Tuesday, 24 December 2013

Busan: Urban Jungle (Christmas Melancholy)

Smiles wherever, smiles are free. Jungle life for the Christmas tree. Blue moon, blue sod, blue wind; fighting through the flesh, diminishing strength, and solidifying procrastination. Nampo-dong, how I miss thee.

A cup of cake, a Red Velvet, and an ever-friendly face. Is it true? You are my saviour, my light, when all else faded. Why. Why you. Why did it have to be you?

How close was I to sin when the tape ran smooth on my prickly and battered fingers? Weeks and weeks I laboured, and weeks I endured the wrath of longing. The moth torched her wings when I ignited it ad hoc. It was not my intention. It was all for the subject of love. 

And now it's over. The lights have come. We run away from things which we quickly realise are nothing but herrings. Christmas in Nampo-dong is for love and healing; but my heart is reeling, and my tears are killing. It's over now. Or is it?

Is it the love that I feel which is inextinguishable? Mioseon. Charm. Tough as nails; collapsing the gumption we both shared overnight, over time, over love, over me.

Then here lies Seomyeon, all Christmas-less. Like the tides of Valentine sweeping through the valley. Tip, tap, boom. You reckon no less than a shot of soju would silence the pain, but no. Tip, tap, kaboom. Everything else, everyone else, is gay and lolly.

Not me. No, no. I cannot feel it. Not now, not then. Only within the crevice of the hoi polloi do I manage to flounder about my folly, tinkering other people's humour with my own insecurities, sheltering myself from the borderline violence burning deep inside. Let's not dwell on the past, please. The future is ripe for potential. 

Pampering complexities, making each and every move a go-to memory. There is less and less to see, and more to feel. So much more. It ends. It all eventually ends. We all die, and we all lived merrily after Christmas. So much for the vibe of the Seomyeon youth. We all live to make sacrifices bearable to the human soul. Pain, anguish. Blue moon and sod and wind.

Merry Christmas. I miss you, love.

Saturday, 21 December 2013

Busan: International Party

It gets easier. But not as easy and as perfect as the fantasy shapes itself to be. Hardly anything that comes out of the horse's mouth turns into an orgasmic shape of affection and trust but instead of travesty and more torture. To top it all off, I clamour for the next high, or low, depending on one's point of view.

It's mental exhaustion. I don't think January is a time where goodbyes will become a forlorn thing. Indecisiveness, which has quite intermittently become a common denominator of my minute existence, serves as the main catalyst for the recipe of disaster that is about to be concocted. And every single person I meet over the course of these three months will become an accessory to this vile foolishness.

I went to Lzone again to pass my time. Having no cash with me is a primary reason to go about it. It was well worth it. I learned a couple of pointers on how to go about the remaining days of my stay here. Who knows where that takes me? Nothing makes absolute sense in my life anyway. Not without the passive guidance of Mioseon, unfortunately. It just feels a wee bit unfunnier. Same faces I've met, same unreasonable grunts and pauses. There were some cool breeze at moments and some cute ones as well, though none which threatened the foundations of my beliefs. I wish it would. I wish it'd change the foundation of my being. Not anytime soon, I reckon. Some eccentric ones were there, which I hoped never to happen again. But if it should, I hope it serves a purpose.

The Russian one seemed most interesting. Only because me and the guy from Detroit asploded our minds with this person's fucktardedness. And he seemed like a great source of evil, which can be useful in a way. I could use me some evil from time to time. 

I ended up squeezing what time was left being in a group of people wanting company and we sheltered ourselves from the cold inside a Lotteria. Only then can time pass ever so slowly. And it's fucked up because time spent inside a PC bang goes by so fast. Now I'm inside a PC bang without a single pence to pay, and I'm like a retard because this stuff is the stuff of nightmares. How will I solve this predicament? Who the flying fuck knows?

Let's find out soonafter. But only after I sleep for a bit. It's getting late and tiresome. I can only last for awhile before I pass out again.

And I'm once again a Top Writer for 2013. Unrecognised, yes, but still a privilege. Congratulations to my fat fucking wanking face. Have some dignity.

Four days until Christmas, and Mioseon Park is nowhere in sight. 

