김필 (Kim Feel) - 괴수 (Monster) (Feat. 강이채, 고상지)

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@deadbones
김필 (Kim Feel) - 괴수 (Monster) (Feat. 강이채, 고상지)
circa 2006, in another life with @deadbones
Date: XXX, XX XX 2006 XX:XX:XX To: [email protected] Subject: 오늘 안에 답장 없으면 넌 죽는다!!! From: [email protected]
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Date: XXX, XX XX 2006 XX:XX:XX To: [email protected] Subject: Re: 오늘 안에 답장 없으면 넌 죽는다!!! From: [email protected]
hi Soojung,
why you sent me email? I am going to your house soon. 좀 있으면 볼껀데 왜 이메일 보내고 그래 .-.
My English is not good. It is funny? 헐... 니가 더 웃겨... 니 걱정이나 해, 난 한국에 사니까 영어 못해도 되즹 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ 넌 아마 한국에서 100년은 더 공부해야됨 ㅋㅋㅋㅋ 그래도 너 진짜 많이 좋아졌음! 인정! b(^_^)
Yes, I know 사과. 나 그정도는 알거든 -_- I love apple! 너 사과 알레르기 있으면 내가 니꺼 다 먹을깨~ 죽으면 안 되니까~ 나 케이크도 들고 가니까 아줌마한테 얘기해줘. 빈손으로 찾아가면 예의 없으니까! 난 ☆신사☆라구.... 유 노 젠틀맨??
I didnt forget! Promise는 한국말로 약속이야. What do U want to eat at the 편의점? 비싼거 말구, 나 이번달 용돈 거의 다 썼어 ㅠㅠ 다음에 학교 앞에 분식집에서 떡볶이 사줄께. 아직 안 가봤지? 거기 very delicious 하거든~
I don’t know who you talking about. 나한테 관심있는 People 한두명이 아니니까...☆ ㅋㅋㅋ 암튼 걱정 하지마, 나 공부할 시간도 없는데 내 마누라 찾을 시간은 있겠니 OTL
근대 나도 너 좋아하는 애 한명 아는데 비밀이지롱 ㅋㅋㅋ 약오르지 ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ 나중에 얘기해줄게!
이정도면 답장한거다! 나중에 나 볼때 답장 안했다구 시비 걸지마 ಠ_ಠ
--
~ San Lee ~
날 무시하는 순간, 니 인생은... ‘The End’
이젠, 안녕.
for @rarenight: in which san and soojung finally run out of time.
San had often contemplated what his eventual death would be like. He knew his mortality was more or less connected to the portrait in his closet; ergo, it wasn’t important what happened to him, but what happened to the portrait itself. It was all simply a matter of how and when. All he had to do, whenever he so desired, was get rid of the portrait. It wasn’t exactly the kind of thing he could ask someone else to do for him, so he’d have to destroy it himself when the time came.
He imagined he’d do it after a few more decades spent lazing about and traipsing around the world, once life had nothing left to give him and he had nothing left to return. He’d leave the bookstore to his favorite employee, and all of his money would go to charity (or something like that). He’d like his ashes to be scattered in Russia, but if that couldn’t be arranged for, then maybe a rocky creek in the southern countryside would do just as well.
All of these plans were nebulous at best, thanks to San’s inability to take his own business seriously, but they were plans nonetheless. He figured he still had quite some time to sort his affairs out— after all, he technically had all of the time in the world. One step at a time, and he’d get there eventually.
There was, however, one thing that San failed to consider: nothing in life works out according to plan.
4月12日
전 국민, 아니, 전 세계 사람들이 이산처럼 살고있다고 했다. 사회적 거리두기라... 그에게는 그저 일상일 뿐. 요즘 따라 손님들도 없으니 책방도 잠시 쉬고, 산은 요 몇일동안 집에서 즐거운 백수생활을 누리고있었다. 심지어 다니던 교회까지 잠시 문을 닫아서 집을 나갈일은 거의 없었다. 혼자서 집에있는게 좋은 산은 굳이 격리하는마냥 지냈다.
그러나 이런 고독한 나날들을 함께해주는 동반자가 있긴 있었다.
그들이 처음 만났던 날, 폭우가 쏟아졌다. 황량한 거리를 각자 걷다 마주친 둘은 채찍비를 피하려 황급히 산의 집으로 같이 뛰어갔는데, 그러다 그녀랑 같이 산지 벌써 3년 정도 됐다. 133년동안 해왔던 사랑중 그녀를 향한 사랑이 가장 순수했다.
맑고 초롱초롱한 눈으로 도도하게 내려다보면 너무나 시크한 그녀. 밤에는 옆에 사랑스럽게 딱 붙어서 곤히 잠드는 그녀.
”Les Fleurs du Mal” with the author’s notes
Random question but, what made you choose Catholicism for your muse out of all the denominations of Christianity?
ain’t no guilt like catholic guilt because catholic guilt don’t stop
in the end I will stand over God with a knife in hand because he does not own me.
