Zombie Logistics

I’m still just brainstorming Zombies Eat Busan, but hit a major philosophical/story line conundrum. The movie is going to be logistically impossible if the zombies eat Koreans, just too many people to include and I can’t be bothered. Besides they’ll make great background fodder with the staring/not intervening and so on. Problem is I can’t think of a decent reason that zombies would only go after waygooks. By decent I mean involving some kind of B-movie level science or something at least plausible. The banner idea so far is that the zombies don’t like kimchi, too spicy, and thus avoid Koreans because of their breath. This is workable I guess, but not ideal. Could go with the ‘no origin explained-there’s just zombies that only eat white people’ format, but then I’d have to title it Waygook Zombies. Actually that kinda works too.

I have no idea how to piece together a story, but there’s a couple of scenes that will be fun to make and hopefully entertaining. Thinking 20 minutes tops, maybe split into 3 story lines. Reckon I should start watching some low budget flicks to steal ideas… or I could just go out to the bar and bullshit with people about zombie movie ideas in Korea and see what comes up. Little from column A, little from B.

Writing a story is kinda hard. I googled how to do it and basically got, ‘write a lot, edit more’, which is fair and I have plenty o’ time. Once I get that shit outta the way thou, it’s all gravy. Excited to create gore! Who wouldn’t be? Plus pig intestines are all over the place here.

I’m at work now and I sit facing the other waygook teacher. I can see him now between the computer screen and I can smell his lunch. He has the same lunch everyday and it fucking freaks me out. Dude buys either rice or noodle and a can of tuna. Then gingerly forks a little into the other and chews with his mouth open. Looks like a hobo with cat DNA. Plus he’s Russian so plus 5 points for creepy mannerisms. Every day he does this. Every fucking day. I can’t decide if I want to keep staring at him or decapitate myself. Once he asked me if I kept up on the news, then asked if I knew about the Iraq war and what that was about. Fuck you, you noodle-catcan-ruskie motherfucker.

Till tomorrow.