Korea/China travel journal

6/14/2008

We should have anticipated that the “live baby octopus stew” on the menu would actually include a live baby octopus, but we didn’t and were surprised. It was wiggling all around in the soup and continued to wiggle around as the waitress cut it up with scissors. All the cut up pieces then proceeded to keep wiggling for the duration of the meal as we guiltily ate around them.

There seem to be three types of English-language t-shirts in Korea:

1) Those that honestly attempt to convey an idea in English, albeit with some misspellings and/or grammatical errors

2) Those that employ random phrases apparently taken from the internet and placed onto t-shirts (e.g. “Join our mailing list and win prizes,” and other, often much longer passages), conspicuous because of their simultaneous grammatical correctness and contextual meaninglessness

3) Those composed of random letters that spell no words at all, taking advantage of the sheer novelty of our alphabet

6/17/2008

The Pizza Hut in Korea (specifically, inside Lotte World) took me directly back to the Pizza Hut of my childhood, complete with Simpsons arcade game. This one may have red wine on the menu, but the pizza tastes the same.

6/20/2008

The level of technology in Korea and China is at an interesting place – in the big cities, at least, almost as a rule, the men’s bathroom has auto-flushing urinals next to hole-in-the-ground stall toilets with no toilet paper.

6/23/2008

Americans are surprised that I’m married. Chinese people are surprised that I’m studying Buddhism.

6/26/2008

I was trying to explain to my conversation partner that I like Beethoven. She said she understood, but that it was four people. I said, four people? She said, Bea-ta-le-sa?

6/27/2008

Outside of the beauty parlor on my street there are many clumps of hair on the sidewalk!

In the library when it’s raining the students all place their umbrellas on the ground still open (presumably to let them dry), so they take up a lot of space.

6/28/2008

A British guy on our program, in reference to the climb up the Great Wall, noted that he “probably lost about two stone.”

Also: I did not anticipate all of the weird and exotic bugs that I would encounter in China.

6/30/2008

I took an hour-long bus ride and was standing for most of it. When this old couple wearing matching Crocs (those plastic shoes with holes that everyone says are really ugly but really comfortable) got out of their seats to get off the bus, they more or less ordered me to sit down and take their place.

7/3/2008

I have been here two weeks and today was the second sunny day!

My language partner had an interesting take on learning British English (which is what a lot of Chinese people learn). He said that, first of all, the words are more slurred, so it is more difficult. Second of all, he felt that a person learning English should not attempt to speak with that accent unless they already spoke the language very well. Sort of like British English is ‘advanced’ English.

I was having trouble explaining to my conversation teacher what kind of movies I like. I have used the term ‘non-mainstream’ a remarkable number of times in describing to various Chinese people my tastes and lifestyle choices. Nevertheless, the teacher first guessed that the type of movie I was referring to was Korean dramas. She finally said, Oh! I know what kind of movie you like! and wrote down 蓝, 白, 红 - Blue, White, Red. I was surprised that she knew these movies.

7/6/2008

From my room in my host-mom’s apartment, I often hear someone practicing the flute. The flute-player is playing the same Mozart piece that a guy on the New York subway often plays.

7/7/2008

Apparently, many Chinese high schools do not permit students to date. High school here is so competitive and test-oriented that things loosen up a little bit once safely in college.

7/13/2008

The other day we spent a very long time in class answering the pressing question: “Forest Gump says: Life is like a box of chocolate; you never know what you’re going to get. Do you agree or disagree?”

There was a huge crowd of people outside a gate on the street. It looked like the president or a celebrity was about to come out and people wanted to catch a glimpse of him. I asked someone what they were waiting for and he said, 孩子 (child[ren]). 孩子? Like, a baby prince? Finally he said, 考试 (test). Oh! They were waiting for their children to finish their exams! How weird.

White people not in my program that I pass on the street in Beijing give me one of two looks:

1) What the hell do you think you’re doing here? This town isn’t big enough for the both of us.

2) Thank goodness I found you! You’ve probably been through many of the same experiences of culture shock that I have.

7/19/2008

On the way to 锡林浩特 (Xilinhot), Inner Mongolia, we saw a lot of beautiful scenery but also a woman who had just been hit by a car and lay, bleeding and dead, in the middle of the road. After we passed it the driver (of this hired 黑车, black cab, exactly the mode of transportation we were instructed not to take) kept calling his friend (brother?) who was apparently also on the road behind us. He was telling him: Have you seen it yet? Hurry up, or the police will come and you’ll miss it! My reaction to the sight of the dead body was sort of predictable: I’ve seen this before, in movies, but this is not a movie. Something is out of sync here.

When we were stopped at the border passing into Inner Mongolia to have our passports checked, we followed the police into the little police station, which had no running water but did seem to have access to McDonald’s. This police station entailed a desk and two beds, presumably where the police officers slept. On one of the beds they were charging their electric beating sticks, which our driver started playing with. On the opposite wall was hung a big sheet with the repeated motif: “fall in love.”

It’s interesting to consider the extent to which I am able to interact with my Chinese teachers, and that if I did not speak Chinese, they would probably seem like strange and mysterious foreigners. Instead, they seem very familiar.

On a similar note, I had a mostly functional conversation with an old man in the lobby of our hotel. I told him I went to Columbia, and he gave me a thumbs-up. A minute later he said, “Harvard?” I said, no, I don’t go to Harvard. He said, “Harvard,” and gave a thumbs up, then said, “Columbia,” and gave another thumbs up, but placed the second thumb lower than the first, thus comparing the quality of the two schools.

