Elephant Talk

There is a compulsion after a long time away from the blog to apologize for inactivity. I’m not going to do that. But this time I have a reason for my inactivity. I was inspired by my friend Tharp, who wrote an excellent post grazing over the highlights (and, indeed, lowlights) of the past 10 years of his life. I decided to write one myself, but it got voluminous and obsessive and turned into a longwinded unfinished project. (I can’t seem to do anything with brevity.) I’m only up to the middle of 2007. I’m into the start of the really good stuff and I just can’t see how I can fill all of those remaining experiences into a small container.

Anyway, that’s the reason I haven’t posted lately. I kept expecting to finish it and pare it down to something digestible for this medium. I will finish it at some point. It’s been an illuminating exercise going through all the joys, heartbreaks, craziness and adventures of the aughts. But by the time I’m done it may be too late to be relevant for a blog. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll post it at some point, maybe I won’t.

In the meantime, I’ve been thoroughly enjoying my January.

November and December were jam-packed with activity and this month by contrast has been very relaxing. I finished an excellent book about The Beatles, I’ve been spending more time with friends, and playing some great live gigs. I’ve also been working on personal neglected projects. I completed something I hope to publish, I’m updating my sadly outdated personal website (not yet finished), and within a couple days I’ll start mixing a feature-length film.

I’m also spending more time trying to learn more Korean. I’m constantly under pressure from people to gain some interactive competency with this impenetrable language. My colleagues mention it, my mentor mentions it, some of my friends mention it. They can’t fathom how I’ve been here almost three years and still can’t cary on a conversation beyond the basics. Honestly I can’t either. But learning a language is fucking hard. Learning Korean is really fucking hard. It is one big exercise in that game “Concentration.” It feels like there are a few thousand tiny scraps of knowledge scattered in my brain. Speaking and comprehending are exercises in hunting down, lifting and organizing a dozen of them together into something communicative. Then there are the different forms of the language, and the strange Busan dialect, and the speed at which people speak.

I study, quite a bit actually. But I don’t practice. I recognize this as the problem. But the reality is that I don’t have to and therefore rarely find opportunities to. It’s not necessary to speak Korean beyond the essentials because every Korean that I know converses in English. Sometimes I want to give it up. In the time I’ve spent on it I probably could have been an expert guitar player had I chosen to spend time learning that instead.

But I’m still trying. My method is to saturate myself with Rosetta Stone, numerous iPod apps, handwritten flashcards, copious notes in my notebook, and private language exchange several times a week in coffee shops. My hope is that with all this saturation, something will break through eventually.

I was considering not taking a holiday this winter. I was in Japan in November, so I thought I might just mellow out at home during the break between semesters. But I decided to go ahead and book a two week trip to Thailand. I was last there a dozen years ago, my first ever trip abroad. I hear that a lot has changed in the country since then. I’ll spend five days with a friend in and around Bangkok, then meet up with others on an island somewhere for some sun and sand, then (probably) island hop to Cambodia and visit Angkor Wat. That’s a lot to do in two weeks, but it should work out.

And then it’s back to normal life, back to another semester with a fresh crop of minds to mold. This should be an interesting Spring. Around March or April, I should get a better sense of whether I’m staying in Korea beyond August or heading back to the U.S. Or Canada. Or… Australia.

We’re not immune to entertainment hype over here in Korea. We may not get the same deluge of advertising, or have our faces shoved into the trough of the ‘next great thing’ — for which I’m grateful — but hype travels across oceans. It seeps through internet tubes, it buzzes through Facebook status updates. I could feel the hype about Avatar. But I intentionally closed it off. I never saw a trailer, never (intentionally) looked at images, shunned interviews, shut people up during dinner conversations. I did everything I could to wait until it was real. Because I could feel it. I didn’t know what it was. But I could feel that something amazing was coming.

When I finally sat down in the theater and fixed those 3D glasses on my nose, I was going in blissfully ignorant. So I’m not ashamed to say this: I’ve been waiting my whole life for this movie, for that experience. We’ve gotten close in the past 30 years, but nothing got to that place that Avatar got to. All during my childhood, I stared at images of otherworldly places in the pages of Heavy Metal, in the art of Vallejo, Giger and Dean. I’d stare at them and imagine a culture within and beyond the frozen image. What’s beyond this moment? What happened before and after, what’s going on outside the margins? That’s the great thing about geeky fantasy art. The static images allow your mind to fill in the rest; they free you to wonder and imagine. It’s the reason I started drawing pictures, making up stories in my head. But all the time I’d be frustrated because my imagination wasn’t good enough. I kept thinking, “dammit, when’s it going to MOVE?!”

Now it has, for the first time ever in my life, in the way that I’ve been waiting for. I saw Star Wars when it came out in 1977, but I was too young to get it. I soaked up every frame of Peter Jackson’s Lord of the Rings. But Avatar, in 3D, was the first time that cinema took me there. I almost cried a couple times and I’ve never cried in a movie in my life. When they first started flying on the dragon creatures, oh my god. Many times in the movie I let out little unconscious, unintentional sounds, little tiny orgasmic sounds. I couldn’t help myself. They finally did it, and I lived long enough to see it. I’ll never get my own personal space ship, but I have this.

A few random, more sober thoughts about Avatar:

• Roger Dean deserves mention, somehow, some way. This is my favorite artist, for the reasons I’ve mentioned. Dean is, for me, the visualist who best gives me that imaginative lift. Take a look at his Morning Dragon, his Arches Mist, his Flights of Icarus. Take a look at this article and gallery. This isn’t just coincidence.
• The only major flaw I have with the movie is the godawful song at the end. Who the hell was that? Celene Dion? That pulled me right out of my warm and cozy diegetic fusion and into the Hollywood machine that I was trying to avoid. Truly dreadful, dreadful stuff. In fact, while I loved the sound of the movie (Christopher Boyes can do no wrong*), the music by James Horner didn’t do much for me. I know he worked with an ethnomusicologist and all that. I applaud the effort, but it’s surprising how unimaginative the result is. The earthy percussion and breathy pan flutes bordered on new age, and the orchestral stuff seemed really heavy handed at times. And it covered up too much of the movie. You’ve gone and built this amazing visual culture; now please, let me hear the sound of that culture too.
• Finally, one of my former sound students from when I taught at SFSU was one of the sound effects editors. He actually visited me here in Korea recently and without saying too much (I wouldn’t let him), got me excited about seeing the movie. It was a kick to see his name in the credits.

