is impossible here. Gun around this colorless second-world city on my scooter and even with my ninja mask I still taste the gasoline in the air. Welcome to Vietnam. Every day we have to bug bomb the apartment because of the mosquitoes. Canned chemicals. Who knows if the Vietnamese even regulate that shit. I’m probably just sucking in Agent Orange vapor that kills brain matter and nukes my genome. Best bet is to never have kids; they would definitely be on the short bus. Have ten extra chromosomes and bulbous brain sacs.
Welcome to Vietnam. Finding and obtaining fresh produce is like planning a heist. Apples are a luxury because they’re imported. I don’t like the coffee here, but I still drink it.
Got my first gray hair. I’ve been waiting for it; I knew it was there, felt it in my soul, but I was afraid to look. Of course it was there. I’m 28, but I feel like I’ve been alive forever. I vividly remember floppy disks and Clinton’s first term. Too many memories and experiences piled up to be young anymore. I can no longer be a hooligan. Everything changes now.
Actually that’s not true. Everything stays the same. Because I’m already married and 50 years old. I’ve stopped clubbing and I order water with dinner. I’m already retired; I live in a compound behind a bulletproof gate that keeps the peasants out. No work, I just keep clean and quiet. Do dishes, read news. Only drank one beer this week. I’m doing new exercises and getting stronger and studying French and reading new authors.
Being mature feels great, learning more things lightens my soul. Being sober and productive is amazing. But being young and drunk was definitely better.
Also: my last post was really good and fuck all of you who didn’t read it and instead watched Dancing With the Stars or whateverthefuck. I’m out here busting my ass for you. Don’t make a brother wake up to stats that low again, please.