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Notes from the Korean Wilderness [entries 4-9]

September 17, 2013

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[4]

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but today for the first time I got really bored.

Bored of fixing the cappuccino machine.

Don’t feel like writing or filming anything.

What’s the point?

My nearest neighbour is four kilometres away. And he’s an asshole.

There’s always the internet or the phone, but…

I’m just gonna write the first thing that comes into my head. Who cares? And then I shall focus on losing my mind. All of it.

That would take care of the boredom at least.

 

 

[5]

What am I…

What…

What am…

What am I doing in these damn woods?

If I stay here long enough, perhaps I’ll go mad?

Make a video, film it, send it to Cannes.

If I don’t, they won’t know I’m mad.

Has anyone ever done this before?

I hope I’m the first.

Gods, I need to write something.

Did you know I lived in Hong Kong for five years?

I thought about this earlier.

Not sure why.

 

 

[6]

Ever since I remembered my time in Hong Kong, I’ve been thinking about my own Koreanness.

If I had to quantify it, how much would there be?

There are others like me, about seven or eight that I know of. But seven or eight does not make a country.

Therefore, are we really Korean?

Still no word back from Cannes.

What, did they not get it?

If that agent of mine fucked things up again, I’ll take him to the cleaners.

I’ll take him outside and bury him in the woods.

If I’m doing this for nothing, I’ll go mad, I swear it. Madder than Mads Mikkelsen with Stellan Skarsgaard on his head.

That was a good line.

I should put it in the next film I do.

Gods, who’s watching them anyway?

What’s the point?

There’s no point in anything.

Wait, did I send a film to Cannes? I can’t remember…

 

 

[7]

Okay, I wasn’t going to write this down, but it won’t seem to leave my mind so…

 

There was a knock at the door about an hour ago.

I was resting on the couch, thinking about how pointless life was, and when I heard the knock, I was a little slow to get up and answer it.

Okay, I ignored it for a few minutes, hoping whoever it was would go away. But then I thought, who the hell could it be? My nearest neighbour is four kilometres away, there’re not many people who know I’m here, so who could it possibly be?

But then, when I opened the door, there was no-one there.

If it were a normal house, if I were still living in the city, I would have gone back to the couch and forgotten about it, but this is the wilderness. If there’s a knock at the door, you know damn well someone’s there and they’re there specifically to see you.

So I went outside onto the porch and looked around. No-one there. No car parked on the path, no bike or helicopter. I went to the edge of the trees and walked about ten metres into the forest, and then circled round the cabin. Still no-one there.

It’s been an hour since that happened and I’m still shaken up. Well, maybe not shaken up. It’s hard for someone like me to be really shaken up about anything as I don’t really care if some mad fucker breaks in and chops me up with an axe. Okay, I care enough to fight back, but I won’t lose any sleep over it. That’s just me, that’s the way I’ve always been.

But who the hell was it?

Now that I think of it, there’re only three people I think it could be.

1] My agent

2] My son

But either of them would surely call first…or at least stand still until I answered the door.

The third one is the strangest, but why not?

3] An alternate reality version of the actress I almost killed, only in her reality, I did kill her.

In a weird way, I do feel like I’ve killed someone now.

I’m sure it’ll pass.

All I have to do is turn the camera on and film something.

 

 

[8]

What if…

No, I can’t…

But…

Yes…

What if…

What if I sit in this cabin all day and watch Star Trek forever?

It started a few nights ago. I was flicking through the channels, thinking of calling my son, and Star Trek was on. I hadn’t seen it in so long, so I watched it just to see if it was like I remembered. It was the episode where the android, Data, finds his evil brother and only the kid knows who is who.

It was something seeing space like that. I don’t like to draw comparisons, but it seemed to me like being in space isn’t so different from being in these woods. The only difference is there’re other people on the starship.

I guess it’s a pretty big difference.

But I never said I wanted to be alone, did I? I just don’t want to be near other people that I know. I’m sure there are lots of people out there that I wouldn’t mind spending time with. Like the people in Star Trek. Maybe David Lynch and Julio Medem too.

Jim Jarmusch?

No, not him.

I downloaded more episodes of Star Trek. I’ve stopped filming, not that I was getting anywhere, and dedicated myself to watching all episodes of every series of Trek.

I wonder…will it seep into my work somehow?

I called my son too. It’s been a while, but…I suppose it was okay. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t scream at me either.

He’s 21 so…

A 21 year old should probably have more to say. I wonder…has my reputation been keeping him down?

But surely that’s his fault if it has, not mine. It’s not as if I’m in control of the thing. Am I?

 

 

[9]

Been thinking about the son thing again.

Here’s my theory:

I’m in the woods, he’s not, he feels abandoned. He didn’t ask me not to go. Actually, I didn’t tell him I was going.

But then, what does this mean?

He’s 21, it’s too late to abandon him. He’s either ready for the real world or he isn’t.

Some might accuse me of abandoning him earlier.

Wrong. I was always there for him.

Okay, we didn’t always have great conversations, and it was hard to feign any interest in his school activities, but…that’s the same for any parent, surely?

I didn’t walk out on him. That’s a fact. And he always had enough money. And food on the table. Okay, sometimes I was using the table to write scripts, but there was still food. He was never uber-hungry.

There were the films I made. Fine, I’ve been doing them since he was old enough to talk [which he did quite late actually], and…is it really that bad to focus on your work over a small child who doesn’t even have a mind yet?

Really, when he gets older, or when he’s the age he is now, he’s got something of his father to look at and feel pride in. How many other fathers can say that?

None, I bet.

What do those other fathers do anyway? Play with their kid and read him stories and then what? What happens when the kid grows up and wants to know what you did with your life?

‘I looked after you son. You’re my legacy.’

Come on, is that really enough?

You know, if he ever wants to bitch about me, fine. I can take it.

But I’m not just gonna sit there without fighting back. That’s never been my style and it never will be.

I’m sure he understands my position.

Theory 2: People should never be defined by their relationships with their children. Fathers are not just fathers.

When I think about it, and it may sound cruel, but I see my work as more of an achievement than him.

Is it even that cruel? Isn’t it just a level of honesty no-one else is willing to say out loud? I think so.

Making a kid is easy, raising a kid is just random luck. What’s there to feel pride in? It’s almost automatic.

I’m going to stop writing about it now. It’s not a theme I’m really that interested in.

Back to Trek.

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