it was discrimination. On the one hand he does not ask to be our guide, he just assumes the position and hopes that we feel awkward to the point of paying him - on the other hand he's probably looking for a dollar or two - on the other hand there are a lot of people who would like to hire themselves to you and receive a dollar or two - on the you get the picture. These things always make me feel like an asshole.

I'm going to admit now that the only thing that rousted me from blog-torpor is my friend Eric/ka who changed her name on facebook to

Exuberant J. Bodhisattva

and now I have to be embarrassed that I can't remember if she spells it with a 'c' or a 'k'. She gave me some kind of shout out, a liebster - I don't know what it is - but I worried that I wouldn't live up to it none the less.

Eric/ka's blog is this one.

She likes yoga and her private parts and keeping her spine undamaged. She wrote a self help book called I Let Go. It's an ebook

I haven't read this book yet. My visa is hidden in a bag of condoms in my hiking backpack so that if I am thieved of my day-bag I will have money for consolatory beers, so I can't order it off amazon right now. I will though and even though most of you won't/don't have kindles you damn well should because I don't know anyone who is putting more effort into figuring out how to live intentionally. Also she's a little bit nuts, so there's bound to be some insight into one side of the human condition or the other.

Tomorrow we fly to Kuala Lumpur. This post cost me four mosquito bites. I'm going for a vanilla shake.

Korea

I want very badly to do this well. I want to be graceful, I want to say just the right thing. I want to stop stuttering.

I have 30 minutes left with my computer. I'm afraid I can only give you 2 right now.

I have left before. The steps are simple.

1. You say goodbye

2. You leave

Like this.

Limbo

Two weeks ago a piece of my tooth disappeared. Probing it with my tongue in the evening I assumed that a filling had fallen out. In fact, my tooth had collapsed. The dentist explained that it had rotted away from the inside until one end caved in. I would require a root canal.

My second root canal in five months.

I have big gaps between my molars that I floss out every night. I pull out hunks of food larger than what you're imagining right now. The point though is that I am on top of this. I have identified the danger and am taking steps to correct. My teeth should not be disintegrating because that is a nightmare I have twice a year. That level of subconscious worry should really keep me safe. But

It is deskwarming season at public school. After vacation ended a week and a half ago, I had sixteen days of occupying space in Bummul Middle School. Then I leave the country, unlikely to return soon. The operative word when considering the benefit the school gains from my attendance is 'nothing'. However, you must remember that I am lucky.

The root canal and the four dentist appointments required to drill out my dental pulp and post and bracket and and and were the ammunition my co-teacher needed. She swam the proper channels, asked the gentlest of questions with the most polite case endings and over three days a question wormed its way through the administration and back out again. Could I not come to school? Yes. There was a meeting to attend on the 20th and my Principal and his Viceroy would like me to say goodbye before I leave, but I am free.

*          *          *

Today is the 20th. Diligent, I arrived. The office was dark, a new wall split the last third of the old office away. My desk is gone. On my last day of school, I have nowhere to sit. I get in contact with my talented handler. The meeting has been moved to tomorrow, but before I can walk out the Viceroy appears and bids me "come on". 

I am sitting at someone else's desk now as our office slowly fills up. After fourty minutes the office assistant found this person's password. By luck, it appears the person who's space I am filling is not coming in today. Perhaps, like a magic painting I was lured to touch, I have switched positions with this person and they're boarding the plane to the Philippines on Sunday. 

*          *          *

When Mrs. Park forged the deal for me she told me, "I think you don't have to come in any more." "The Vice Principal was vague, you will be alright to not come in I think." My status as a free agent was conditional on the fact that we did not ever have to say it was a fact. Only a possibility, a licence that will evaporate the minute the black helicopters of the Ministry of Education circle and zap strap us in a mid-morning raid. Not only will my licence be revoke but it will never have existed. The Vice Principal will never have given me leave for anything. 

This morning, I don't know if the spell is broken. If I walk out the door will it look as though I am walking out on the Viceroy? Will she stop me, or simply be offended that I didn't come on longer at my desk? She could even be silently urging me to leave, but unable to say "go on" with everyone here. Such direct words could be used against her.

*          *          *

6 more days in Korea.

Freedom, well that's just some people talking

It is the last day of school before my vacation.  I have spent the last fourteen work days at my desk from the hours of increasingly later than nine o'clock to four-thirty. I eaten many of the Twix that remained in my desk, I have reached spiritual enlightenment, I have occasionally shared the Twix but never the enlightenment. Today I ate squid and rice cakes because I am a very very polite boy.

