the lostiest man

Finished the final novella for this novel. They were meant to just be a meditation on death and what it means to die, what it means to be dead, what happens to those left living. It was supposed to be real, without the magic flourishes. Go back to the Realists, write a realist novel for this millennium. Instead, the magic came right away. The first sentence of the first novella:

The ghosts were a pre-existing condition.

When you start like that, it’s hard to go back. I held the reins in, though, kept them mostly real, the phantastical underneath, only scratched at, but this final part, man, it’s wild and out there and so much magic and surreal imagery, but it’s perfect. I love it. All three novellas. And they’re oddly extremely personal and hit me harder than most anything else i’ve written. Maybe the most honest writing i’ve ever done, which is to say that it’s so sentimental you can taste tears of love. Mine. But, i mean, that comes with it’s own glaring problems, and i’ll probably have to do some heavy editing to make these more than just tearjerkers. Also, man, so much about how i feel about film. It’s weird, how each character took so much from me, or that i gave them too much of my life, even though, really, it’s about so many things that were never and will never be me. And, yeah, this man, Sebastian Falke, the visionary filmmaker, the greatest forgotten artist, all his films lost to time, but his name and touch is everywhere. He’s on every page, though it’s so much not about him. Though, really, each story is a way to retell itself.

And the structure worked out perfectly. I was writing them in chronological order [not on purpose, but just because it worked that way, didn’t even know there was a timeline till i was halfway through the final one], but they’ll be read the opposite direction because it’s better that way. Which means we’re starting in a hallucinatory apocalypse, following an octogenarian from Cannes to northern California, writing the past to life while his memories are stolen away to keep him alive.

I love it. So excited, really.

Anycase, got some money for Christmas and already spent it all on books for my kindle and clothes. Got two new coats that i’m in love with and some other stuff. It was more of an adventure than that, though. It’s been snowing since last night, and Korea’s not used to this much snow, which isn’t really that much, so driving’s hectic. Anyway, started the day by hopping on a bus, not knowing where it went, and my knowledge of the city is more or less nonexistent. Took it for an hour and the bus driver made some announcement that made sense if you know Korean, and everyone got off, so i did, too. Everyone walked one direction, so i walked the other, getting loster and loster till i was the lostiest man in Korea, even though i saw a sign that said Hamyeong[sp?] Market, which i’ve been to before, but i end up nowhere, on empty streets being stared at by the two locals i saw, so i hailed a cab after ambling for maybe half an hour, long enough for my toes to numb, said, Annyeong haseyo, Chishen YMCA gaseyo, because that’s a landmark downtown and i wanted to be downtown. I’m in the cab for all of three minutes because i was basically right around the corner of where i wanted to be. Wander around downtown, buy things, no one speaks english except for one guy in the store who just says Hello, because that’s all the english anyone speaks here and it amuses them to say that to americans and have us respond. It amuses me, too, really. All the children saying Hello! Hello! Goodbye! as i laugh and bumble on past, no direction in mind, even if i knew directions. Miguk, miguk, miguk, gegukjen, gegukjen, Yeah, yeah, that’s me, big foreign blonde fellow, hi, yeah, ne, ne, hi, annyeong, kamsamnida, annyeong kaseyo, ne, ne, bow, only just, kamsamnida.

It’s funny being large here because i’m used to having everything fit me everywhere i go, slight frame that i have. 29 inch waist, probably 28 or 27 now, what with all the weight i can’t stop losing, just about six feet tall, but i’m big. It’s my barrel chest, i suppose, but i tried on a coat and it fit everywhere but was too short. Like, three inches too short. Reached my navel. A coat for babies! And then my chest is too big for some of the coats here. What do you mean this is the biggest size?! It’s a corset! Ne, ne, oppsoyo, ah! hunh, ne! kamsamnida! Annyeong kaseyo!

I’m a large here and a small or medium back home, depending. I feel, for the first time since i was sixteen, that i’m tall. Not big in japan yet, but i will be soon, yet certainly big in korea.

New Year’s Eve tomorrow, no idea what i’ll be doing. Maybe fashion parading in my apartment by myself and reading one of the many books i now own. But, really, i’ll be dancing to this until Monday or until i die.

Till next year. I have some articles to write for ThunderDome, so look for that.

Sleep well, Star Child.

my words as an answer to the question you forgot

Craig Wallwork interviewed me at his website here. Check out the rest of his interviews and his stories at his site. Man’s a fantastic writer and just a great person in general. Feels odd being interviewed since I feel like i’ve yet to even begin trying to be a writer or whatever it is people should call what it is i do. But, here i am, being talked to.

Been feeling a bit out of sorts for the last two weeks and i think i should blame it on not writing. I’ve accidentally come to realise something too important about me. Luckily i’ve many projects in the works.

I. It Came from The Sea ~ 100k[?], Collection of Novellas
The Girl and Our Star
Once Upon A Time
He Came from The Sea
She Came from The Sea
The Man who Fell in Love with The Sea

II. To Leave Only Shadows ~ 20-50k, Novel(la)

III. The Day I Swallowed The Moon ~ 50k, Novel

IV. Deathwalker ~ 30-50k, Novel(la)

V. Creation Compositions 60k, Collection of Novellas
Creation Composition
Lost in the Woods

Those are the many things i’m meaning to write. Hopefully i’ll have them all done before summer. I think it’s possible, considering that one is 2/3rds done, another is 2/5ths done, and one of those will be done before the new year, hopefully [ideally] this week, which will put me at about 170k words since September, which is no small feet. So, that leaves about 200k words left for me to finish in six months. I think it could maybe possibly be doable. Depends on a lot of things, mostly my mood and its swings. Also, the schedule of life because it’s worthless to live across the globe if you spend all day inside writing. But part of this year is for writing. Part of its purpose, i mean. To have a room in which to write far away from all distraction. Of course, that’s quite a tertiary reason for coming here, if even that high.

