here we are, Sai Gon
it’s been two months since I relocated to Sai Gon. at first, being on my own felt fine. but now the loneliness creeps in, my rented room is the only refuge not where I can withdraw from the world.
it’s a strange contrast. sometimes I long to sit quietly in an unfamiliar bar, sipping wine, somewhere not too crowded. yet after three glasses or so, I just want to go home immediately. there’s no “safe place” here the way there was in Hanoi - no Tho Wine, no Risu, no cozy Phan Dinh Phung room, not even the random spots that felt like mine.
I miss the days wandering Hanoi, the comfort of familiar streets. here, nothing feels familiar at all.
I’m listening to “Home” by Edith Whiskers. but this isn’t home - no Khanh, no anh chi ban xau, not Phan Dinh Phung, not Bui Xuong Trach, not Hanoi. and yet, I miss Hanoi with a quiet ache.
here we are, the hidden one
this is the softer part of me.
I lost a friend not long ago. this year alone, I’ve had to face two deaths - my grandmother’s and hers. in some ways, I tell myself it isn’t entirely sorrowful: they are freed from the weight of the body, released from pain. but when I think of her, I can’t help but wonder - was I wrong? I once told her, perhaps too lightly, that she should be selfish, try to rest, even if it meant setting treatment aside. I believed then that life should be measured in quality, not quantity. now, I’m left with the ache of not knowing if those words hurt more than they helped.
I’ve struggled with suicidal thoughts before. many people experience them at some point, but for me they come more often. there are days when I feel detached, as if I don’t truly care - about her, about anyone, about anything. it’s not that I want to disappear, it’s more the feeling of wondering what the point of existing is.
yet life still leaves my small, unexpected soundtracks - or should I thank Spotify? tonight, walking home from a bar after one pisco sour and two penicillins, “Numb Little Bug” by Em Beihold started playing. it felt like a score to my own muted emotions.
“Do you ever get a little bit tired of life?
Like you’re not really happy, but you don’t wanna die
Like you’re hanging by a thread, but you gotta survive
‘Cause you gotta survive
Like your body’s in the room, but you’re not really there
Like you have empathy inside, but you don’t really care
Like you’re fresh out of love, but it’s been in the air
Am I past repair?
A little bit tired of trying to care when I don’t
A little bit tired of quick repairs to cope
A little bit tired of sinking, there’s water in my boat
I’m barely breathing, trying to stay afloat
So, I’ve got these quick repairs to cope
Guess I’m just broken and broke”
my lifetime often feels like it can be translated into songs. certain melodies carry me back - to a specific chapter of my life, a fleeting emotion for someone, a place I once knew, or a memory I thought I had lost.
pictures can take us back. on my instagram account, I still keep two photos of her - smiling, happy. and now she’s gone. I don’t even now what to feel. the memories, the photos, even the gifts she gave me are still there, but she has ceased to exist.
I wonder about the afterlife for those Catholic. is she somewhere above, watching? is she beside my now? it’s strange - my friends and colleagues don’t want to talk about her. and it’s strange how I, too, don’t mourn in the way thought I would. instead, there’s just this quiet, indescribable weight inside me.
the next part
these weeks after returning from Ha Noi, I find myself wandering Pham Viet Chanh on Friday. it’s a narrow, cozy street dotted with bars. last week I stopped at Legato, and today I tried a place near Calmo. the cocktails weren’t remarkable, but the service was.
this evening I noticed a place called Lozzi. small, warm, with a little balcony - just the kind of place where you could spend the night with a few close friends.
the one with my mother language
toi như kiểu bị ám ảnh bởi âm nhạc, từ Bach đến nhạc xàm le kiểu Mèo Lạc, hoặc nhạc Đan Trường, nhạc city pop Nhật Bản những năm 70s, 80s. một phần trong tôi biết tỏng những người tôi yêu thích về mặt âm nhạc thì đều sắp trở thành những-người-được-tưởng-nhớ trong thời đại này, tức là họ đều đã không còn thở chung bầu không khí trên trái đất với toi nữa. nhìn ra vũ trụ thấy bản thân mình nhỏ bé, và mọi vấn đề của mình nếu so sánh với cuộc diệt chủng, hay nạn đói, hay chiến tranh đang hoành hành ngoài lãnh thổ đât nước này.. đều vượt xa ngoài sự hiểu biết của toi, dù nó chỉ cách toi một vài đường biên giới. và nó đang diễn ra. thật.
bữa nay toi đi làm chuột bạch research survey để kiếm 150 đồng, đợi có tiền toi lại cống nạp cho tụi WFP. chậc. toi tự hứa vậy. hoặc để mua một course học nào đó mà toi còn chẳng thể học vì lười. vẫn là WFP hơn.
Sài Gòn cô đơn lạnh lẽo và tường nhà toi thì đang thấm nước mốc meo. điều này như phản ánh trái tim và tâm hồn toi cũng đang mốc meo.
bữa nay nghe Thành phố những người điên của Những Đứa Trẻ một cách kĩ lưỡng - vì tự nhiên muốn vậy, nghe dưới background có tiếng công trường gõ gõ. chính là Hà Nội của bạn tôi đây rồi. dù sao cũng không phải của tôi. tôi thường không có sở hữu quá nhiều thứ ở một thành phố.
và Châu thì đã có em bé rồi. chúc mừng anh! trộm vía!
lâu lâu toi chưa chạy nhảy lăn lóc giữa rừng cây một cách vui vẻ. lâu lắc rồi.