Review: "열꽃"

“열꽃 Part 1”

I am pretty sure Mr. Garrioch and Namdo would be confused at the title of my post. “열꽃” is a Korean word that beautifully describes an ugly thing. “열” means “heat”, while “꽃” is a word that means “flower”. So the word “열꽃” means “heat-flower”. But there is no such plant called heat-flower. The expression “heat-flower” is used to describe the symptom of measles having red eruptions all over the body. The word is used more frequently to describe the symptoms of measles for babies.

The title of Tablo’s new album is “열꽃”. What can we infer from this title? Maybe it could be a story of Tablo suffering measles. Or maybe his baby daughter is suffering from one. Or maybe he is comparing himself with a baby who is suffering from measles. Maybe he is comparing the sorrow he feels with measles.

<집>

This is the first song of the whole mini-album. The biggest point of the song is the beautifully done metaphor. Tablo compares his sorrows with a house. His song is about how the house he lives in is so comfortable, although it means endless sorrow if he never comes out.

I believe this song portrays the emotions of a person who is depressed for a long time. When I was shocked and depressed because of an incident. The depression went on for a quite a long time. And when it was time that I should be out of it, I was so used to the sorrow. It’s rather hard to explain, but being used to sadness is a rather comfortable thing. Because a sad person tends to be alone, the aloofness becomes a part of him.

The song compares other’s demands as “stack of newspapers and mails in front of the door” and being happy as “taking a short walk outside”. Taking a short walk implies that he would come back soon.

<나쁘다>

“Ones whom I love the most hurt me the most.” People sometimes have to become dark to protect his beloved ones. Similar idea is portrayed in the Godfather Trilogy. But after one turns dark for his beloved, then the beloved ones show disdain.

It is always the kind ones who jump into the abyss for others. They do it to prevent others from taking the same path. Depravity follows sacrifice.

That is why the speaker in the song can’t sleep well. He becomes more and more aggressive or colder to protect others. Love for others become Hamartia for the protagonist of one’ own life. It makes them hypocritical and corrupt, and finally loses their beloved ones. Tablo seems to feel such depravity to protect his family as a young adult.

“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”- Friedrich Nietzsche

<밀물>

Is there anything more alike to life like tides? Why resist the current and quarrel with the flood? After all, the world is a small fishbowl. It is meaningless to escape from fishhooks and be relieved.

This song puts a lot of metaphor for the listeners to understand. It never criticizes; it describes. Because the song is sad and melancholy, it is actually more critical than rap songs filled with swear words. It depicts. How we’re all part of the same hypocrisy. How the world teaches us ethics, and the next moment rips our heart. How our dignity is thinner than a single bundle of Benjamins. How promises get broken easily just like pinky fingers. (children use their pinky fingers when they promise, right?)

So let it go. Instead of fighting them, burning in fury, let us inhale and exhale. After a big flame ignites, only ashes remain. Let the world in yourself. Forgive them and yourself as well. Be inundated.

Just drown.

<밑바닥에서>

In English, it would mean Rock Bottom. This reminded me of Eminem’s song with a similar title, Rock Bottom, but the content was clearly different. While Eminem’s Rock Bottom was a young adult enflaming in wrath, disgusted at injustice and poverty, willing to “f- the world”, Tablo’s song is more like an apology to his wife.

Tablo is a graduate of Stanford University, having Master’s Degree on English Literature. This was a great merit for a Korean musician. So he was able to express his talents before a big audience earlier than other musicians of his age. But as always, haters gonna hate no matter what it does. Some people, probably jealous, formed an internet café for the purpose of criticizing Tablo. They made futile efforts to prove that his degree was fraud, along with his other achievements. They wanted to take down his wife as well, even though it was just past honeymoon.

It must have been hard for Tablo, but especially for his wife. So this song is like an apology at the very bottom of his and her life.

“Every time you smile, I feel guilty. That smile could’ve been wider. You say everything’s ok, but I guess that’s what I just manage to give you. I wanted you to take my half, but not the half of my sorrows. I’m sorry that this roof of our house became your ceiling. I’m sorry that I am your umbrella and rain.”

Horrible translation, but this song would touch anyone who catches the context of apology and guiltiness.

.

<Airbag>

Airbag. How is it different from seatbelts? An airbag is a vehicle safety device. It consists of a flexible envelope designed to inflate rapidly during an automobile collision. Seatbelts secure the driver against harmful movements. But the two have some big differences.

