Great stop-motion short on passion, purpose and our fleeting lives, from Zealous Creative.
All-Bran + chopped dates = surprisingly good.
I don’t know what’s in New Zealand milk but it gives everything a hint of toffee. (Maybe I’m just having a lengthy stroke.)
Side note, I’m a legitimate human being again: new phone number, new bank account, new temporary job. Now all I need is a house, a garden and a cat. Maybe a chef. And a bartender. And an orchard. And the house needs to be on a cold, but sunny, cliff by the sea with a rough path leading you through shoulder-high plants towards a desolate and temperamental beach. Where is that?
It’s been difficult to see the forest for the trees because these trees have been enormous rotting things, liable to topple over and crush me at any moment.
Viet Nam, for me, has been the place where good things only happen with equal measures of bad – unblemished moments being few and far between. (Of course in the grand scheme of the world at the moment, that’s not so terrible a thing.)
Things I will miss
- xe om rides
- garlic rice
- that com suon place
- that com ga place
- flowers for ~$3
- happy hours
- my close friends
Things I have gained
- a short temper (and the ability to deal with it)
- a distrustful mindset
- probably diabetes
Things I happily leave behind
- the male-female dynamic, specifically between expat men and Vietnamese women
- the entitled behaviour and inevitable seediness that befalls expat men
- hipster travellers
The worst thing to happen to me in Saigon wasn’t when my taxi driver attempted to drag me – albeit with too little strength to make a difference – back to his cab because he thought I was skipping out on the bill. It wasn’t when a boss forced me to pay $300 for an error in a map we were designing. It wasn’t even when I was held up at knife-point by ~8 young guys wanting my friend’s backpack of camera equipment – which I happened to be wearing.
The worst thing was the millions of opportunities that in the end never amounted to anything – just time lost, trust lost. Case and point: I signed a work contract and spent five months preparing a million work permit documents, while rejecting potential work because the permit “could come through at any moment“, only to be told on the second day of work that they had nothing for me to do and couldn’t hire me. All that time and money wasted, all the potential work lost. Not to mention the general feeling of helpless dejection, and distrust for locals and expats alike.
I learned to always expect things in Viet Nam to fall through, to take too long to be useful, or to happen in no way that is beneficial.
The best thing? I’m not sure just yet, but I’m hoping that – when the forest is back in focus – my time here will have defined in me a greater amount of empathy and some ability to worry less about whether or not things will go to plan.
Alternatively, you have been the greatest thing about Viet Nam. The you’s who were there for me when I was in need; the you’s who let me be there for them in a similar capacity. You brought me through the other end. I won’t say we’ll ever see each other again, but I will always wish I could bring you – and every you from every country I’ve lived in – to an island just for us.
Funny where the lines of friendship fall… everyone is so selfish and self important. You’re running out of time, so do things with people that matter to you, you’ll regret missing them more than people that couldn’t make time for you.
Some creative work by fellow Canadian, Fred Wissink. Makeup and styling by Natalya Smolenskaya.
Feathers and satin and lace for days.
Today I discovered a man I should have known years ago.
Such a calm and meticulous individual, able to illustrate and combine complex and competing ideas with grace. To hear these people speak, you realise the ridiculous amount of knowledge they have – not only on fashion but also on the related historical and political arenas that surround fashion. Makes it all so much more interesting.
I want to follow him around and become best friends, but I get the feeling the former would have an adverse effect on the latter.
Discovered Bolton in the documentary The First Monday in May. Great snippets of the exhibit, and, more importantly, how it all came together. An immense – and surely exhilarating – amount of work.
This Australian woman.
I want these scenes to be real.
Het Noordbrabrants Museum, this month past:
Bosch captures—perhaps more than any other artist—the mutable world, life driven relentlessly by sex and death, and consciousness caught between imagination and the brutish facts of the flesh.
Ever-obsessed with his Garden of Earthly Delights, to see so much of his work all in one place.. ugh. The things I’ve missed.
At the end of her shift, our 50-something-year-old cleaner comes out of the bathroom with a huge grin on her face and says to me, “I go to church now. Do you like my shirt?” Being a bright and bubbly woman, she was near to bouncing around the kitchen, proud to be wearing a shirt her now-deceased, and well-loved, sister used to own.
She’s sporting a new blouse, patterned in reds and browns, a waved collar adorning her neck – not nearly as gruesome as most fashion here, and obviously a blouse for special occasions. That said, this particular top is transparent enough to showcase her black bra beneath it.
Entirely reflective of the constant paradox that is Vietnam: the current 30-40ish generation is devoutly abstinent and yet the women will wear what I can only call club attire to work, church, the grocery store, everywhere..
I’d have said this was only to be seductive, but it seems more of a commonplace absent-minded decision than the former. This, especially if my genuinely sweet, and rather religious, cleaner will wear a transparent top to church. Surely she isn’t trying to be seductive.
..Unless she’s planning on seducing her Pastor/Priest/Whatever.