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Our JxMs

a music blog featuring alternative, indie, local Korean and Chinese music

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All articles filed in busker busker

#tbt: 2012 highlight

By: forourjxms March 8, 2018March 8, 2018
tbt3rd line butterfly, busker busker, mayday, william weiLeave a Comment on #tbt: 2012 highlight

Highlights of 2012, featuring Mayday and Korea’s annual spring anthem.

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tbt3rd line butterfly, busker busker, mayday, william weiLeave a Comment on #tbt: 2012 highlight

mixtape: season transition

By: forourjxms September 30, 2017December 17, 2017
jxm mixtapesastro bunny, autumn vacation, ayal komod, busker busker, cheeze, julia wu, monni, no party for cao dongLeave a Comment on mixtape: season transition

A mixtape of summer days to autumn nights.

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jxm mixtapesastro bunny, autumn vacation, ayal komod, busker busker, cheeze, julia wu, monni, no party for cao dongLeave a Comment on mixtape: season transition

@jaziimun

My first ever blackout poem, published in Acta Victoriana back in January 2015. ๐Ÿ˜ฌ
โ€œBut what is memory if not the language of feeling, a dictionary of faces and days and smells which repeat themselves like the verbs and adjectives in a speech, sneaking in behind the thing itself, into the pure present, making us sad or teaching us vicariously...โ€ #juliecortazar
Strangely, today amidst my happiness I thought of you for a moment and felt a twinge of guilt that life flows on and I can gather in abundance even though I also hold you, my strange and lovely void. I am still trying to untangle the words I want to give you so be patient with me. In the meantime, since I am still a sojourner, may I love the things I love more fiercely because I knew you. May I laugh more carefree and protect more firmly with your uncertain smile and delighted laugh in my heart. I hear it is world suicide prevention day today so I am writing this for you, but every day, may I stand in the way of someone else and their despair, whatever that may look like. May I forgive myself more so I can hold the world like a peach bruised in my palms. May my words echo with the life of hope you lived while in my vicinity. I hear you still, singing your heart. May we sing together again some day; whole and full.
from Week 2 of ๅ–ฎ็จ Sunfish. If you want to hop in on this 4 month zine series, you can sign up at the link in my bio^ ๐Ÿ˜Œ
homecoming.
ๆˆ‘ๆƒณ็ถปๆ”พ็š„ๅญฃ็ฏ€ๅฟ…็„ถ็ตๆŸใ€‚ๆˆ‘ๆƒณ่Šฌ่Šณๆ˜ฏไธ€็จฎ้ŽๅบฆๆœŸใ€‚ๆˆ‘้ก˜ๅœไธ‹่…ณๆญฅ่ฆ‹่ญ‰ๅกตๅŸƒ่ฝๅฎšใ€‚ๆˆ‘้ก˜ๆ„ใ€‚ๆˆ‘้ก˜ๆ„ใ€‚ // I gather that blooming season must end. I figure the scent of flowers is a way of coping. I am willing to bear witness to dust settling. I am willing. I am.
following the lights on to the next door, to beyond the door, from frame to frame.
Starting โ€œๅ–ฎ็จ / Sunfishโ€, a new weekly zine series about my time in Singapore, running from now till the end of December. Will be releasing via my tinyletter so if youโ€™re interested, sign up at the link in bio ๐ŸŒธ
็ˆฝ ~ ่‰ๆฑๆฒ’ๆœ‰ๆดพๅฐ

