Went around Seoul yesterday thinking about what to write on the blog. Nothing. Thought I should write about living in Seoul – some experience.
Nothing.
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There’s a crippled guy who entered a public loo in the underground and needed help. He looked at me and blurted a spasticated phrase in Korean (it may not have been spasticated of course). However, mercifully, someone else came along, peeled down his strides over his buckled legs and propped him while his angled dick pissed. I stared into the tiling.
On the underground my three-year-old daughter has her photo taken by dozens of not-so-discreet mobile phones. She’s wrapped up warm and Koreans don’t look like ponces, so I’ve not even gone near screaming ‘fuck off’ yet. Drunk guys think it’s okay to pat her head – it’s not and I worry how I’m going to voice this.
A old guy shouted at me and my daughter playing with white pigeons in the park:
‘Stop her. It peace bird.’
‘Yes, I know. She’s a peace girl.’
He spat hard at the floor after that.
Fried silkworms are sold in the street. They stink like a dying man’s feet in the sun. I haven’t tried them yet. Those or dog – not yet. I expect to have both at certain alcohol ratios.
I’ve had numerous irate taxi drivers, moved to Seoul from the villages, who splutter confusion at me because they don’t know the way to anywhere.
Ordered a beer and got five minutes of giggles in a top-class hotel and still don’t know why.
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I also had sex with a woman in her thirties for the first time in my life yesterday. It was my wife’s birthday.
There is some inspiration after all, just none in Seoul for me. I’m a little bored and don’t even know why I’ve posted this twee rubbish. It's all about as interesting as hair.
Help.
