A Manwha Opus

I recently finished a graphic novel from a Korean artist and writer named Yeong-Shin Ma.

His previous work was called Moms, and it was released (in my neck of the woods) in 2020. It's a story about four middle-aged women who've had it with the way they've been treated for much of their lives. They're not afraid to speak their minds anymore, and will unabashedly go for what they want despite the encroaching limitations of their aging bodies. It was a funny, often poignant story, a window into life for a generation that felt they'd been given short shrift in Korean society. The book was based on a diary kept by the author's mother.

Artist is Ma's latest book, and it reads like a magnum opus. This story concerns three men in their thirties who are friends. One's an artist, another's a writer, and the third is a musician. As the story opens, they appear to be very close, but it doesn't take long before we see fissures. Thought balloons reveal true feelings, and often result in name-calling or insults. As the musician gains fame and wealth, not through his music but through a book that his writer friend encouraged him to write, envy rears its corrosive head. Though the writer finds success later on after starting a literary magazine with his wife, it's all undone after his staff confronts him about the amount of control he wields over creative decisions. The painter fares worst of all, ruining his chance with a prominent arts center after he uses his position to threaten other employees and uses the company card at a sketchy establishment. His art no longer sells, and he has a daughter to support.

By the end, the friends have drifted apart, the opening scene of them dancing joyously together a distant memory. The events take place over a number of years. The painter and musician meet up one more time for dinner, and the thought balloons reveal how far they've fallen in each other's estimation. The writer almost leaves the magazine, but returns to help out another writer and his friend, the painter. They're still linked, but not in the same way. The friendship has not just mellowed, but dimmed. At this point, maybe it just survives on those gilt-edged memories from the past.

The story is over 600 pages long, but I could've read it one sitting if I'd allowed myself. The events in these men's lives carry you along, from one awkward moment to another. You wonder how things will turn out for each of them. I enjoyed Moms, but I loved this book, and I purposefully rationed it out over a few weeks to savor the work. I can't wait to see what Ma will cook up next.

Boxing Day 2010

I drive to the lakeshore
On the day after Christmas
The wind screams in from the North
Thin snow on the rocks
Patterned like chaotic lace

Ice hummocks stretch out from the shore
Smoky gray mottled glass
Some blocks farther out
Break off and reach for the dead sky
Beyond that, the cold boiling waves

Five minutes out here
And my hands are burning, going numb
Holding the camera is difficult
I snap quickly, on pure instinct
Then race back to the car
Defeated

Looking at the pictures later
I see the violence of the cold
Elements locked within its grip
Further frozen in time
A window in space

New Sci-fi Story: The God Symbiote

Just realized I never posted a link to this anthology. It contains my short story, "The God Symbiote", a short story set in Japan. In a not-so-distant future world, humans discover a Martian parasite that gives them epiphanies. These experiences are like a drug, but what happens when the parasite dies? Find out what one husband does for his wife in order to save her life.

The Phantom Games: Dimensions Unknown 2020

Purifying the Physical

Five or six years ago, I read a quote from Dilgo Khyentse Rinpoche, a revered Tibetan teacher who entered paranirvana in 1991, about the value of doing prostrations. I don't recall the exact words, but the quote related how prostrating was an effective method for purifying physical obstructions.

A physical obstruction would be any kind of ailment, from a virus or other infectious organism, to a bodily injury.

I've read a few of Rinpoche's books over the years and have always found him to be a brilliant teacher. Though he's been gone from this realm for almost 20 years, I still consider him to be one of my gurus. I took the quote to heart and immediately began doing prostrations as part of my practice. I would conclude my meditation practice with a short praise to Manjushri, then prostrate 8 or 10 times.

Since starting this practice, the physical injuries have come thick and fast. I was 49 when I began, so age must certainly be a factor in their occurrence. A quick internet search will reveal all of the pleasant surprises that awaits one when one finishes the fifth decade. It's the beginning of the end. It's your body slowly reaching for that white flag, acknowledging the punishing toll of a life spent resisting gravity and the elements. It's the cold shower of our limitations drenching us as we try to blithely continue doing what we've always done.