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snippets. ์–ด์ œ๋ฅผ ์‚ด์•„๋ดค๋‹ค๊ณ  ์˜ค๋Š˜๋„ ์•„๋Š”๊ฒŒ ์•„๋‹ˆ๋‹ˆ๊น. - 1) scenes of korea: hanok village by an artist who told me comforting words when everyone questioned my choices; my dream place for a break by an artist who came here for the first time; familiar landscapes by me. - 2) two years of promise that finally came true. holding my biggest burden and my dearest love. - 3) learning the beauty of our hands, molding earth, building strength with air and water. recognizing imperfections and anticipations. and remembering to breathe. - ์ฒœ์ฒœํžˆ. ์ˆจ ํฌ๊ฒŒ ์‰ฌ๊ณ . ์ฐจ๊ทผ์ฐจ๊ทผ.
this summer. - โ€ข ์ƒ๊ฐ์ด ๋งŽ์•„์ง€๋ฉด ๋งŒ๋“ค๊ณ  ์“ฐ๊ณ  ๊ทธ๋ฆฌ๋Š” ๊ฒƒ์ด ํž˜๋“ค์–ด์ง„๋‹ค. ๋ช‡๋…„๋™์•ˆ ์‹œ๊ฐ„ ๋‚ญ๋น„๋ผ๋Š” ๋“œ๋ผ๋งˆ๋Š” ๋ฐ”์œ ๋จธ๋ฆฌ์˜ ํœด์‹์„ ์œ„ํ•œ ํ•„์ˆ˜ํ’ˆ์ด ๋˜์—ˆ๋‹ค. โ€ข ์šฐ๋ฆฌ๋Š” ์ˆ˜ ๋งŽ์€ ๊ฐ์ •์„ ๊พน๊พน ๋ˆŒ๋Ÿฌ ์ฐธ๊ณ  ์‚ฐ๋‹ค. ๋ˆ„๊ตฌ๋‚˜ ๊ฐ€์กฑ์— ๋Œ€ํ•œ ์•„ํ””์ด ์žˆ๋‹ค. โ€ข ๋‚˜๋ฅผ ์œ„ํ•œ ๋ˆ„๊ตฐ๊ฐ€์˜ ๊ท€ ํ•˜๋‚˜๋งŒ ์žˆ์–ด๋„ ์œ„๋กœ๊ฐ€ ๋œ๋‹ค. ์นœ๊ตฌ๋“คํ•œํ…Œ ๊ทธ ํ•˜๋‚˜์˜ ๊ท€๊ฐ€ ๋˜์ž. โ€ข ๋‹ต๋‹ตํ•œ ๋งˆ์Œ์€ ์†”์งํ•˜์ง€ ๋ชปํ•ด์„œ๋‹ค. ์ œ์ผ ํž˜๋“ ๊ฑด ๋‚˜์˜ ์ง„์‹ฌ์„ ๊นจ๋‹ซ๊ณ  ๋‚˜ํ•œํ…Œ ์†”์งํ•ด์ง€๋Š” ๊ฑฐ๋‹ค. โ€ข ์‚ฌ๋žŒ์„ ๋งŽ์ด ๋งŒ๋‚˜๊ณ  ํ•œ ๋ฒˆ์ฏค์€ ์šธ์–ด์•ผ์ง€ ๋‚ด๊ฐ€ ํ•„์š”ํ•œ ์‚ฌ๋žŒ์ด ๋ˆ„๊ตฐ์ง€ ์•Œ๊ฒŒ๋œ๋‹ค. โ€ข ๋ชธ์„ ์—ด์‹ฌํžˆ ์ฑ™๊ธฐ๋ฉด ํ‰์ƒ๊ฐˆ๊ฒƒ๊ฐ™์€ ๋‘ํ†ต๋„ ์‚ฌ๋ผ์ง„๋‹ค. ์ด์ œ ์–ด๋ฆฌ๋‹ค๋Š”๊ฑด ํ•‘๊ณ„ ๋ฟ์ด๋‹ค. ์ง„์งœ ์ข€ ์‹ ๊ฒฝ ์จ์•ผ์ง€. - i need to practice writing more in english. or feeling more comfortable with the language, despite being more fluent in it. but also this wonโ€™t convey what i want if i wrote in english. - 1) watching my friendโ€™s film during work break. 2) walking somewhere. 3) chilling at the park after eating so much. 4) driving somewhere. - ์ž ๊น ์‰ฌ๊ณ  ๊ฐˆ๊ฒŒ์š”.
this summer. - โ€œํž˜๋“ค๋‹ค๊ณ  ์ƒ๊ฐํ•  ๋•Œ, ํ•œ๋ฐœ์ž๊ตญ ๋” ๋‚˜๊ฐ€์•ผ ๋œ๋‹คโ€ ๋งˆ์น˜ ์ง€๊ธˆ ๋‚˜ํ•œํ…Œ ํ•˜๋Š” ๋ง ๊ฐ™์•˜๋‹ค. - photo by jing.
// from summer twenty sixteen - โ€œ๋ชจ๋‘๋“ค ์ž์‹ ์„ ์–ด๋–ป๊ฒŒ ๋Œ๋ณด๋ฉฐ ์‚ด์•„๊ฐ€๊ณ  ์žˆ๋Š” ๊ฑธ๊นŒ.โ€ from ์ด๋ž‘โ€™s [๋Œ€์ฒด ๋ญํ•˜์ž๋Š” ์ธ๊ฐ„์ธ์ง€ ์‹ถ์—ˆ๋‹ค] - ํž˜๋“ค๊ณ  ํ”ผ๊ณคํ•˜๊ณ  ๋‚˜๋„ ๋ชจ๋ฅด๊ฒŒ ๋ˆˆ๋ฌผ์ด ํ๋ฅด๊ณ  ์งœ์ฆ์ด๋‚˜๊ณ  ํ™”๋‚ ๋•Œ ๋‹ค๋“ค ์–ด๋–ป๊ฒŒ ์ž์‹ ์„ ๋ณด์‚ดํ”ผ๋‚˜ - ๋‚˜๋ฅผ ์ฑ™๊ฒจ์คฌ๋˜ ์‚ฌ๋žŒ์„ ๋– ๋‚˜๋ณด๋‚ด๋ฉด ๋‚˜๋Š” ์–ด๋–ป๊ฒŒ ํ•˜๋‚˜
