thanks that we crossed paths

where the hell did that week go? i’ve no ideas about mine. even though i was not that super busy. the previous one was… hell, yeah!
yet, last week? was more in a contemplative swamp that pulled me down down deep deep down into a flood of thoughts. and feelings…

would love to trade the seat with yours to be busy, and better, to be a busy photographer….

and you know am a freelancer too…haha, another glass raised. and another round on me…

i love being busy myself so this phase when it’s slowing down, am really sleeping on worries of what’s next tomorrow. i could totally relate to your aspiration to feel producing something, whatever shit that is. and to feel some highness rushing in the veins that kicks in the ass, that sweats out on your forehead and makes your mind immersed in a generous flow of andrenaline.

and then, as you say… when it’s done, you feel confused as if abandoned once the extreme pleasure of achievement dies down.

fuck all. you stare at the boats… the end of such a hyper day for me would be perfect to be spent in a silent embrace of a loved one. just silence. maybe a movie. boats are not bad. but an embrace is just a must, or much-wished-for.

for this time being, i have nothing to stare at. perhaps i should start doing that sweet suicide: smoking…i swear by all gods that exist in the world, i ll stop when sorting this money stress out. shh, don’t even start telling me how bad and lamo it is to smoke. personal story: have to take my dad’s role to support my family now, dont want to give up the freedom of being a freelancer yet still have to struggle with that new role. but also, shh, let s not start on it.

so far, in journalistic writing, i ve only written for eng newspaper/ magazines. not much so far. before, was in advertising. am looking for a full time vacancy today but fuck, i feel like am whoring myself to look for a job in the industry that i despise. to mix what i like to what i think is shit. don’t tell those employing nutcases that am anti consumerism and that am far from being that money driven.

yes, the inspiration for taking pictures the same as what inspires us to keep living. but that’s so when you talk about self-containing minds. i would have to add so far in my litlle life which has not lasted for so long and has not been spent in many places in the world, nor dragged through a massive number of ups and downs, i ve seen more sheeps than wolves. the issue must have started a long time ago with that classic line “to be or not to be”. and i dont believe everyone, when asked with this question, would have such an answer as you did. i guess those who love observing, appreciate what they see and perhaps thereupon will take pictures as a praisal for what eyes love, would say a thing close to that…..others would just well survive happily with mundane routines: work, family, love, kids. i would call it floating through days. you need inspiration to produce beauty, i guess. you dont need inspiration to be a banker with a wife and two kids.

anyway…

there was a pix in my stream [finding it] here it is! so you know i am with you: yes, travel is definitely ONE!
watched Baraka yet?

am such a nerd to go babbling this much about this movie. literally, i really rant about it to anyone that matters: my ex, my crush, my roommate, my best friend…

i think you ll appreciate it. i wish more people appreciate it.

your memory, my breath [being taken away when i read your visual memory]

am amazed how something random [like the image, or flickr] can connect people in a vibrant way. in this case, it would be us. if we hadnt started writing to each other, we would never know what’s beyond the cover [think books!]

and am amazed at how mysteriously our minds work. in this case, it would be yours with the very first fresh memory. and us all being charmed and entangled by something that comes across the eyes.

enough rambling from my side, too. keep flowing, pete.

last thing: thank you.

again pete wrote

hi Chi

whoa… where the hell did that week go?

can’t believe I’m sitting here in my studio on another dull sunday again, wondering what happened to the time

well, it was a busy week… being a freelancer, like you, means I am at the mercy of my clients… everybody thinks that I’m lucky because they assume I can choose when I work, when it suits me, but the reverse is actually the truth… I have less opportunity to dictate my schedule than someone who works 9-5 in an office… but I’m not moaning… I love to be busy… to feel a buzz of industry… to exceed peoples expectations… to produce rabbits out of hats… and then to feel listless and empty when the work dies… days of inertia… lots of annoying little chores to do, paperwork piling up, things that need fixing… but fuck that.. I’ll stare out the window at the boats on the river… I’ll daydream… I’ll surf flickr… anything but the boring mundane tasks I should be doing…

so, how was your week… do you have another assignment? what kind of writing do you do?

