Author: followtherivernorth@gmail.com

Mr. Peyton: Pastries and Coffee in Hannam-dong

Mr. Peyton: Pastries and Coffee in Hannam-dong

It has been an inexcusably long time since I’ve made a post, but I do have a few excuses. One of them I will get into in more detail soon, but the reason why I’m suddenly posting again today is because today is the final 

This Week: November 6-12

This Week: November 6-12

Alright. I’m a shit blogger. But as I mentioned in the last post, I am a really well-informed shit blogger these days, and while I’m trawling through countless articles to look for material for work, I’m constantly saving articles, too, that I have a personal 

Life Update: Heavy

Life Update: Heavy

I don’t honestly know what’s wrong with me today. I know that it’s some wicked brew created by Trump’s visit to the peninsula this week, this year on the whole, and waking up this morning to find out that 26 people had been murdered at their morning service in their small-town church yesterday. I read it just as I was about to head out the door, because that’s part of my job now — to read the news just as I’m about to walk out the door, and on the train on the way to the studio, and on the bus on the way home, and before I go to bed at night.

I’ve been working at the radio show for three months, and how many times have I had to scramble to add condolences for some tragedy in the middle of a broadcast? I’ve lost count. Because they keep rolling in. And there’s nothing special about this one from yesterday, and I think that’s why I can’t seem to get it together today. Because I realized that there’s nothing special about this one, and that there’s nothing special about any of it anymore. Just another wave that washes over me, and for a moment, I lose my breath. And the wave rolls out. But I know another one is already on its way. And you can never remember a specific wave, because it’s the waves — their collectiveness, their unceasing movement toward you — that makes them what they are.

It’s not a good year for part of your job to be checking the news.

There’s something underneath it all that I can’t quite get to the bottom of, but I can feel myself getting closer. Something about how most of us are doing the best we can with what we have, but “the best we can” doesn’t mean the same thing to all of us. And I’m tired of lone wolf arguments, not because they’re not valid, but because they are unequally applied. And I’m tired of some bodies mattering more than others. I’m tired of immigration being a liability we have to immediately address, but guns being nothing but a tool that can be used for both good and evil. And I’m tired of thoughts and prayers, not only because they don’t accomplish anything, but also because they’re all I feel like I have in most cases.

Thoughts and prayers, and screaming into the void, which is mostly what blogging is.

So, to badly hatchet and paste together, I celebrate myself, and sing myself, and what I assume you shall assume, for every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you. I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable. I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world. All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses.

Anthracite Coffee Roasters in Hannam-dong

Anthracite Coffee Roasters in Hannam-dong

Anthracite Coffee Roasters was one of those places I walked past a million times and thought about dropping in, but never did. Then a travel magazine contacted me about it. Located on the Hannam-dong end of the Itaewon main drag, the place is hopping on 

Alive, with Cherry Hand Pies

Alive, with Cherry Hand Pies

I should most definitely not be writing about cherry hand pies right now, for a few different reasons, but sometimes you just want to write the words that you want to write. I’ve worked really hard to get to a point in life where I