Seatbelt is a strict and hard piece of cloth that secures, restricts the user’s movement for the user’s safety. Not only that, it is used quite often by drivers. Whenever the driver uses the brake is too abruptly, or the car behind slightly bumps, seatbelt is used.

But not airbags. One never sees airbags too often. Airbags activate only when a great impulse is done onto the driver. It is used when a big accident that shouldn’t happen is already occurring. It does not restrict; it lets the driver absorb the same impulse, only which it lets the driver take in such impact with slightly longer time.

Tablo uses this metaphor in his song Airbag to depict the sorrow he feels during his life. The song is a soliloquy of a man in a taxi cab after work. He observes the view outside the window along with the taxi driver.

The taxi driver is upset at a friend who refuses to drink with him. Ironically, the driver has put a photograph of his family on the car. The driver is obviously avoiding to go home. Then the speaker in the song raises a question. Why do men wander? Is it because there is no place to go? Or is it that there is no one to welcome them? I believe these questions would have incised Korean boys and men.

For boys, they would feel loneliness from circulating academies and schools. Surrounded by cut-throat competitive peers and demanding parents, they would feel there is no one to welcome them. Same for fathers. After a long day's work, his wife is sleeping, while the sons are busy studying. The loneliness is far greater than housewives who at least see their sons during the day. Very Korean emotions. And Tablo expresses it pretty well.

열꽃. I don't think there would be any other foreign language that has words particularly describing baby's measles by using the concepts of heat and flower. The word holds  connotation of a suffering of a very vulnerable person, like a child. Maybe Tablo wanted to express his sorrows of becoming a man with a family from a young adult.

Lyrics: ★★★★★
Beat: ★★★★★
Overall: ★★★★★

Reading Journal-One Thing in Common

One Thing in Common

From the very introductory part of this story, or the first thirty pages of the novel, the boys reveal their weaknesses. Unlike the average children of their age, they all bear wounds from their family. Their family members are all dysfunctional, and all of them seem to give bad influence towards the children, each and every one of them.

Gordie, who appears to be the main character of the novel, is a late born from his family. He has excessively old parents who don’t care for him, and a dead brother. His brother was a perfect son, who was tall, strong, smart, obedient, and warm. Because of his age and such characteristics, he overshadowed his brother. This is rather obviously portrayed when Gordie identifies himself with the Invisible Man.

Teddy is physically defected child with low intellectual abilities. The fact that his eyesight is bad is noticeable, but more important is that it is his father who fries Teddy’s ears and makes Teddy deaf. Teddy’s father is a respected social figure who “stormed the beach at Normandy”. Although he has such experiences, he shoots cats, lighting fire in mailboxes, and abuses his own son. The parental figure who should be a role model for his child not only is negligent, but is abusive towards his own child. Oddly, Teddy shows respect towards his father. This respect does not seem to be authentic. Although his intellectual capacity is limited, Teddy knows his life is miserable, and this can be proved by his habit. Teddy has a strange hobby of truck-dodging. It is facing a truck coming towards him and dodging it by few inches. He has bad eyesight, and Gordie narrates that it would be a matter of time of Teddy getting hit by the truck.

Chris is a typical result of a malfunctioning family. The description of his brother’s future shows what will become of Chris in the future as well. His father “beats the shit out of him”, and he is suspected for the theft of milk money. His arm and wrinkles are broken from his father’s violence.

It’s not yet clear what story Stephen King would make with these boys, but it seems clear that the peculiar similarity between the main characters would definitely relate to the plot of the story.

Explaining my metafiction-Window Glasses

It's extremely embarrassing to explain my own works, but I believe my meta fiction is very unclear and opaqre. What would be the meaning of creative writing if I fail to communicate with the readers? So I think it would be better off to cite some sources to avoid plagiarism, and explain the intent of writing such a long, boring and chaotic story.

Here are someworks that helped me write my metafiction (or maybe works that I misused) :

<Books>

Roland Barthes, Mythologies

Stephen King, Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption

John Story, An Introductory Guide to CULTRAL THEORY and POPULAR CULTURE

<Poems>

Youkyuong Lee, Chain of Thoughts in a Rainy Day

<Songs>

Tablo, Home



<Poems>
I used the expression of "melting glasses" after reading my peer's sonnet. I thought it was my expression, but come to think of it, it was from my good friend's poem. So that would be an answer for Mr. Garrioch's question of "Is this story original?". Half from her and half from me. I used the expression, and tried to develop it into a story, which seems comparatively poorer than the work of my friend's.