Anyrate, adieu!

the strange case of women

I couldn’t sleep and now it’s tomorrow and i fear it means i already lost today’s battle before i was ready to begin it. Not tired, though. Just cold.
Also, tonight, or last night, i guess, time being what it is, persistent, i met the prettiest girl i’ve met in Korea, though Korean she’s not. Another american, but she looks french and i already forgot her name, which is just a habit of mine, not remembering who or what, and i hadn’t even imbibed, just a beer at dinner hours before. She was hitting on me, which is the way i prefer it because i don’t like to approach people, typically, and she was pretty, so pretty, slight with dark hair and almond eyes. She said she liked the way i danced and i told her she was too pretty not to, so we did, but i left early, and i can’t remember why, but my eyes stung from smoke and it was too hot. I wasn’t even in a mood, but i left and i guess i should have a good reason why, but i never do. Was there with three other girls, maybe. Me, i mean, was there with three other girls and, i don’t know, for some reason it seemed rude of me, maybe, so i guess i left because i’m silly and vain. I didn’t get her phone number because i don’t have a phone and can’t remember her name because i never do, but i remember her face, her grace, her charming embrace, and i’m truly a ridiculous man, maybe too lost in a continent where everything’s backwards and the letters are not what they claim, conditional, is what i mean, and i never know where i’m going but i keep finding home in these kind strangers, their smiles and cheers, their laughs and their tears. The sky’s opening and it’s sunrise already, always too soon, and i mention it because it’s why i’ll not sleep till tonight. The sun, i mean, because my entire wall is a window and i sleep too lightly to remain in repose whilst Apollo races cross the fitful firmament.

Oh, to be young! These ransomed nights, these reckless days! She smelt of vodka and the stale smoke that clung to every inch of that filthy bar thick with desire, but her sweat was pleasant and i should’ve tasted it in private, far from prying eyes, but c’est la vie! The life of a scoundrel, never for me, to give love with such ease, an evanescent tease! A gentleman, despite my proclivities, my debauched follies and drunken fits, i remain the fairest of the unfair sex in a world gone mad, starving for sex. I find it distasteful, at times, and maybe that’s why i didn’t kiss her goodnight but i loved her for that moment, which is the way i give my love away, moments at a time that i store and keep, never to slip through my fingers, and often i need not the tangible kind, the temporal love with the moans and the groans and the toes touching toes. A smile, most days, most nights, is enough to keep me warm, enough to keep me coming back for more, but i slept not a wink and so the mind, she races so, back and forth, her hips and her hair, her hands everywhere.

Oh, to be young! To be reckless and free as the person that is me!

hills at dawn

The entire wall of my apartment is a window and i always wake up around eight to see those mountains so close at hand and so green right before me. It’s a beautiful way to wake up.

It snowed yesterday, though. None of it stuck, but it did snow.

Finished a novella this week in about three days. 18,000 words, but i worry it’s too sentimental and doesn’t carry enough weight. It’s part two of three for my Death Cycle centred around the forgotten films of Sebastian Falke, the greatest filmmaker to ever not exist. Mostly, though, it’s about loss and the ways people handle death. The next one’s brewing in my head and i should begin next week and finish it quick like so as to have it done before the new year, which would put me at about 170,000 words written since the last week of August, which is pretty impressive, if i do say so. I’m impressed, anyrate.

The song above, i think, is very much the tone of the novella. The song below, well, it’s just sweet.

i wish she belonged to me

It started as a joke but i do quite like this song and it sets the right kind of mood for something i’ve just begun.

Spent the last two days wandering Gwangju and i still think i’m perpetually lost, but i maybe figured some things out today. Should be getting another article written soon about life in Korea.

Also, began a new novella. News to follow upon its completion.

where i’ve been and what i’ve seen

Man, i let this go so long that i’ve an obscene amount to tell. I’m alive and Korea does have stars, but only a few shine above Gwangju, my new home. I’ve been having a lot of fun and been doing a lot.

To be honest, most of the life stuff about Korea will be going up at ThunderDome, which is a site run by my good friends. The first instalment, which covers my journey from Minnesota to Gwangju is here.

I’ve been published a few times since arriving, too. One, a fun little children’s story i wrote a long time ago is over at ThunderDome, too. Moonchild can be read at the highlighted word.

I had a cool little piece up over at Short, Fast, and Deadly titled All Tomorrow’s Parties. Mine is the last one on the page. Also, my favorite story to be published is up at The Foundling Review. Read Après le Déluge. Exceptionally proud of that one, mind.

Man, i know there’s something else. I should’ve been more prepared to write this. Koreas great, though. Kung Fu Panda’s been on three times in two weeks, all sorts of odd television. The censors make no sense here as full frontal nudity is allowed but cigarettes and guns are blurred, which, yeah, hilarious. But, surely, the funniest part of Korea is that i can’t read Korean and everything’s in Korean.

Been listening to a lot of 16 Horsepower and Woven hand, which are, essentially, the same band. Think of a Denver version of Nick Cave and that’s close enough. Been reading, fiending on words. Going to do some exploring today and then who knows.

The job’s great, too, and i’ll be writing a post about that for ThunderDome as well.

I’ll be sooner next time.