roaming around the city in the heat with no particular destination other than finding good lemonade. because jasmine spoiled us with good lemonade in singapore. - also on that day, i became a flower. ่Šฑ, ้ผป, ํ•˜๋‚˜
first morning of a short escape from work was being on a work conference call at a pretty cafe with cold cucumber soup. - ์–ด๋””๋กœ ์—ฌํ–‰์„ ๊ฐ€๋“  ๋กœ์ปฌ ์ธ๋””์นดํŽ˜๋Š” ๋‹น์—ฐํ•œ ์ผ์ •์ด๋‹ค. ๋‚˜์˜ ๋ฏธ๋ž˜์˜ ์นดํŽ˜๋ฅผ ์ƒ์ƒํ•˜๋ฉฐ, ๋‚˜๋Š” ์‚ฌ๋žŒ๋“ค์ด ํŽธํžˆ ์‰ฌ๊ณ  ์ผํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์žˆ๋Š”, ๊ทธ๋ฆผ๊ณผ ์‹๋ฌผ๋“ค๋กœ ๊พธ๋ฉฐ์ง„, ์˜ค์ด ๋“ค์–ด๊ฐ„ ์Œ์‹์€ 1๋„ ์—†๋Š” ์นดํŽ˜๋ฅผ ๊ฟˆ๊พผ๋‹ค. - photo @ayebbey
// from summer twenty seventeen. - i forget how much my being. my presence. my story. means to those who i never had the chance to spend time with. never had the chance to give back. - ๊ทธ๋•Œ ์—„๋งˆ๊ฐ€ ์นœํ• ๋จธ๋‹ˆ๋ž‘ ๋ฐ”๋น , ๋‚˜๋Š” ํ•  ์ˆ˜ ์—†์ด ์‹œ๋„๋Ÿฌ์šด ์•„์ €์”จ๋“ค์ด ์ฒซ ์—ฌ์„ฑ ์™ธ๊ต๋ถ€ ์žฅ๊ด€์ด๋  ๋ถ„ํ•œํ…Œ ๊ณ„์† ๋– ๋“œ๋Š” ๋‰ด์Šค๋ฅผ ๋ด์•ผํ–ˆ๋‹ค. when i was stuck at grandmaโ€™s place watching unnecessarily loud and rude men questioning a woman who would soon become the first female foreign minister.
burden(some) // what burdens do you carry from your family, your cultural history, your lived experiences? - much love to @artstartsto for believing in this project that @ayebbey and i have been holding dearly in our hearts for awhile. - we hope to create more safe and welcoming spaces like these. where we can open ourselves to each other. where we can lend our ears to each other. - first photo by @jingdraws.
burden(some) // our stories and experiences became beautiful clay tiles which, together, became even beautiful art. - many people have commented on how everyoneโ€™s tiles are so unique despite all of us having shared the same spaces. but despite collaborating together to reimagine our burdens, we all hold unique stories and experiences. - first & last photo by @jingdraws. (seeing myself in jingโ€™s photos have been helping me feel okay with being on camera.)
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