Ngô Thụy Miên’s odes to Saigon, having never returned there from Oregon, show how adaptable we are when wrenched away from someone or some place that we love. But it also speaks to how much people and places change in the interim - the qualities that once drew us to our friend, lover or the place we fondly remember have usually disappeared when we return years later.
The expression ‘you can never go back’ recognises the psychology of this, so it’s hardly odd that he’s never returned to Saigon. He probably realised that his memories would be sullied and wanted to retain the thought, rather than entertain the reality, of Saigon.
Even tho there was a War going on - Saigon was sacred, for some odd reason. Well, you had to spend some time there - in order to understand. In Saigon , I wasn't a engineer soldier per se' - I was just - myself -fascinated with everything there. I prefer to remember Saigon back then, possibly you poets see it that way too.
' On the way to Cóc Cóc, I crossed paths with two young women. Walking arm-in-arm, they were masked and in hoodies, with one blaring in a childish font, “I LOOK BETTER BENT OVER.” '
The fact that they've managed to corrupt the youth of the world like this is very sad.
Ngô Thụy Miên’s odes to Saigon, having never returned there from Oregon, show how adaptable we are when wrenched away from someone or some place that we love. But it also speaks to how much people and places change in the interim - the qualities that once drew us to our friend, lover or the place we fondly remember have usually disappeared when we return years later.
The expression ‘you can never go back’ recognises the psychology of this, so it’s hardly odd that he’s never returned to Saigon. He probably realised that his memories would be sullied and wanted to retain the thought, rather than entertain the reality, of Saigon.
Even tho there was a War going on - Saigon was sacred, for some odd reason. Well, you had to spend some time there - in order to understand. In Saigon , I wasn't a engineer soldier per se' - I was just - myself -fascinated with everything there. I prefer to remember Saigon back then, possibly you poets see it that way too.
"In a giant hearse without mourners, we ride."
Sigh. Despair is sinful. That much is true. And yet...helpless, hapless, and hopeless; are we destined to die, alone and unlamented?
One is not responsible for how they are received.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qPRpEluHc0
' On the way to Cóc Cóc, I crossed paths with two young women. Walking arm-in-arm, they were masked and in hoodies, with one blaring in a childish font, “I LOOK BETTER BENT OVER.” '
The fact that they've managed to corrupt the youth of the world like this is very sad.