“ you remind me of the way flowers bloom so furiously in spring. ”
for @eterneli, from this meme status: still accepting if you’re okay with waiting forever
there are few things san finds more fascinating than a new immortal. correction: there are few things he watches more carefully than a man coming to terms with his newfound permanence. half of him perversely wants to watch them make the same mistakes that he did, to see them also fly too close to the sun. the other half of him prays for their soul. byun baekhyun, however, keeps san entirely too busy to do anything of the sort.
chungwoon seems to attract other immortal beings, perhaps because it’s one of the only places in seoul where the antiques being sold are as old as the person selling them. the bookstore is lined with history, the small joys of a past century suspended in the present. when baekhyun sauntered into the store for the first time, slender fingers dragging across rows of weathered spines like he owned them, san simply assumed he did. it never really occurred to him to question the fact that this boy with a baby face was calling him ‘kid’— after all, anyone with so much confidence in their seniority couldn’t be any younger than 200. imagine then, san’s chagrin upon finding out that the pianist was a paltry twenty-something, a mere millennial!
yet despite baekhyun’s uncanny knack for getting under san’s skin and his dogged insistence on calling him diminutive names, he makes a fairly decent customer and, surprisingly, even better company. (perhaps san is getting lonelier as the years go by, or maybe he just has something of a soft spot for the other.) sometimes he’ll let himself into the store after hours and imperiously order a latte, and sometimes, he’ll send san on a wild goose chase around the store, snapping out fickle orders just because he can. but when the sky mellows into a sunset glow, so does he. san likes the way baekhyun speaks sometimes, pensive and serene. “you remind me of the way flowers bloom so furiously in spring.” he has no immediate response.
“we’re perennials, people like us. we get a chance to try our hand at life over and over again,” he says after a pause. “have you ever been to church? they say no matter how much you sin, if you’re a christian, you’re reborn every morning. i have no choice but to bloom again with the full force of god.”
my dear basil,
a playlist for @pomiifer and that which could have been
“you can´t feel what I feel. you change too often.”
“ah, my dear basil, that is exactly why i can feel it. those who are faithful know only the trivial side of love: it is the faithless who know love´s tragedies.”
listen on spotify
pomiifer:
“did you always like books this much? …i don’t remember everything. it comes back to me in pieces.”
one thing about living forever: san never really forgets. it’s not easy to forget, not when a different skeleton tumbles out of his closet every morning, dressed in vivid shades of someone else’s hurt. they say time heals all wounds, but they forget that eternity is plenty of time for san to pick at his cuts until they fester and bleed. each one of his days begins the same way it ends— on his knees, praying not to be forgiven, but to forget. hail mary, full of grace.
his memories wear the same faces, take him back to the same places without fail. most often, he is brought back to his attic in saint petersburg, to familiar, pleading eyes and the smell of drying oil paints. as befitting of a man named after the sunset, noeul’s memory casts long shadows in the dusky corners and cloudy mirrors san least expects him to be. some days, noeul’s voice lingers in his ears, whispers of “it’s not too late” and “this isn’t who you are” crashing into each other and ebbing away like waves on a rocky shore.
san hated— hates— the moral higher ground that noeul stood upon with such ease. how could he preach goodness and mercy when he was the one who had placed such terrible power within san’s open palms, all but saying, “this is now yours, do with it what you will”? and how, then, could he return to tell him to beg for his soul, to seek absolution before certain damnation? though san didn’t acknowledge it until a half-century later, noeul was right. in fact, if his friend was around to see his current milquetoast lifestyle, he’s quite certain he’d finally drop dead just from his abject mortification.
the bookstore, therefore, serves as his only concession of his wrongs; it is a whispered apology that only he can hear. it is his own personal hell, a study in scholarly silence and self-denial. he putters around the two floors night and day, both prisoner and warden. san forces himself into a position of service, remembering a quote someone had read to him years ago— “i slept and dreamt that life was joy. i awoke and saw that life was service. i acted and behold, service was joy.” lord, he hates that quote with all his heart. his days pass by in a gauzy blur as he watches the sun rise and set from the same window overlooking the seoul skyline.
a voice pulls him out of his haze, familiar and melancholy as a childhood lullaby, and san blanches. is that— he turns slowly, putting back the book he’d been flipping through carefully, as if any sudden movements will make the figure before him go up in dust —noeul? he can’t tell what he’s more afraid of, that noeul is just another manifestation of his own guilt or that he’s living flesh, breathing and heart blood-beating. yes, san stands quite still, trapped in a maze of books and faced with the one person he’s been running from for a century, holding his breath as time freezes around him. he dares not move a muscle. part of him wants to take the first step forward, to embrace an old friend and take refuge in the comfort of the past, and yet something holds him back. perhaps it is himself; perhaps he knows that the past is no place to return.
out of the blue, san hears his own voice, venomous and icy, ringing in his head: “i never want to see you again!” selfishly, he hopes noeul doesn’t remember that, not just yet at least.
“it seemed like something you might have liked me to do.” he says in that lilting, oddly old-fashioned korean of his, then pauses. “the world hasn’t done you any favors, it seems. what a terrible thing it is to remember.”
in aeturnum.
lee san. based on the picture of dorian grey.
you met god at a gas station at 3 am and he hated you
Sehun for Marie Claire • July 2017 B&W