* Ahem… SFSU alum, I should also add.

I walked into a Japanese ramen restaurant a couple weeks back and saw another foreigner I know. He’s not a friend, but I see him around on occasion and we chat whenever we run into each other. So we sat there at the counter, ate our noodles together, and talked about that subject that foreigner acquaintances talk about when given a small chunk of time: What’s your current situation here? Are you staying or leaving? When’s your contract up for renewal? And then, if given more time (as we were), you move to the next stage (as we did): Compare and contrast our perspectives on life here — or put another way — our life not being there.

When it comes to talk of contracts, work situations, and the familiar threads of frustration that come with it, there’s common ground. But when it comes to talk about life here, that’s when divides occasionally emerge. He and I couldn’t be more different. And it’s probably why we’re not anything more than acquaintances.

Recognizing from the outset that it’s unfair for me to summarize his perspective into a paragraph, I’ll nevertheless paraphrase his outlook as fairly as I can: He likes his life here. He has a good job, and spends most of his free time with his longtime Korean girlfriend. He rarely goes out and meets new people. The reason is that he has a problem with foreigners. They’re everywhere these days, they get younger and younger, they get more and more rude, and they have an arrogance about them that he can’t tolerate. Strangers don’t say hello on the street anymore. Foreigners are aloof and think they’re big shit because they feel like they can come here and be more important than they would be Stateside. In the U.S., he could chat up someone in a bar without a problem. But if he tries to do that here, other foreigners look at him like he’s a freak.

Then I told him my perspective: There is a built-in community here that comes from shared experience. Together, we make up a collection of mutual others. It is the equivalent of a small town where most foreigners know most of the other foreigners. If you meet someone you don’t know, you could walk up and probably have a pretty interesting conversation. Most people are polite, interesting, and willing to make new friends. In the States, people keep to themselves. They collect into small private units of family or rommates. Yes, if I talked to an American in a bar, we could have a cursory chat. But if I walked up to an American in any other public setting and started a conversation, he’d probably be suspicious and wonder what my intention was. That’s not a problem here.

So who’s right? We’re probably both right to a certain degree, which means our differences were a matter of perspective. I recognize that things have changed, even in the three years I’ve been here. There are a lot more people who look like frat boy punks. But this doesn’t really bother me.

It comes down to how you choose to live here. This is something I learned very quickly. There is ambiguity in everything you do and see living in Korea. You can choose to see the bad in a given situation or you can choose to see things as a collision of culture. Maybe there’s something weird or offensive going on, but it’s just as likely that it’s a misunderstanding. I stretch this to the foreigner community by choosing to be positive and social. It’s really not that difficult. But what’s interesting to me is that it’s something that I didn’t do in the States. I was what this acquaintance was. I hid in my apartment with my girlfriend and had three or four close friends that I’d play music with or have dinner with.

I’m surprised by how social I am here. I have the people that I am close with, and they are very close. We spend a lot of time together. The other part of this is that they (with some small exceptions) stretch out concentrically to reach a wider circle of other mutual friends, and then further out to others whose company I like and whom I see on a somewhat regular basis and can talk to.

Admittedly, I have a nice glue that helps things work: music. Being a musician goes a long way here. Musicians bind together into a really nice community, particularly lately. There are egos and there is competition, but everyone — and I mean everyone — is respectful and nice to one another. This, in turn, extends to the people who come out and listen to live music. Not only are they part of this community as well, they’re kind of the fuel that keeps it moving and keeps it interesting.*

I write this today, because it’s the end of the holiday season. It’s a good time to be thankful for the community I have here, and to appreciate those that I have around me. It’s been a great week. Despite the melancholy of my previous entry, I had a fantastic Christmas. On Christmas Eve, I met with friends and regulars at a local bar for a great dinner. Then we went to another bar to wish a Merry Christmas with others. Then we went to yet another, where we met some musicians and played some extemporaneous songs for the folks who were there. Christmas day was fantastic, with one of the best parties I’ve ever been to. Amazing food, good cheer, another unplanned acoustic jam session, and some nice bonding.

Now it’s New Year’s Eve. In a couple hours, I’ll go out and meet some friends for dinner (including one who’s here on vacation from his job in China). I’m playing in my main band at 10 pm, and then I’ll go across town to sit in with another band for some post-midnight music. It should be a fun night.

* I should probably add that my experience in Busan may be different from that in Seoul, Daegu, Ulsan, Yeosu, or anywhere else in Korea. Seoul, in particular, seems so spread out and vast — and so filled with foreigners — I wonder if they’re able to enjoy any kind of community at all.

Christmas exists at the quantum level. It’s there. But it’s also not there. As an observable thing, its position, energy and momentum vary depending on how I choose to see it. I’m better off when I’m not focusing directly on it. But I’ve just today finished my work, both personal and job-related. Applications are in the mail, and grades were submitted this afternoon. It’s Christmas Eve and I’m now free to fully absorb Christmas in its macro form. Bummer.

Well, not really bummer. Just that this one day seems like such a big deal. Celebration is expected. This is fine when you’re surrounded by family, but it’s a matter of endurance when you’re away from your home country.

That said, I’m excited about the next couple of days. The neighborhood expat bars know how to ease the loneliness for all the fellow loners. Whereas people in the United States travel from relative to relative in their cars, I’ll go from bar to bar on foot. My friend Tom, who owns HQ Bar, will be cooking up a big Christmas Eve dinner of ham, mashed potatoes, etc, and etc. I expect a packed house of regulars. Across the alley, Eva of Eva’s Bar has apparently come up with her own new eggnog recipe. A couple weeks ago she asked me what people like to have for Christmas. I told her that the one flavor that I associate with Christmas is eggnog. She’d never heard of it, so I pointed her to some recipes online. I’m curious to sample what she’s come up with. Then on Christmas day, two of my friends are hosting a big party at their apatuh. Lots of food, a few games, some animated Christmas specials, maybe play a few songs.

I hope this doesn’t sound too cynical, because I don’t mean it in a negative sense. But these celebrations primarily function as analgesia for a feeling of absence. It’s a means of mutual coping for being away from what’s familiar. I welcome it all.

So, Merry Christmas everyone. But I wish a very special Merry Christmas to all those expatriated from their home world. Don’t worry. It’ll all be over soon enough.

Hey, here’s a big news flash: The GRE is all about money. Just as I’ve been saying lately in my campaign of rants against this ageist form of human compartmentalization, the GRE is principally designed to make more money for ETS and test-prep companies.