Lets get to our feature presentations.

Wings

(Hey! You broke the blogger!)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GsM6-gPqkMI&feature=youtu.be

The only submission from a class peppered with assholes comes this gem. The boy wearing the wings made them himself and he told me they took about four hours of work. That's not four of your hours either, where at least one of them is spent on facebook but billed to the company as vital. These are four of the kind of hours that the kids back home are buying study drugs in the library just to get a chance at. 

Three Good Boys, Three Bad Boys

This video was the winner of the 9th grade wide vote on best boys video. It's not hard to see why. Handsome stars, one of whom is the lead singer for the school's only rock band, (hint: he's the one that looks like he's wearing eye makeup), solid premise, they got in a dumpster, they used 'Party Rock' and they included an outtakes reel. All the girls now have giant crushes on them. It's likely besides the voucher to the movie theatre, each of these boys has won holding a girl's hand over the winter break. This is what happens when the cool kids also work hard in school. It's largely not fair to the rest of us.

The Lonely Girl

The winner of the voting for Girl's best picture. This is a great movie, good idea, good execution, fantastic use of extras who are too shy to show their face on camera and the quickest turn of a violent scene to slapstick that I've ever seen. I shouldn't hold anything against this film, but I do. You see...

This Is The Film I Like Best

From the same class as the winner, these girls stayed after school for two hours one day to finish shooting their film. Where as the other group relied on repetition and slapstick, this group had wit, they had humour, they had an old woman music video selling Sun Chips. When it was time to announce the winner we went to their classroom and I realized that I should have created another prize, something like critics choice or best musical performance or anything because the girls' faces just fell when I told everyone the other group had won. I feel like I let them down, allowing them to work as hard as they did without getting any recognition. 

It's too late now, this was all weeks ago. An hour after the winners were announced school was out for the winter. Although they probably haven't thought about it since, and this is the emptiest of empty gestures, I post it here as my favourite with the vague idea that if you watch it and think "yeah, those girls were great," the net result of more people in the world believing they are ballin' can only be a good thing. 

I am now on vacation. 

I am growing a cyber-gut.

I cannot complain about my retirement. I sit on the sunny beach of this public school's main office every day from 9 until 4:30 as has always been my wish. I have staked several lucrative claims on virgin territory of the internet. I believe I may build a modest log cabin on Google's back forty. Yesterday I brought my laptop to school and played a Star Wars based mass multiplayer online game because it's the sort of extreme nerdity that I like to flaunt about now that I am retired. I order in lunch every day, and every day I get just what I want. I do not get my hair cut and I am considering wearing a toque. I have access to a very large box of mandarin oranges. 

And yet for all I have, there are still troubled thoughts that can roll in early in the day and leave me unable to youtube for hours. Is this really the meaning of life? Do we teach for two years till the ripe age of twenty-five just so that we can poke away our remaining months in Korea as kept men, (or women), of the public school system? It might be that there is more to this, but it is for the younger ones who come after me to discover it. I am already too deep in this dream.

Also, I still have more videos!

The Smoker Who Died

A tour de force from a group of boys who I in no way expected to actually complete this project. Filming some of the opening scenes, the boys absolutely kicked the shit out of the bathroom door. I couldn't even get mad at them, I was too excited they were speaking English. Expect to see these boys in the NBA.

Girls! Girls! Girls!

The most avant-guard of the films turned in for the Bummul Film Festival, 'Girls! Girls! Girls!' tells the story of a young boy driven mad by lust, his subsequent running afoul with a teacher, and then some stuff that I do not understand culminating in a beating. Despite repeatedly telling them that their movies might be shown to all of the 9th grade students, the male lead in this piece expressed extreme distress when he was told that the girls had seen his film. This simply goes to show that if you give a ninth grade boy a rope he'll embarrass himself in front of girls with it. 

Extra! Extra! Newspaper is incredible useful!

A great premise that ends in a glittery celebration of newspaper. The monks who shaved just the tops of their heads and started the printing press would be proud. Scandal rocked this video though as yet another student complained that it was terribly unfair that we were going to do what we said we'd do and show the boys classes their great work. A much better tactician than the boy above, she petitioned her Korean English teacher and pleaded extreme shyness. She won her case and we didn't show this video to the boys classes and I am not bitter at all no not at all. (It's the lead dancer, be sure to pay extra special attention to her.)

Next time - wrapping it up with the final four videos. Do you think I saved my favourite for last? I'll give you a hint:  

      Oh Yeah!