Siege Malvar (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} thesiegeison) wrote,@ 2006-06-22 14:34:00 |
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The Good, The Bad, and The BAD-ASS!
The Good, The Bad, and The Bad-Ass!!!
Last week, a bunch of us from The House of Crimson (It sounds more Wes Craven-ish thatta way), went to watch Korea's first match in this year's World Cup. News of gigantic plasma screens being installed around the capital's city hall reached us, and the hype about the game was just too thick not to affect us. So we went.
There was six of us: Assif, from Azerbaijan (who Kalingga refers to as "Azerbaijan"); Kalingga, a cinematographer from Sri Lanka; Tenzin, a Tibetan filmmaker from India; John Eliot Dewey, a student from the US of A, majoring in Urban Studies,; Sandra Roldan of http://sairo-in-a-skirt.blogspot.co
The game was on at ten in the evening, and we thought going there by 8 was already early. Around 4 in the afternoon, Dewey saw people already flocking around the City Hall area. We decided to leave The Crimson House around 6. My Korean friend Min and I made some plans and it was decided that his group and mine would join forces as soon as we arrived at City Hall.
----------------
Watching the Korea X Togo match was more than a turn-out of support; it was a celebration of the nation.
There, with their atheletic pride at stake, citizens of the Republic of Korea showed up in droves, with one dream in mind: Victory. It was almost tearsheddingly beautiful, if not for all the pushing that we had to suffer through.
It was a celebration of being a nation, of one people united under one kingdom, one language, one color, one ball, one goal.
One passion.
---------------
"The possibility of madness is therefore implicit in the very phenomenon of passion."
Michel Foucault
Madness and Civilization
-------------------------
Picture this. You are in the middle of a crowd, sitting on the pavement. It is nighttime, and your throat is hoarse from cheering. From the aerial coverage being shown on the giant screens, the crowd you are in looks like an oil spill on a sea of blood.
A popular boyband comes on stage, and the girls behind you let out shrill screams that can cause noses to bleed.
You try to understand their excitement, but for that attempt at being considerate, you are paid for with a knee on your back. Some people are trying to get in the middle of the crowd, closer to the screen (or the stage, you're not sure), and they are indiscriminately knee-ing their way to... to you don't know where they plan to seat. There's absolutely no space, you tell them, but that's in English, and they smile at you good-naturedly, and you can't help but smile back. You watch them knee other people's backs, and somehow, they manage to debunk Newton: a lot of people can occupy the same space at the same time.
A plastic bag full of roasted cuttlefish hit you smack in the face and you glare at the beer-and-cuttlefish vendor (the Korean version of beer-and-hotdogs vendor, or hopia-mani-popcorn vendors, if you prefer), but he's too busy selling his goods to pay attention to your non-verbal hostility.
From your left, you see more people preparing to jump into your crowd. Everybody wants better seats.
Sit closer! you hear your friend scream. Don't give them space!
So you stand up. Wave your arms, crossing them together in front of your chest, making "X" motions to ward them off. There's no space! There's no space! SPACE OPSOYO! you tell the people attempting to break in. You manage to drive them away, and the people seating around you cheer and clap, and in broken English, tell you of their gratitude.
You take your seat. You realize you're seating on an empty beer can.
Then, somebody's knee hits your back again. You let out a sigh.
------------------------------
THE GOOD
The beer-and-squid vendor couldn't care less.
Business had never been better. So, he trudged through the sea of bodies, unmindful of their cries of protest, deaf to their complaints. Some guy was waving the equivalent of ten dollars in the air, and the vendor would make his way there no matter what.
He wasn't counting on John Dewey.
What John Dewey did was simple. He grabbed the vendor by the shoulders and he wouldn't let go until the vendor back down. The vendor finally conceded. Defeated, the vendor walked away. He was muttering under his breath, and I'm pretty sure they weren't prayers to make Korea win. The crowd cheered John Dewey.
Yet, the vendor would not give up that easily. Ten dollars is ten dollars. So, he made another attempt to get to the middle of the already sitting crowd, and this time, he decided to take a route far from John Dewey.