my mind is still being exercised by your deceptively simple inquiry about inspiration…  and, incredibly, I’m struggling to remember if anybody has asked me that before… plenty of friends and clients ask the usual banal questions… what is your favorite subject matter, who are your favorite photographers, etc., and they are easy to answer… but the inspiration one is different…

for a start, is the inspiration for taking pictures the same as what inspires us to keep living? it should be I guess… I hope it is… and sure, there are some obvious ones… photography, music, art, film… but somehow, those seem to me, to be more influences than inspiration… true inspiration comes from something far more elusive… and often not just one thing… but a combination of events and actions… a coalescence of thoughts and concerns, some old, some new, that finally reach a critical mass and condense into a single force that implants and inhabits your very soul… like when you travel to foreign places and experience an environment and culture different form the one you are so used to at home… everything is noticed… different smells, different customs, different road markings, different attitudes, different body language… and then eventually you absorb all these disparate elements and form a single impression in your mind of what this strange culture is all about.. and you realise that there is a different way of living, of existing and co-existing, of being a community… and that is inspiring… whoa… there you go… my first answer… travel is truly inspiring… I’ll think of others…

btw, your image of the chainlink fence you posted a few days ago… thank you (again)… it triggered a memory and reconciled a struggle I’ve had for years with such fences… I’ve always been intrigued by them, always photographed them but never in a satisfactory way, even at art college I used to make drawings of them and collect any visual reference that featured them… and it has always bemused me as to why I should find them so intriguing, yet get so little out of them as a visual metaphor… until I saw your image… and then I realised what it was… it rekindled a memory of when I was a toddler and my mother took me and my twin sister to kindergarden for the first time… there was a chainlink gate and fence to the playground… and of course, after delivering us safely, my mother had to walk back through the gate, leaving me and my sister on our own in an unfamiliar place… it’s one my earliest memories… I remember my sister being distraught and crying, and I also remember the feel of the wire on my hands as I clasped the fence and watched as my mother walked away… I don’t want to sound dramatic about it, but those things can have a impact on you, and I think that your image finally resolved the conundrum because there is a sense in it (for me at least) of being constrained… being on the inside of the fence, whereas most of the images I’ve made over the years have been from the other side of the fence… the outside… and indeed, I had for a long time thought the pre-occupation to be connected with my feeling of always being an outsider, an observer, excluded and detached.. but really it was all about abandonment and a sense of constraint… powerful stuff this photography business!

well, I guess I should stop rambling now… hope you have a great week…

Pete

i fucking hate myself for hurting you

ve been ranting

but i have to say you are millions time precious

N: I’m a fucking idiot

me: and that, too

N: yeah

me: you shouldnt be in love with me still

N: thanks a heap

me: am double trouble

N: fine

have certainly fucked me up

anyway

whatever

me: if it s enough to pay what you ve done to me, i ll send you one of my ears

weirdo

N: ?

not funny

me: i mean me is a weirdo

suddenly i thought so

N: but thanks for trying

1:54 PM I wish I could get over you em

or that I had half the fucking distractions

1:55 PM me: urg, you know…

N: urrrg what?

1:56 PM I don’t know anything

me: you know we ve had enuf words

and we should not complicate it further

and you know i wish the best for you

more than i can say

and i need to go pee

but i ll be back in a min

N: . . .

1:58 PM me: back

2:01 PM N: yeah

and?

2:02 PM me: and finishing up your release

e: sending

N: thanks em

me: i feel good

tadatadatadatada

2:26 PM N: congratulations

good to hear

2:27 PM me: haha, you look so cute

with that emoticon

N: x-(

me: kakak

and that too

N: is that better?

x-( x-( x-( x-( x-( x-(

2:28 PM thanks for the release em

2:29 PM will sort you out when I see you if that’s ok

or let me know if you need it sooner

2:31 PM me: money you mean?

N: what else would I be talking about

me: i ll put it on record still have cash from the amoun u lent me

though wait till the rent payday comes

bugger

: i love it

2:34 PM i mean … the writing is cool

N: nice

me: you re cool people

N: well

glad you enjoyed it

and glad you think so

2:35 PM me: it s true

N: thanks em

wil be in hcmc in a few weeks

am petrified of seeing you anyway

to be honest

2:43 PM me: while am intimidated

to be honest back

N: why?

