My People

[Vung Tau, 2/24/26]

This morning, I didn’t make it to Thanh Trúc until nearly 6AM. What delayed me was a longish conversation I had with my old college professor, Eileen Neff. She’s the second person I called after figuring out how to dial the USA cheaply from Vietnam. The first was my last drinking buddy, Felix Giordano. His number is still in my phone. I kept missing Felix. When he called me back three times, I was sleeping.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?!” I left a message for the cranky Italian who lost his mind from working in a mental hospital. “Lines of cocaine?!”

He’s mostly recovered. Lapsing into insanity got Felix a monthly disability check, a godsend. Felix had to wipe shit off walls and witness all these nutcases jerk off constantly, though. If compulsive masturbation is one sure sign of madness, most of us are mentally ill. Taking selfies or checking for likes nonstop is also masturbation.

Walking back and forth on Trần Đồng in the dark, I yakked with Eileen. It was as if she’s just down the street. Housesitting for her once, I forgot when Eileen would return, so staggered into her apartment shit faced in the middle of the night. This morning, I told Eileen I hardly drank any more. Eileen had cut out her vodka. Before that, it was bourbon. She always had a flask in her purse.