They’ve recently announced a change in the format of the exam, to begin in 2011. (This news tip given to me by my mother, incidentally.) I had to scroll down to get to this little morsel:

Robert Schaeffer, public education director of the National Center for Fair and Open Testing, a long-time critic of ETS, agreed, saying that the modifications were generally “small to modest changes designed to refurbish and reposition a stale product. It’s all about marketing.” He said that the lengthening of the exam time could make fatigue “a more significant issue.”

The larger question, he said, is whether graduate programs need the GRE at all. Given that graduate programs admit from “a much smaller universe” (of colleges) than do undergraduate programs (with many more high schools), he said that “the argument that you need testing” to compare candidates “is weaker.”

Only one group is sure to gain by the switch, Schaeffer said. “Whenever you change a test, you give a tremendous boost to the coaching industry.”

Historically, test changes tend to encourage more people to seek out test prep services. Some rush to take the old test (on the chance they earn higher scores there) and so use coaching to speed up preparation; and those who are among the first to take a new test are more likely than others to want test prep because they can’t rely on informal advice about the exams.

And, from the New York Times:

Generally, Mr. Seltzer said he saw the changes mostly as an marketing effort, to compete with the GMAT test, used for admission to business schools.

Congratulations, ETS, I hope you rake in the dough. And thank you, universities out there, for supporting their business goals.

Yes, I’m still angry.

First the bad news. My objective for going to Japan was a failure. It’s not that I failed the GRE, it’s that I failed to match or exceed my expectations. I scored 30 meager points higher than the last time I took the exam in August. I was hoping for, at worst, a 100-point improvement. I would have been happy to gain another 125-150. But I didn’t. So in that regard, the effort was a waste of time and money.

I studied my ass off this time, hours a day, every single day. I set aside other things in my life during a very busy time, and even strained a couple friendships in the process. I used exam guides, complete with diagnostic reports charting my progress. By the time I’d finished all the practice exams, I was projecting a score close to 1200, a score that would have been at least satisfying and would validate the effort. I did not get near that score. And it’s the kind of score you need to get into a good communications program.

So, once again I say fuck you GRE. I concede that you win, you’re too much for me. In retrospect, it was stupid of me to think that I could regain all the complex algebra and geometry skills I may (or may not) have had when I was in high school two decades ago. So I will never take it again. It’s an exam for young people. Old men like me are not meant to take it. So, then, are old men like me not meant for doctoral study? It would seem to be the case. Universities, which use the GRE to determine eligibility, apparently only want young people. Incidentally, yesterday I saw a Facebook update from a friend of mine who signed up for GRE prep classes in Korea (she’s Korean) and was denied admittance to the class. The reason? She was told she is too old to take the class. No joke.

Now the good news: Japan is amazing, simply amazing. It was the perfect place to make me forget about my disastrous test score. So after the exam, I dug into Japan for four full days and nights. Nights in Osaka, day trips to Kyoto and Nara, a jam session in Kobe. I had a blast.

An interesting thing about Japan… I’ve never heard anyone mention a bad experience traveling there. I’ve heard good and bad things about China, Thailand, Singapore, Hong Kong, Vietnam, etc, etc. But people seem to have nothing but universally good things to say about Japan. I now understand why.

First, there are the genuinely kind and polite people you come across. Then there is the utterly fascinating history of warriors and clans and honor, all those knightly aspects that rival and even exceed Camelot. But the thing I found particularly amazing about Japan is how there is an aesthetic quality pervading everything. Urban planning, architecture, parks, walkways, historical sites, food, interior spaces, cleanliness, even in some cases the presentation of environmental sounds — everything has an artistic intent behind it. But it’s not simply about making things pleasant. In many cases, there is a boldness to the construction of all this lifestyle and environment. The train station in Kyoto looks insane when you first see it, but then it starts to make sense. All the aggressive lines and the sheer audacity of it kind of warms to you after you spend some time there.

Now, I don’t presume to “know” the Japanese way of doing things, but I noticed something else that may be a contributing factor to this. I was surprised by how much individuality and freedom of expression there is to Japanese people. I’m talking mostly about young people. The fashion is insane, and everyone seems to present him or herself differently. In Osaka, I saw arctic snow goddesses, punks, space-age bee-hive hairdos, forest elves, men with capes, girls with face paint. It seemed as though everything was not only permissible, but encouraged.

This is strange to my Korea-dwelling eyes. I hate to make comparisons, but Korean men have dreadful fashion sense. The women are much better, and go to great lengths dolling themselves up and looking pretty. But there’s a sameness in style. I remember one summer black and white stripes were the latest thing. Everyone was wearing black and white stripes; everyone was wearing the same thing.

Again, not to overgeneralize, but this is likely an extension of cultural differences. Individuality is not encouraged in Korea, and therefore creativity and boldness is not evident. It’s a detriment to Korean society. But Korea is lives under a very different set of circumstances. This country is a resounding success in the way its built itself from utter impecuniousness to tech-savvy and economically robust in little more than a generation. Give Korea some time to allow Koreans to find their creative voice. They’re due, and it’s coming. I can feel it.

It’s the night before Thanksgiving day here in Asia. I’ll be spending my Thanksgiving morning in an airplane flying from Busan to Osaka. As anyone who has read the past few entries knows, I’ve signed up to take the GRE there the morning after that. So while people in America are turning off the final NFL game and falling into a tryptophan-induced slumber, I’ll be waking up to take a 4-hour standardized examination. Fun for me.

The good news is that after that, I have four days to explore the Kansai region. I’ve booked five nights total in Osaka. I hoped to base myself in Kyoto, but everything was booked up by the time I got around to planning places to stay. So I will take day trips there and to Nara, if all goes well.

This whole journey has kind of a lonely feeling to it. Part of it is the knowledge that it’s obligatory. It’s not really vacation; I’m going there because I have to. But it’s also the solo travel aspect. I don’t mind traveling alone, but I prefer the company of others. It gives you someone to share experiences with, laugh at absurdities, and discuss options. Soaking up a Blade-Runner-esque nighttime cityscape or a lush, green temple setting is nice to experience solely through one’s own eyes and ears, but it’s also nice at some point to turn to someone and say “cool, huh?”

But I’m excited. I don’t care about the GRE. I’ve studied as much as I care to, and that whole structure can go to hell. I’ll get whatever score I get. But I’m looking forward to the rest of it. I know very little about Japan and didn’t do much research, so I do feel woefully under-prepared for the vacation aspect. The one time I was there was for a Fukuoka visa-run that lasted all of 24 hours. That trip, only two weeks into my Korea experience oh so long ago, felt simply like an extension of Busan. So this feels like my first time. And I’m always up for a first of anything.