2:44 PM me: it s traumatizing for me

to ever do anything that makes u sad

sad is not the right word

or say, to do anything harmful to you

N: so what are you planning on doing?

or saying?

2:45 PM me: i want to see you move on from me

N: great

me: i know

N: do you not care at all em?

2:46 PM me: i do

that s why

N: am I just nasty past history to you?

me: no

i just cant afford hurting you again

N: and you’re planning on doing that?

me: not at all

no

2:47 PM but somehow, there s some leftover

that puts me on stress

N: what leftover?

me: that i would sometime hurt you again

some emotional depression we went through

for either side

N: . . .

I just wish we had had a chance em

2:48 PM and we never really did

and that hurts me everyday

to know

that everybody else

oliver or whoever

has had the chance to be with you everyday

and to discover that it works or doesn’t

and I never have

or we never have

2:49 PM it makes me so fucking angry

at myself

and at you in a way

me: somehow in the memories of us together, fully or half

involve some extreme feelings

N: so what are you saying?

2:50 PM me: i want you to move on from me

N: because?

me: again, bcus i cant afford hurting you again

N: we’re going in fucking circle

me: i want you to forever be in my inner circle

N: s

2:51 PM fuck

sorry em

2:52 PM I know you don’t need this

but you’re going to actually have to talk to me one day

2:53 PM me: i guess that s another thing too anh

it s ironical how as i know you love me and i trust you the most in the world

N: then?

me: that s a solace sometimes

2:54 PM and at other times, is a felt of responsibility

like i feel i ask myself to make you happy

demand

N: is that what that weekend in hcmc was about?

trying to make me happy?

2:55 PM me: no, taking you out for one night is not that much i could do

N: well . . .

2:56 PM and you know that’s not what I’m talking about

me: the kiss you mean?

N: yeah

that and the rest

2:57 PM me: no, not

it was … about me

me being drunk and comfortable around you

N: . . . .

2:58 PM and if you were’nt drunk?

me: i woudl not have done that

N: great

2:59 PM ok

wahtever

I have to go

3:00 PM me: sorry, please know i care about you very much without trying to promise that we ll be back together anytime soon

3:01 PM and pls know am trying to be honest and fair to you

speechless

anyway

I’m sorry for the drama

like I said

i was just confused

and you know I love you very much

and to be honest I’ve been feeling like kind of a fool for being such a sap anyway

and I thought you probably were seeing someone

I just didn’t want to ask until I felt I had to. . . .

and after seeing you

i  was even more confused

having gone from nowhere

to nowhere/somewhere

still on the out

but having rediscovered everything about you that I loved so much

and realising again that I felt like I would do anything for us to have some kind of chance

at least to discover whether it could work after all

or if I was just in love with an ideal notion of what we could be

anyway

I don’t want your thanks

i dont really know what to say

I just want you to understandand maybe I just need to get over it

and myself

[again]

but I believe in you so strongly

that I’ve never found that so easy to do

me: lucky me

very lucky me

N: ha

yeah right

I’m not sure if I would go that far

me: to….?

well, how did i manage to do that?

cant figure it out

me: so, can only say s a matter of luck

to gain your belief

N: through a long period of me discovering

layer after layer

who you really were

and moving from being lightly ‘in love’ with you in the beginning

to realising you were someone I really believed in

really liked

really cared for

more than I’ve really cared for anyone in a long, long time

I guess I saw the poetry in your soul

revealed to me slowly

and have only ever fallen deeper since then

so in the end I can say

despite everything

that I love you em

and I can tell my friends

when they ask

that when it comes down to it

I still love you

after all this time/damage/distance

and that you are someone I believe in

with all my heart and soul

[usually said with a wistful, slightly self-effacing half smile of sad acceptance of where we are - so far away in so many ways, so close in so many others]

11:38 AM me: this is not good – you re making me cry

N: hush em

me: am touched

and despite your hush, i feel lucky

N: yeah, well . . .

nothing to cry about princess

you lead your life

I’ll do my best to lead mine

or to find my way again

and after all

at day’s end

you know at least how I feel

me: i guess i ve done bad to you enough- so whatever you want me to do, tell me, okay ?