Apparently only a few decades ago this city was just the temple and a few surrounding houses. My host-mom actually grew up within the walls of the temple complex. Now it is a remarkably westernized and modern city.

At the end of the trip as we were waiting for the bus back to Beijing, our host-mom’s friend and our guide for the duration of the trip noted that everyone had gotten a tan except me. I said it was because I wore sunscreen. He responded that I did so because I feared returning to America and being mistaken for a black man.

7/23/3008

I was not able to get a sleeper bus to go home from Xilinhot back to Beijing, so I rode a regular bus overnight. Needless to say, I was not able to sleep, and ended up loosely communicating with the old-ish woman sitting next to me. She wanted to practice her English, and so would frequently say something completely incomprehensible to me, and I would think it was Chinese for about ten minutes until I figured out that she was trying to speak English. This continued until we arrived at 4:30 in the morning.

Later in the day I went to Sanlitun to investigate some DVD stores. One of the DVD stores had been ridden of its bootlegs (prompting a British guy to ask, 为什么? [Why?]) and was almost empty. Another had ordinary Chinese movies, which I was browsing when a woman asked me, in English, “Looking for movies?” I said, yes, just browsing, thank you. She went into the back and I kept looking around. She then called, “This way, sir.” I followed her through a long maze of corridors before arriving in a back room where other foreigners were browsing through booklets of movie covers. The customer would tell an attendant which movie he or she wanted, and the attendant would walkie-talkie to another person, presumably in an even further back room, who then brought the movies in.

7/24/2008

Riding a camel in Dunhuang helped me to remember precisely why I didn’t like riding that horse in Mexico as a kid: I was scared of falling off, and it hurt my thighs.

We slept in the desert, and it’s possible that I have never seen the stars so clearly. I have definitely never seen shooting stars so clearly, if at all. The loud Chinese woman made sure the evening wasn’t too peaceful by telling (or shouting) jokes and riddles all night (she later told me that she was a high school math teacher, and when I told her I studied Buddhism, she responded that her mother loved Buddhism, and gave me a Buddhist magazine). We ate ramen noodles for dinner and I slept with the British fellow in a tiny 5-foot by 5-foot tent. There was a sleeping bag but no pillow, so I used the sleeping bag as a pillow.

At my hostel they have a world map which is different from every world map I’ve ever seen because Asia is in the west and America is in the east.

At the Dunhuang carpet factory the woman showing me around and selling me things spoke disconcertingly near-perfect British English. She revealed that she was not a native, however, when we were bartering over the price and she kept saying, “I know, I know, you are the student.”

I went to Dunhuang’s famous Mogao caves, full of Buddhist images and statues. My reaction had three components:

1) Awe at the grandiosity of it. There are over 800 caves, each an unbelievable sight in its own right, some with huge hundred-foot-tall Buddhas, some with thousands of tiny Buddhas. Why, I ask, when there were already five hundred caves, did someone say, “Hey, let’s build another one!” I guess it’s because they had money.

2) Sadness at the fact that it is now a museum for scholars to puzzle over and not a place of worship. As a result, it does not feel like a sacred site in the way that it should. Why would any sacredness stick around just to be stared at by all these tourists?

3) The feeling that no matter how impressive any thing or place like this may be (and this is one of the most impressive things and places I’ve ever seen), it is, at best, a finger pointing at the moon. I might as well find such a pointer anywhere – in a book, or inside myself.

The fact that I had such a complicated reaction highlights an obvious problem of mine: I should have just loosened up and enjoyed it.

8/04/2008

My teacher said that more and more Chinese people are practicing Buddhism (at least in the sense of going to the temple and praying), including Communist party members. She said, half-jokingly, that this was maybe because they had done bad things.

8/05/2008

My new language partner turns out to be very interesting: he rides his bike everywhere, and, like a regular Chinese No Impact Man, he brings his own chopsticks to restaurants, doesn’t use disposable items, and doesn’t use air-conditioning. I guess there's a full-circle thing going on here that's hard to fully wrap my head around: conservative, old-fashioned rural Chinese people=liberal, blog-loving New York yuppies.

8/10/2008

The government just opened a newly-refurbished ‘traditional architecture area’ by 前门 (the front gate, south of Tiananmen Square) with famous restaurants and new gift-shops. The area looked more like a loosely Chinese-themed outdoor shopping mall in California than an actual old-fashioned Chinese neighborhood. In the restaurant, I noticed that the men’s bathroom sign said “Gents,” which showed me just how far China has come when compared to the men’s bathroom sign in the temple I was in earlier, which simply read “Man.”

In 798, the modern art district, we were looking for an indie music store when we passed a sign that said, “Welcome President of Latvia to Dahe Gallery!” We found the music store, which was surrounded by suited Latvians. Inside, the guy played us some ambient noisecore (!) before switching to a band called Car Sick Cars, a Chinese band that sounds exactly like Pavement, the Pixies, Sonic Youth, etc. The guy then pulled out an electric guitar and said that he could play along. He plugged it in and started rocking out rather loudly, when a fellow in a suit came in and said to him what could only have been something like, “Sir, could you keep it down! The president of Latvia is next door!”

