It’s a bright sunny January morning and I’m doing laundry. The laundry room has a balcony and I step out just to smell the dryer exhaust, warm and fuzzy in the crisp blue air. I’m upstairs now listening to the radio waiting for the spin cycle so I can put my pants in the dryer. I hardly ever listen to the radio, except for when I can’t figure out what to put on my CD player which as you might have guessed holds three disks.

I make up my own words to songs. Hold me closer, Tony Danza. That one I know is wrong and I always knew was wrong but I still sing it that way anyway. She’s Got a New York nose, she’s got Bette Davis’ eyes. That one I thought was right. My reasoning went like this: if she could have Bette Davis’ eyes, she could have a New York nose. For Madonna’s Ray of Light song, I like my lyrics better: 羨nd I feel like a disco ball’ makes so much more sense for that song than 羨nd I feel like I just got home.’ And I swear Juice Newton requests, 遷ust brush my teeth before you leave me, baby.’

In my speakeasy days I had a friend who we affectionately called Drag Annie. She was all woman but she looked and acted and talked just like a drag queen. And there was no convincing her that the words to Whitney Houston’s song weren’t 舛limb every woman.’

Karaoke, at least when I was there, was incalculably popular in Korea. The occasion usually required being rip-roaring drunk. I don’t like singing but I soon learned that everybody was so drunk nobody cared; and besides that, at least I had the right accent for it. My friends and students sang English songs. It was a little funny that the karaoke video for every song looked like early 80s soft core porn. It was really funny that the Karaoke companies always always mis-translated songs. “It’s the hide of the tiger. It’s the chill of the fright. Rising up for a right for survivor.” Good times.

SS