“karma’s bitch, then you die.” - A. Nonymous · it’s as though every fun thing in my life has been sucked dry by conventional wisdom; just using the pejorative (however the fuck you spell it) “bitch” takes all the fun out of using a convenient sleight that goes back 60 years into my sense of humor - and i am willing · once a suitable replacement rises to the occasion, but i don’t see much on the horizon. Too little funny, too much bullshit - so my own admittedly bizarre reaction formation is “radical accountability”. I moved out of my “Charming Homestay” after 3 months acclimating to Viet Nam - there was really no return ticket and where i landed seemed perturbed by my ways. I took a house close enough to where i landed to gauge my fictions from facts - it didn’t work out that way · Madame Viet Nam being more mysterious than my limited experience could perceive. The late stage Villa development catty corner to my new digs should have clued me.
Within a month it was occupied and all seemed peaceful enough with recognizable lilt of French bouncing off the walls of the tight corner. At the time i was trying to sync with the farmer’s early hours and relished the dawn mornings until the Villa mounted a three foot neon bulb i can only imagine was meant to dissuade the lurking presence of locals. In kindly cooperation, its light was relegated to the dangerous hours after midnight. My computer ruptured a screen requiring 2 weeks docking in Da Nang, 2nd time of xptr free existence in my short stay. 3 days into the loss of my translator a crew landed eviscerating the old growth bamboo strand that allowed me privacy from the rice field thoroughfare and cool air for the small cluster of houses i live within - i was dismayed and saddened by the further burning destruction of a “canopy” which had endured so much brutality and survived as a legacy part of Vietnam.
Once i was back on line and able to inquire with the neighbor farmer family what logic determined the clear cutting of such beautiful growth - i was told it was at the request of the inhabitants of the new Villa. All i could figure was the wanted a better “view of the rice fields” in which they lived in the more “tony” section of a boutique heritage site. I was not amused, nor was i tolerant of such _______fill in the blank. This is where my history of any kind of character quest breaks down and my own cruelty created more pain and suffering than i would have ever imagined possible from “bitter searching” of my heart. I was unrelenting in my unwelcome at almost the same instant that Covid-19 was encroaching the tourist shores of Viet Nam. Within days and a weeks the poor damsel with a child in her household, a mother who likely innocently enough only wanted a better facebook photo had the ire of yours truly.
I have pondered long and hard about how to rectify my error in behavior, and when i had determined the only viable solution was a face-to-face apology to this individual i know not at all nor have any real reason to wish anything but kind passage, and a more developed sense of our planet’s precarious future · she moved out within days of my taking possession of a house catty-corner to what had been her front door. Everything about my move seems fraught with conflict - from an increasingly entrenched landlady who imagined i’d pay six months in advance for the privilege of living with the cigarette scarred sofas of her “foreigner bungalow” to being treated like the virus itself, as though just because i am of the age and nationality which had caused so much havoc in her country 50 years ago, disrespect and hostility would be acceptable. (a paragraph largely forged in fear, fatigue and resistance to change.)
My quandary and why i share - i am okay with reparations for Viet Nam, my country was wrong out of the gate and it pleases me to no end to spend copious amounts money in the country - having said that, i find the open invitation to the bourgeoisie a reckless and limited consideration of what is possible to the demonstrably resourceful and relentlessly enduring workers of Viet Nam, especially with respect to the survival of the species. I have listened to the laughter of free people, which i miss more than i can describe with words. I welcome the insight that that laughter may only be the visible portion of the “iceberg” of authentic human existence, but lacking calm and allies, it is the best i can come up with - find people who are laughing and follow them · therein may be hope.
jts 23/07/2020
http://stoanartst.blogspot.com
reprinted with permission - all rights reserved
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