8/16/2008

Today inside the Olympic park area we went into a ridiculous Coca-Cola museum type thing. As we entered, an enthusiastic employee gestured wildly with both arms as she greeted us with a loud, “Welcome!” Further inside we encountered more and more employees who had apparently been instructed to dance around in place in order to inspire and motivate the visitors, perhaps to make the place seem ‘cool,’ ‘hip,’ ‘in with the youngsters,’ etc. The result was, needless to say, completely absurd. At the end we were given free bottles of Coke, which we took with our meal of McDonald’s. I have probably not eaten at McDonald’s in fifteen years. I expected a guilty pleasure, but unfortunately it was disgusting.

On the escalator down to McDonald's (which was underground) they were repairing the upward half of the escalator - the whole computer system had been pulled out from underneath the escalator stairs and everything. On our way up from McDonald's a few minutes later, the escalator was working.

Upside-down

I came home from work one day and found my brother hanging upside-down from the ceiling.

“It’s great,” he said.

“Really?” I asked.

“Yeah. You should try it.”

I resisted for a few days, but when a week passed and he hadn’t come down, I decided it couldn’t hurt to see what it was like.

The blood all rushed to my head immediately.

“I’m uncomfortable,” I said, breathing heavily.

He nodded. “I know,” he said. “Just give it some time.”

Of course, he was right, and after a few hours I felt an unexpected freshness in my limbs.

“Can you sleep like this?” I asked.

“To be honest,” he said, “I’m not sure if I could sleep lying down anymore.”

I was a little hesitant to get into such a strange habit, but I closed my eyes anyway for a nap. When I awoke I felt like I had truly slept for the first time in my life.

“That was amazing,” I said. “How long did I sleep for?”

He looked at his watch. “About two days,” he said.

“Two days?”

He patted his stomach and looked toward the kitchen. “Have you eaten anything since coming up here?”

“No,” I said, noticing my hunger. It felt different from the usual, upright sort of hunger, and I had to consciously connect the feeling with the need for food.

“There might be some leftovers from when you had Chinese food the other night,” he said. “Or if not, I could cook us some pasta.”

“You can cook like this?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, and began to swing back and forth in the direction of the refrigerator. After a few minutes, he reached the handle and pulled the door open. He peered inside and continued swinging. “There are a few pot stickers. Why don’t I make us some macaroni and cheese, too?”

“That sounds great,” I said, and watched in awe as he maneuvered his way through the kitchen, easily utilizing all of its functions. When he had finished, everything was neatly prepared and set on plates. He filled two glasses with water and swung it all over to the table.

The food was so delicious that it almost overwhelmed me completely. It was as though my senses had been cleansed, and I could feel the nutrients entering my body and providing me with sustenance.

“How did you get so good at cooking?” I asked him when the meal was over.

“Oh,” he said, “just practice. It’s actually easier to cook like this.”

He was right, and given a few days I was moving through the kitchen with the same ease. Cooking had never seemed so easy or fun standing right side-up.

Over time I began to feel smarter and more alert. Though we had never spoken of such things before, my brother and I started discussing politics and philosophy on a regular basis. I noticed, to my surprise, that we were both making a number of profound and interesting points.

Books that had long remained shelved and unread were removed as we filled our days with more wholesome activities than had ever seemed possible. My brother took up painting with remarkable success.

I can safely say that I had never before felt so at ease. It was as though, hanging upside-down, I was seeing the world at face value and becoming one with the passage of time. The veils obscuring true happiness were falling away around me.

Weeks turned into months and I had begun to forget about my former miserable, complicated life on the ground.

One morning I awoke and my brother was standing upright. I blinked to make sure that I wasn’t hallucinating (I had hallucinated a few times before while hanging upside-down).

“What are you doing?” I asked.

He shrugged. “It’s time to move on with my life,” he said.

“But everything’s so wonderful upside-down!”

“I know,” he said. He put on his coat and went to the door. “You should probably come down, too.” He opened the door and walked out, shutting it lightly behind him.

He was right. I unstuck my legs and fell to the ground, using my arms to break the fall. In a daze, I walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Thanksgiving

It was three days before Thanksgiving and I was moving into my new apartment. The room was impressive, though it didn’t seem to receive much light. I looked around and immediately knew that I would be comfortable.

The bathroom, however, was another story. It looked like it belonged in an abandoned prison, and was literally rotting away on all sides. Shards of rusted metal stuck out from the wall, the ceiling was caving in with mold, and everything was caked in a thick layer of dirt. Not only that, but there was also a dead body lying in the bathtub. I sighed when I saw it.

“How am I going to dispose of that?” I asked myself, and ran through the possibilities in my head. I was flying home to California the next day, and taking him with me seemed like the only option. Everyone knows that it’s much easier to get rid of a body there than in New York.

The man was dressed as if he had just been golfing. I tried to suppress my curiosity about his death, as it was really none of my business.

I slept poorly that night, the body’s presence adding to my existing nervousness over another encounter with my extended family. Surprisingly, there was no smell, and with enough focus I could almost forget about it entirely.

When I awoke, I did some last-minute chores, packed my bag and braced myself for the trip. After taking a deep breath, I pulled the man’s body out of the bathtub and threw it over my shoulder.

I had called a taxi the night before and when I looked out the window I saw it waiting for me. I descended the staircase and emerged onto the street, signaling the driver. I considered loading the body into the trunk, but decided it unwise and propped him up on the back seat instead.

“He had a long night,” I told the driver. “Could you take us to the airport?”