This is the original text of her sonnet.Chain of Thoughts in a Rainy Day

The windows in the house are melting down

Around the curtains weaved with drops of rain,

Which blurs creations shown in trickling pane,

Dissolving everything that’s in the town.

The fact that rains are cold is clear and plain:

The heat is what makes nature dripping hot;

The cold should make events that heat makes not.

So how rain melts things, I cannot explain.

Maybe the god who looks upon us lot,

Found out the world in such polluted state

That he himself with holy water great,

Is melting dirty skins with coldness hot.

But I am in my house with steaming tea,

Which cannot even melt the throat in me.

<Songs>

The metaphor of house and loneliness is what I took from the song above. I thought the expressions used in the lyrics of Tablo was excellent, so I dared to use the metaphor. The part where he compares other's thoughts and expectations as piled newspapers and mails perceived to me as the punchline of the whole song. You can play it if you want to. It really is a good song.  

In overall, I tried to describe sadness and loneliness as the protagonist's home, and window as a part of the house and a potential passage outside as well. If the rain comes and the window melts down, the protagonist would be free from his house and would take a walk outside.

Metafiction-Window Paine

Window Glasses

"Window glasses cry every night it rains. Trickling water-drops soak the windowsill while the glass melts down. The transparent being covers itself by moist; it's always cold when window glasses cry. The window keeps me safe and isolated at the same time in my house from the outside world. Window is the lens I see through, it is a part of my doorless home. Part of my home. Although I'm cringing in the blankets on my bed, I can still feel my limbs hardening from low temperature. The thoughts of her keep pulling under. I wish the bed can sink my body into the mattress.

The clock strikes three. I’m still in pain as blunt as blue bruises. My brain is pounding like others’ heart, when mine stays still. I got out of bed. I faced myself outside the window. Although transparent, it was wet with rain trickling down the glass."

Definitely unsatisfied, I put down my pen and stared blankly out the window. The sky was cloudless, filled with dust-scent nostalgia. Children were running through the dirty, dry  asphalt trail, stuffed with garbage. The children were shouting incomprehensible words. I did not understand their shoutings.

I frequently smell memories, and the scent drifts me away to a specific point of time of perceiving a similar scent. Today, what I was smelling until now was dusty playground and a lonely child, so it was impossible for me in the first place to write about melting window glasses.

“Have you ever experienced an icy yet sunny day? It is a winter day when cold wind blows but sun blazes right behind your head. I was the only black-haired in my class, instead of whitish-yellow. The color black absorbs more sunlight than whitish yellow…How cold it is within the hearts! While it scorches on the head, the body shivers! And the scent of sand and dust blundering unwashed clothes and skin…disgustingly beautiful.”

I never expect others to understand my affection on scent. Any and all smell is fragrant to me. They have stories within. My stories. Each and every one of them is unique. I stop think of the day when I had to cross the dusty, empty playground in unwashed school uniforms, while nose runny and grains of sand dancing in my mouth. It was a sad day. I expected no one in home and no one beside to walk home with. The sunset was irritating as well. The smell of sunset with a pinch of sand from an empty playground is the most depressing smell one can imagine. Yet I love the strong impulse it gives to my stomach. Sad scents pulls me under.

Thinking of those, I got nostalgic. The scent of sadness may be the color of sunset, dark yellow, while the scent of nostalgia that comes right after sadness is……sky blue. But this sky blue is different from what we congregate usually with that color. It’s darker with a shade of blue, and it makes me feel the scent will go on endlessly. Despite the feeling, I already know that this will go off right after the moment I swallow the apple juice right beside my hand.

The artificial sweetener scratches my throat while it feels my nasal skin with the scent of powdered cherries. They are fiery and juvenile, somewhat green-handed in satisfaction. Although I do not go along with his sexual preferences, I believe my affectation towards all scents is similar to what Humbert felt towards his nymphs. "Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins…” They are what I exactly think of my memories associated with fragrances.

