O.G. Ghostwriter

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...

I was wandering through downtown Seoul, minding my own business, when a passerby thrust a coupon into my hand, entitling me to a free visit to a local beauty clinic. Well, as a frugal ghost, I try to utilise every discount coupon and offer I come across, so I immediately set off towards the clinic. I had read articles about Korean cosmetic surgery. Beauty procedures are widely accepted here; they’re practically mandatory. It’s not uncommon for relatives to gift money to young university graduates for cosmetic surgeries. Pretty face, pretty future! My own future is already behind me, but I'd personally prefer a smaller nose and fuller lips over a Moomin mug as a gift any day. Having witnessed this lifelessness for so long, it's time to start investing in my appearance. Maybe if I were even more handsome, I could finish writing my book. Upon arriving at the clinic, I informed the reception desk that I had come to utilise the coupon I had received. I asked what the catch was with ...

Annyeonghaseyo!  I’m still in Korea because, surprise, surprise, I can't afford the return flight ticket back home. I might as well get used to the situation; travel broadens the mind. During these past few weeks I’ve learned a lot about this completely unfamiliar culture, and also a lot about myself – for instance, that I cannot stand traveling! I’m constantly thinking about my next meal, constantly fighting with homeless people over a park bench to sleep on, and let me tell you one thing: when it rains, it pours. So travel broadens the mind, while making you soaking wet, unrested, and hungry.  And what’s even worse is all I can think about is my home manor, and the fact that my ghostwriting business is in ruins. AI has taken a large portion of my old clients, which means the sound of my fax machine beeping is a thing of the past. My own book writing isn't going that well either. I keep submitting my manuscripts to publishers, but they won't touch them with a ten-foot pole...

Dear Diary! I am in Korea for reasons you already know. Hanging out at the subway stations has allowed me to focus on the essentials, namely writing my latest bestseller-to-be, "K-Style Tips for Fashion-Impaired Travelers." Here is a small excerpt: "In Korea, the favored dress code is primarily black or white, possibly grey if you happen to be in a particularly wild mood. Travelers dressed in white sheets can therefore breathe a sigh of relief, as wearing your signature outfit will ensure you blend into the enviable crowd of style icons as easily as matcha powder into hot water..." Pretty good stuff, huh? It's guaranteed to fly off bookstore shelves faster than you can say: Buy my books, because I desperately need the money!  Speaking of matcha… I am currently writing this diary entry in a trendy cafe like some chic modern-day ghoul, and I'm just going to say, the cafe business has gone to hell! I tried to order a plain coffee with milk, and I was asked if I...