The drive went smoothly, but upon arriving I realized that I would have to purchase another ticket for my friend. After entertaining the notion of stuffing him into a garbage can (he was too large, and anyway my fingerprints were probably all over him), I made my way to the check-in counter.

“He’s had too much to drink, but he’s a good fellow,” I said to the man.

He eyed my friend skeptically. “At two in the afternoon?”

“Well, he’s a golfer,” I answered. “You know how that goes.”

He nodded reluctantly and checked us in. The extra ticket was a severe blow to my bank account, but I was never one to complain about my lot in life. I had my own good health to be thankful for, after all.

As I approached the security checkpoint, I noticed the guard watching me.

“He’s very tired,” I explained.

The guard shook his head gruffly. “He has to go through by himself.”

I nudged the body in a feigned attempt at waking it. “Look,” I said, “the man’s exhausted. He’s a professional golfer and he’s just finished a lengthy tour without rest. Now, you’re going to wake him up?” As I spoke, a clump of hair fell from the head of the deceased. “Oh, great,” I said, growing slightly annoyed.

The guard nodded. “Alright, go ahead.”

I checked his pockets for loose change before proceeding.

On the other side, I found the gate and sat down to wait for boarding to begin. With nothing to occupy me, I slowly fell asleep in my chair and was awakened with a jolt some time later by the loudspeaker.

I boarded without incident, although a few stares were cast in my direction. I sat by the window and set my friend next to me. A small, bearded man sat in the aisle seat. I nodded at him as he sat down, and he didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.

The plane took off smoothly and the beverage service began. I generally don’t order drinks on airplanes as a rule, since it necessitates my getting up and going to the bathroom. This didn’t stop me, however, from ordering a Sprite for the dead man and drinking it myself. Needless to say, given an hour I was shifting in my seat to appease my bladder. I was unsure of how I could get past my companion, since I knew he wouldn’t stand up for me. Ultimately I decided upon a risky gymnastic maneuver over both of them, resulting in my falling on top of the old man across the aisle.

I slept through the rest of the flight and remained in a sleepy daze as I disembarked. I barely felt the weight of the body on my shoulder, but my own body was on the verge of collapse. I sat down outside of the terminal and waited for my mother to pick me up.

After several minutes she arrived. I piled into the car with the corpse.

“Who’s your friend?” she asked, pulling back into traffic.

I squinted at her in confusion, failing to register her question. “Oh,” I said after a moment. “He’s dead.”

The car slammed to a halt and she turned around in her seat. “He’s what?”

“Look, Mom, can we not talk about it?” I said.

She shook her head and turned back to the road. “Amazing, what I have to be thankful for. Was he a golfer?”

I glanced at his already-familiar golf clothes. “I’m not sure,” I said. “Probably.” My back ached. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the window.

Two tales of the sea

A Moment of Clarity

“Land ho!” the captain shouted, gesturing enthusiastically from the main deck. He turned to the first mate. “Are the anchors ready?”

“Yes, sir,” the first mate said.

“Excellent. An unexpectedly early arrival.”

“Right, sir.” The first mate removed his cap and began to whistle as he walked toward the cabin with his hands behind his back. He opened the door and, seeing a passenger behind him, held it open for her and continued whistling. She nodded in thanks and he nodded politely back. Following her into the cabin, he stopped whistling and sighed audibly. He made his way toward the lounge, found an easy chair, and sank exhaustedly into it. Next to him, in adjacent chairs, sat an aristocrat and an old woman.

“Excuse me,” the woman began, turning slowly toward the first mate. “Did I hear the captain say that we’ve reached land?”

“Yes, but you shouldn’t pay it any mind,” the first mate said without looking up. “He’s lost his wits. Gone completely crazy. It’ll be weeks before we see any sign of land.”

“Oh, I see,” the old woman said, nodding to herself. She turned to examine the only piece of decoration in the lounge: a photograph of the entire crew from several years back. The captain smiled exuberantly from his place in the center.

“One too many sea voyages for him, I suppose,” the first mate added.

The old woman nodded again. “Yes, that’ll do it,” she said.

“It makes my job something of a nightmare,” said the first mate. He sighed again and reached into his pocket for a handkerchief.

The aristocrat removed his eyeglass and turned it over in his hand. “I wouldn’t mind him losing his mind so much, if he hadn’t fallen in love with my wife!” His voice contained a note of exasperation.

The first mate blew his nose on his handkerchief and then refolded it. The old woman coughed, and all three turned to examine the photograph on the wall. The floorboards creaked softly as the boat shifted.

Suddenly, a shout echoed through the cabin from the main deck. “Giant squid!” came the cry. “Giant squid, poised for attack!”

The first mate covered his face with his hands for a moment before standing up. The captain burst into the lounge, looking both terrified and excited.

“Did you hear? There’s a giant squid ten meters from the ship, ready to send us all to our watery graves!”

“Yes, sir,” the first mate answered. “I’ll prepare the harpoons.”

Missed Connection

Poseidon, do you remember me? I’m the sea captain that you saved last night. You saved me, Poseidon. Remember the storm? Of course you do. It had my simple ship tossing and turning with the waves, but I survived, thanks to you.

As I was tossed violently about the deck, I was sure of the proximity of my death until I saw you. When the clouds parted and the storm drifted away, the sun hit the waves and I saw your face. I saw you, Poseidon, and I think you saw me, too. I felt something. Poseidon, I think I felt a connection between us.