chi oi

why did you go?

you’ve done nothing to me I haven’t balanced

and, ultimately, I’m accepting of everything

the last thing I would ever want to do is hold you back or bring you down

please remember that

and see through our history

and my flaws

and know that however far away either of us moves

physically or emotionally

that I am what I am

and so will be here for you for a long time to come

So, I try to look at it this way

“If you’re really listening, if you’re awake to the poignant beauty of the
world, your heart breaks regularly. In fact, your heart is made to break; its
purpose is to burst open again and again so that it can hold ever-more
wonders.” —Andrew Harvey

20 oct 08

me: i have no fucking idea
N: to be completely honest em. I wish I was. but I’m still pretty much completely hung up on you
which makes it a bit tricky
me:
N: [spank] [and it's true]
me: and you know that s pretty unsafe i am never a safe bet
N: I know em. it breaks my heart. you have no idea
me: it does me if i have to do you
N: ?
me: anyway, just checking up on you. no point talking about it on monday morning. i just dont want to be too misleading
N: ummmm ok and I don’t want to be mislead
me: so
N: so?
me: so it is
N: [sigh] AM well you know anytime you change your mind . . . .
me: you ve no idea how thankful i am. how lucky i feel about you but my warnin is still there out of my honesty and concern about you. am not a safe bet
N: I know em. I know. but I am who I am and I can’t help the way I feel. I’m not pretending it makes life easy. nor that I think it’ smart. but I do think you’re absolutely wonderful and of all the people I know in the end despite everything
me: and i ll say the same thing to you. and everybody s happy. world peeeeace
N: ha. let me finish . . . .in the end, you’re the person I most want to share things with so . . . either I ‘ll convince you one day or I’ll get over it. life sucks like that. but hey . . .
me: yes, hey
N: you are fucking trouble. anyway. you know where I stand. and anytime you want to actually talk to me in any depth. I welcome it
me: yes, anh. you re my last ally in the world. and am yours
N: ok babe
me: viva communism
N: thanks and no stress. oi troi oi . .
me: did i send you the one i said i would? with the guy in benthanh market. speaking english?
N: yes
me: the one who sells postcards
N: loved it
me: haha, no stress, no sweat. okie dokie. maybe i should let you get back to your work. am done with mine. trying to sell some photos here
N: I should. but you know I’m a sucker for your distraction. but yes. I should work. you have fun nhe. xxx

any wound would heal one day -[ sometimes i feel lucky- june08]

Hey there,

I promised I would write, but I don’t really know what to say. Or at least, what to say to you…

On one hand, I would like to say a lot, on the other, not so much. I feel that it’s more fair to you to say a lot. So let’s try:

Our daughter was born on the 26th of July, 16:35. Everything went fine and really quick. The first week she slept a lot and life was easy, no crying at all. The second week, difficulties started. She doesn’t look that happy, and though at the beginning it looked like stomach cramps were the problem, they seem to be mostly gone, but our rhythm of sleep at night a lot, not so much during the day, is now quite messed up. We are scrambling to find something that works, that makes her be happy and content again without spending our whole day with our pinkie in her mouth (she doesn’t like pacifiers either). The lack of sleep doesn’t help to make us all feel happy and cheerful, though we definitely love her incredibly (already).

I don’t know how you are doing, but it seems you are doing quite fine. It seems you have found someone that really values you and sees you as beautiful as you are. So much so that you will not come back to HCMC as soon as you had planned. I feel a mixture of pain, jealousy and relief about that. No surprises there, of course.

I feel it is really fair that you find someone that sees in you how amazing you are, and is free to give you much more than I could. Enjoy it, and I hope it really is as wonderful as it looks like through the camera lens. And I hope it lasts, and I hope you feel fulfilled, happy, and generally surrounded by pink clouds.

I’ll keep my brief memories.

Besos.

even though i was leaving to see another man…[june08]

Thanks for last night em.
And I’m sorry I’ve been such a fuck-up in so many ways.
I
guess I have to understand if you’ve decided you’ve had enough of me -
but I can’t pretend not to be broken by it when what I most want/ed in
the world was for us to have a chance.
You lift me up and inspire me in a thousand different ways, make me want to heal and grow and be the best I can.
Travel safe and be inspired gorgeous.
I love you.
x N.

