Self-Loving Dorks and Ditzes

[San Mateo, 2015]

This morning, I had to leave the café on General Uprising after only 15 minutes. With a middle-aged man listening to the news on his phone very loudly, it was impossible to think or even talk. Needing his audio pollution, he didn’t care.

As I headed into the dark, Tèo yelled, “Why are you leaving so early?!”

“I’m busy.”

“Busy with what?!” It was only 3:40AM.

“Too noisy,” I quietly admitted while still walking.

Sitting outside each day yards from the entrance, Tèo certainly understood. Even Trịnh Công Sơn played quietly is too much for Tèo.

I felt better with each step. Walking over two miles on Lê Lai, Nguyễn Văn Trỗi then Lê Hồng Phong, I could find no other open café, however, but no time was wasted. My thoughts flowed. I remembered a young Berkeley student who decided to walk every Parisian street, only to discover her boyfriend had already found a new lay back home.

When I said I wanted to measure every inch of this earth with my body, literal minded Zep crankily objected. Yesterday, I heard a woman call three girls “princesses.” Another said the same of her dog. “I’m starving to death” or “go fuck yourself” are figures of speech. When John Donne told the sun to leave him and his mistress alone, he wasn’t really talking to the sun, Zep, but you can dig up that poet to accuse him of lying. “I thereby condemn you to death!”

Slithering on the ground with your tongue sticking out, you miss all the inches to your immediate left and right. Across the street is an unknown universe. Bolaño, “Every hundred feet the world changes.” So true, but any ant would change feet to millimeters. Every hundred millimeters is another astounding galaxy.

With garbage English everywhere, I was surprised to see “LET’S GET TOASTED” on a van window. Closer inspection showed the shape of Australia, with “Vietnam Tour 2023,” a coat of arms with a crown and flag of Vietnam. Traveling were Tyson, Azza, Deano, Garry and Bozz. Are they still on the road?

I typed the above sitting outside a shuttered cafe on Ba Cu. Now, I’m in that alley as the old lady set up. It’s 5:03AM. She arrived on a Chinese bicycle with a plastic basket containing a half empty bottle of water. Just yards away are four or five loud, drunken young men playing cards. Waiters, they sometimes party past dawn. A customer is getting buckets of water from a faucet in an adjacent alley. He’s just helping her out. Just arrived, the pony tailed ice man is shirtless. I see a tattooed eagle on his chest, a tiger on his back and dragons on his arms.

In Cô Giang Market two months ago, I noticed a dog licking blocks of ice lying on the ground. That surface contamination should be gone by the time you sip your iced coffee, but if you get sick from dog spit, your system must be degraded from decades of transfat, corn syrup, cutting edge vaccines and little walking. In Hội An, two Brits just died from methanol alcohol. Six Westerners suffered the same fate last month in Laos. Two were Aussie teenagers. Spending a month on two Mekong islands, I couldn’t have been happier. I miss seeing those cows strolling across fields. Laos soothes.

Sharing my table is the security guard and parking attendant for Bách Hóa Xanh, a chain of midsize markets. His father was a South Vietnamese Marine stationed in Vung Tau. When Communists rolled in, he sold his house for cheap then moved his family to his native Vĩnh Long, in the Mekong Delta. This quick thinking allowed him to avoid being reeducated in some hellish camp. In 1990, he returned to Vung Tau to find ways to escape by sea. Life had become impossible. In adjacent Long Hải, he was bitten by a rabid dog, so died days later.

These stories, not often told or heard, are disappearing as people die. In 1979, a 14-year-old boy was sent north. Before his party could even get out of Vung Tau, they were shot at by soldiers. Luckily, only one slow footed old man died. After a night in Biên Hòa, they arrived in Saigon to board a train. In Đà Nẵng, a different guide took over, so everything went swimmingly until they reached Hải Phòng. For whatever reason, the third guide never appeared, so they had to turn back. Hong Kong wasn’t in their destiny. Four of his five siblings did get out via different routes. The two left behind get by as motorbike taxistas.

Yesterday, he dropped me off at a rather snobby neighborhood with affluent villas behind high concrete walls. There were businesses called Retro Steak, S.E.N. Yogafit, Club Gym, Coffee Resident and The Phu’s Coffee, etc. The last makes little sense in Vietnamese. Entering, I found Warren Buffet, Bill Gates, Albert Einstein and Dale Carnegie on a wall. Each was quoted. There’s also “NO PAIN NO GAIN” in English, plus these in Vietnamese, “DARE TO THINK BIG” and “1% TALENT / 99% SWEAT AND TEARS.” I prefer the Edison original.

Now at Cóc Cóc, I’m feet away from another obnoxious gentleman. Frantically surfing TikTok videos, he’s loudly annoying everybody. Of course, he doesn’t give a shit. Those who retreat into private hells must also broadcast.

Two days ago, I joined X or Twitter for the first time. It’s just my feeble attempt to reach a few more readers.

With astonishment, I discovered all these dorks and ditzes advertising themselves. Using apps to enlarge their eyes and boobs, Vietnamese girls calling themselves Rippon Avery, Wayne Niner, Tivis Hannah, Barbini Buddy or Grazina Antunez are showcasing their enhanced sexiness. Photo after photo shows them completely alone. Consumed by self love, they need no one. Divorcing Vietnam, these deranged chicks with their Englishy names have become global. Of course, they’re also posting in the language of Trump, Musk, Gates and Buffet:

“Your insights are a compass in the journey of life. Thank you. I can tell that a lot of research went into this.”

“You’re like family to me. Thanks for sharing, my friend. I wish more articles were as well-structured and easy to follow as this one.”

“Your content exchange enhances the reading journey. Thank you! I couldn't stop reading this article. It's engaging from start to finish.”

After saying Spain was in BRICS, Trump wasn’t sure if China was in it. He, too, is busy night and day displaying his cleavage and unzipping himself.

[Rippon Avery on X, 2025]

[Wayne Niner on X, 2025]

[Tivis Hannah on X, 2025]

[Vung Tau, 2/16/25]