It was brief, I know. Maybe I’m crazy for writing this, but that’s a chance I have to take. When I looked into your eyes, Poseidon – just for that one moment – I saw sparks. I saw the sun and moon in your eyes, Poseidon, and I think I saw the stars, too. I saw time and space and laughter and sorrow in your eyes. I saw my life in your eyes, Poseidon.

Poseidon, I don’t usually do things like this, I swear. I’m shy and I like to read. Do you enjoy literature? We should discuss it over coffee sometime. Maybe we could even start a regular book club, Poseidon, just for the two of us.

They say a sea captain lives a lonely life, but I didn’t know how lonely I was until you walked away from me after our first encounter. Now I can’t do anything without feeling your absence. Poseidon, you’re everything that’s missing from my life right now, and it’s more than I can bear.

When I was a kid, I had a teddy bear that I was very attached to. I would sleep with it and take it to play with friends. It was pretty tattered, but I didn’t mind. One day I lost it on the playground. It broke my heart, Poseidon, losing that bear.

That was a silly story to tell, about the bear. It was completely inappropriate. I’m sorry, Poseidon. I’m not usually like this, but I get so nervous just thinking about speaking to you.

Poseidon, I don’t want to sound like I’m crazy, but I’ve been crying a lot lately. My shoulders are weighed down with longing.

I want to wake up next to you, Poseidon.

I have something to tell you. I love you. Poseidon, I love you, and I haven’t loved anyone since my divorce. You have to understand, Poseidon, how serious I am about this. I can’t sleep or eat. Everything is a blur and nothing makes sense, except you. Except you, Poseidon.

Poseidon, call me. Please.

I almost forgot to give you my phone number. That would have been embarrassing, to ask you to call me and then not give you my phone number. It’s (285) 604-3421. You might need to dial one first, Poseidon, I’m not sure how those things work for you.

Don’t leave me hanging. Poseidon, I need you.

Two poems

Love

I am in love
With a pigeon and dove
But O, which should I pick?
It is making me sick
For wives two I can’t have
In the name of the law
Though I wish it weren't true
Off my head I must saw


Religion

A sharp playing card
Hit me in the face
“Who threw that?” I asked
As I wept with disgrace
“It was I” said a chap
With three eyes on his head
Looking tired and weak
Though not ready for bed
Tall, mean and grim
In that way did he stand
And the deck of those cards
Were at rest in his hand
“But why?” I then asked
In complete disbelief
“Why didst you so wound me
with playing card leaf?”
“I’ll tell you the truth,”
The man said with a smile
“I’ve thought you a fool
For quite a long while.
And while you did sit
With your mouth open wide
I found it too easy
To woundeth your pride.
And thus did I hurl
With much disregard
The Queen of the diamonds
That sharp playing card.”
“That’s fair,” I responded
“A fool I may be.
But God’s wrathful judgment
Will rain upon thee.”
He tipped back his head
And uttered a laugh.
He chuckled and chortled
And made me a gaff.
“If not for one thing,
I’d have to agree,”
Said that knight, that rogue
With dreadful eyes three.
“I tell you with pleasure,
And this is no act –
That my name is God
And that is a fact.”
I stepped back in terror
My eyes open wide
With no place to run
I stood still and sighed.
“At last do we meet,
My triple-eyed friend.”
“Indeed, that is so,
Though your mind it may bend.”
“Then the card is a sign
Of worse things to come?”
“Nay,” said he, with a smile,
“Just to make you look dumb.
For a god has a long
And a difficult life.
It is one filled with sorrow
And one filled with strife.
So on some rare occasions
When the moon meets the sun,
And the cookies of life
In the oven are done
When the mountains be lifted
And leaves weigh a ton
I take leave of my work
And go have some fun.”

Gumby

Today I photographed Gumby sitting contemplatively at the window, slightly out of focus and at the edge of the frame, also displaying (in focus) the leaves of the plant just outside of the window. He probably enjoys spending evenings in this quiet spot, if his loveable smile is any indicator. In some ways, he is in his true home sitting near the similarly-colored leaves, though he is made of an entirely different material (theoretically clay, but more likely rubber or plastic in this incarnation).


Gumby’s legs are very interesting. Unlike his unusually-shaped head, the story of which everyone and his or her pet monkey has heard by now, his legs are not often discussed in intellectual circles. Nevertheless, such a discussion is certainly worth pursuing. They appear to be in the shape of bellbottom pants, but these did not come into public favor until much later. Could it be that Gumby was indirectly behind this trend? Consider the following theory: as the children of the 1950s Gumby generation grew up, they forgot about this innocent character that had once captured their hearts. However, the image of his stylish legs was ingrained in their minds, and bellbottom pants were born. The pieces fit, am I wrong? With financial backing, I could develop this theory significantly and give Gumby creator Art Clokey his long-overdue credit for pioneering this magnificent style.


Ostensibly an ordinary Parisian scene, this photograph is far from normal. This is due to the presence of a certain character, whose name may or may not start with a ‘G’ and end with an ‘umby.’ Like Waldo, he has wandered into a wacky photographic situation that inevitably begs the question, “just where is he?” In fact, Gumby is so well-hidden that he is not visible to the naked eye. However, with the assistance of special high-powered binoculars, Gumby can be seen in this image, in the bottom-right corner.


