What’s my Crime?

A series of unfortunate coincidences that made me think of amor fati and my own self-representation (a serious case of bad PR) has caused hell and havoc within the confines of my mind. That I was somehow grossly throwing out slanders into the world and hurting people in ways I didn’t even know. That somehow even though my physical presence wasn’t there, this person could still feel me lurking around trying to pick a lock (okay maybe this is true). That I was using sacred and meaningful words and attaching them to the river Po or a peach pastry so that if you took the association two steps further in the wrong direction, it’d be covered in shit and I’d be eating it. That simply knowing I’m out in the world eulogizing a remembrance not even my own but of someone else’s love story had to be stopped, silenced. That I was some Louise Joséphine Bourgeois spider trying to weave myself into a narrative I was left out of and seeking young blood.

Paranoia, as though everyone was in on it, friends and strangers alike. When your upstanding friend’s 2-year-old daughter and a Greek art blogger with sexual tendencies both start telling you hand is foot, something is up. This innocuous and rather naive blog with writings of E. M. Forster daydreams, came alive in the most macabre fashion. And these people seemed angry, ready to send me to prison.

I kept looking where I shouldn’t, it had become an habitual tick. It had been going on for years but things changed last year when more antagonists entered the picture and I soon realized I wasn’t the only one who knew some version of the story. The general consensus seemed to be “You’re Calypso thinking you’re Sicily.” I can see how insufferable my IG account would be to someone who believed this. I kept looking in the same place for a different answer, but the light in which I was seen never changed but the way I was seeing myself was changing. I was starting to feel the most negative and at times positive emotions in the most real ways.

The entrance to the prisons of the Palazzo Ducale are blocked with lines of shore excursion tourists from the steady stream of cruise boats parading into Venice. It’ll be a long time on the Bridge of Sighs before I ever get in. That is why I couldn’t see the catacombs of Gente di Palermo by Gordon Douglas.

 

 

 

Advertisements

Eating Well in Frankfurt

As my friend saw me off on the train back to Berlin, she wistfully said, ” I hope your train ride is like Before Sunrise.” To which I replied, “You haven’t seen the people who sit next to me on trains.” Instead, my Deutsche Bahn train got delayed almost until sunrise and so I got a 9 EUR refund.

I had spent part of the weekend in Frankfurt asking her to help me deconstruct a music video in which a wolf was following a lady in a blue dress. Then I threw in an extra variable of Phrygian mythology into the mix in which a man becomes like a woman or dresses like a woman. Listening to myself, I realized this is really hard to explain. I had the feeling I must be the wolf scared off by the sound of music and then left on the road as the car drives off. And if one wolf wasn’t enough, I saw another one looking straight into my eyes, telling me sweetie pie, you’re the wolf honey bun. The second she-wolf was this pseudo-cinematic poster for Ed Aktins’ Corpsing exhibition at MMK.

When we walked into the exhibition, my friend noticed the artist was born in 1982 and said, “He was born in 1982 and already in a museum. Johanna, we’re losers.” I replied, “He’s ‘one of the greatest artists of our generation.’ ” I told her it might be difficult in the beginning to understand but after about 20 minutes, it will start making sense. Every 5 minutes, I checked in to see how bored she was, “Are you okay?” She said, “This guy is the king of depression but I like the song.” Song went something like this,” I didn’t know… I didn’t know how deep I had gone…” The avatar sang this as he sank deeper and deeper into acts of depression while his body started to decompose until finally a sinkhole (that was unknowingly present the whole time) opens up during an earthquake and swallows him and his world whole. The next day while we were driving through the city, I heard my friend humming a tune and realized it was the depressed avatar song.

