scrolls, summer heat, and my heart

I don't want to harp on and on endlessly about my heart, but I've committed to offering progress checks. Today, I took the subway to Jongno 3-ga Station so I could walk to Insa-dong, the touristy art district, in order to pick up some scrolls I'd had made of a couple lame bits of brush art that I'd done. I probably should have taken a cab: it was a hot, humid, oppressive day, and I had to walk up several flights of stairs to go from the subway station to street level. What happened today was a foretaste of what my upcoming stairs training (starting next week) is going to be like. While I was able to make it up the several flights just fine, my rapidly beating heart cried ¡No mas! when I got to the street. I was able to cross the street (thankfully, the crosswalk was right next to the stairs leading up to the street), but once I got across, I immediately wanted to sit down and rest. I couldn't though, because the benches were a couple hundred meters down the street, toward Pagoda Park (Tapgol Gongweon/탑골공원, a favorite historical spot for old men to sit down and shoot the shit). I eventually found an esoteric-looking bus stop specifically for seniors using the free shuttle bus. I sat there for a few minutes, catching my breath and waiting for the angina to recede, then got up and hobbled onward past Pagoda Park. It was like this for the rest of the walk to the scroll shop: walk a couple hundred meters, then rest. I felt like a 90-year-old and wondered whether this was really my life now. It didn't help that the day was hot and humid: 32°C (90°F). I was dripping sweat from my chin down to my black tee shirt; the stain spread and spread, helped along by the sweat coming out of all of my other pores. I was an undignified, drenched, sticky mess by the time I walk-sat my way to the scroll shop's entrance.

Once inside, I saw the old grandfather I'd met last time. He was dealing with several customers, so he asked me to wait. The shop's front was open to the nasty weather, but at the back of the shop, a strong A/C was blowing, as was a tiny fan on the floor. I stood gratefully in the cool breeze of the A/C as I waited. Two different women were working with the old man today: a young lady behind the small counter and an older lady who also seemed to be helping with customers. A few minutes passed; I didn't mind at all because this was also a chance to give my poor heart a rest. Eventually, the grandfather brought out the scrollwork and showed me what had been done with my lame artwork. The Dalma-daesa (Bodhidharma) scroll looked nice, but I was quietly disappointed to see that the "maniacal horse" scroll looked wrinkled, as if the ironing process (or however it is that they fix the art to the scroll) had gone wrong. I'll be packing this artwork into a larger box with some other gifts as part of a care package that I'm sending to a friend in the States who's on the cusp of getting her doctorate. I would have preferred to send her cleaner-looking gifts.

Below are some pics of the final product. Since the previous lady from last week wasn't there, I didn't bother trying to photograph anything or anyone at the shop. The photos below were taken at my office after I'd pulled the scrolls out of their boxes for my boss and coworker to goggle at. Neither seemed particularly impressed; my boss thinks I got railroaded: I'd paid W70,000 per scroll. The boss, who is a certified art collector, said he'd had artwork put into frames for only W30,000. Anyway, what's done is done. I might not come back to these people for extra scrollwork if my boss is right. Too bad; they seemed very friendly.

what looks like a "jellyfish" knot

After unrolling the scrolls for my boss and coworker, I had to try to roll them back up again. Here's a wider shot of a rolled-up scroll:

Here's a shot of the two scrolls hanging out next to my work station:

Dalma-daesa, First Patriarch of Zen (Chn. Ch'an, Kor. Seon) and father of kung fu:

terrible calligraphy work... why am I sending this as a gift?

And here's the horse, disappointing wrinkles and all:

That little bit of schmutz on the horse's snout had better be lint and not ink!

Anyway, I might see about taking some classes in brush art and calligraphy so I can at least gain some competence in these pursuits before I croak. Keirsey and Bates say that we INTJs like to accumulate skills and abilities. It's true—we do.

I don't know what my friend will think of these gifts; she's free to toss them if she wants. I have no ego about what people do with something I've sent them once I've sent it. I'm also sending her a copy of my tiny book on teaching. In a handwritten message in the book, I told her to feel free to use it as toilet paper if she so desires.

I was a sweaty mess by the time I caught a cab to go to work. I had left in the morning, and by the time I got to the office, it was early afternoon. Sitting in the cab gave me, once again, time to rest my heart and cool down (car A/C), but I did go out at lunchtime to hunt down salads from the local Paris Baguette. I'm thinking about walking around my local park later tonight, but I'm also thinking I might just want to rest and start again tomorrow. I'm back in the office tomorrow, and next week, my boss is on vacation with his family for the first three weekdays. My Korean coworker, meanwhile, is off the entire week. Since my coworker never seems to do anything exciting, I'm guessing his vacation won't involve much more than staying at home. Last year, when he took his family out to the east coast, it rained most of the time, meaning his vacation was as lame as it usually is. Then again, he seems to like things that way: quiet, boring, modest. I can somewhat relate: distance walking isn't the most exciting thing in the world, either. When I walk, though, I refuse to wear any goddamn earphones which, to me, seem to go against the whole point of being out in the world and taking everything in. Why shut the world out with fucking music? Why fill your brain with anything but the nature around you? Music has its place, of course; I don't mind it when it's ambient while I'm indoors. But outside? Keep the ear buds out of your ears and get used to the flow of your own thoughts instead of filling your head with other people's shit.

Grumble-grumble, crotchety old man, grumble-grumble...

So—that's my scrollwork. And scrolls are another thing I'd like to learn how to make. I'd have more control over quality for sure, and maybe I could avoid creating annoying wrinkles.

UPDATE: the schmutz on the horse's nose came off.