The vendor stepped on toes, trampled on courteousness, walked all over politeness. And he was beyond John Dewey's reach.
Suddenly, I heard the guy sitting beside me shout something. It made the vendor stop in his tracks. The vendor answered back. By the vendor's tone, they weren't exchanging pleasantries. The guy beside me said something which Sandra described as "real anger".
Then, the vendor and the guy beside me had a stare-off.
It would have been funny, had it not been that intense. I came from a Third World Country and I know hostily and violence when I see one. There was pure hostility in their stare-off. The vendor was carrying the pride of his class on his back, and the guy beside me was burdened with doing the right thing.
The guy beside me said something that sounded conclusive, like an ultimatum.
The vendor walked away. Too dignified to mutter this time.
Sandra and I looked at each other, we were both impressed.
We both congratulated the guy beside me, and his smile was so warm, his features so soft, that I couldn't believe he was the same guy who drove away the street-toughened vendor with just his words.
And his glare.
THE BAD
Aside from the people who can't accept the fact that there's no more space in the middle of the crowd, there were also some people, who like the girl behind Tenzin, was just plain... annoying.
So there she was behind Tenzin. Tenzin kept throwing annoyed, but polite, glances her way, but she was either oblivious, or stupid. She would scream her black lungs out every few seconds or so, making it impossible for normal people to have a conversation. She would also bang her inflatable sticks together to make as much noise as possible. She was extraordinarily being annoying.
She's the type of girl who, had she been living in a Third World country like the Philippines, would no doubt had been stabbed to death by her 5th grade classmates during recess. Had there been a piece of twine in my pockets that night... well, let's just say, she was lucky I didn't have a piece of twine in my pockets that night.
THE BAD-ASS
Now try this little experiment: sautee some sardines in olive oil. Let the olive oil cool, and then smear some on your foot (you choose which side). Now, with your foot smelling deliciously like sauteed sardines, step into a box filled with hungry kittens.
The resulting chaos is exactly how it was like to step in front of Min Kwak and her friends.
With the route in front of John Dewey blocked by our tall friend, and the other routes near blocked as well, thanks to the guy beside me, some people were trying to find new routes just to get to the middle of the crowd.
Some were unfortunate enough to take the route near Min Kwak and her friends.
Min Kwak by her hair alone is a character. She was wearing a little, black dress--a statement, considering everybody was supposed to wear red--, and horns that didn't seem unnatural on top of her head. She was smoking a cigarette, and a cloud of nicotine was framing her, well, voluminous is too light a word to describe her hair.
Now, to step in front of Min Kwak was a mistake, as some people later on found out. For Min Kwak and her gang, the litter of viscious pussies that they were, would scratch and tear at the legs of people passing by in front of them. LITERALLY. It was the noise they were making that caught my attention. Aside from the cries of surprise coming from the people whose legs were being shredded by Min Kwak and Co's claws, the girls were also making high-pitched screeches, and hurling meowing vindictives.
Then, they would look at each other and laugh.
Later on, after the game, Sandra and I approached these fine ladies, and asked for their numbers.
"Do you like going to clubs?" I asked.
"Oh, no. They're my friends. We're not a club." Min Kwak answered.
"No, no. I mean, like a night club."
"Club! Oh, yeah! Like DANCE! DANCING! DANCING!" Then she started dancing, wiggling her bad-ass around.
To paraphrase the diva Whitney, Min Kwak, surely, is whack.
=====================
Photos and Videos:
We Go To The Game -- a video made by our good friend Tensin Choklay.
http://sairo-in-a-skirt.blogspot.co
Dewey in Korea! -- John Dewey's adventures in Korea. More pictures!
Taken outside Crimsonhouse. There wasn't any sleeveless shirts available, so I had to cut-off the sleeves myself. Will do further modifications, I think. The horns become me, no?
He looks like Cho In-seung in real-life. This is the guy who is soooo good at being bad. His parting words for me? "Study hard."
The annoying girl whose horns are appropriately enough proportional.