Seeing Gumby in the wild is a rare thing indeed. Having a camera handy when such a thing occurs is even more so. Having said that, this very thing happened to me today. While walking through a lovely park in Montmartre, I spotted him resting in a bush. Almost completely hidden by his surroundings, I saw him only because of the glare in his bright-red eyes. In my excitement, I had forgotten that a Gumby disturbed in the wild can be deadly. His small stature is hardly a comfort, as the ankle is as good a place as any to receive a poisonous bite. Fortunately, I escaped with my life, though just barely. Even more fortunate was the stunning photograph I managed to get of Gumby.



This piece, dating from the early 14th century, has become a topic of conversation among the artistic elite. Though completely forgotten until the 1950s, after which the character was used (without the mustache) for an animated children’s television show, its quick rise to prominence in the art scene makes up for its long-time obscurity. Putting aside for a moment its brilliant allegorical aspects, the painting itself is simply stunning, both in content and artistic craftsmanship. Notice the look in the eyes – is it murderous rage, or drunken indifference? With a piece this subtle one can never tell, though it has been intensely debated. Having recently been added to the Louvre museum in Paris, France, “le Gumby” will now be widely viewable to the public for the first time. Hopefully, with time, it will come to be as respected as the likes of Picasso’s “Felix the Cat.”


One of the four objects in this picture does not belong with the other three. Look closely at the picture and pay attention to each item by itself. Can you tell which object is out of place?


GUMBY – OUT WITH THE TRASH?

Are recent advances in computer animation going to be the end of this once-revered figure? Research shows that children no longer care about the adventures of the naked green man and his half-pig, half-horse partner. Gumby, pictured above posed humorously in a garbage can to signify his waning popularity, was a pioneer of animation and of children’s entertainment. But these days, children are much more eager to view the latest Pixar film than to go back to animation’s roots. “Sure, Gumby may have been great once, but what’s he done for me lately?” said one 6-month-old who asked to remain anonymous.


ILLUSION OF REALITY KILLED WHEN GUMBY TURNS AROUND

Skeptics of the Gumby phenomenon are quick to point out evidence that he is not real. When seen from the back, Gumby appears to be tattooed with writing indicating that he was made in China. In addition, his body is punctured with pairs of holes in numerous places. As a result, this lovable character, when seen from behind, becomes a grotesque monster. Pointing to the cases of child trauma resulting from this problem, critics argue for a complete ban on the existence of Gumby. Still, Gumby’s loyal defenders note that the holes are merely stylish body-piercings, and that tattooes advertising one’s country of origin are very hip at the moment. “Surely there’s nothing wrong with teaching children the value of pursuing fashionable body-art,” said one man. The debate will undoubtedly continue to rage on for some time.


Is heartburn getting you down? Professional basketball player and actor Gumby chooses TUMS for all of his indigestion problems. When he’s out on the court, he doesn’t have time to slow down. That’s why new TUMS E-X works all day. So remember, if you’ve got heartburn, reach for TUMS – and see Gumby in his latest movie, opening August 14th.


Though by day Gumby adventures physically into books in his animated television show, when he isn’t working he likes to indulge in more advanced literature. Today he is delving into “The Gurdjieff Work,” an introduction to the spiritual leader named in the title. He doesn’t look it, but Gumby is over sixty years-old. His days of drug abuse and prison time are over, and he is looking to enhance his spiritual awareness. He has filled the void left by his former lifestyle with books, books, and more books. When he isn’t reading, he also enjoys playing badminton.


Just how much more popular can Yoga get? Logic would indicate that it can’t get any more popular, given the limited number of people in the world, but exercise trends have a tendency to defy logic. Books and instructional videotapes on the subject are selling at record highs. Everyone is getting in on the scene, from infants to the elderly. Men, women, and even pets are all enjoying this method of relaxing. Pictured above, five-time world ping-pong champion Gumby shows off his proficient ability in Yoga.


HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

Gumby, pictured here with a floating cartoon frog’s head, has been missing since Sunday. He was last seen at a bar in Austin, Texas, where he is reported to have been loudly insulting the local regulars. Gumby, a once-respected figure in the entertainment industry, has been in and out of rehabilitation centers since his arrest for indecent exposure and subsequent fall from public favor. Just prior to his disappearance, friends expressed concern over his binge-drinking. Police are combing the desert, hoping to find him alive. If you have seen Gumby, contact your local officials with his whereabouts immediately.


Though the Eiffel Tower is a well-known part of the Paris skyline, most people do not know the history behind this amazing piece of architecture. Built by Gumby (pictured above) in 1912, it was originally intended to be a very tall warehouse for storing surplus fruit. However, this plan was abandoned when it was determined that the fruit would go bad. Still, it was built, though in a normal, rectangular fashion. Immediately, the people of Paris announced their disapproval, commenting that it was not pointy enough. The general consensus was that if an enormously tall building was going to be built, it had to be either extremely pointy or extremely shiny. Gumby heard these calls for change and remodeled the building himself into the pointy structure that we see today. At this point, the building had earned so much worldwide publicity from the controversy that Gumby decided to turn it into a tourist attraction. Gumby died only six months after its completion, but he departed from the living world satisfied with his accomplishment.


What is this a picture of? Two boxes? A dog? We’ve taken a conventional household object – one you use EVERY day – and photographed it in an UNconventional way! Anyone with enough patience, however, can crack the code of this mystery and figure out what it is!