Time is, without question, the most valuable resource we have. It is a fixed entity. We know more or less how much of it we have (at the most, anyway), and we are aware of the milestones along the way. Once we get to a certain age, these points become marks of incremental regression in ability, facility, energy.

I’ve been thinking about time a lot lately, because I’ve been living primarily in the future for the past three or four months. It seems like everything I do lately is geared toward doing the next thing. This happens when you live by one-year contracts, and every cycle brings about a different signing scenario. I was profoundly disappointed by the last go-round, so I’m pushing myself even harder toward the next thing.

I’m applying for doctoral programs. This is an incredibly time-consuming process. It’s a bunch of maddening details made more insane by the vast body of water that separates me from my native country. Communication lags and takes the form of text, and there are certain things that need to be done in person that cannot be done. There is research, massive amounts of research. There is contact with advisors and students and program coordinators. There is contact with past professors for recommendation letters and advice. There are transcripts to be ordered (this simple thing being a strangely murderous process from my current location). There are statements of purpose to write, things to collect and package, things to consider including. And, of course, my big obsession right now: the GRE. I’m studying like a madman. I don’t know if it will help, but I’m dedicating myself to giving it my best shot. The exam requires a trip to Japan, which requires hotels, air travel, a big plan.

I also have, of course, my regular life. This involves teaching undergraduate and graduate classes, grading quizzes and projects, planning lectures, considering end-of-semester deadlines. It involves musical projects to which I’ve devoted myself. Everything else, including Korean language study, I’ve put on hold.

So this is how I exhaust my time. I’m burning that non-replenishable tank of fuel by preparing. The truth is, I’m not convinced that it will amount to anything. I don’t know yet if a) I’ll be accepted to a good PhD program, and b) I’ll accept an offer that comes to me. I haven’t decided whether or not I’m ready to leave. I like it here. Korea gives me time… to work, travel, write, play, experience. I like my friends, I like my life, I like what the place gives me. But I’m approaching that critical three-year period. From what I’ve seen of the foreigners here, this is the threshold. People who have been here two years talk about a future back home. People who have been here for three don’t. And if I do decide to stay, Plan B involves me staying for a very long time.

This mindset is what’s playing with my brain right now. It’s what has me thinking about time. Even if I wasn’t applying for doctoral programs, I’d still be using my time living in the future. I’d be studying Korean language (a long-term future endeavor), or I’d be re-writing my textbook (for future publishing), or I’d be thinking about new job opportunities.

It’s also got me thinking about the other things I could otherwise be doing with the time I’ve been given. I could be learning to play guitar. I could be expanding as a drummer. I could be mastering MAX/MSP. I could be writing a novel. I could be creating an ambient soundtrack to a non-existent film. I could be… Dancing Nancies.

The iPhone is coming to Korea. This isn’t really that big of a news flash, because it was expected to happen. But now it’s pretty much official.

The speculation on that article up there is about how much it will penetrate the market here. I expect it to be pretty much a status symbol. In South Korea, Apple is an image thing. Microsoft is so ubiquitous that people gravitate to Apple things to present status (a very important thing here). It’s big at my workplace. I know one Korean colleague who has a Macintosh in his office, but it just sits there. He doesn’t actually use it; he’s got his Windows machine for actual work. But damn, it looks good. I know another who bought a Mac and only runs Windows through Boot-camp. And I’d say there are about five or six people in my department who have Apple monitors running Windows machines. That nice bold Apple icon oozes coolness.

It will be interesting to see how the iPhone does. It’s not really needed here, because while it might be a big technological breakthrough in the U.S., it’s not that big a deal here. Through Samsung and LG, people already have phones with huge hard drives to store and play all their music and a bunch of quirky apps. And because of DMB broadcasting, people can (and do) watch TV on their phones, something the iPhone doesn’t allow (at least I don’t think). The Samsung phones are pretty sweet, with touch screens and a bunch of cool features.

It will be interesting to watch how app development goes. I’d like to see some Korean-based apps come out. But again, from what I’ve seen, the interest in Apple is in the packaging (the hardware). Few people use Macintosh software, and I would suspect there are only a tiny number of people who could program for it.

If it does well, I suspect it will be because of the Apple brand more than the actual product. I probably won’t get one. I have a new iPod Touch that I’m happy with. Also, the iPhone requires a two-year contract and I don’t know whether I’ll be here that long. I’m not a bleeding edge kinda guy anyway. I’ll wait for the other foreigners (who are ready to make the leap) to test drive the situation before I consider it.

OK, so that previous post was the angry, negative outlook on things. On the positive side, all this GRE studying is giving me a nice brush-up on vocabulary. Words are funny things. When you study them and stare at them over and over they become like little living creatures. They have personality (sound funny, sound strong, etc). And a word can change when placed in different contexts.

GRE study guides usually have some proprietary version of their “Big 500.” My Kaplan guide has its 500 and my Watermelon guide has its 500. There’s a lot of overlap. As I study, I’ve been writing down the words I don’t know or that I like and forming them into my own sentences, or putting them into relationships, all in an effort to remember them. Things like: “He expatiated a speech meant to expiate for his wrongdoings.” or “His irascible personality is implacable.”

One of my sections has “Words that I thought I knew but didn’t.” As follows:

Anathema: Vehement dislike of something. (I thought it meant a counter-belief.)
Circumspect: Cautious; alert to possible consequences. (I thought it meant “suspicious.”)
Contrite: Apologetic, sorrowful, or feeling guilty. (This one made me feel stupid. I always thought it meant “brief.”)
Inimical: Hostile and unfriendly. (It does not mean “particular or unique.” Maybe I was thinking of the word “inimitable.”)
Inter: To bury. (It does not mean to get within or between something.)
Investiture: A ceremony conferring authority. (Way off base on this one — I thought it meant “investment.”)
Malinger: To fake illness. (I was thinking “malign,” but I guess it’s more attached to “malady.”)
Mannered: Artificial, unnatural in character. (It does not mean “well mannered.”)
Meretricious: Gaudy; falsely attractive. (It has nothing to do with “merit.”)
Precipitate: To spark, instigate (v). Rash, reckless (adj). (This one really surprised me; I was sure it meant “to come before.”)
Reticent: Silent or reserved. (It does not mean “hesitant.” Maybe I was close enough on this one.)
Spartan:  Self-disciplined, frugal, austere. (I always thought spartan meant “sparse.”)

