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mrkimsays mrkimsays

289 posts   1979 followers   162 followings

R Y K 





Crossing Over.

Be it Supreme. Be it Religion. Be it Juicing.
We are in need to be coddled and reaffirmed. We need someone to tell us it’s going to be ok. We need someone to let us know that we matter. We seek to find relief in our malaise, hands clasped we pray in the name of Yeezus.

We drink our matcha, update our socials and laugh at memes.

The YouthYouth is our new new, they are the ones who hold the answers; so they say. They are uninhibited from yestergen’s burden of social morass. The YouthYouth know all and live free. But what is new today is no longer tomorrow.

Have we been here before, has this conversation already taken place?
We trod and look ahead and then when all else fails, we look above. This is human nature at its most primal.

We consume things in our attempt to retain and control time, to treasure an essence of this romance that is our life which we seek to make unique.

Coliseums, Pyramids, Temples, Instagram. All places of worship.
I suppose in the end we are all unwittingly in this church together.

Bathing in the Light.

Loving Gray.

In these past several months I have subjected myself to manual labor. My hands have been cut, blistered and burned. I have prepped, boiled, baked and fried. I have bleached, swiped, scrubbed and mopped. Each night I felt my body ache with sweat. I put myself through this gamut because I wanted to feel what the make of this American dollar was. What did it ask for those who could only work in this manner. How did these people live, what dreams and hopes did they possess. I disappeared among them and I ate with them, spoke their lingo and observed their currents. It has transformed me and pushed me further to look inward in establishing a new value system; it has strengthened my moral code and tested my stamina. This life is a journey and things come and go which inform you along the way. The kitchen is such a place which will forever change you.

YELLOW BOY. HELLO BOY. Where are you going boy? It'll be alright boy. They didn't tell you you'd be the only one boy. You didn't get the memo boy. But don't you worry, it's gonna be ok boy. The world ain't ready. Just be you boy.


It was early in the morning and I found myself walking through shadowed pavement avoiding puddled concrete. My white sneakers were creased and dirtied. My head hung low as I struggled with each breath to move forward. Something happened tonight. I felt it the moment that last shot of tequila trickled down my throat. It was at The Trees or was it The Shortstop. It didn’t matter really, all I cared for was the drink and from it the feeling of aggression which swelled inside of me, a plumage of faux confidence in my chest, my tongue tasting sour and restless. A bellowing laughter, raised hands, a cigarette dangling between fingers, my smile wide as a cheshire cat. This was Los Angeles, this was my city, city of my birth, city of my origin, my portal, my vessel. /// Click on bio link to listen in full.

Caught a moment. Nature heals all.

Korea. Land of my Father and Mother. Land of my ancestors. Land that is divided of brothers and sisters that I will never know.

Korea has long been a country that has toiled and suffered. Shamanism was its prayer, its conduit to comfort itself. The ritual to speak to the dead, to those who crossed over was known as “Gut” (goot). It consisted of song and dance, masks would be worn to channel to the gods and ask for guidance. As I get older and settle into my Americana label, I struggle greatly. I acknowledge my luck of circumstance, to be educated in western ideology, to have a topographic vantage point, I recognize it and treasure it. Yet, there is always something amiss. I become restless and wonder about the old world. I think of my forebears, I think of their struggles, their pain, their loss. I wonder why was I to be the fulcrum of their actions. How did I come to be here and what was it that provided them strength to carry on.
I am American. But I am also fiercely Korean. I cannot discard my lineage. To do so would be to discard my being. I am in constant search to find such signs, such asks. I know only to be true to what I am. I seek to speak to the gods.

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