Flawless Commencement Speech!

Two Things That Have Caught My Attention and Made It Less Likely That I Would Commit Suicide

Last night I finished The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. It was a novel told entirely form the perspective of a dog. I thought it was done rather well. It didn't live up to the great promo video, but it was a solid book. If I were editing, I would have probably made the author do another rewrite to lose semicolons and make the overall descriptions a bit stronger. In either case, after that six hour experience, I am only left with the other big hooplah of the summer - Benji Hughes.



Benji's album is due out July 22nd and I couldn't be happier. The songs that were released last month from the EP, A Little Extreme, were just enough to satiate me for the big tamale. Now I need to hear the rest of the songs on the complete double disc of A Love Extreme. If it's anything like what Benji has done so far, my guess is this record will win a Prammy, a Pirooz Grammy. Of course, I don't know what he would be classified as. Is he punk/folk? House/hippie? I have no idea. I just know his songs become permanent loops in your head as you walk down the street and get ready for different extremes.

Benji Hughes has two shows in Los Angeles at El Cid on August 15th and 16th. If you get a chance, see him in this intimate venue, before he is showcased in large, crowded venues with poor sound.

Garth Stein is an excellent writer. Don't let my critique of semicolons dissuade you. His new novel is definitely worth the read and time.

City Mouse

I am now in Pittsford alone. That is interesting. I spend most days running on the back roads. There is a lot of roadkill, horses, and friendly people. Most folks will wave as I pass by. That surprises me. Not a person waved in Korea. It definitely makes running more fun.

When I get back home, my dad's cat usually nuzzles up against me and calls to be let out. I find this funny, as my dad has trained the cat like a dog. I'll let it out, and the cat will simply stay five feet by me at all times. When I say, "Let's go!" it will then follow me inside.

I have watched a bit of television. Usually, it's in the wee hours of the morning as I get back on American time. That is why I am now an expert on anything infommercial. In fact, I ordered the "Ten Minute Trainer" yesterday. I want to have rock hard abs. I will put Tony Horton to the test.

As of right now, I have absolutely nothing to do. I am magical.

MY MIND IS CHANGING SO MY WRITING IS CHANGING SO MY BODY IS CHANGING, SO WHAT?

So Gee must have packed and weighed her suitcase a total of seven times during the night. She may have wanted to do it yet again at 3:30 a.m when she nudged me awake, or for another final run at 4 a.m. when I fell asleep yet again on the sofa in the living room; but the fastidious resolution and graceful ease with which she notified me of our impending departure with a fist in my face a last and final time was enough to have me batting cobwebs, taking the car keys from my perpetually yawning mother, and driving up I490 to the airport with a smile on my face and amore in my heart.

When we arrived, I parked the car at the departure stop-off, and ran with So Gee to the check-in at Air Tran. Although I knew she needed a confirmation number, I had forgotten to tell her to bring one in the rush to the airport. We had to sit through an unbearable 15 minutes or so, as the single checkout attendant befuddled a few patrons before offering us an incorrect confirmation number for input into the self-check-in kiosk, and had us sweating bullets for a few more minutes, as I glanced back at my mother waiting outside the terminal trying to look inconspicuous with her yawning dreams of making me ten pounds heavier in a matter of one week, with glutinous-packed Persian gourmet meals fit for several kings and a dwarf.

I was filled with much celebratory satisfaction as we finally moved towards the final leg of our airport experience and entered a security checkpoint line. So Gee, on the other hand, must have been going through a large mix of emotions, because she only muttered, "...Always at the airport." I took this to mean my usual frantic, nervous behavior in dealing with airport bureaucracy, or maybe it had to do with the fact that the airline attendant wouldn't let her lock her luggage.

"You okay?" I asked, and kissed her cheek.

"I'm fine," she said.

It must have been my frantic behavior. I tried to offer her some more warmth, but she semi-pushed me away.

In earlier relationships, I would have taken this as an affront and beaten myself about my behavior; and, maybe, even tried to rectify the situation. I knew it was 4 a.m. though. I knew So Gee's mind was not mine. I also knew that I had to still be a hero, and find out if my mom had gotten booted off the waiting strip, so I rushed out of the airport, hailed my mother down, and drove back with my mother's yawning fantasies intermingled with my antithetical hopes to lose ten pounds with diet and exercise.

I have already seen about seventeen infomercials that promise results in ten minutes, 90 days, and just under five, so I figure I can order a nice exercise tape and be oh-so-wine-cooler-soccer mom, and pump my body to the grooves of Dee Lite and Naught by Nature's "OPP", while the weight just sheds from my body in burning birthday candle efficiency. This is the dream I wake from as I notice a card So Gee has laid for me on the pillow beside me. I open it and marvel at her penmanship. The letters are perfectly her. The sleek, sexy Y's that pull across the page, and dip into more curtail-crossed T's; it is really a sight to behold.

