We are in Seoul for the weekend. Sitting in a Starbucks in Mok-dong, across the road from the SBS headquarters, I see a dumpy dude in jeans and a sleeveless t-shirt standing in front of the gated entrance
I ride my bike to Costco, sporting a big empty red backpack. I get off, stick my ear buds in my ears, my hands in my pockets, and head down to floor B2. It's a weekend,
Lucy is on the phone with her Grandma, the simple one. They talk for a while, in Korean. I'm not paying much attention, but I catch the following. Lucy: Why did you call, Grandma? Grandma (assumed)
Walking through downtown Daegu, I see a man who looks lost. I walk up to him, "Are you lost?" "Yeah," he says, "I'm looking for --" "Forget it, brother,
I get a new pair of shoes. THE new pair of shoes. They are sparkly and red and they highlight my eyes. I look fantastic in them. I AM fantastic in them. And they whistle sweet music when
I'm playing with Lucy. She finds small round piece of plastic, and pretends to put it in her eye. "What's that, Lucy?" I ask her "For Daddy's eye."
Last night I cut up some hot peppers for tokk-pokki before taking off my contacts and going to bed. When I wake up this morning and put in my contacts, my eyes burn a painful, yet oddly refreshing,
God: Hey Mark. Me: Hi God. God: Just a thought, why don't you call your blog 'Stories about coffee'? Me: You think I write too much about coffee? God: You write a lot about
