Poetry Break: "Sigmund Freud's Impersonation of Gerry Bevers in Korea"

Insooni

(Image from CoreanBigSis)

I had some fun over at the Marmot's Hole on Sunday. Gerry Bevers, the resident Dokdo scholar, reminisced about meeting the Korean pop diva Insooni many years back, at a time when she was still suffering prejudice from being half African-American and hadn't yet made such a big name for herself in Korea:

Insooni was once my partner on an SBS variety show called "Show, Seoul, Seoul," back before she married. She was really friendly and talkative. In fact, we were reprimanded a couple of times for talking while other performers were singing.

She seemed to want to get married at the time and told me that all her friends were telling her to marry an American because of the prejudice in South Korea.

And in response to skepticism on the part of a fellow who goes by the mysterious moniker "Q" (perhaps for "Quizzical"?), Gerry added:

She told me she was open to marrying an American. In fact, I got the feeling she was hitting on me.

"Q" retorted:

This is an ultimate psychoanalytic revelation of Gerry's mind. 떡 줄 사람은 생각도 안 하는데 김칫국부터 마신다.

The Korean expression posted by "Q" translates as:

Even though the other person isn't thinking of offering ddeok, he's already drinking kimchee guk.

The term ddeok refers to a sticky rice cake, and the expression kimchee guk refers to the 'water' from non-spicy "water kimchee". When one eats the dry, sticky rice cake, a gulp of water kimchee will help wash it down. The meaning is that Gerry Bevers is jumping to an unwarranted conclusion, e.g., Insooni hadn't even gone out with him on a date, and already he's thinking that she wants to marry him. That was the impression that "Q" had, at any rate.

Meanwhile, Gerry had composed a poem:

A few days ago, I was thinking about the beautiful sycamore trees that lined the street in front of my apartment in Incheon. I sometimes got caught in the rain and took shelter under one of the trees near the traffic light on my street. Thinking about that, I wrote the following poem last night.

If I were a leaf, I'd want to be
One of a sprawling sycamore tree.
Then under my soulful, silent shade,
Young and old could drink pink lemonade.

Summer showers go splitter splatter,
But under me it would not matter.
My friends and I would be broad and green,
Stopping the raindrops while staying clean.

I think people write poems to express pent-up feelings that cannot be easily expressed in other ways. It does not really matter if anyone understands my feelings, as long as I feel the release of expressing them.

At this point, I couldn't restrain myself from joining the fray and thus wrote my own poem as though I were channeling Randy Newman speaking for "Q" pretending to be Sigmund Freud impersonating "Gerry Bevers" writing a parody of Joyce Kilmer's famous poem, which I titled:

Sigmund Freud's Impersonation of Gerry Bevers in Korea

I know I ne'er again shall see
That lovely lady Insooni.

Ah, how I wish my mouth had pressed
Against her sweetly flowing breast;

That goddess breast I'd watch all day,
And lift my longing arms to pray;

A breast that might in summerwear
Get tangled up within my hair;

Upon such metaphors I've lain;
But my whole life is filled with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God made Insooni.

All in good fun, Gerry, and anyone else who might conceivably take offense. I'm taking the piss out of everyone, but especially myself. After all, "Poems are made by fools like me . . ."

As for Insooni, you can listen to her . . . instantly, loudly, with pop-up, here!