The GRE seems to like words about money, such as: largess, amortize, requite, and usury. There are also a lot of words about having, not having, or spending money: prodigal, impecunious, penury, and profligate.

There are several words for wandering around from place to place: peregrinate, peripatetic, errant, maunder, itinerant. Some advice: If you are feeling itinerant, you’ll want to innervate so you don’t feel enervated.

Then there are those words that are just fun to say. My current favorite is legerdemain (trickery), which sounds like a cool band name. And how could I have lived this long and not known stentorian (excessively loud). While I’m on the senses, noisome does not mean noisy, it means “stinky.”

It would be fun to work these into conversation. But most people I would use them on would probably just wind up nonplussed.

So I’m taking the fucking GRE again. As I said a while back, I completely bombed it over the summer. For some reason I thought that taking a massive, potentially life-altering examination on summer vacation was a good idea. I didn’t respect the exam, so I didn’t study.

I still don’t respect it. I think it’s worthless. Universities are massive bureaucracies, tiny pockets of Soviet style objectivism. The GRE only encourages them to be even more unimaginative and lazy. Strange that the great institutes of higher learning would choose something so inane as their threshold of determining candidacy. Yes, letters, SOPs, background, accomplishments, work all matter. But the GRE, developed by a for-profit private sector company, is their gateway. Many universities aren’t even shy about it. They proudly state that one must get a combined 1,100 or 1,200 to even be considered.

Why do I hate the GRE so much? Because it’s a measure of neither creative nor intelligent thought. It’s a means of getting people to fall in line with everyone else. Getting a good score does not require intelligence, it requires obedience to a structure. My theory is that universities want to see that you are willing to dedicate yourself to something ridiculous for a lengthy period of time to prove that you’re willing to work on some equally ridiculous research project for your adviser over a prolonged period of time. The GRE requires two things: time and discipline. You study nothing of significance. You study how to take one particular exam.

But okay. This time I’m playing your stupid game. I bought one of these very positively reviewed GRE prep guides. It cost me $25 and I downloaded it directly to my iPod Touch. Actually, it’s a groovy little app, and it’s been very helpful. But it is essentially a bloated cheat-sheet, full of tricks designed to inure you to the test structure. Now, right there, something’s already not right. If it was really about intelligence, no one would have access to the rules; these books would be banned. We’d all have to go in like newborns and figure the damned thing out on the spot. But instead I see things like “The analogies portion of the verbal section falls into X number of basic question types. Here is an explanation of all the different question categories…” and on and on like this. I feel like a pervert reading this shit.

Incidentally, this is the exact same problem Korea has with English. Koreans fervently study English. But they don’t learn how to talk or write; they learn how to pass the TOEIC. They take classes whose specific aim is how to beat the structure, how to crack the code. This is why the overwhelming majority of Koreans can’t engage in a simple conversation in English. They don’t learn the fucking language. They learn how to beat the exam.

I take the GRE in 10 days in Osaka. I’ve been studying my ass off, and becoming bitter and resentful in the process, because I’ve got far more important things I could be doing right now. If I get 1,200 it will be a miracle. But if somehow I do, I’m not going to be proud. I’m going to feel broken, because I’ll know that the only thing I did was waste my time jumping through someone else’s hoops.

If a blog has its own identity then this one is in an existential crisis. I say this because 1) it’s an exercise in free will, and 2) I’m wondering what the point is. To put it another way, I’m considering committing blog suicide. Ending it, putting it out of its misery, sending it off to the big sleep.

I’ve been in Korea for two years and eight months. I’ve had this blog for all but four months of that time. I’ve used it primarily as an opportunity to share my impressions of living in this culture. I have a particular audience in mind when I write, that being my family. Actually, when I write, I usually have my mom in mind, because I know she reads all the time and I know she enjoys it. But there are two reasons why I think it’s time to end it…

First, my readership has plummeted. This is partly my own fault. I don’t blog as much as I used to. Still, there were times in the past when output has lightened but readership stayed somewhat strong. Something’s different now. The major blow came from the bastards at Pusanweb.com. They used to link here via a blogroll and I’d get tons of hits. But they changed their policy for some stupid reason and now never link here.

I think the PIFF thing is what really depressed me. During last year’s PIFF festival I’d get about 150-175 hits a day. A quick look at my traffic for PIFF week this year, and it’s down to about 40 hits a day. That’s a serious reduction in traffic. And it’s a drag. I spent a lot of time working on coverage for PIFF because it’s a brilliant festival and a great time to be in Busan. I post observations and reviews hoping that maybe, with a little readership, people might be able to search and find information on these lesser-known films and on the overall experience. But c’mon… 40 readers a day? If no one’s reading, why make the effort? Comments have also ground to a halt. I like the idea of blog posts as an opening for discussion, but that doesn’t happen anymore (unless I’m bagging on the Pope).

My second reason for wanting to end it might actually be a contributing to the first reason. Maybe, after two and a half plus years of being here, I have nothing else to contribute. I don’t look on my experience here with nearly as much wonder. I still have strange and interesting things happening to me, but I’m not surprised by them. When I come home, I no longer feel like I spent the day in a virtual reality world. In a way this has me feeling nostalgic for the crazy early days of Korean life, when everything felt unknown and exhilarating, and writing therefore became almost compulsory.

So the well’s run dry I suppose, at least in regard to documenting observations. I continue to meet new and interesting and creative people, I’m fully involved in music projects, I spend an hour or so every day studying Korean, I prepare for classes, I do academic research (not as much as I should), I work on expanding my understanding of sound design (my new thing is modular synthesis and sampling), I have at least one new collaborative film project coming up (probably more like three), and I’m making preparations for future endeavors. It’s life. It’s interesting to me, but probably not to anyone else.

I don’t know if I’ll stop posting. But I probably won’t feel compelled to keep it going as some form of necessary document. When I take a trip to a new temple or a new village, when I travel, when I see an interesting movie — when I have something I feel is worthy of sharing, then maybe I’ll share it. But I think the times of two or three or four times a week are over. Probably more like once a month. We’ll see.

Incidentally, I should also bounce this back to Tharp’s blog, because he’s saying a lot of the same things as me (although mercifully, with more brevity). He didn’t inspire this post, but he did beat me to the punch, as he often does… the bastard.

Anyway, if you enjoy what I write, I thanks for reading. That’s kind of the point.

