O.G. Ghostwriter

This isn't what I signed up for.  The plan was to head home to Finland, but there was a slight navigational error earlier. Last night, I was three sheets to the wind and wandering around the Jeju harbor area when I ended up shooting the breeze with the captain of a Japanese fishing trawler. I asked if I could get passage to the Turku archipelago , but the captain heard the Tsushima archipelago . We agreed that I’d clean the deck as payment, and we had already left the harbor by the time I realized I was on my way to Japan! I was in such a rush to leave that I didn't have time to finish this drink, so I brought it with me. It’s not sitting well now that the boat is rocking. If I weren't already ghastly pale, I’d be turning ghastly green.  Oh well, I'll just have to swallow my drink as well as my pride. I'll embrace the opportunities Japan has to offer me. From what I understand, ghosts are particularly popular in Japan, and the country is practically crawling with ...

I feel relaxed… as if my head has been emptied of all thought… I couldn't manage anything meaningful right now… It is March, and here on Jeju Island, spring is showing its first signs. I am still penniless and in debt, but I’m taking a mini-vacation, sipping soju and enjoying the local scenery. The temperature is hardly staggering, a mere eight degrees Celsius. But the sun feels nice.  Why am I here? Well, because I was kicked out in the middle of those Korean gambling games. They claimed I wouldn't let myself be eliminated. That I cheated! Is it my fault the games had a ghost-sized loophole? Being bulletproof, I considered myself the undisputed winner of the stupid money games. You can’t make me any more lifeless than I already am, so just shut your pie hole and give me the prize money!  Well, they ran their mouths for a while, folded me up neatly, and tossed me into the trunk of a car once again. I took a long nap there, and some days later, I found myself on Jeju Island at...

Players, I would like to welcome you all. You will participate in six different games over six days. The winners will receive a large cash prize.  The location of this place has been kept secret from you... Well, here we are then, playing games for money. Boy, that loudspeaker sure is loud! Everything is in Korean, which is all Greek to me. Mr Suit kindly transported me here, released me from the trunk , and shoved me into the care of masked assistants dressed in pink. The assistants tried to force me into a green tracksuit, but I said no thanks. I haven't worn a tracksuit since the 1982 Finlandia Ski Marathon, which I participated in from my living room sofa. The sheet I’m wearing will suit me just fine.  I am player number 313. There are many players here, over 400 by my count, and they’re all gawking at me suspiciously. Haven’t they seen a great artist before? You’d think literature would be more appreciated among this crowd. After all, the Nobel Prize in Literature did rec...

When I was finally released from jail, I found my old “friend” Mr Suit waiting for me outside the station, shivering in the cold and cursing to himself. Having had to wait in the parking lot for the duration of my custody, he’d managed to earn himself both a parking ticket and a foul mood.  I probably shouldn't mention this, as it is a secret, but then again, I’m just mumbling here to myself and absolutely no one cares what I have to say… As he was berating me in the parking lot, Mr Suit told me in a moment of frustration that he is an underpaid jack-of-all-trades for an anonymous Korean gambling organisation. Today his task is to deliver me to a secret location for some high-stakes games. If he wishes to continue his employment and his hobby of harassing the debt-ridden, he must pay for parking tickets, travel expenses and medical bills himself.  Listen here, you little shibal , I said to him, your money troubles are not my problem. So it took a long, long time for me to be ...

I won't be celebrating Valentine's Day this year because I’m traveling. Actually, at this very moment, I’m in a jail cell in downtown Seoul, where I was thrown after a bread-related incident in a park , but at least for once I have a roof over my head for the night.  Spending Valentine's Day in a cell makes me reflect on my own lack of a love life. It’s so nonexistent that if I were to write a memoir about it, it would be... a pamphlet.  There was a time I thought I had found the one. Yes, the memories take me back to Paris, France, in the 1800s. Me, a grumpy yet distinguished ghost coming home from my night shift at the opera, walking down a little cobblestoned alley, enjoying the stuffy Parisian spring air and the uplifting stubbornness of the French, when suddenly I noticed someone waving at me from an apartment balcony. A bright robe, decorated with lace, with delicate blue flowers embroidered on the hem.  Naturally, I pretended not to notice and drifted casually past...

After spending last night here, in this freezing park in the middle of Seoul, a great idea came to me. Since my own writing is on life support and my ghostwriting is deader than I am, bills are piling up like unwanted relatives at a summer picnic, and I myself am stuck on the other side of the planet, homeless, penniless, worthless...    …why not become a content creator? I’ll write a series about my travels around the world and turn it into a podcast, with photos and videos and weekly quizzes! It would definitely be an instant hit. Ad revenue would flow like water down the Han River. I could also sell postcards and calendars. Yes, my lifelessness is famously fascinating, filled with adventures and intelligent conversations with interesting personalities...   Mr Suit: Excuse me, may I have a moment of your time? O.G. Ghostwriter: Huh?   Mr Suit: You look like you’re living a difficult life with no future.   O.G. Ghostwriter: I do? Mr Suit: Luckily I have a small...