That's Min Kwak. There's a black gown underneath that shirt. Min Kwak is the girl right beside me. Say it with me, Min Kwak is whack!
Last week, a bunch of us from The House of Crimson (It sounds more Wes Craven-ish thatta way), went to watch Korea's first match in this year's World Cup. News of gigantic plasma screens being installed around the capital's city hall reached us, and the hype about the game was just too thick not to affect us. So we went.
There was six of us: Assif, from Azerbaijan (who Kalingga refers to as "Azerbaijan"); Kalingga, a cinematographer from Sri Lanka; Tenzin, a Tibetan filmmaker from India; John Eliot Dewey, a student from the US of A, majoring in Urban Studies,; Sandra Roldan of http://sairo-in-a-skirt.blogspot.co
The game was on at ten in the evening, and we thought going there by 8 was already early. Around 4 in the afternoon, Dewey saw people already flocking around the City Hall area. We decided to leave The Crimson House around 6. My Korean friend Min and I made some plans and it was decided that his group and mine would join forces as soon as we arrived at City Hall.
----------------
Watching the Korea X Togo match was more than a turn-out of support; it was a celebration of the nation.
There, with their atheletic pride at stake, citizens of the Republic of Korea showed up in droves, with one dream in mind: Victory. It was almost tearsheddingly beautiful, if not for all the pushing that we had to suffer through.
It was a celebration of being a nation, of one people united under one kingdom, one language, one color, one ball, one goal.
One passion.
---------------
"The possibility of madness is therefore implicit in the very phenomenon of passion."
Michel Foucault
Madness and Civilization
-------------------------
Picture this. You are in the middle of a crowd, sitting on the pavement. It is nighttime, and your throat is hoarse from cheering. From the aerial coverage being shown on the giant screens, the crowd you are in looks like an oil spill on a sea of blood.
A popular boyband comes on stage, and the girls behind you let out shrill screams that can cause noses to bleed.
You try to understand their excitement, but for that attempt at being considerate, you are paid for with a knee on your back. Some people are trying to get in the middle of the crowd, closer to the screen (or the stage, you're not sure), and they are indiscriminately knee-ing their way to... to you don't know where they plan to seat. There's absolutely no space, you tell them, but that's in English, and they smile at you good-naturedly, and you can't help but smile back. You watch them knee other people's backs, and somehow, they manage to debunk Newton: a lot of people can occupy the same space at the same time.
A plastic bag full of roasted cuttlefish hit you smack in the face and you glare at the beer-and-cuttlefish vendor (the Korean version of beer-and-hotdogs vendor, or hopia-mani-popcorn vendors, if you prefer), but he's too busy selling his goods to pay attention to your non-verbal hostility.
From your left, you see more people preparing to jump into your crowd. Everybody wants better seats.
Sit closer! you hear your friend scream. Don't give them space!
So you stand up. Wave your arms, crossing them together in front of your chest, making "X" motions to ward them off. There's no space! There's no space! SPACE OPSOYO! you tell the people attempting to break in. You manage to drive them away, and the people seating around you cheer and clap, and in broken English, tell you of their gratitude.
You take your seat. You realize you're seating on an empty beer can.
Then, somebody's knee hits your back again. You let out a sigh.
------------------------------
THE GOOD
The beer-and-squid vendor couldn't care less.
Business had never been better. So, he trudged through the sea of bodies, unmindful of their cries of protest, deaf to their complaints. Some guy was waving the equivalent of ten dollars in the air, and the vendor would make his way there no matter what.
He wasn't counting on John Dewey.
What John Dewey did was simple. He grabbed the vendor by the shoulders and he wouldn't let go until the vendor back down. The vendor finally conceded. Defeated, the vendor walked away. He was muttering under his breath, and I'm pretty sure they weren't prayers to make Korea win. The crowd cheered John Dewey.
Yet, the vendor would not give up that easily. Ten dollars is ten dollars. So, he made another attempt to get to the middle of the already sitting crowd, and this time, he decided to take a route far from John Dewey.
The vendor stepped on toes, trampled on courteousness, walked all over politeness. And he was beyond John Dewey's reach.