Here are the winners. (The only one I saw was Paju.)

My final screening at the 2009 PIFF festival was a Korean melodrama called Paju. This was also the last PIFF screening at the Haeundae Megabox theater, so the entire staff of volunteers came out to bow to the packed house of patrons. It was all very cute.

Paju was not cute; it was pretty damned intense. This was yet another taboo romance, with director Park Chan-ok successfully putting her audience through utter hell. As is typical with modern Korean melodramas, a tragic event has occurred, leading to a misunderstanding, and thereby throwing everyone into self-inflicted conundrums of Shakespearean proportions. The story is intended to induce suffering, from the three tragic central characters to the backdrop of forced relocation of homes to a rural community with seemingly no future.

I’ve seen enough Korean movies now. Once I got the Big Answer halfway through the film, I knew what was coming. I won’t give anything away, but it has to do with that very Korean form of sacrifice and heroism. And, as with other Korean melodramas, there is always, always the beautiful girl who makes it all worth it. Actress Seo Woo is indeed almost impossibly adorable, but her character is no saint. She’s selfish and detached, with a bit of a mean streak. Granted, her situation has played a role in making her that way, and she does have a sweet side to her. But it pains me to see what these men go through for the doe-eyed “innocent.”

Still, this is a complicated character and a complicated set of circumstances. Even if the misunderstanding could be worked out, we’re still left with a forbidden love in a hopeless town. Like Romeo & Juliet, even if the message arrives, even if they could come together somehow, reality is still against them.

If I sound like I didn’t like this movie, that’s not it at all. In fact, I’ve really come to like these heartbreaking Korean yarns. Paju is well made, with a very effective time-shifting montage that provides mysteries and then reveals them in a manner that works. This is an edgy art film with big budget production values and an excellent ensemble cast.

And with that, I think my PIFF blogging is done. I lost count of how many movies I saw — 11 or 12 I think. The atmosphere, the films, the weather, the parties, the conversations… all added up to another wonderful week. But I’m tired. I haven’t slept much, I drank too much, and my apartment is a disaster. I feel the need for a weekend of social inactivity, to calm down and get back to normal life.

In travel, as Spalding Grey used to say, you’re always holding out for that “perfect moment.” With this year’s PIFF festival, I’ve been waiting for my “perfect film” to come along. It almost happened yesterday. For me to really love a film it has to be what I feel is exceptionally well-made and also hit me personally. In short, I want to be impressed and moved at the same time. Dust, a movie out of Luxembourg, accomplished about 95% of each.

Dust is what good cinema is all about. The great thing about movies as a storytelling device is the way they reveal a story through images and sounds. Film is not really about dialog; it’s about presentation. Books can’t do this, and neither can theater. Director Max Jacoby utilizes the full spectrum of what is available in the form to his advantage. Little is said in this movie because the camera and soundtrack take up that narrative role more than any dialog could. Jacoby, through cinematographer Fredrik Bächar, is an expert in blocking and framing. Every shot seems intended to give you a clue about what these three characters are thinking and feeling. It could be choice in focus, a slow dolly into one character’s face, someone intentionally cropped out of the frame, or someone moving in or out of the frame. The sound design also plays a strong role, with liberal use of offscreen sounds. We hear a door open and we wonder; we hear the crackling of glass under footsteps and realize something happened here; we hear the arrival of a car and we feel what that means.

In essence, Dust is a post-apocalyptic love triangle. But the setting is not simply a device. The environment and situation almost acts as a fourth character. It’s something the other three must contend with. It has a say in their decision-making and it forms the particularites of the relationships that have developed and will develop. Jacoby presents the landscape as monumental in size and scope, both containing and reflecting their own dilemma. This space and setting, combined with the sparse dialog, also gives the audience plenty of headspace to wonder how all of this is going to work out. I found myself a lot of times thinking “well shit, they can’t…” or “oh right, so how…?” The slow pace kept me in suspense and kept me wondering. And when that happens, when you realize how involved you are, that’s when you know you’re watching a great movie.

Which brings me to the remaining 5% of this movie that I didn’t like, that being the ending. Again, it’s revealed by the camera, and it was… not hugely disappointing, and not unexpected. But it wasn’t enough. We needed a third act and we didn’t get it. The director had done such a fine job of telling this story and creating an atmosphere of tension, and three minutes before it ends I’m thinking, oh crap, now they have to deal with x. But Jacoby let me off the hook. He had me in suspense and I was gearing up for an interesting final 20 minutes or so, but then he let me go. In short, we needed a conflict and we didn’t get one. I warn you that the next sentence is a bit of a spoiler: Yes, the penguin kept the ring, but the spell was broken without the penguin having to face the consequences of that, so it didn’t really matter anyway.

Still, good lord what a beautiful work of art this movie is. Unfortunately, the movie I saw afterward, The Dust of Time, wasn’t. It was horrible. Seriously, my god, I hated this movie. That wooshing sound you hear is the sound of this movie going right over my head. I had no clue who these people were and what was going on. Well, I did eventually, but by the time I caught up to what the director was trying to do, I didn’t care. Willem Defoe is laying it on so thick that it’s almost campy. This movie has so much melodrama — heavy moments, crying, slow motion — that was empty because I didn’t give a damn. It’s so strange to be watching actors on screen pouring it all out and I’m just empty. And I had to endure this for over two hours. I kept thinking “it has to end sometime it has to end sometime it has to end…” but it just kept going and going and going. After a while I’m just staring at a point in the center of the screen like a laser, not looking at anything, just waiting for the damned thing to end. When that didn’t work I tried to open up some latent telekenetic ability so I could peel the corners of the screen in order to make a paper airplane out of it. Anything just to end the damned thing.

Every movie experience is like a relationship between the maker and the audience member. And in this relationship, maybe it’s not about you, it’s about me. Maybe I just missed what all this passion was about. I’d like to give some benefit of doubt and think that. But I could see other people squirming. And when it finally faded to black and those first text images started to roll onto the screen, people practically lept out of their seats heading for the exits. Usually PIFF-goers will wait for the credits to end, clap, and then leave. But not here.

Luckily this isn’t my final film. I’m seeing my last one tonight, the one I was hoping to see — Paju.