But I also believe it's a sign the prostrations are working. Some of these aches and pains and anomalies could be latent physical karma purifying earlier than they otherwise would have. This is one of the effects of purification practices such as this. An ailment that may have arisen later in this life, or even in the next, is suddenly forced to the surface in the present, the practice hastening the ripening of the karma. The advantage is getting the suffering out of the way sooner, ideally leading to a future with fewer health issues.

Before I began prostrating, injuries were rare for me. During all my years of running, I only suffered two calf strains. Both times they healed completely. At the age of 52 however, the calf strain occurred again, and this time it stubbornly refused to heal. Despite taking much time off, only a course of physical therapy led to its recovery. As I ramped up to my former pace and distance though, I suffered a hip injury from shoveling snow. Running was again put on hold. It was the second time for this injury, but once more, full healing has been elusive. Now and then I feel a sharp pain right on the hip bone as a reminder that it's still not resolved. I've taken to bike riding as a replacement for running, an alternative way to get my cardio workout. The pain has subsided, but I'm not sure it's truly healed. I'm considering a visit to the orthopedist again to explore some ways to treat this pain. My own research leads me to believe it could be tendonitis.

Asian cultures talk about an "obstacle year", which usually happens around the age of 60. I feel like I'm about halfway through an obstacle decade. Just last month I bruised some ribs in a fall off my bike. I'm almost recovered from it. It's normal to expect some issues as one ages, but I'm really hoping the prostrations can mitigate the severity of anything that arises in the near future. I'm not ready to give up an active lifestyle just yet.

New Fiction: Allegheny

Two friends. One struggles for her life, the other struggles to keep her identity. All taking place at the edge of a land that still keeps many of its secrets.

My new short story up at Red Fez. Please check it out when you get a chance and help support indie publishers. Thanks!

https://www.redfez.net/fiction/identity-allegheny-991

Industrial Sunset

Sunset, West Twenty-third Street,1906

An evocative rooftop scene by painter John Sloan from 1906. I love the depiction of the ordinary from long ago. Only in the mundane details do we really get a sense of a particular time. The light and weather weren't so different. The people were the same--only the styles were different. Clothes and hair. Their height, since they were generally shorter back then owing to a lack of access to nutritious foods. The sunset above looks familiar, but the woman in the foreground, the laundry on the line, and the traffic lights below all present an alien profile. The smudges Sloan brushed in the sky speak to the omnipresent level of pollution back during the raging infancy of the industrial age.

I can imagine the smells. That same pollution. An abundance of manure due to the prevalence of horses. Automobiles were not yet dominant. And the saltier odors from humans too. Hygiene wasn't as rigorously observed as it is now. If I could travel to that time and place in the picture, my first thought would be incredulity at my presence where it shouldn't be. My second thought would be, I'm going to die. By today's standards, medical technology was grievously primitive. Tuberculosis was a relentless killer. Break the skin and infection was soon to follow. Life expectancy for a male in that year was a mere 47 years, just a few years more for a woman. The very air surrounding you was a lethal, slavering beast.

New Story to be Published In Fall 2020 in Excalibur 2020

This has been pushed ahead to the fall due Covid and the Olympics being postponed.

Life has been discovered on Mars, and humanity's relationship with it grows to be far closer than they ever could've predicted.

Follow a Japanese couple as they try to cope with with life on a troubled, near-future earth when they unexpectedly lose this relationship.

My newest story, "The God Symbiote," will be published in the fall in Excalibur 2020 Anthology. Please check out their Patreon page and, if you're inclined, help support their mission to bring new sci-fi and fantasy stories to the world.

Become a patron of Excalibur Books today: Read 8 posts by Excalibur Books and get access to exclusive content and experiences on the world’s largest membership platform for artists and creators.

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Excalibur Books is creating a Science Fiction & Fantasy Olympics Anthology | Patreon

Become a patron of Excalibur Books today: Read 8 posts by Excalibur Books and get access to exclusive content and experiences on the world’s largest membership platform for artists and creators.