Apple juice made the playground distant, far far away. I felt more of writing about window glasses. The monsoon period makes sunny weather cloudy. Clouds are harbingers of cappuccino and melting glasses. Children stopped running. They seemed to look up at the ominous clouds swarming over their heads. Worried shouts. Although I cannot distinguish what words they use, I can sense their tone of voices. This time, it is apprehensiveness. Maybe words aren’t important. Maybe the primary messages signified by the words aren’t important as well. Maybe, maybe there might be a secondary process behind the words. A social yet nonverbal, poetic and lyrical transaction that makes communication truly possible. Words tell nothing. The context does. The smell of words, maybe the words are unimportant, nothing but flesh, while the smell or the social message conveyed is the true essence of communication.

“I read from somewhere about communicating between two individuals. It said language is like a cup yet filled with water. Whenever I knew you were thirsty, I poured my water into a cup. I gave the cup of water to you. You should have drunk the water, but not the cup. But should that have meant that the cup is unimportant? I knew not the answer before. But I know now. They are equivalent. I tried to deliver the water, the warmest of all, through a disfigured, porous cup. Whenever I filled the ugly cup with warm water, what you held in your hands was an ugly cup without the water. My messages were meant for you every time, but they weren’t signified. I hope you’re able to drink this water now.”

Now it’s raining. Somehow children’s intuitions are always accurate. Window glasses melt even now. But these days it rains less. The glasses melt less. Someday when my window glass fully melts down, I will take a walk outside. Along the non-arid, quenched asphalt road, I shall gaze upon the garbage flowing downtown, absent from the trail that I walk on. Only if, only if it rains enough to melt down my window glasses.

“Why do I sink even into the shallowest wounds? It’s always dizzy when I step over the threshold. The line that I feel comfortable. It is to protect myself from others. Let the mails and newspaper from them pile up untouched before my door. I prefer the usual depression than unfamiliar happiness. Let me breathe. This is my home. Leave me alone.”

Fragrance recalls memories. Memories recall emotions. Emotions convey the context of those incidents. The context relates those impressions to my present state. Memories vary, but my emotion doesn’t. They have been consistent throughout my life. The meaning of our words stay unfixed if let alone; but the context of saying it, the memories, makes them lively, making the communication and sympathizing possible.

Window, part of my home, starts to melt down again. When will it disappear? On a rainy day, I might be able to walk freely down the moist trail.... Only if...

"you visit my loneliness of blue walls and dusty floor along with your apple hair"

Response to Kim Ki Duk's movie

Two herbs may look alike, but one can save people, while another can kill. The movie shows of how same hands of a person can both save and kill another life.

As a young boy, I used to make cynical remarks at others or make them look funny by pointing out mistakes. When my classmates made a mistake on drawings, I used to tease them about how it looked absurd. When my friends raised their opinions, I used to criticize them as harshly as I could. Especially during my middle school years, I learned debating earlier than other kids; and that made me more cynical and arrogant. To be frank, while doing so, I felt strong. Even though I was no better than my peers, they restrained from saying their opinions in front of me, and I liked how my friends followed what I insisted. For me at that time, it was my way or the high way.

However, there was one place that I could not enact in such wrongdoings. It was my home. My father was an extremely authoritarian man; and he used to make hurting comments directed to me in general. There were no exceptions within the family; everyone was subjected to his harsh remarks, and I was not the only one afraid of it.

Once I realized how my way of speaking was identical with my father’s, I started not to speak. I opened my lips only when it was necessary. Instead of speaking so much, I shut my mouth to every conversation that I was supposed to be in. I listened to what others said, followed to what others insisted. I almost always nodded to other’s opinions and followed whatever it was. A year passed. I thought I made much improvement from a person twelve months ago.

But I was wrong.

Instead of hurting others with my tongue, during the year, I had been hurting myself by not saying what I had to say. I became to have difficulties in having personal conversations with other people, or make frequent eye contacts whenever engaging in conversations. I have become a “docile body”, kind and obeying, yet dependent and juvenile.

From the moment I had my second acknowledgement, I started to speak again. Of course, I tried not to make harsh remarks or be cynical. I wanted neither others to be hurt as my friends were in past nor as I was in a more distant past. Although I still had hard time making eye contacts when talking or engaging in friendly, personal conversations, I begin to speak again, in a manner that ordinary people would.

It took me some time to realize the simple fact. Two kinds of similar herbs, but it make two distinct results on other lives. Two types of talking, two distinct influence on others. I wouldn’t be able to forget this for a long time, maybe until the last day of my life.

Window glasses

Window glasses cry every night it rains. Trickling water-drops soak the windowsill while the glass melts down in cold fury. The transparent being covers itself by moist; it's always cold when window glasses cry. Although I'm cringing in the blankets on my bed, I can still feel my limbs hardening from low temperature. The thoughts of the day after tomorrow keep pulling under. I wish the bed can sink my body into the mattress.