As the PIFF festival winds its way into the final lap, I’m thinking about the things I missed. There were seminars I had every intention of attending but simply could not find the time. But mostly I’m thinking about the films I wanted to see but couldn’t, partly through scheduling but mostly through sell-outs. Sorum only had one screening. But I believe this is because it was a last minute addition to commemorate the death of actress Jang Jin Young. Then there’s surrealist Taiwanese film Face (sold out every time), Air Doll from Japan (one scheduling conflict, one sell-out), and I Come With The Rain starring Josh Hartnett (no surprise, also sold out every time). Then there are Korean films In My End Is My Beginning and Paju (both always sold out). The one I really want to see is Paju. It has one more showing on Thursday, so I’m holding out hope that I can see it. If not, Air Doll is there as well. Fingers are crossed.

Last night I saw one movie, another Polish joint called Zero (dir. Pawell Borowski). It’s up for the festival’s Flash Forward award. The director was supposed to speak before the movie, but got caught up in traffic (and the lift — jeesus, the PIFF organizers have to do something about the crazy busy, slow-ass elevator problems). He arrived, out of breath, and simply said something to the effect of “this movie is not for everyone, but I hope you like it.”

Whereas many arty films are constructed nonlinearally. This one is the exact opposite. It is completely linear, in that the whole thing happens in a forward progression of character interaction. A character does something, meets with another character and that new character then moves on to the next stage of the story. On an on we go, twisting through 24 different characters (according to the trailer above). In a sense, that means there are 24 stories, but there are really about a half dozen core events going on. While the progression may be linear, the story does circle back on itself, so we’re able to revisit the central characters in new situations with new aspects layered onto their stories.

Yes, this is a blatant construct, and you could even call it a gimmick. But it works very well, almost too well. Ten or 15 minutes into the film, we’re well aware that we’re being subjected to this construct, and for the rest of the film you’re wondering what the director’s next move is going to be. It’s a little distracting, and at 2 hours, it gets somewhat tiring after a while. The best scenes are those when you don’t think about the trick. These are the moments when the director slowed things down and we got to witness the actors and their characters breathe a little. The acting is outstanding throughout. It’s a credit to their talent and the director’s that the movie is able to bring to life so many genuine, human characters. When we get a new interaction, we don’t feel like we’re getting introduced to another new story (that would be too tiring) but instead we feel like we’ve come across someone in the midst of a story in progress. I was impressed by how I never felt abandoned or lost. There are so many characters, but I could remember each one because each was so distinct and so well-defined.

This is not a perfect movie. The stories themselves are not nearly as inventive as the sequencing device. And again, even the device gets distracting after a while, mostly because the movie is too long to sustain it. But it’s a fun ride, and it ends right where it should, and in doing so offers a subtle, self-reflexive twist on everything you’ve just seen. Do I feel manipulated? Sure, but it’s cinema, that’s what it’s for.

I’m finding it difficult to get the time to write. My first priority is to watch as many films as possible. The second is to meet up with people. I’m accomplishing these with some success. But my other objectives — sleeping and blogging — sometimes get left behind. Oh yeah, and there’s that job thing too.

Last night (Sunday) was another night of meeting and drinking. I caught up with my friend at the soju/seafood tents at around 10:30. I met a American-born Korean actor named John, an actress (again, the name escapes me dammit), and a producer of one of Korea’s most popular movies, Taegukgi. All of them were very cool and, thankfully, spoke good English. In my small petri dish of industry people I’ve met they’ve all proved to be very un-diva like. They’ve been well-traveled, friendly, good humored people. We drank several rounds of soju and ate things that moved. Then it was time for me to hit the sack.

I took in four films over the past two days: Sleeping Songs, An Aimless Bullet, The Forest, and The Fair Love. Reviews follow…

Sleeping Songs is a German drama with two stories. One is about a trumpet player who has lost his will to make music (and maybe even for life itself). He comes across a muse in the form of a homeless woman’s poetry scribblings. Through him, we piece together her life. I’ll leave it at that, so I don’t ruin anything. Much of the satisfaction in this movie was in an exceptional feat of editing that pulled the narrative together. We get overlapping images and sounds from both worlds, and sometimes we see things as they happened about 50 or so frames before they happen. I wondered while I was watching if the music we were hearing was Norwegian trumpeter Nils Petter Molvaer. Sure enough it was, and the soundtrack is a perfect ghostly backdrop. It’s a beautiful film.

An Aimless Bullet is apparently Korea’s most famous movie, from 1969. I found it to be more interesting than it was enjoyable. The story chronicled a time after the end of the Korean war, with various people trying to come to terms with post-war life and the rapid modernity that comes with it. I admit that I briefly nodded off a couple times, in fact missing the critical turning point. It’s difficult for me to watch older movies like this, especially on little sleep. At the same time, it’s interesting to see older Korean movies because the place has changed so rapidly. There was one scene with two characters looking out over the Seoul skyline that was amazing. It’s even got its own “Rosebud” motif. In this case: “Kaaa-jaaa. Kaaaaaa-jaaaaaaaaa!”

The Forest is a Polish film that’s also something of a yawner. But in this case, that’s not necessarily a bad thing, and I actually enjoyed it. But it’s tough to go through. This movie is very, very slow. It’s kind of like a poem put to film in the sense that it’s more of a feeling of a particular situation — a son watching his father’s last days, and the dreams the father has — than it is a typical narrative. The cinematography is gorgeous, with a rich black and white, deeply gothic look. The director holds the shots for excruciatingly long periods of time, particularly at the end, but they’re so beautifully constructed. This is one of those films in which you wonder if you can take it, but then it ends and you wish you could see more.

The Fair Love is a Korean movie that I suspect will find a large audience once it gets wide release. It’s the story of a 56 year old bachelor who promises his estranged, dying friend that he’ll look after his 25 year old daughter after he dies. Eventually he and the girl fall in love, despite the huge age difference. Koreans seem to love these awkward and semi-taboo love stories.

The dialog in this movie is excellent. The conversations they have hit all the right notes, and the two characters know full well what they’ve gotten themselves into. The best part of the movie is the performance by Lee Ha-na. Not only is her acting rock solid throughout, but she’s got the subtle nuances down. You can feel when watching her that her father’s death hangs with her in every single scene. Even when she’s happy and smiling, there’s a hidden pain in there. This can’t be an easy thing for an actor to pull of but she does it perfectly.

While I enjoyed the ride, the ending sucked. The movie talks a lot about courage, but director Shin Yeon-Shick doesn’t have the courage to give us an ending. I’m fine with movies leaving things ambiguous if the script allows for it. But this one didn’t. Shin needed to make a choice and he didn’t, which left things empty. The movie also suffers from a lack of intimacy. We get great conversation, but no real intimate exchanges between the two. It’s probably because the movie aims straight for the mainstream. To show these two actually being physically affectionate (and no, I’m not talking about skin) would push things too far. It suffers because of it.