Suddenly, I heard the guy sitting beside me shout something. It made the vendor stop in his tracks. The vendor answered back. By the vendor's tone, they weren't exchanging pleasantries. The guy beside me said something which Sandra described as "real anger".
Then, the vendor and the guy beside me had a stare-off.
It would have been funny, had it not been that intense. I came from a Third World Country and I know hostily and violence when I see one. There was pure hostility in their stare-off. The vendor was carrying the pride of his class on his back, and the guy beside me was burdened with doing the right thing.
The guy beside me said something that sounded conclusive, like an ultimatum.
The vendor walked away. Too dignified to mutter this time.
Sandra and I looked at each other, we were both impressed.
We both congratulated the guy beside me, and his smile was so warm, his features so soft, that I couldn't believe he was the same guy who drove away the street-toughened vendor with just his words.
And his glare.
THE BAD
Aside from the people who can't accept the fact that there's no more space in the middle of the crowd, there were also some people, who like the girl behind Tenzin, was just plain... annoying.
So there she was behind Tenzin. Tenzin kept throwing annoyed, but polite, glances her way, but she was either oblivious, or stupid. She would scream her black lungs out every few seconds or so, making it impossible for normal people to have a conversation. She would also bang her inflatable sticks together to make as much noise as possible. She was extraordinarily being annoying.
She's the type of girl who, had she been living in a Third World country like the Philippines, would no doubt had been stabbed to death by her 5th grade classmates during recess. Had there been a piece of twine in my pockets that night... well, let's just say, she was lucky I didn't have a piece of twine in my pockets that night.
THE BAD-ASS
Now try this little experiment: sautee some sardines in olive oil. Let the olive oil cool, and then smear some on your foot (you choose which side). Now, with your foot smelling deliciously like sauteed sardines, step into a box filled with hungry kittens.
The resulting chaos is exactly how it was like to step in front of Min Kwak and her friends.
With the route in front of John Dewey blocked by our tall friend, and the other routes near blocked as well, thanks to the guy beside me, some people were trying to find new routes just to get to the middle of the crowd.
Some were unfortunate enough to take the route near Min Kwak and her friends.
Min Kwak by her hair alone is a character. She was wearing a little, black dress--a statement, considering everybody was supposed to wear red--, and horns that didn't seem unnatural on top of her head. She was smoking a cigarette, and a cloud of nicotine was framing her, well, voluminous is too light a word to describe her hair.
Now, to step in front of Min Kwak was a mistake, as some people later on found out. For Min Kwak and her gang, the litter of viscious pussies that they were, would scratch and tear at the legs of people passing by in front of them. LITERALLY. It was the noise they were making that caught my attention. Aside from the cries of surprise coming from the people whose legs were being shredded by Min Kwak and Co's claws, the girls were also making high-pitched screeches, and hurling meowing vindictives.
Then, they would look at each other and laugh.
Later on, after the game, Sandra and I approached these fine ladies, and asked for their numbers.
"Do you like going to clubs?" I asked.
"Oh, no. They're my friends. We're not a club." Min Kwak answered.
"No, no. I mean, like a night club."
"Club! Oh, yeah! Like DANCE! DANCING! DANCING!" Then she started dancing, wiggling her bad-ass around.
To paraphrase the diva Whitney, Min Kwak, surely, is whack.
=====================
Photos and Videos:
We Go To The Game -- a video made by our good friend Tensin Choklay.
http://sairo-in-a-skirt.blogspot.co
Dewey in Korea! -- John Dewey's adventures in Korea. More pictures!
Taken outside Crimsonhouse. There wasn't any sleeveless shirts available, so I had to cut-off the sleeves myself. Will do further modifications, I think. The horns become me, no?
He looks like Cho In-seung in real-life. This is the guy who is soooo good at being bad. His parting words for me? "Study hard."
The annoying girl whose horns are appropriately enough proportional.
That's Min Kwak. There's a black gown underneath that shirt. Min Kwak is the girl right beside me. Say it with me, Min Kwak is whack!