The clock strikes three. I’m still in pain as blunt as blue bruises. My brain is pounding like others’ heart, when mine stays still. I got out of bed. I faced myself outside the window. Although transparent, it was wet with rain trickling down the glass.

Reluctant, I sat on the bed, by putting my feet on the floor. Facing the floor, I thought of the big and small mirrors around the room. They must reflect the wet and moist glass on the window. They must thus become wet and moist, just like myself.

Sir Ken Robinson's Misconception

Jumping to Conclusions

            I wonder if Sir Ken Robinson, a respected intellectual in the fields of education ever received school education, which he claims to be so detrimental for the creativity of children. Even we set aside the underlying assumption that creativity is the utmost important value for education, his interpretation and arguments are vulnerable to numerous doubts. He fails to accurately analyze the characteristics of schools, explaining the hierarchy of subjects, and doubts on epiphanies of children in general.

             Sir Ken Robinson points out mistakes should be generously accepted in case of children for the sake of their development, hence "we are educating them out of creativity" from "School kills Creativity". He argues that since school in the status quo fails to do so, school kills creativity. This is not true. National education system does not always work in a way that thinks mistakes as worst mistakes. There are free response questions or document based questions even in the standardized tests. Not only that, in case of France, students are all required writing essays about philosophy and various subjects. United States also encourage group discussion and presentation in schools as well. Even if there are such issues to a certain extent in the status quo, it could be modified to fit the original purpose.

             Because such flaws can be fixed, Ken Robinson is making an exaggeration when he leads this argument to the conclusion that school “kills” creativity. If Sir Ken Robinson were to argue that non-acceptance of mistakes by schools is a proof to school killing creativity, he should have proved of how this non-acceptance is an inherent trait of schools in general, or schools that he wish to discuss about. It would be possible to make a premise that school had killed creativity of students, but it would require more elaboration to state school “kills” creativity.

             Not only that, Ken Robinson seems to have a misconception regarding the idea in the hierarchy of academic subjects that the school deals with. He seems to believe that since Math has most class hours a week, it is at the highest position above other subjects. He claims that such phenomenon occurs because Math subject is the most popularly used when children grow up and make money. According to Ken Robinson, children learn math because math is most needed in industrialism.

             Is this true? Do lawyers use pole coordinates to create a strong case? Do newspaper editors decide which article to post by using trigonometry? Rather, it can be said that Math is taught frequently because it is related to increasing student’s logic, and essentially related for advanced studies for many other areas such as social science or natural science. However, since such contents are challenging and time-exhausting. Mathematics is not superior to other subjects; but there are many other factors such as its relativity to other subjects on the reason it has most lengthy hours. Amount of hours cannot be a foundation of concluding the school putting hierarchy between subjects and therefore restricting student’s choice on what to study. Rather, it is increasing the capability for students on choosing which subjects to study on. It widens the option in choosing, because many subjects require basic mathematical skills for advanced studies.

             The biggest assumption that Ken Robinson makes is the claim that every single child has his or her talents. First of all, it has never been proved throughout the lecture of what talents exactly are and how it is existent for all individuals. Because if there aren’t, the current system that gives balanced education on various fields can actually be more helpful. Not only that, even if we concede that children have talent, whatever it is, it can be shown latter time in life. It would be irresponsible to make students choose which subject to concentrate on when they don’t even know what kind of studies are out there. His example of Gillian is not only outdated but also exceptional. Children finding their talents in such young age and finding correctly is a rare case. Until then, children should first know what are out there before deciding which to put all effort on, unlike what Ken Robinson suggests so. Ken Robinson’s request can kill creativity in another sense.

             The purpose of national school system is obtaining knowledge, but more important aspect of it is introducing subjects to the young minds. They learn what social science is, and what a person can do with the study. They acknowledge of what math is like, taking a slight overlook. Compiling substantially professional knowledge through national school system is not the purpose in the first place.

             It is ironical to see a former professor who finished national schooling making lectures on how school kills creativity. Ken Robinson himself is a living counter-example of his lecture. Not only himself, there are many counter-examples around the globe. Also, Sir Robinson makes assumptions and hasty generalizations trying to lead to the conclusion that school kills creativity. It seems that schools can certainly encourage creativity, and had constructed the society until now since enlightenment.