Thursday, 19 December 2013

The Happiest Me

The Happiest Me

Busan: Troddling in Hadan

2:46 AM here. What am I doing? I have no fucking clue. What's my plan? I have no fucking clue. What am I waiting for? A miracle, that's what I'm waiting for. A goddamn miracle.
There is no light at the end of the tunnel for me in this city, and yet I clamour every single day for two months now. What it is that I am searching for I always tell Rina that it's destiny that I'm waiting for, bursting from the tip of my tongue and into my heart, to calm the nerves and to waver my suffering from this godawful situation. Like Johnny in Naked, I gallivant to allow the opportunity of life to pass me by, to give meaning to the bits and pieces of nothingness that surround not just me but everyone else around me. It's funny, sometimes I want to lean to God for guidance, but what can that do the reality of the situation. If it was meant to be, it's going to happen either way.
Will I ever hear from Mioseon again? I was watching old videos of us in Youtube. A ceremonious celebration of a bygone 'wedding' as we were traversing Inveroran in Scotland. Her palpable kiss and cold, tough face leaning on mine. Would I be burned to eternal damnation for wanting another chance at such rush of emotion? She no longer needs me now. I cannot for the life of me move on.
The sights and sounds and spirit of Christmas does very little to help. This angel has flown away from me. I should have clipped her wings and made all attempts to make it last an eternity. A lifetime of joy with the company of such beauty. Park Mioseon.
But no. Everything now is retarded from here on out. And I cry just a little.

Busan: Nearing Christmas, Missing Mioseon More and More

Hi there.
It's been a weird week for me over here in Busan. Literally nothing happened. No memories made whatsoever. I spent it all thinking about heartbreaks and miseries hiding in a hole within a stall in Seomyeon. Penniless and free, there is nothing productive about me at all. I'm dreaming of winning it all, winning the world over, winning Mioseon back. Winning mostly the impossible, I guess.
Christmas is coming soon. How can an alien fool like me spend it in the warm company of this city? The dry cold has nothing to offer but regrets, mulling and weeping over past mistakes. 2013 has been the worst year so far in my life. Love makes everything so complicated and painful. Tomorrow comes a new weekend and nothing awaits me but envy. Why should I be envious of other people's joy? Why is everyone seemingly so gleeful despite the cruel hams of this glorious local society? I met people on Monday that may matter, but not in the long run. My trousers haven't changed since then. None of us or them truly matters.
I have to start walking again. My dire mission is getting terribly exhausting. I need to find joy in the company of the self. The me, me, me. This desire to share companionship with others crumples my every desire to move on. I'm just hoping that perhaps one day Mioseon's fear of me will subside and she will, by herself, learn to smile at me once again.
I'm a cruel man in a cruel world. There is no bad thing I've done here in this city that I truly regret. But most of what bad things this place has done me is unforgivable. It makes a good man turn bad. We haven't thought this through enough. I need to arm my emotions to the teeth, be strong, and believe that good things can still happen to those who suffer the most. I'm lucky to miss out on hunger even though I am starving at the moment. I have had kimbaps over and over again, cheaply made and terribly taken.
I'm so sorry for everything, Park Mioseon. Your fear of me is too painful to bear. I wish I could change your opinion of me just as easy. You seem much happier now, much more than I could have ever done for you. So beautiful and divine.
If no amount of sorries please your fear of me, know that I am always here with open arms for your friendship and voice. None would please me more that to simply just hear from you absent pain.

Wednesday, 11 December 2013

Busan: Gussie Fink-Nottle

Sabrina and I are finding a way to go to Seoul with minimal costs for just a short amount of time. A Christmas visit, 'tis all. Bored out of our wits, I would say. There are plenty of things in Busan but nothing that concerns us now. I have no clue what to do and even as we speak I find myself stuck inside a PC bang here in Seomyeon for almost 36 hours now straight. I need to find a way to return to my Hobbiton soon.

Desolation of Smaug is coming to theatres soon. It was almost yesterday when me and Mioseon watched the first film at Odeon in Leicester Square. It was a lovely evening.

Lately I've been binging on Jeeves and Wooster to pass my time. Cheerio.

Tuesday, 10 December 2013

Busan: Moving on is never about moving on

Staying in Seomyeon is not as merry as it should.

It only feeds my sadness more. I'm always thinking about what Mioseon is doing at the moment, or if she is still scared of me for some reason. But she apparently moved on, seems like. There is no indication she hasn't. And if for some fault it is only in my part that I cannot find a wonderful future then this indeed is a fucked up life. I came to Seomyeon in part of Sabrina's charm and to cool off from that one weird incident. 

Nothing happens here. But last night I've been told by the trendy and fashionable citizens of Busan that I am also fashionable and trendy in a more sincere manner than I've ever had, albeit showerless and stink-prone.

Sunday, 8 December 2013


After the incident last night with Mioseon and her father and all, I woke up feeling wheezy and tired and I just had to let it all pass for some time. A wee bit of time off. Sabrina and Oliver and me planned to go to church. Spoiler: We didn't go. Oliver did. Sabrina and I found ourselves stranded in Nampo-dong, finally. After a long, long time.

