December 29th, 2009
Dear Trevor,
If you love having nothing to do, then you’d love it here. That’s my every day.
I guess that’s partly why the boat has such an impact on me. It comes stinking of death and life in a world without smell. When it leaves, it is a relief, but then this world seems o so much more empty than it did before.
We still have a couple of newcomers in town. The woman with the unkempt hair is named Julia. She’s been occupying a table at Sung-Hee’s since she arrived. When Sung-Hee closes at night, Julia sits on the bench outside, waiting for her to open again.
It’s hard to get much information out of Julia, as she still seems shell-shocked by the whole experience of arriving here. But based on her stuttering conversation, she was a high school guidance counselor. She was driving home from Christmas shopping for her stepchildren—at least I think it was for her stepchildren—when she hit a patch of ice on the road. Next thing she knew, she was coming off a plane and climbing onto a train.
Deep down, I’m pretty sure she knows she’s dead, but she’s not willing to say it out loud. I’ve tried to get her to move into one of the cabins, as there are a few available. Not so much for her sake, as the cabins don’t provide much more comfort than her bench and table, but it’s mildly annoying to see her sitting there all day. I wish she would at least comb her hair. She could be kind of pretty if she would put in a little effort.
Gordon has hit an all-time low. He hasn’t said a single word to me since the boat pulled out. He went into his cabin and hasn’t come out. He won’t answer my knock and I’m not willing to barge in on him uninvited.
Quite the thrilling time.
Dad
Dear Trevor,
If you love having nothing to do, then you’d love it here. That’s my every day.
I guess that’s partly why the boat has such an impact on me. It comes stinking of death and life in a world without smell. When it leaves, it is a relief, but then this world seems o so much more empty than it did before.
We still have a couple of newcomers in town. The woman with the unkempt hair is named Julia. She’s been occupying a table at Sung-Hee’s since she arrived. When Sung-Hee closes at night, Julia sits on the bench outside, waiting for her to open again.
It’s hard to get much information out of Julia, as she still seems shell-shocked by the whole experience of arriving here. But based on her stuttering conversation, she was a high school guidance counselor. She was driving home from Christmas shopping for her stepchildren—at least I think it was for her stepchildren—when she hit a patch of ice on the road. Next thing she knew, she was coming off a plane and climbing onto a train.
Deep down, I’m pretty sure she knows she’s dead, but she’s not willing to say it out loud. I’ve tried to get her to move into one of the cabins, as there are a few available. Not so much for her sake, as the cabins don’t provide much more comfort than her bench and table, but it’s mildly annoying to see her sitting there all day. I wish she would at least comb her hair. She could be kind of pretty if she would put in a little effort.
Gordon has hit an all-time low. He hasn’t said a single word to me since the boat pulled out. He went into his cabin and hasn’t come out. He won’t answer my knock and I’m not willing to barge in on him uninvited.
Quite the thrilling time.
Dad
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