By Iwazaru
Just when you thought that girl idol groups in Korea were reaching every area of the populous and setting records while doing it, we now have a new youngest group that beats the record set by members of a group called i13 (yes, they had 13 members and three of them were 12 when they debuted in 2005) and matched by GP Basic‘s Janey who was 12 when they debuted last summer (she’s a whopping 13 now!). i13, if you care, fell off the map.
But on to our new record holders Girl Story, whose two youngest members are nine with the elder members of the group coming in at 10 and an aged 11. The group launched into the Kpop scene at the end of December with the debut song “Pinky Pinky” and are being labeled, appropriately, kid idols. Some detractors have, amazingly, popped up voicing discontent and disgust with such young girls entering the market when they should be doing other things like being girls.
Their supporters say they are doing what they love and that they already know the business as they were actresses before with three of them taking roles in an SBS drama called “Ja Myung Go” (see two pics here). The good news for the girls is that they are now on vacation from annoying school and thus can happily work on their real passion. Reportedly they are working under the tutelage of the same trainer who trained After School (don’t ask me who the two young girls with bare midriffs in the video are) which makes one wonder what moves they’ll be busting in videos and on stage.
By John Kay Editor’s Note: This is the final installment in a three-part memoir where the writer reflects on the collection of events that led up to one major wake-up call here in Korea. Read Part 1 and Part 2.
Having no recollection of any actions that might have necessitated my arrest and subsequent handcuffing I proclaim my innocence to all within ear shot. I demand to be released and when this is not done set about insulting every member of staff foolish enough to be on duty. One guy has a moustache (a rarity for a Korean) and he gets a tongue lashing; another was carrying a few extra pounds around the midriff; yet another I abuse because he has the audacity to tell me to be quiet. And a tear into a token female member of staff for turning her nose up at me. The list goes on and on; and I kept it up for ages; it’s the kind of performance drunks give for free the world over and it did not win me any friends or concessions. No one came to my aid, no one came to unlock my handcuffs and tell me they’d made a mistake. I become so enraged and was still so drunk that I tried to drag the sofa I was handcuffed to out of the front door; through which beautifully bright sunlight taunted me. I tried this so many times that for a month and a half afterwards parts of my hands and wrists were still scarily numb.
By Lee Scott
The next logical step for girl group recruitment in Kpop. The scouts are looking for talent and they can spot it early and often. Watch out “kid idols” here come the “baby idols!” No tops required.
From Confucius to Oprah, people have preached compassion for centuries. But how often is it put into practice? Karen Armstrong believes religion, which should advocate for compassionate living, is often part of the problem. In Twelve Steps To A Compassionate Life, she describes ways to add kindness to daily routines.
In light of recent events — the shootings at Rep. Gabrielle Giffords’ event in Arizona, and the assassination of Punjab province Gov. Salman Taseer in Pakistan — Armstrong’s message is especially poignant. “There’s a mood of despair around, whether we’re Easterners or Westerners,” Armstrong tells NPR’s Neal Conan. “And despair is a dangerous thing, because once people lose hope, they can resort to extreme measures.”
Armstrong admits compassion isn’t a very popular virtue. “People often prefer to be right,” she says. And though she offers these 12 steps, it’s not a get-compassionate-quick scheme. “This is a struggle for a lifetime, because there are aspects in it that militate against compassion.”
Hey all you denizens of Haebangchon. You have been noticed and some of you have even been found. I have taken notice. When you hit the main drag here—the boulevard of slapdash dreams—and turn your daily schlep of teaching English into a prance of taking the stage at Cannes or Coachella or bustin’ a move onto the set of Jersey Shore; your ticket has been punched because you have talent and it is a big talent.
I can’t stand to see you sitting in the cafes and vamping it up on facebook when all you need is a great cash influx: the seed money to your genius. No one is messing with your chi here. Whether you are an actor, artist, musician or quiz night marvel this is not a head trip: your time has come.
Remember the only difference between you and those swerving through the Brooklyn art cafes and open mics with their laptops in action is thirty thousand or so U.S. in the bank account. That is it and as every HBCvestite can tell us all: the Muse works in mysterious ways. The Nigerians have solved your most pressing problem! More specifically the ones hovering around your ‘hood.
By John Kay
On the 23rd of August 2003 I went back to Pohang to attend Texas Tom’s wedding. I’m certain about the date because the auspicious day chosen by the fortune teller was also my father’s birthday. So unfortunately I need never forget. This story is full of the importance of memory and forgetting, so don’t forget. I took a bus down to Pohang in the south eastern province of Gyeongsangbuk-do and as usual (as seems to be the motif that runs through my life) I was late. The wedding hall on the outskirts of south Pohang looked like a cross between Hansel and Gretel’s forest hideaway and the east wing of Graceland. If you’ve been to a wedding hall wedding replete with bubble machine, what look like stewardesses armed with exploding trumpets and row upon row of chattering guests; you will understand why an old colleague and I slipped down stairs to the buffet.
