The Mighty Kim – please take seriously

Traveling is a buzz;  lights, camera, fucking moonlight on a beautiful beach. Traveling at its peak are the things you can’t write about, words are clumsy, clank, clank, crockedy fuck damn.  

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I have an addictive personality.  Addictions are mathematical because they are perfectly predicted;  I take something, I get a certain effect. There’s security in being able to control your feelings. What is wrong with addictions?  

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I just got an email from Stand Up Seoul telling me that they are performing three hours from now in Rocky Mountain, Itaewon.  

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If you are Eddie Izzard, please email me. I have a script for you, you can buy for $10. The vaginas bit below was taken from it. Thank you.

Vagina. It’s a weird name for a vagina… vagina. It’s not very romantic, is it? “While escorting my gentle lady Isabella home from the La Rivera restaurant we perchance stopped by her abode whereby I thereby engaged her vagina in cunning linguistics. I discussed the profounder meanings of life, she responded by moaning and giving out an aroma largely reminiscent of rotting fish.”  

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I find myself accentuating my westerness over here.  

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Dead people acquire a certain prestige when they pass away. The higher the profile and the less that is known about a persons private life, the greater the enigma, the more shadows we have to fill in with the adventures of our imagination.  

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Korea is like crashing an exclusive party. A costume party. And you’re naked. You’ve got a fork. But nothing in common with anybody around you. In fact you don’t even speak the same language.

I’ve been fed lies as a child. All my teachers told me that snot kills bacteria, fights viruses. I’ve never heard of one illness, where snot was the cure. You don’t see the pharmacies stockpiling snot when there’s an epidemic or Bono singing about snots  as the answer to Africa’s problems.  

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