But I still recommend it for Lee Ha-na’s outstanding performance and the conversations the two share.

Onward…

I had a full day of PIFF events yesterday, taking in four movies and hitting some of the star-studded nightlife. In true tabloid style, I’ll start with the nightlife.

My friend and former professor is down from Seoul for the festival. He’s filming a documentary on Korean moviemakers. For this trip, he’s documenting a particular movie star. Around 10pm I called him and he told me to join him at the Grand Hotel. When I arrived, I met some of his friends — a director and a screenwriter. We exchanged cards, had some chit-chat, then went to a party near the Westin Chosun. It turned out to be an older crowd singing karaoke. We stayed long enough to say some hellos and drink a shot and then went back to the Grand Hotel for the “actor’s party.”

We got in the elevator and headed for the top floor. Along the way a beautiful woman got on and was surprised to see my friend. They chatted the rest of the way up. When we got to the top, there were a bunch of people processing wrist bands and screening people to go through. I guess I was okay, because I got my wrist band. I peeked in the entrance and saw about a dozen photographers in two rows waiting. We were about to go through when someone pulled us back. This beautiful woman I mentioned before was apparently famous. Some “handlers” fixed up her dress and then she went in and stood in front of a huge banner while the paparazzi lit up the room. Then it was our turn. We quickly went through. Needless to say, no one took our picture.

The room inside was huge, dark except for swirling colored lights, and full of beautiful people. Apparently, all the major Korean directors and movie stars were there. Imagine going to Sundance and getting invited to the exclusive party. This was Korea’s version. It didn’t take me long to realize that I was the only white person there. I met a young director who had previously worked under Lee Myun-se and was now working on his first major film. Through him I was introduced to an actress whose name unfortunately eludes me. Unfortunate because we really hit it off and wound up talking for 30 or 40 minutes. She had lived in the U.S. for two years and was really cool.

We hung around for a while and then their group had to leave. I stayed a little while longer. I was sort of waiting to see if Josh Hartnett or Bryan Singer would show up. As time went on I felt more and more like I was loitering, so I took off. Just as I got to the hotel entrance, a black car pulled up. Inside? Josh Hartnett. He got out of the car and was met with ear-piercing screams. I couldn’t exactly turn around and walk back into the party, so I left.

(Click ahead for some photos and brief reviews)

I saw four movies on Day 2, but none of them knocked me out. It’s a crap shoot for me. I don’t want to read any reviews in advance, and I want to treat it like treasure hunting. Yesterday’s treasures left a lot to be desired, but there was at least one that I can recommend.

Metropia: This is a Scandinavian animated film set in a dystopian near-future. The animation style really bothered me: expertly rendered 3D on multiple 2-dimensional layers. I don’t care for 3D animation. It feels too cold, digital, and precise. As exquisite as the facial detail and expressions were, the characters moved in blocky motion. The 2D layering made matters worse, erasing any possible depth of field. The story itself was typical paranoid hipster existential doom. We’ve seen this covered many different times in much more aesthetically pleasing ways. Voices were provided by Vincent Gallo and Juliette Lewis, so it’s sure to hit the arthouse circuit soon.

Dear Music: That is, their Fantasy Heading for the Sea: This was the best of the foursome. The backdrop involves a Korean man, raised in Mexico, and taught to play the violin. He makes one recording and then dies. So the album is a rare treasure in Korea. The story takes place when two musicians try to buy a copy off a woman whose husband is in a coma. But the album soon becomes secondary to the melodrama that eventually unfolds. I loved the style. Clearly influenced by French New Wave, it used unconventional cutting of beautiful black and white footage, and the characters stop occasionally to address the camera. I can’t say I loved this movie (the revelation lacked some depth), but the music-as-plot-device was interesting and it was stylistically effective.

Like You Know It All: Another Korean film, this one started well. A clueless movie director is a judge at a film festival (well, two film festivals) and the whole thing pokes more than a few laughs at the industry. But it was a mess of character intention and storytelling. There’s really no story here, just a pathetic man trying to get his ego stroked. I didn’t care for the director’s camera style. Instead of using conventional OTS shots and return shots for dialog scenes, he did most of them in a single take, panning and zooming the camera. While my hat’s off to the actors who performed well during these long takes (except for the American actor – dreadful), the style didn’t work for such an otherwise very conventional film. It came off less as style and more like laziness. In a word, this movie was boring.

Sleepless: A movie by Dario Angento, it’s an Italian horror film staring Max Von Sydow. It was released in 2001, but looks like something out of the 80s. I have a hard time with European horror because it tends to go more for excessive shock than story. Some of the killings are overly gruesome. But what really bothered me was the terrible dubbing that is also typical of European foreign language films. The original dialog was in English, but evidently the actors got replaced by American voices. Why make an Italian movie with American accents? I have no idea, but it was distracting as hell.

I’m sitting in the second-floor guest lounge at PIFF Center, which at this time of the day, 4pm, is very active. It’s the first day of the 2009 Pusan International Film Festival. Or, as I like to think of it, the best time of the year to be in Busan. People are greeting and meeting, perusing the catalog, reserving tickets, drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, taking pictures, and doing business. As a media professor, I get a guest pass every year. So for a whole week, I watch as many free movies as I can squeeze in and enjoy some prime people-watching.

This spot always brings out an odd combination of young hipster types (filmmakers and film buffs) and older dudes in black suits (producers and other money people). This is like my little slice of Seoul. A good chunk of these folks are down from Seoul, but it also brings out the rare artists within our own relatively humble cowboy town of 4 million. You can usually tell who the directors are — something about the choice in eyeglass frames and sweater pattern. Creative people also, for whatever reason, have that look about them. They carry themselves differently. Outside I mostly see college students hanging out on the beach, laughing and gathering into small groups, just wanting to be part of the action I suppose.

I’ve got four tickets for tomorrow. I like to gravitate toward Korean offerings, or those films that seem weirdly constructed, or have a possible sound design angle to them. Tomorrow I’ll see Scandinavian film Metropia (“Roger hears voices…”), Korean films Dear Music: That is, their fantasy heading for the sea (seriously, that’s the title) and Like You Know It All, and Sleepless by Italian director Dario Argento, a guest at this year’s festival.

I’ll be carrying my laptop around all during the festival, so I hope to post a good supply of updates and reviews over the next eight days. Happy PIFFing!