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.

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