Her son was now 3-years-old, so after I bought him some coloring wall stickers and a coloring poster I asked her, “Does your son like to color?” “I’ve never seen him coloring.” “Oh, what does he like?” “He wants to be Darth Vader.” So when my wonderful coloring gifts were revealed, all three of us (Friend, Dad, and Me) made an effort to get him to start coloring. He made like three rough up and down motions with a green marker outside the coloring lines and then started yelling, “Badminton, badminton!” However, I didn’t want to stop coloring but felt I had too. Then, the dad got out the badminton rackets, but the boy kept missing the birdie. My friend then turned to me and said “See, can’t color or play badminton.” “So much energy…” “This is nothing.” Then, the son started yelling, “Darth Vader, Darth Vader!” So the dad got his black cape, mask and lightsaber, fastened the cape, handed him the mask and the lightsaber, and then he presented himself to me as Darth Vader.

The next day the whole family and I went to brunch at a Japanese/ French cafe. After a few bites of peaceful eating, the son’s head erupts. He starts coughing, then his nose starts running, then tears start streaming down his cheeks and then he vomits. His dad catches the vomit in his hands as I quickly pick up a plate for it to be disposed. The two of them immediately head home but my friend barely even freaks out. “Your son’s head just erupted!” “Happens all the time,” and she goes back to eating. Just the two of us now, I start telling her of this video I posted on Facebook and got a Durex condom advertisement in my newsfeed. But right as I start telling this, my friend calls which I ignore because I specifically told him I would be busy visiting a friend but accidentally took the call so he hears the first half of the story. Astonishing how much I was able to communicate in just under a minute.

unnamed-8

Say Hi To Your Bathroom

I said goodbye to a bathroom. Without my glasses, I had to pick up every single toiletry item to identify the brands that took care of your body. I took a whiff of your deodorant, opened a jar of gel and used your lip balm. I carefully placed every object back exactly where I had found them. The star of the bathroom was your perfume. Standing there with nothing to do, I suddenly became mischievous and inspired, I blame it on the Campari. I placed what was inside and put it outside, I took what was above and put it below, I made what was lying down upright, I turned your shampoos that were facing one way face the other way, I cleaned what was stained with toothpaste and made it look new again. I wondered if you would get the Warholian joke. The only thing I didn’t touch was your toothbrush.

The Remembrance of Crêpe Past

For someone my memory was encapsulated in a banana and chocolate crêpe made by a young Canadian girl in York who loved Europe.

In the city of York this past week, a long lost friend ordered a banana and chocolate crêpe and experienced a Proustian Madeleine journey down memory lane. At the end of it was me, my 22 year-old self making waffles at the Belgian Food Company on Oxford Street.

I wondered of all the experiences we had shared, how had I become associated with a crêpe. Both forgotten to each other for the past 6 years as he became a husband and then a father and I had unconsciously practiced the art of forgetting our real chats and gchats, I combed gmail manually in search of remembrance when I came upon the Madeleine memory in my gchat. The actual memory had been 14-years-old but the retelling had only been 7.

Friend: Tell me a story
Lol
in the movie
Where the wild things are
The mother has a bad evening and asks the boy to tell her a story
Me: Sorry my computer froze then I had to restart, etc
story what kind of story
Friend: I thought u signed out without saying bye again and I was sad
Me: the other times its because you hadn’t answered in like an hour
Friend: Yeah I guess
 Tell me any story
 A sweet story
 I’m having a Sunday evening panic attack lol
Me: Panic attack
Friend: I often have emotional tsunamis on Sunday evenings
 I’ve had them since I can remember
Me: Fictional or non-fictional story… now i can’t think of any
Friend: I feel like I didn’t accomplish enough this week and I have general feeling of fear and angst of starting a new week
Me: What were you suppose to accomplish, you mean at work
Well, remember how i used to work at the Belgian Food Company in London?  making waffles
Friend: Oh yeah!!!! What about it?
Me: Well, three years ago this guy emails me, tracks me down from online articles I had written because he was trying to find someone who had worked at the Belgian Food Company and it was close to Valentine’s Day. He emails and says that he wants to know how to make waffles like the ones sold at the Belgium Food Company because those were his girlfriend’s favorite.
Friend: Wow lol
Me: But wait… the story gets better… essentially, they didn’t have alot of money to travel and had worked and saved but still couldn’t really eat out and i guess do anything luxurious while they were traveling so it turned out that the Belgian waffle was one of her favorite meals in London and he wanted to recreate the waffle and put an engagement ring in it to propose but he couldn’t get the waffle right and so he had tracked me down. Unfortunately, I had to tell that I didn’t actually make the waffles but that they were pre-made. I was however able to tell him the dough had chunks of sugar in them and that the trick was to have the dough at the right temperature.
Friend: Boo
And?
A-ha
And did he get it?
Me: I don.t know if he was ever able to make the waffle just right…
Friend: Hehe
Me: Oh, he had been working on the recipe for like a few weeks before he contacted me.
Friend: Amazing that he actually hunted u down!

