Slanty

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Bruhniversal Studios

The (sub)urban legends of T. Warin Bruhn


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Photo insert test.
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I identify with this statue.

The only problem with returning to LJ...
King Bruhn
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Is that I don't think anyone is here to interact with.

(no subject)
Slanty
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Breathe
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About 3 weeks ago I noticed that my lower back was having some pain at night while I lay flat on my back for bed. Turning on my side didn't help much either.

So I started imagining that I had done something awful to my back. For some reason this sort of injury worries me more than most. Was it a degenerative disc?

I strongly considered seeing a chiropractor or making an appointment with a doctor, but before I did any of that I started a new membership with my local YMCA and started working out again after quite a hiatus.

I had gained about 8lbs from my typical weight and it was time to do something about that.

So a couple of days on the stationary bike and some lifting go by and guess what? Back pain reduced to like 10% of what it was. Almost completely gone.

I suspect that I let my core muscles go, and that's what did it. Long story short? The gym is my best medicine.

I commissioned an artist
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It's almost done. This is for the allcomicsconsidered.com site and podcast. I couldn't be more pleased.

About a Month Ago
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March 21st

I land in Incheon - they can’t find my bag, and I fill out forms for it’s recovery. I get some help from a fella behind a counter and am directed to a hotel not far away. I take a taxi. The bed is as hard as a stone slab, but the bathroom is dope as hell. In order to turn on lights, you have to put your hotel key in a slot. Figured that out after 20 minutes of sitting in the dark.


  • I’m doing all of this international travel on my own, and in retrospect I’m enjoying the autonomy. The ability to make my own way and my own mistakes and successes is valuable to me.















March 22nd

I am able to meet up with my younger cousin and we go to the hospital where my mom is. I meet up with my uncle and my two aunts and my mother’s long term boyfriend Mr. Choi. Mom is there in the hospital bed, she’s hooked up to a respirator. Her skin is as brown as coffee, and her eyes are jellied. She’s not conscious. Along with Mr. Choi, I let out a loud cry of pain and we cry together.


I tell my mother that it is okay, that she can go. I will take care of everything. I tell her to go with a god that I don’t really believe in, but knows that she does. Tears escape her ruined eyes.


I really want to leave, but I stay as long as I am supposed to.



March 22nd

Eventually it’s time to leave and get some food. My aunts take me to a restaurant that serves spicy pig’s feet. I saw a YouTube video where some Brits tried it and were crying from the heat. It amused me so I wanted to see if it was as bad as they made it out to be.


It is amazingly delicious. The heat just starts getting to me at the end, but it’s nothing that mouthfuls of rice can’t alleviate. The food and heat are a valuable distraction. I can’t cry all the time.










March 22nd

After our meal and resting for a bit, we go back to the hospital and wait. My mom dies. We are all in tears. A lot of other procedural stuff happens. I must pick out a shrine for my mother. I find out that I’m supposed to stay in a chamber for mourning for 3 days.


I endure it. The bathroom attached to the small sleeping area is not well drained and ventilated. I get headaches. Meals come, people come and I greet them the best I can. I bow a lot.


All my uncles who can, have arrived and we speak, my baby-level Korean and their heavily accented English collide but we make it work through a combination of technology and translation from my younger cousins who are English fluent.














March 23rd

We don’t stay the entire 3rd day, there’s no point - everyone that my mother knew has come to pay their respects. Instead I carry my mother’s casket with others to a bus and we go to a crematorium. We eat and wait our turn. Eventually we are ushered into a place where there are CCDs, little TVs and my mom’s picture underneath it. We are supposed to watch the flames burn the casket to ashes. And when the time comes, we do and the tears and wailing start again. It is horrifying. There are multiple families in this large room, each one’s stories ending the same: with ashes and grief.


March 23rd

Afterwards we are handed her remains. Initially I wanted her ashes to be spread in the Pacific Ocean, and the family thought that was fitting. But we were told that the government would not allow such a romantic gesture. So, instead my mother’s ashes were buried in our family funeral plot, where my grandmother’s remains are as well.


We do this thing. Then we go back to my Aunt’s house and I sleep.





March 24th

My eldest uncle could not attend the funeral, he himself was in the hospital recovering from a serious surgery. We visit with him. He’s like an eagle, sharp and wise.


He needs to rest so we don’t stay too long.


March 24th

That evening we dine as a family. A big Korean spread, traditional style. It’s nice. I only rarely have been able to have this sort of experience with my Korean family. It may be the last time that we eat like this, who can say?


Afterwards I sleep soundly, tomorrow I leave for the States. Oh, the airport found my bag - it was still at Sea-Tac.



March 25

I fly home. I am utterly tapped and emotionally exhausted.


We bought a house
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Keys got.

Exhausted from the move.

WinCo Foods is cheap as hell.


Grief is a Gift
Militant
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Grief is like alcohol, it will affect people physiologically in similar ways, but how it’s expressed varies from person to person and their psychological profile.

I recognize that I’m in mourning for my mother who is currently being kept alive by machines. It’s to me to fly over there and release her. And I’m working on that.

But I wanted to make note of how grief is working through me right now, because it’s an unusual feeling. It’s actually physical. I feel like I’ve had two beers – still functional, but sort of stunned, I can feel a sort of numbness on my face, as though I’m getting over being slapped.

I cried after I wrote what was, essentially, her obituary and cried briefly again with my wife. But, I have to take care of stuff and I don’t dare stop and grieve in a hardcore way. Because if I do, I won’t be able to take care of business.

I need to keep moving, and take care of the thing. And then, if I need to I can let the great big sobbing happen. But not today. Today, my body gifts me with numbness and slight disorientation.


When in Alaska...
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So we're in Fairbanks, Alaska ostensibly to check off "see the northern lights" from the bucket list. Mission accomplished, but for pure visuals the ice carving competition was probably more impressive.

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