(Answer: Gumby, seen from below)


Have cartoons gone too far? Concerned parents are expressing their discontent with the penchant for nudity in the new hit children’s television program “Gumby.” Pictured above in one such scene (in the shower), Gumby declined our request for comment. However, the producer of the show issued the following statement yesterday: “We feel that the human form is completely natural and that there is no reason not to display it prominently on any television show, be it for child or adult.” So far Nickelodeon, the network airing the show, has shown no sign of disagreement on the matter.


It’s official: Gumby is planning to climb Mount Everest. In the spirit of his incorrigible love for danger, he has chosen to make the climb blindfolded, while four men hurl nails and shards of glass at him for the entirety of the ascent. He will also be carrying three-hundred pounds of solid gold in each hand. Such a feat has never been successfully completed, but that fact does nothing to hinder Gumby. Above, we see him practicing for the climb on a city street lamp. With the date set for August 25th, Gumby is now in his most extreme mode of training – he climbs for days at a time, stopping only every week or so for five minutes to use the restroom. Though it’s difficult to imagine this extraordinary task being completed, it’s impossible to conceive of Gumby failing.


With the ever-increasing number of people moving to the city, Gumby is proud of his country roots. While his friends sell out to the urban setting, Gumby plans to work the land all his life, like his parents before him, and their parents before them. Every morning, Gumby wakes up at four o’clock and starts the day right with a delicious meal from IHOP, along with a hot cup of Folgers Coffee – The Best Part of Waking Up. And Gumby would like to remind you that he only drives Honda brand tractors on his farm.


There was a hunger in his eyes – hunger for destruction; hunger for blood; hunger for a sandwich. They contained a fire, not at all unlike the fire under the stove cooking a delicious bowl of pasta. They glowed, round, and red as tomatoes, ready to be sliced and added to a vegetable salad. There was a sadness, but also a satisfaction, as though he had just eaten a hearty breakfast. His eyes were open wide, unblinking – he kind of stare that could only be directed at a freshly-roasted chicken. One glance offered a chance at salvation; an escape from the meaningless tedium of everyday life. A road to the other side, paved with Bisquick.


Gumby has a definite resilience not found in most people. He remains happy in even the grimmest of situations, his smile never implying anything but the greatest love for life and mankind. To see him beaming with happiness in the shadow of such a mournful statue, as pictured above, might lead some to conclude that he has a heart of stone. This judgment would be unfair and untrue, as any friend of Gumby’s will tell you. Gumby has the unique gift of seeing the world as a unified whole; thus, he takes the good and bad in stride, never letting his smile die down. He will stare at the sky for days without eating. Finally, someone will offer him food. He’ll turn around and laugh a knowing laugh, then eat the food, proclaiming that it’s the best he’s ever tasted.


When my son was three-and-a-half years-old, he sat up from the generally hunched position he held over his cereal bowl during breakfast and asked me, "Dad, who is that green man in the picture?" Though my son is grown up and married now, I never forgot the question. After all, who was that green man in the picture? My oldest friend? My bitterest enemy? Or was he just a guy named Bill, doing his best to make ends meet? I didn’t have an answer then, and I still don’t. But I’ve come to realize that those days spent in the abandoned coal mine were some of the best times I ever had.


What do Gumby and this Paris obelisk have in common? To the average, non-reading fool, nothing. But the small circle of literary elite who have read the highly intellectual and entirely factually accurate novel “The Da Vinci Code” know that both were designed by the late, great genius Leonardo da Vinci. While on his death-bed, da Vinci created two final masterpieces – this obelisk, and the design for the Gumby character. He secretly passed these two creations to his good friend Louis XIV (yes, the Louis XIV). Lou then placed the obelisk in Paris, and created a hit children’s television show with the character of Gumby. “But wait a second,” you’re probably saying. “Had television even been invented back then?” Well, you’ll just have to read the book to find the answer to that question.


Seen from the side, Gumby appears to be very thin - perhaps frighteningly so. Though he seems inexplicably to carry most of his weight in his lower-legs, the fact remains that in this age of eating disorders he is not a suitable role-model for children. Ponder this question for a moment: have you ever seen Gumby eat on his television show? Think carefully. Yes, he bakes. Yes, he asks his mother for milk and cookies. But does he ever actually consume these products on-screen? He does not. In fact, I would be surprised in Gumby even has a stomach, given his reputed status as a “ball of clay.” For these reasons I support the removal of the show from the air, and would not object strongly to Gumby's immediate execution.


Gumby, most well-known in the United States for his series of pieces involving black-and-white striped cylinders, has won the Nobel Prize for Awesomeness. Though he is a prominent figure in the French art scene, he is being recognized not for his achievements in visual design, but for his general, all-around awesomeness as a person. As an example, he has been known to donate large quantities of food to the homeless, while standing on one foot. “Yeah, come to think of it, he is pretty awesome,” commented long-time friend Doug “Pokey” Simpson upon hearing the news. After accepting the award, Gumby promptly moon-walked across the entire state of New Jersey.


Gumby's shadowed form hovers in front of the golden window. All is silent, except for the wind rustling in the trees outside. The horses, locked into their stables, have ceased their noiseless telepathic banter and fallen soundly asleep. Suddenly, someone calls Gumby's name from inside.

“Gumby!” comes the call.

“Yes?” Gumby calls back.

“Where the hell did I leave my car keys?”


