All Systems Stop

Hi everyone.  How are you doing?  Me, too.

I just wanted to apologize for the humpteenth time for being out of touch lately.

I’ve been super-busy.  My three hours a day of commuting is killing me–not literally, unfortunately.

But I feel guilty for not writing anything lately, which is why I’ve asked a member of ISIS to come to Seoul in order to behead me in person.  Unfortunately again, I can’t afford to buy him a plane ticket 😦

Uh-oh–now I’m repeating myself.  I promised I’d never use an emoticon again and have broken my promise.  I guess that means I can’t join the Promise Keepers, so that’s something anyway.

Another problem is my prime blogging time has been eaten up by the demands of my new schedule.  I usually like to post stuff at around five in the morning, then go back to bed for a few hours as a reward.  It’s the best way to make constructive use of my insomnia.  But these days I have a class at seven in the morning so I don’t have time to write then anymore, and I can’t get up before then or I’ll interrupt my wife’s insomnia (we work in shifts).

It’s now afternoon here in Korea, so I guess I’ll make this my new writing time, except for the times when my wife takes the computer with her to work.

It feels good to get the fingers moving again after such a long absence.  I feel like Fred Astaire born again as an octopus.  No–make that Gene Kelly.

I guess only other old folks like me will get those references.  Cultural solitary confinement is the best way to get out of touch.

Anyway, that’s all for now as I have to correct a speech written by one of my evening students, then mosey across town on the underground jointed silver serpent from hell.

I hope you’re doing well, and I appreciate your taking time to read this.  Now you can go back to the arduous demands of being an air traffic controller.

Vaya con chili con carne!

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A Dog Named Insomnia

I wonder why he cannot sleep.

Perhaps because he had his balls

cut off when he was still a child.

I’ve heard that dogs dream

in black and white; I wonder

if their dreams are like watching

“The Munsters” on TV (and if so,

are they burdened with commercials?

That would be a nightmare).

He misses his friend, Sleepy the Cat,

who died when she was hit

by a brand new car.

Luckily, the driver was drunk.

He didn’t stop, apologize,

or remember the accident.

That way he could move on

without feeling guilt’s speed bump,

and resume the destructive dance

of his wayward, foolish life.

And yet, I did say sorry

to the dog for squashing

his beloved friend and hiccoughed

through a creek of tears

as we sat down on the couch

and watched TV

and drank our weight

in beer.