The penmanship is too much for me. I cradle her, the card, and think of asking her to marry me. Then I fall asleep again. This time it is my own version of Star Wars and Indiana Jones combined. I am trying to keep from getting caught by these demon-people. I am in a pipe. Super Mario style. Harrison Ford is next to me. We say something to one another. Then I wake up. I think: "That is a great, strange dream." I run two miles. I feed my dad's cat chives and basil (for some reason the cat likes it). Then I order some dude's ten minute trainer exercise video. I have a salad with avocados, broccoli, lettuce, carrots, and raisins. I read the "Art of Racing in the Rain". I write this blog entry.

In SHORTSPEAK:

Life in America is pretty easy.
I don't do well at airports.
So Gee has good penmanship.
I bought an exercise video.

In HELLBOY SPEAK:

I will see that movie soon.

In FELLATIO IS FOR THE MEEK:

I can't swallow.

In GELATOS ARE FOR SAMURAIS:

My sword is my spoon.

Pittsford Life

I am now in Pittsford, NY. My mom and dad have been showering So Gee and I with gifts, food, and love. In fact, anything that So Gee has asked for has been met with immediate results.

"Dad, I want Cheesecake Factory," So Gee asked.

"Okay," my dad said.

"Mom, I want to shop for DSW shoes," So Gee asked my mother.

"Okay, my dear," my mom answered.

"Pirooz, I want to get a massage."

"Okay, homeslice," I said.


The highlight for me was when my dad gave So Gee a tennis lesson. They first ran around the court to warm up. As they ran, my dad gave her pointers on how to breathe appropriately.

"You are out of breadth. You need to run. Fill up your lungs. The more you fill them, the bigger they will get. Yes! Now breathe in through your nose. And out! Good!!"

So Gee ran around the courts. Then they worked the forehand. I was an official ballboy.


At one point, So Gee got frustrated that she kept hitting the balls over the fence. She was ready to quit. My dad persuaded her otherwise though. He said, "This is just fun. We are having fun. You are a beginner. This is the way it is. Just play. Do not think about that ball. That is the past. Just think about this ball. Right now."

I smiled at the Buddhist reference.


Now I am in the basement of my parent's house. I am 32. Tomorrow we go to the planetarium to celebrate. I will look at the stars. I will play tennis. I will eat cake.

3 Brothers

So Gee's Trip to Hollywood

So Gee had a good time in Hollywood. She ate Persian food, walked on Hollywood Boulevard, put her feet in the Pacific Ocean, pretended to be paparazzi as she took a picture of Nicole Hilton; met and talked to stars from Gray's Anatomy and Heroes; and even managed to snub a major Hollywood star by asking for the picture of his girlfriend rather than him. All in all, I would say So Gee is pretty sold on making a transition to the land of glitz. Myself, I am open to Hollywood or Seattle. Those are the two that would be exciting and fun for me. We will see how I feel in NY tomorrow. Who knows? Maybe, the NYC will pull me hard when I least expect it. I have no idea. I just know that Billy Crudup is shorter than me and very kind, and that So Gee is much more brave about taking photos with anyone. The only time I stopped her from fulfilling all her tourist desires was when she wanted to take a picture of an accident on the PCH. I tried to stop her, then corrected myself. "It's not really done," I told her. "But do it if you want." She didn't do it. I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut. Why not take a picture of anything? She has every right. I will do better in NY. Bye.

Invisible Treasures

Mrs. Kim pulls out a wooden box and puts it at the center of her dining room table. It is wrapped in the traditional Korean fashion, with a silk fabric pulled over its base, and the fours remaining corners tied in a topknot to mirror the hairstyles worn by Korean men 2,000 years ago. Not to disrespect the face of the package, which is considered synonymous with the face of whom the gift is being gifted, she faces the package towards me, and carefully unties it to reveal a mark of authenticity printed on its interior. She points to a line of Hangul and recites the artist's name for me to repeat.

"Sun Jook Oh," she says.

"O," I say.

"No, Okh!" she emphasizes with a harsher 'k' sound.

"Okh!" I say.

Mrs. Kim removes the cover of the wooden crate to reveal a clay tea set, with white and blue Korean calligraphy hand-painted on the exterior of two large bowls, a kettle, and four small cups wrapped in brown paper and straw. She lifts each element from the container and puts them on the table in front of me. Patiently, she explains the proper way to make Korean tea, while her daughter, So Gee, translates:

"This tea set first needs to be warmed by hot water before any tea can be made. Once each element is properly heated, you must put hot water in one of the larger bowls. This is used to pour warm water into the clay kettle. It should not be boiling water, but like 80 degrees. Then you put the tea leaves in the kettle, which has a filter (Mrs. Kim holds up the tea kettle and points it downward, so I can see the octaval holes at the base of the spout) and pour the tea into smaller cups for drinking."