Gumby, the world-renowned art collector, has opened his home in Paris to the public at long last. This is important primarily because of the peculiar story of Gumby's life: he is half-vampire, half-unicorn, and also immortal. During the course of his 4716 years in existence, he has amassed a respectable collection of art, which he keeps in this Paris mansion. The opening of his home reflects a new phase in his rather lengthy life – one that embraces public favor. This is, of course, only the first step in his recently-announced campaign running for governor of California in 2004. In the picture above he is posed outside of his Paris home. Notice that he is covered in green body-paint – this is a necessary precaution for all vampires when in direct sunlight.

Old website updates

06/11?/04
Look, I just have one question. Are my eyes decieving me, or did someone open the monkey cages and let out all the monkeys? Do I need glasses here, because the gift of sight suddenly left me, or did someone just open the monkey cages? Am I experiencing the visual side-effects of some sort of hallucinogenic drug that I’ve just ingested, or did someone just open the monkey cages and let out all the monkeys? Am I watching a movie about monkeys being let out of cages that’s so realistic that it’s led me to believe that the monkeys have really been let out of their cages? Listen, I just have one question, alright? Am I still lying in my bed dreaming, about to wake up with relief and indulge in an english muffin with jam, or did someone open those god damn monkey cages?

05/04/04
Well, I did it. I got married to a mountain goat. She’s a very special mountain goat, obviously. We’re in love, and nothing can get in the way of that. People tell me I’m crazy. “You’re so young, to be getting married!” they tell me.

05/06/04
Last night, my tin of Altoids came to life. Of all the inanimate objects to come to life, am I right? It was sort of cool though. We chatted for a bit. He told me all about how mints are made, and started going into other mint-related topics. I asked him if he thought new episodes of the Simpsons were any good, but he didn’t really know what I was talking about. He started talking about new flavors of Altoids that are about to be released. I sort of zoned out after a little while.

05/24/04
While on a bashing spree the other day with my best pal Billy (the name that I’ve affectionately given to my baseball bat), I realized that my love for bashing things and people could be applied in a less destructive way to the sport of baseball. I applied for the local Little League team, but they told me I was too old. I bashed them good, the bastards.

04/07/04
Oh shit, did anyone else see that unicorn just run down the street? That’s the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen. Someone call Animal Control. Err, hold on. Wait a second, never mind, don’t call. It was just a white Chevy Suburban. Still, I’m pretty impressed. I mean, it’s not every day that you see such a powerful automobile at an affordable price.

04/08/04
I’m in this class called “Breakfast Politics.” It’s very interesting, and it’s a topic that a lot of people don’t think enough about. For example, Eggo’s assassination had widespread ramifications. After that happened, the whole breakfast table slid into turmoil. Pop Tart warlords were running the show and the economy was based entirely on illegal sugar trading. The situation was only made worse by the shortage of milk. IHOP’s attempts to restore stability to the breakfast table proved futile, and orange juice was everywhere, in a manner of speaking. Sharp conflict between the English Muffin and Oatmeal factions hindered all chances of progress. But ask your average guy about these issues, which affect everyone’s ability to start the day right, and he’ll shrug his shoulders. Frankly, I’m sickened by the general public’s indifference.

04/19/04
I got into a duel today down at the local saloon. Well, it wasn’t so much a saloon as it was an elementary school. Even so, that toddler won’t soon forget the first rule of a game of teatherball with Kevin - Kevin always wins.

04/30/04
People around these parts call me “Playing Cards Mcgee,” because I always have a deck of cards with me. I don’t like to play card games, though. People often ask me, “Why do you carry the cards around then, Playing Cards Mcgee?” I don’t really have an answer to that question, so I usually respond by taking out a few cards and throwing them at the person.

04/03/04
It started raining money today. You’d think that would be cool, except it was all coins, not bills. A lot of people died. It’s times like these that make me really thankful for my unique fashion sense, which dictates that I wear a helmet at all times.

03/28/04
Okay. So I was at Subway today, getting a sandwich. And the guy behind the counter asked me, “what do you want?” Well, I had to tell him the whole story - how my spaceship crash-landed on this crazy planet, and after wandering around for months, all I wanted was to get back home. When I was drafted into the army, my hopes of finding the mysterious “chemical X” to repair my ship decreased considerably, since I had very little free time. Not to mention the inherent difficulty involved in the mechanics of this sort of repair - I was a lawyer on my home planet, not an engineer. And to answer your question, yes, they do have lawyers in outer space. Anyway, I found some “chemical X” on the battlefield (though I narrowly escaped an untimely demise from the barrel of an enemy gun). After reading extensively on the topic of spaceship repair, I managed to successfully get mine back into working condition and departed from planet Earth. Upon returning to my home planet, however, I discovered that my greatest fear had come true - my former lover had died in my absence, undoubtedly of a broken heart. I was so distraught by this news that I could not bear to remain on my home planet. In a sea of my own tears, I entered my ship and flew back to Earth. Since then, I’ve made a reasonable living in the fashion design industry. Well, it turns out that the Subway guy was actually referring to what kind of sandwich I wanted. To make a long story short, I got the turkey.

02/29/04
I was walking along the street the other day, minding my own business. And I saw this woman walking along with seven dwarves. And I said to myself, “Could it be? My childhood dream coming true?” But then, I looked closer and realized it was just a schoolteacher and the children in her class out for a field trip. I was sort of disappointed. So that’s when I started throwing rocks and empty bottles at them.

02/29/04
So I was riding in an elevator earlier, and I had a sudden vision of my own death. But then I realized it was just some guy in the elevator actually trying to murder me.