Call me 오빠
  • me:Wait...I'm older than you aren't I?
  • Violet:...
  • Oh wait
  • You are lol
  • me:You gotta call me 오빠
  • and you gotta say it in a really whiny voice
  • Violet:오오ㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗㅗ
  • 빠ㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏㅏ빠바빱바바
  • me:Exactly

T-shirt design for boxer lee jaesung, who “wears thick black rimmed nerdy glasses (when not boxing).”  

Commissioned by L.G., who said, “People say he is the #1 hope of Korean boxing NOW.”

L asked for specific things. First, that I reincarnate Lee Jaesung as general Yi Sun-sin, of turtle boat (rendered above) fame. And second, that I attempt to make the style half Jack Kirby & half Powerpuff Girls.

No comment on the success (or lack thereof) of my attempts – but damn, his elbows look sharp. 

a mild & agreeable night

Summer bender. Days merging together. This was some time ago; the first Saturday in July. Mimi & I met in Hongdae for a meal & a meander. We spent a pleasantly decadent hour walking along the Walk You Want To Walk (겉고싶은 거리) & buying things. We also sat in a café and ate cake, another one of my favourite shamelessly self-indulgent activities. Unfortunately all the terrace seats were occupied by selfish chain smokers nursing their cups of ice. A disgrace! But we had a nice chat, Mimi & I. 

Anti-Humanism and Animalistic Tendencies in Post-Contemporaneous Trans-Siberian Ptolemology

LG asked me to do a “quick drawing” about “Anti-Humanism and Animalistic Tendencies in  Post-Contemporaneous Trans-Siberian Ptolemology” – the title of his poetry reading-disguised-as-a-lecture. 

Originally LG only gave me the title of the “lecture,” and the (false) name of the (non-existent) lecturer, a certain Paolo Shostakovich.

And although the title did strike me as a bit ridiculous, and the name Paolo Shostakovich returned zero Google search results, I drew the majority of this thing believing that Paolo was a real – albeit not yet famous – scholar, and attempting to figure out what the hell “Ptolemology” was. 

Anyway, for those in Seoul – it’s a real thing. Go & listen to poems that may or may not be about anti-humanism and animalistic tendencies in post-contemporaneous trans-siberian ptoyemology. 


“It’s a nice picture,” he said doubtfully. “But it doesn’t look like a lion at all." 

That’s because it’s my cat. With rounder ears. This is exactly how he sleeps. 
Apparently "Myo” (猫) also means bunny (卯). I don’t know if it’s just my cat, or if it’s a little known fact about cats, but Myo hops just like a bunny whenever he’s running away from me me. 

At my desk:

Myo, looking by turns adorably pensive & demure.

My Kyungbang Clover typewriter from the flea market in Hwanghakdong (황학동). The shopkeeper (or rather, stall keeper) & I went over every inch of it. It was in perfect condition, except for a missing shift key, for which he gave me half off on the ribbon. 


“Becker told us about you,” said Harry. “He says you’re a writer." 
"I’ve got a typewriter." 
"You gonna write about us?” asked Stinky.
“I’d rather drink." 

- Charles Bukowski, Ham on Rye

Hah! Give a woman a typewriter and she becomes a writer. 

Mermaid on the radio

This is a character from the manuscript of my friend’s novella–henceforth to be called W. Actually, she’s not really a character. She never actually appears. She’s just a voice on the radio pretending to be a mermaid and pretending to talk to her fish in slogans. But how would that work? How do you pretend to be a mermaid on the radio?


Floral wrapping paper more than a decade old. I’d been hoarding the paper because that’s what I do: I collect things. But occasionally, with predictable pack rat flair, I go on mad purges and decide that I need to throw things out. The green notebook was born as the result of one such purge.

The envelope is from an old calendar of Impressionist paintings. I believe the print is of a painting by van Gogh, but I am more concerned about what it’s called. I want to read up on it, but that is impossible if I don’t know the name. There’s a detail in the painting that’s driving me fairly mad with curiosity. I never noticed it before it became an envelope, alas, but by the vase of flowers which commands the gaze from the centre, there is a sheet of yellow paper. And on the yellow paper, the name Emile Zola. 

Red Lotus Miniature Buddhist Temple

Hongreanam (홍련암), perched on a cliff at the edge of the eastern coast and facing the sea. I saw it last Wednesday on a trip with my family & was rather impressed by the overall look of the place–charming size, pleasing location–but it was easy not to fall in love because it was so crowded and bustling. That fairly killed the dramatic juxtaposition of Solitary Fragile Wooden Structure Stands Unperturbed Next To Vast Roaring Sea.

The Chinese characters which form the name collectively mean “red lotus miniature Buddhist temple.” “Hong” (紅) for red. “rean” (蓮) for lotus. And “am” (庵) for amsa (암사), which refers to a diminutive Buddhist temple. No lotuses, much less red ones, but a profusion of hydrangeas.

Not quite at Hongreanam, but nearby, I observed the most winsome (I wanted to use the word “adorable,” but it doesn’t seem quite appropriate on such a serious old man poring so sombrely over his book!) monk reading on a bench. He had a toothbrush tucked into his pocket. I was irrationally delighted because the monk made such a convincing anachronism, what with his Chinese letters and complete disregard for the excited tourist hopping about him making a fuss. But I know I was just being silly. Dental health is very important. Your body is a temple.