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Konmarinated

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Does this spark joy? I asked myself, reflecting on the meaning of lifelessness. I was lying in a ward at Kurume University Hospital, recovering from an extremely improbable accident that the sensationalist Japanese tabloids reported as follows: SUMO SCENE: Entitled Wannabe-Travel Writer Crushed by Sumo Champion – Shocking Photos! So, I was a convalescent, wrapped in bandages from head to toe like a mummy. Bored, I waited for the moment I could continue my journey toward the promised land of Tokyo and its lucrative job opportunities. I feared the wait would be long, so I was determined to use the time productively. I reached out my trembling hand toward the table beside my hospital bed, where someone had thoughtfully left a book titled “Kurashi at Home: How to Organize Your Space and Achieve Your Ideal Life” by Marie Kondō, a self-proclaimed tidying expert. To pass the time, I read the book, and before long, I felt the teachings of tidying and sparkling joy flow through my veins, lifele...
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There's Something About Sumo

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When one thinks of sumo wrestling, the first image that springs to mind is a massive man, clad only in a loincloth, wrestling another man dressed just as sparingly. To some of us, this sight is baffling; to others, it is thrilling; to the Japanese, it is business as usual. Sumo wrestling is, after all, the national sport of Japan, and even the ancient Japanese… Okay, this is how my latest article – "Sumo Summa Summarum", sumo wrestling in a nutshell – begins. Since I’ll be staying here in Japan for a while, I figured I might as well try to write some articles in my notebook about local curiosities and see if I could sell my stories somewhere. A penniless writer must seize earning opportunities with an open mind. I spent a day acting as a scarecrow in a rice farmer’s field, and as a reward for my trouble, I received a free ticket to a local sumo event. During my long years of lifelessness, I haven't shown the slightest interest in any national sports whatsoever, but since ...
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Mangamania

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I am at the wrong end of Japan. By my calculations, it is about 1,200 kilometers from Hirado to Tokyo. A long, long way to walk. As an artistically trained, unemployed cultural influencer, I cannot afford travel or accommodation, let alone silence the growling in my stomach. I am at risk of having to rely on the kindness of strangers, and riding that particular streetcar does not feel very appealing. I must devise a way to earn some pocket money if I ever hope to reach the capital. The fellow I met in a restaurant yesterday promised me a place to stay for the night at his apartment. While he sleeps off his hangover on the hallway floor, I climbed up to the attic. It’s  cozy and warm in here, and there are also piles and piles of some kind of comic books. My host seems to be a manic collector. I haven’t read many comics, but a true writer knows it is always worth reading everything possible. Perhaps I’ll learn something.  I’ll take a look at one random issue that I picked up f...
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Sake for Goodness' Sake

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Finally, dry land beneath my feet! My departure from Tsushima was a swift one; I leaped from a cliff into the sea, swam freestyle for dozens of kilometers, got tangled in the propeller of a passing fishing boat, spun round and round, and once the boat reached the harbor and the worst of the vertigo subsided, I finally managed to pry myself loose and ended up… right here. It looks like Japan, it sounds like Japan, but is it Japan? I am soaking wet and covered in seaweed. I look like some mythical sea monster from local folklore! Squish, squish goes every step. I’ll try to wring the worst of the water from my robe and find somewhere to warm up. Over there seems to be an inviting, if slightly shabby, restaurant. It is already late, but the door is open, so I’ll step inside and go straight to the bar to ask where exactly I am. O.G. Ghostwriter: Excuse me, where exactly am I? Bartender: You’re asking me where you are? O.G. Ghostwriter: Yes, where am I? Bartender: Have you forgotten whe...
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Ghostwriter of Tsushima

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I have washed ashore on the island of Tsushima after a gruesome sea voyage . While slumped over the railing, I did some thinking and made my decision: I’m going to Tokyo to earn enough money to pay the electricity bills of my manor back home, so I can return to Finland and continue my literary career. Traveling the world is starting to get a bit tedious. This constant "seeing and experiencing new things" is keeping me from actually writing my own books!  Strange place, this Japan. Down at the harbor, some lunatic shoved a samurai sword into my hand and told me to defend myself against the invading Mongols. Someone’s clearly missed their meds today. As if there were packs of bored, aggressive Mongols just wandering around Tsushima. What would I even do if I ran into Mongols? Follow the samurai code of honor and fight bravely, or disgracefully attack the enemy's rear, murdering and looting? The things people come up with… But at least I got a cool sword. Whoosh, whoosh! I’l...
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On My Way to Japan

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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 ...
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Jeju Jejune

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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...
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