Happiness pt. 1

Can I be vague? If I may, I promise you can conjecture.

There are worthier scribes than me when it comes to detailing expat life in South Korea...I think. Probably. See, the thing is, I wouldn't know; I've lived on the rock for over seven years, and after Year One (word to Frank Miller) my interest in the foreign perspective stopped. Every day spent treating my existence in Korea as "an experience" or, worse, "a journey" seemed like a waste of time, partially because I understood that Korea is neither a stepping stone nor a way station; Korea is where I wake up every morning and where I lay my head to rest every night. And that's it. I'm a foreigner living in Korea, but I'll be damned if I'm a Korea-living foreigner.

You can't typecast or pigeonhole me, motherfucker. I'm a man of the world.

Seriously, though, you get to livin' on the peninsula long enough, you start to feel like Dilsey Gibson. You've seen it all, the rise and fall, or at least most of it. And let me tell you, it loses its lustre. It loses its "Golly!"

When I started Psychedelic Kimchi I had that in mind. This is not, and has never been, a "Korean blog". It's me, Eoin Forbes, and a few of my cohorts. We like good music, movies, food, humor, and, yeah, occasionally, post modern art and self-mutilation (they're the same, non?). We also like writing, and, if I may, we are the best we are at what we do. Furthermore, we -- or at least ME -- are raging egoists, in case you're obtuse, and in which case your shoes are untied.

I'm sorry, I promised to be vague, so here it is: you can plan your entire life; you can make every day a blueprint; you can work hard, eat your vitamins, say your prayers and give up your bus seat to old ladies; but you can't read minds. If you could, you'd be better at Halo. Maybe. Heroes and villains, paint the White House black, and don't smoke near my toddler.

You got a crew? I got one, too. They're called the Brooklyn Zoo.