I was sitting at the Lonely Hearts Club the other night and thinking it's time to go. Making friends is getting harder every year. I feel like that guy in college who didn't have the good sense to graduate in four years and now is pushing the ten year mark and failing to understand why no one wants to talk to him anymore.
I've worn out my welcome, it seems.
So I met the Musician and his beautiful daughter for lunch on Saturday, which was my main event on Saturday. We went to the Canadian Mexican Restaurant (work that out) and talked for a while. We both get it both being older and being in Korea for a long time. The teachers are getting younger every year.
"Part of it is the immigration law changes," says the Musician.
"I just can't relate to these kids."
"I just want to be able to meet someone my own age. Do you know how hard it is to meet someone your own age that is not Korean?"
"Do you know how hard it is to sit down in a bar and discuss philosophy with a bunch of English majors?"
Sometimes it seems to me like the new crowd can barely tie their own shoes. These are people that were born in 1985. I remember, vividly, 1985. It's not a year I want to relieve. Yet 80's parties have become all the rage on dull nights in Daegu. When did this happen.
When did I get cantankerous. I don't feel old usually, unless I'm hanging out with someone who is 22, that works miracles on my sense of time. I was sad to see the Musician head out. Open Mic at the Lonely Hearts has gotten later and later until now must nights people don't start singing until almost midnight.
I thanked the Musician for the espresso machine and we walked through the park together with the daughter heading towards the great big bell.
Open Mic changed this week for Christmas so Tuesday night I went out to Lonely Hearts mostly for some quite figuring there would be no music before I wanted to leave. I was pleasantly surprised by the sudden opening of two young Korean musicians on their guitar. The first, a young lady, played some beautiful Korean tunes with such feeling. Her eyes closed the whole time as she skillfully plucked the strings, making her guitar sound more like a harp as she sang the mournful melodies, the shouting, clapping barking refrains.
She was followed by a young Korean guy who on occasion plays barbacks at the Lonely Hearts. He pounded out riffs and shouted, his voice raising, his music reminiscent of a Korean Curt Cobain for me. It was lovely.
I sat alone in my dark corner and listened, happy for the music.
The Musician flew out of Korea yesterday but the music and Korea will go on. I just have to find a new place in it again.
A new place that will have more espresso.