"It's complicated," So Gee adds after her translation.

"It is," I agree.

Mrs. Kim flips through a picture book by the artist. She stops every few pages to explain how the artist is an 'invisible treasure' in her country: "He is an invisible treasure like the temple that burned down a few months ago. Like the temple, artists who have contributed to Korean heritage and tradition can also become invisible treasures. All they create is considered a part of Korea and very valuable." Mrs. Kim cradles a piece of the silk wrapping in her palm. She tousles the fabric between her fingers before she continues: "I have saved this for many years for my daughter's in-laws. I want to give it to you now to give to your parents. I like you very much, Pirooz. My daughter loves you very much, so I care about you very much. It is a very happy day for me to finally give this to you."

"Tell her that I am very honored by her gift," I say for So Gee to translate. "The integrity and power of her gift is matched by who she is. I am very thankful and I am sure my parents will be as well."

Mrs. Kim laughs at my comment. She often laughs when I say things that are kind. When we first met, I took this to be a scoffing of sorts, but after this has happened repeatedly, I have now understood her reaction to be one of humility.

"Tonight, my mother will get together with friends of hers from childhood," So Gee explains. "They will get together and talk on a specific topic."

"What do you mean?"

"One of my mother's childhood friend's was diagnosed with Cancer a few years ago. Since that time, all her friends have gotten together to talk about the problems they're facing. They give themselves homework to do at each meeting. Then they relate how they've done at the next get together. All the women listen and give scores on how well they think each has done. Like if my mom thinks she scored a 20, her friends might say that she deserves an 80. Then they will give her $8.00 for a job well done."

"That's a great idea. Who came up with it?"

"My mom did. She was a teacher," So Gee laughs. "Giving homework is in her blood."

"What was your mother's homework this time?"

"Loving her son. Her homework was to love her son and see him get married safely and happily," So Gee translates.

"Did she succeed?" I ask.

"He's getting marred," So Gee smiles.

"I like this idea of a story party. I used to have these sometimes in Boulder. We didn't assign homework though. I think if I gave myself homework this summer it would be to lose weight, quit smoking, and get healthy. And love my brothers. Do not get mad at my brothers. Do not hit my brothers. Be nice to my brothers."

"That is good homework," Mrs. Kim laughs.

"Yes," I agree.

Mrs. Kim rises from her chair. She walks me to the front foray. I find my black combat boots among the small slippers and slide my feet into them. She smiles and tells me my shoes are too heavy. I agree with her.

"Did you wear these shoes for me?" she asks.

"Yes," I say.

"You didn't have to," she tells me.

Mrs. Kim escorts me down the steps of the apartment and into the courtyard. It makes me feel very privileged and appreciative. I am suddenly open to the idea of being part of this family. I suppose some people have an innate sense of what needs to be done to create possibilities. It just takes a small demonstration on their parts to bring out what we cannot see. I once thought only artists had this privilege, but now I know mothers can make Picassos too.

Downtown Harvest's New Video

You can tell Fitzy-boy and Frank are having a little too much fun.

I Heart Korea

I am starting to enjoy being in Korea again. I have simply accepted the weird idiosyncrasies that make up this country. 

1. I have to accept that people spit on the street. 
   
2. I recognize that it's reality that people don't speak English. 
   
3. I don't fret when people tell me they can't do something but can't explain why. 
   
4. I am happy with Korean men yelling at me for no reason. 
   
5. I can stand another Korean woman giving me a scowl for saying hello to them. 
   
6. I don't mind that it takes an hour to make it past the U.S. beef protests near City Hall. 
   
7. I can look forward to a foreigner fresh off the boat asking me about what I do. 
   
8. It will be my pleasure to guide folks through the subway system. 
   
9. The smell of kim chi in the morning is awesome. 
   
10. It would be a good thing if I am challenged about reality and feel frustrated. 
    
11. I am ready for another six months in Korea. 
    

Eight Days a Week

I am almost home. As such, I have cleaned, packed, and set an itinerary. I am the ultimate nerd. Hopefully, I have squeezed enough in for the first four days in Los Angeles.

Day One - W

• Arrive at LAX at 5 p.m.
  
• 5-7 p.m. Pick-up rental car and check-in to hotel.
  
• 7-10 p.m. Visit Panauh and walk around old neighborhood.
  
• 10-1 a.m. Dance.