The Korean Drama Doormat to Dream girl Challenge

In Korean dramas, the falling in love happens over the course of dozens of episodes so that one or both of the characters have plenty of time to witness and experience internal qualities that inspire love such as bravery/integrity, kindness/generosity, strength of character or proof of love. Intelligence or wealth is typically not a mandate for a woman. What is more important is that she works hard (round the clock) and has good intentions. (The evil girls are always the lazy ones but good at strategy) Since most Korean dramas are contemporary fairy tales being spread throughout all of Asia and into Asian communities all throughout the world, many female protagonists are typically older than the men, lower in social status, underemployed, not stylish, not a bitch, low on prestige, socially awkward, too nice and depending on whether we go into the tragic genre (divorced with kid) or fantastical (sees ghosts), things could be even worse. Meaning in the real world, this girl would be a high potential doormat.

And that is how the story begins… these dramas take on the ultimate doormat challenge like Lena Dunham takes on body image. The lessons are twofold: girl needs to find herself but the guy needs to realize love may come in unexpected forms. Here are some case studies:

  1. Master’s Sun: The college-educated, chronically unemployed girl now moonlighting as a cleaning lady as she can’t hold down any other job because she see ghosts and they’re always giving her errands to run. The ghosts end up making her look like a ghost by inducing insomnia as she walks around pale with the largest dark circles around her eyes. She becomes the dreamgirl for a CEO whose commercial properties are haunted by ghosts.
  2. Flower Boy Next Door: The freelance copyeditor who no longer leaves her apartment and lives draped in a sleeping bag surrounded by a mess of books and empty water bottles. She is voyeuristically in love with her neighbor Rear Window style binoculars and all when one day, the guy’s brother finally notices her spying. The extroverted self-proclaimed cupid is able to bring her life back into the outside world again.
  3. Marry Him if You Dare: 32 year-old call center worker not confident enough to pursue her dreams of being a television writer has no clue what kind of future she is stumbling into. It’s so dire her future self finds a way to time travel back to the present to bitch slap her into another future.

Instances of love at first sight are rare in Korean dramas as they suggest superficiality which is all too prevalent in the real world. However, it is also an avenue of love formation that needs representation and examination and this scene from Marry Him if You Dare is possibly the best example I have seen in a Korean drama.

The scene represents a turning point for both characters. One is on the brink of suicide and the other on the brink of falling in love. The movement from one end to the other is brilliant. She solemnly sleepwalks toward the ocean in her PJs looking like someone who has lost her mind. He sees her and immediately picks up the phone to dial for security to report a potential suicide attempt. However she stops in her tracks and then he retracts from his call. The scene now becomes inspirational. Both are unsure what he or she will do and the viewers are also unsure what is going to happen. She now becomes a muse causing him to pick up his art medium, the video camera. She in turn does what she is best at (until now), getting distracted into silliness as she notices the cutest illuminated goldfishes and starts to play with them. He now has his video subject and zooms in on her scar… a signal that he finds it beautiful. She somehow gets inspired to be fearless and takes off her shirt to dive into the ocean and really play. At this point, he stops recording as he doesn’t want to to be perverted but remain a gentleman. She has chosen life and he has fallen in love.