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let's forget we're running out of time...
How can you wake up to something like this and want not want to stay there forever? I didn't think it was remotely possible for me to fall any more in love with Viet Nam. But every year, she surprises me.
My beautiful brother and his so-far ok girlfriend. Apparently we look a lot alike.
Him: You're ugly.
Me: No, you're ugly.
Him: You're uglier.
Me: You can't call me ugly, we look the same. You're calling yourself ugly, ugly.
Him: (silence)
I've had a lot of falling-outs with people I've been close to during the last year and a half, and because of all that, I've really seen the value of these two young gentlemen (Anh Dat left, Anh Lo right). And might I add that they both look absolutely dashing in this picture. It's requiring a lot of self-restraint for me not to stare at Anh Lo's dark sweeping eyelashes or at Anh Dat's ridiculously defined jawline. They made me wish I was a boy so I could be in their circle of drinking buddies or something. You know, like one of the guys. But since that's almost impossible, I'd just settle for being the little sister whose sleeve they tug along when crossing the street and buy taffy for. Yeah, I'd rather have a brother than a boyfriend. Brothers are longer lasting, like Trident. (Trident is the longer lasting gum, right? Or is it Icebreakers?)
I've always wanted to go on a road trip. And now that I've had the chance to do so, I can say with certainty that my road trip probably kicks your road trip's butt. We went by motorcycle. I kept on falling asleep and bumping my head against the back of Anh Lo's head. He thought it was extremely funny. I, however, did not take well to the idea of rolling off the bike onto some rocky abyss.
I bought him lollipops instead of ice cream because it was a really hot day. It makes me sad to see how abandoned his grave is. At least, I hope he enjoyed my story (I burnt a copy in front of his grave, English and Vietnamese) and the candies.
Lastly, since I've been here, the only other image that touched me more
than seeing Bac Thuy's grave is the image of a young mother crying at the
grave of her three year old boy. One of these days, I'm going to write a story and the first line will be: Death puzzles me. It really does. I can't imagine what his family is going through. I've only known them happy and loving, but when I see them with blurry eyes and dejected bodies, I don't know what to say or do or feel. To them, death is in their house and their bodies, but then I go into the city and everyone else is still living, unaffected. I don't really know how to put it into words.
I guess all I really want to say is rest in peace, both the young and the old.
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| Gotta make this summer count...
I feel like this song was written especially for me.
I like Billy Collins.
Today
by Billy Collins
If ever there were a spring day so perfect,
so uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze
that it made you want to throw
open all the windows in the house
and unlatch the door to the canary's cage,
indeed, rip the little door from its jamb,
a day when the cool brick paths
and the garden bursting with peonies
seemed so etched in sunlight
that you felt like taking
a hammer to the glass paperweight
on the living room end table,
releasing the inhabitants
from their snow-covered cottage
so they could walk out,
holding hands and squinting
into this larger dome of blue and white,
well, today is just that kind of day.
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"...nobody stays a little girl or a little boy long...All of a sudden
little girls wear lipstick, all of a sudden little boys shave and
smoke. So it's a quick business, being a kid. Today
you're ten years old, running to meet me in the snow, ready, so ready,
to coast down Spring Street with me; tomorrow you'll be twenty, with
guys sitting in the living room waiting to take you out. All of a
sudden you'll have to tip porters, you'll worry about expensive
clothes, meet girls for lunch, wonder why you can't find a guy who's
right for you. And that's all as it should be. But my point, if I have
a point, is this: kind of try to live up to the best that's in you. If you give your word to people, let them know that they're getting the word of the best.
If you room with some dopey girl at college, try to make her less
dopey. If you're standing outside a theater and some old gal comes up
selling gum, give her a buck if you've got a buck - but only if you can
do it without patronizing her. That's the trick, baby. I could tell you
a lot, Mat, but I wouldn't be sure that I'm right. You're a little
girl, but you understand me. You're going to be smart when you
grow up. But if you can't be smart and a swell girl, too, then I don't
want to see you grow up. Be a swell girl, Mat.""Last Day of the Last Furlough"
J. D. Salinger | | |
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