Day Two - Th

• 9-11 a.m. Run and hike Griffith Park
  
• 11-12p.m. Have brunch at the 101 Diner
  
• 12-3 p.m. Drive to FIDM and check out campus for So Gee.
  
• 3-5 p.m. Drive around Hollywood (Koreatown, Beverly Hills, and Westwood)
  
• 5-7 p.m. Have dinner in Santa Monica.
  
• 7-8 p.m. Drive back to hotel
  
• 8-12 a.m. Go to comedy club and out to clubs.

Day Three – F

• 9-11 a.m. Run and hike Griffith Park
  
• 11-12p.m. Have brunch somewhere.
  
• 12-5 p.m. Take So Gee shopping.
  
• 5-7 p.m. Have dinner at El Coyote
  
• 7-9 p.m. Hit Melrose.
  
• 9-12 a.m. Meet with friends at Rainbow Room.

Day Four – S

• 9-11 a.m. Run and hike Griffith Park
  
• 11-12p.m. Walk to Farmer's Market.
  
• 12-1 p.m. Visit Amoeba Records.
  
• 1-4 p.m. See movie at the Arclight.
  
• 4-7 p.m. Walk Hollywood Boulevard.
  
• 7-10 p.m Have dinner.

Day Five – Sun

• Travel to Pittsford, NY.
  

Courting Robin

It's 5:30 a.m. I am trying to convince Robin Williams to be in a film for my brother's production company. He mentions how it would be hard to move away from the big boys with the numbers they are pushing. 

"Look, Robin," I say. "There comes a time to make a choice." 

I look over at my brother. The rest of the production team are in the wings of my periphery. Everyone is anticipating. I can feel my palms sticking like rubber glove, but I'm relaxing into it, like a snake peeling itself to reveal a better version of the truth.

"You're not going to get a better person than Paiman to see you through this. In fact, everyone here in this company is out to make a great film. We're a family here. Now the big boys may be calling to you with promises of dividends, but can they promise the same care and integrity you see here. Take a look at these folks. These faces are hungry and ready. The only thing we need is the perfect lead. That's you, Robin. If you look, you might see it." 

Robin looks over my shoulder at the team. He laughs a bit. 

"I know you know best for you, Robin. You'll make the best choice. I trust that. I also trust that we've made the best choices for us.  Paiman leading this project is exactly right. This production team is an exact fit for him. Now all we need is an ideal actor for this part. I know for me it's Robin Williams. The only question is if it's right for him."

Robin nods. He shuffles a bit and begins to walk off in the courtyard. Paiman follows for the close. They circle around us. We catch the last bit as they come back towards us.

"It's going to be different and exciting," my brother finishes. "It's you."

"Okay," Robin winks. "I'll think about it, boys."

As Robin walks off, the production team files in a circle. Everyone is chatting and smiling. A couple people on the team say it's good to have me back. 

"I didn't know I ever left or was part of anything," I say.

"It's good that you back though," they say again.

My dream trails off. I wake up and start writing in bed with no pen or paper. I draft a couple openings about a non-reality television program. "Reality TV is not reality," I think. "Why not expose that? I could do a satire." 

I stare at the clock on the mantle. It is 7:15 a.m.. I wade back into the dream. I am watching it over again like a film. I think about how I would like to have a family production team and make movies with my brother. I wish he did too. I stand up. I can't tell if I'm dreaming or not. Weezer's "American Gigolo" is playing loudly in the room. There is no one in the courtyard and the credits are rolling.

GIRDS < BIRDS

I went to the Yonsei Severance Hospital today. I finally got a chance to speak to an American doctor. It looks like I have been diagnosed as having G.I.R.D.S.. As such, I will have to go on a stringent diet to see if I can improve the condition. In the next six months, I will try and drop 10-20 pounds. The doctor said this might help. He also let me know that the condition may be lifelong.

Things I Cannot Have:

1. Cigarettes

2. Caffeine

3. Fatty foods

4. Tomatoes

5. Orange Juice

6. Chocolate

7. Alcohol

8. Sugar

I suppose I will do a fruit fast. Maybe, this will help. Who knows? The funny thing is that with this list it certainly looks like I will be a vegan before this month is through. It looks like my body is looking out for me.

I can eat rice. I can have salmon. I can eat salads. I can have fruit. I think that will be it. 

Boy, does this suck. I am heading back to the states, and I won't be able to eat anything. When I visit my mom, she is going to have a fit. I hope she doesn't force food on me. 

I will survive. I will beat this thing.

I am off to play tennis. I will not have chocolate afterwards. I will not have fatty foods. I have bananas. I will eat bananas. 

Bye,

P.  

Mike Doughty in a Well