It might be time (AEAP) for all you Facebook fanatics and fiends (FBOCD) to start preparing to pull your head out of the world of friending and defriending. DTRT!
By Sophia Brooke
My experience started on a normal Saturday night in Itaewon, the main foreigner borough in central Seoul. He appeared out of nowhere, sitting across from me at the bar. I noticed that he kept looking around, seemingly waiting for someone, drinking his beer as if he were losing patience. But no one showed up. He was wearing a trendy, black leather jacket and had a black scarf tied securely around his neck as though he’d just arrived or was just about to leave. His whole demeanor was mysterious probably because he was alone in a very conspicuous place looking quite different from everyone else around; he was tanned—South American I thought—and serious looking, with a set of dark brown eyes that looked as though they could bore right into your soul. I thought he was stunning. He’d gaze across at me every now and again and I’d ignore him thinking he must be looking at someone behind me. But then we made eye contact, and there were a few smiles before he finally beckoned me over and without a second thought, I went straight to him like a moth to the flame.
The two founding editors of The Three Wise Monkeys (3WM), Mizaru and Iwazaru, recently sat down at a local bar in central Seoul for an interview with Hannah Stuart-Leach who is a reporter for the Korean Herald.
The interview covered a wide range of topics from how 3WM came about and the philosophies of the monkeys to recent reshaping of the site and future aspirations and expectations.
Editor’s Note: This is installment one in a three-part memoir where the writer reflects on the collection of events that led up to one major wake-up call here in Korea.
I.
I remember turfing a deeply sleeping girlfriend out of her bed onto the floor, all for the sake of an argument neither of us could recall. I’ve attacked an old, old friend on Christmas day as we walked home from the pub after a mighty, daylong session. I attempted to smash all the crockery in the house, when we lived on Cardiff road, South Wales above that aquatic, often naked and mad woman who broke Norman Verner’s soft, pink heart. There was that time I made Alex D think I’d jumped to my untimely and idiot death along a stretch of train track near Grassy bank, after coming at Hog and Duncan like a screaming, pissed up banshee.
Like expats themselves, their publications in Korea come and go.
But some manage to set down firm roots, and as the Three Wise Monkeys (3WM) blogzine approaches its first birthday in January, The Korea Herald met with its founding editors for a podcast interview.
The site (http://thethreewisemonkeys.com) has just undergone a re-launch, which has changed the header and layout but none of its original principles, even as the weekly, non-profit publication finds its appeal extending out as far as Myanmar and Sri Lanka.
With its origins in DDD ― Difficult Dirty Dangerous ― magazine, started in Daejeon in 2002, 3WM refers to the Buddhist maxim “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil,” which warns against allowing evil into your mind. The idea of the project being that if you accept an imperfect world, life becomes richer and less stressful.
If you go online, you may be surprised to discover just how many Western women marry foreign men who want them simply for a visa. Who would fall for such a trick? Well, according to the Web, female Americans, middle-aged and desperate enough to believe anything a good-looking, young man might tell her. The fact that he is from a poorer country might ring some alarm bells but not loud enough to stop her from marrying him and believing that he is truly in love with her. Only later will she discover the heart-breaking truth. However, this is only a stereotype. In reality, ‘visa hunters,’ as they are called, do not discriminate; they will target anyone. I am a 31-year-old woman from England and, recently, I became the target of a visa hunter here in Korea.
Seikima II/ Loudness,Vivaldi Park, Daemyeong, South Korea 9/3/10 – 9/4/10
I woke ten minutes before the alarm went off. I slowly made breakfast, or at least not fast enough to really get a move on if I intended to make the eleven o’clock bus. I had to withdraw some money (200,000 won), and then went for food and booze at a mini-mart. I hurried to the bus station, catching the bus to Seoul right before it pulled out. It’d be about five hours to Seoul. I had my journal, so I’d catch up on that. Instead of bringing the book I was almost done with, I brought Arabian Nights, which doesn’t have a single or identifiable author. It’s sort of interesting how that’s set up.
By Tiger and Bear with illustrations by James Wilson. Act Three: The Performance
As we stood behind the wings I tried to focus my eyes on the events unfolding around us. Pogo Planet were on stage, blasting out a heavy wall of sound while a Christmas tree’s worth of over saturated stage light spilled over them.
I turned to Tiger, catching a brief glimpse of a smoldering cigarette hanging from his cracked lips, the smoke drifting from the Tiger head’s gaping maw as he nodded in time with the music. “I don’t think I’m ready”, I yelled at him.
Tiger turned to me, rolled his bloodshot eyes and looked back to the band. He didn’t reply, only waving another green Soju bottle in the vicinity of my face. Another soldier in the war against sobriety I thought to myself as I took the bottle and started to unscrew the cap. Yet the seal was already broken and the bottle was empty. They were all empty.
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