It was nice to show her around Nampo-dong, Rina and I. Felt a bit local-ish for a few minutes. A true Nampo-saram, felt like. Of course I just had to show her BIFF Square. The busy, bustling street food scene and the market vibes of Busan during Sunday overwhelmed us both. We did quite a lot. We started with coffee and a cupcake in dear, old Red Velvet. Nice to see familiar faces roaming about. Kinder ones now, unlike the passively hostile ones in Sinpyeong. 

We walked quite a lot going from here to there. I kept on searching for the banana-que that was supposed to be near Bupyeong but I could not, for the life of me, find it. We saw waeguks like us practically everywhere, and they all looked like backpacking hermits to me. One was on her phone crying as if some guy just left her on the spot to rot in the deepest corner of depression after arguably a mild breakup. I would know, mine was a mild pain in Mioseon's eyes. In my eyes, she's Cruella de Vil. And I'd make spots with her hide should destiny permit me. 

But I love her still. It pains me to no end. The wavelength of the mood I'm in gallops from good to bad, better to worse. The conclusion is nearing its end, I should reckon. Right before I depart, a legacy will be fulfilled, and a grudge paid in weight.

After me and Sabrina failed to find the unusual banana, we went for a long stroll around, looking for white people bread and took a slice of white people waffle made by a Korean street person. Technically speaking, it no longer was white people waffle but something else entirely different. I was just glad to see Sabrina smile over a piece of crappy bread. Then we ate some shit at a pojangmacha outside CGV near Jagalchi. The stale soup they had, while still stale, was orgasmic with its warmth and aftereffect. I was in love. Five tiny cups of it just wouldn't do. Not even tteokbokki nor the kimbap matched the hype that this stale free soup brought to my soul made my day any better. It was a good treat indeed.

We made our way back towards the big Christmas tree in the middle of Nampo-dong, where people gathered for something, a show perhaps. Free tea around the corner made me giggle reminded the tender soup I had earlier. But Sabrina's discontent with its taste left a bad impression on me. Never touched it since then. Left it on the floor and ignored while we watched a very long and torturous Taekwondo show on stage by kids and adults with missing chromosomes alike. Boring and cliche. Why hello. Yes? I'm in Korea, we should watch a Taekwondo show. Wow, sounds great, but how about no?

Probably an hour or more passed and I was glad that the show ended when it did. Nothing much to see afterwards. Pizza awakened our desire. The search for good bread earlier didn't do much to quell our appetite. Made our way to a pizza place. Had spicy chicken pizza. A fucking tiny one at that. Went to the bank for a reload. Then finally brought our asses back to Central Busan.

Or more commonly known as Seomyeon. Rinatown as I like to call it. 

I'm about to sleep somewhere and I can't sleep. Why? Because I fucking stink like shit and I don't have monies. Fucking hell.

Things relevant to the discussion:

  • Finally got new glasses.
  • Got a new planner. A second one. More portable this time.
  • No new trousers.
  • I stink like my ass and your ass stinks.

Saturday, 7 December 2013

Busan: Mioseon hates me


I saw her today at half past five. She was beautiful as always, wore the classiest getup I've ever seen her sport, and she was walking towards the tube station heading towards somewhere. This was my opportunity to try to speak to her for probably the last time, but when she caught a glimpse of me walking towards her, she just dashed madly towards the first taxi she saw. 

There is no end to this pain, I reckon. She's never interested in wanting to explain why it has come to this. 

By the time she was about to come home at around eleven at night, she probably asked her father to fetch her and he eventually caught on me, like I was some kind of a criminal. I walked away not wanting any commotion and they met and went home soundly. 

Why can't these people just understand my misery? I need answers to move on. I need help the only way I know how. 

She's probably moved on farther than I have ever been. Safe in the arms of someone else's joy. My joy is tucked beneath the madness and suffering of those that have found true love and lost it. My life will never bear meaning as much as it did with the time I spent with Mioseon Park. I don't know if there ever will be a time for reconciliation and understanding. Or if I get another chance. All I know is that I'm running out of time. Three months in South Korea has been an extremely hostile experience for me. One that will always scar me for the rest of my life.

And I am excited to come back here one day hoping to turn what once was shit to gold. 

Monday, 2 December 2013

Busan: Muse

Back to where I landed. There's been changes. Nothing changes. She's there, not there. I don't know. Sometimes I can feel her through the window and that feeling is defenestrated by the desire to do something else less boring. She haunts me, all the time, even while I slumber. When I do remember her, a cocktail of rage and love concocts itself to provide me a dose of sadness.

December, promises.

Search and destroy