U april 16

These days I am thinking about you a lot. I have your image almost all
day in my mind. Not sure what to do with it, though. Sometimes I
remember your face as you were coming out of the airport terminal when
I picked you up. Sometimes it’s your face when you were sitting in
front of me in Juice. Sometimes it’s you in your place’s shower, using
your flatmate’s razor…

You have said several times that you don’t see us together in the long
term, in the future. Well, I have to say I share that feeling, but
still… what do I do with my mental images of you constantly around
my head?

Still miss you.

–
U

goodie from n [april 10,08]

FERN HILL

Dylan Thomas

     Now as I was young and easy under the apple boughs
     About the lilting house and happy as the grass was green,
       The night above the dingle starry,

         Time let me hail and climb
       Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
     And honoured among wagons I was prince of the apple towns
     And once below a time I lordly had the trees and leaves
         Trail with daisies and barley

       Down the rivers of the windfall light.

     And as I was green and carefree, famous among the barns
     About the happy yard and singing as the farm was home,
       In the sun that is young once only,

         Time let me play and be
       Golden in the mercy of his means,
     And green and golden I was huntsman and herdsman, the calves
     Sang to my horn, the foxes on the hills barked clear and cold,
         And the sabbath rang slowly

       In the pebbles of the holy streams.

     All the sun long it was running, it was lovely, the hay
     Fields high as the house, the tunes from the chimneys, it was air
       And playing, lovely and watery

         And fire green as grass.
       And nightly under the simple stars
     As I rode to sleep the owls were bearing the farm away,
     All the moon long I heard, blessed among stables, the nightjars
       Flying with the ricks, and the horses

         Flashing into the dark.

     And then to awake, and the farm, like a wanderer white
     With the dew, come back, the cock on his shoulder: it was all
       Shining, it was Adam and maiden,
         The sky gathered again

       And the sun grew round that very day.
     So it must have been after the birth of the simple light
     In the first, spinning place, the spellbound horses walking warm
       Out of the whinnying green stable

         On to the fields of praise.

     And honoured among foxes and pheasants by the gay house
     Under the new made clouds and happy as the heart was long,
       In the sun born over and over,
         I ran my heedless ways,

       My wishes raced through the house high hay
     And nothing I cared, at my sky blue trades, that time allows
     In all his tuneful turning so few and such morning songs
       Before the children green and golden

         Follow him out of grace.

     Nothing I cared, in the lamb white days, that time would take me
     Up to the swallow thronged loft by the shadow of my hand,
       In the moon that is always rising,

         Nor that riding to sleep
       I should hear him fly with the high fields
     And wake to the farm forever fled from the childless land.
     Oh as I was young and easy in the mercy of his means,
         Time held me green and dying

       Though I sang in my chains like the sea.

me today to pete [4]

don’t know what time it’s there now. too lazy to google it up. espresso when you were writing for me? now latte here at black cat, a popular american eatery in saigon. but in such a monday morning, it would be quiet. ans the guy sitting opposite seems to be staring at my short skirt. but it’s alright.

hmm. what the heck…

please write to me in your own voice. no filter. being my native language not, those intrigue me and challenge me, thus excite me. no language filter, neither courtesy one, pls.

like i would sigh now: what the fuck? i just finished the last work that i was supposed to do, and now i am not sure what to lay hands on next.

that’s the nature of being a freelancer.

i am absolutely into and see it through for what you had to say about the games on flickr. and for me, while doing it out of pure passion, i d rather keep it that way. i mean, don’t we have to give enough ways for compromise and for others’ approvals in other paths of life? there’s something that should remain a luxury and for that, i ll stand in guard…

just ranting in case you notice.

if so far, you’ve managed so well to combine what you love to do and what you do for a living, i’ll raise my glass. lucky you, or good for you, or  you get what you deserve, or whatsoever.

your still life one is minimalistic and perfectly neat. i guess you can feel a person’s soul n spirit through their photos. it’s a real pleasure to come across some image that runs through me, and sends a felt of vibration along my spine and arouses some love – whatever kind of love that extends to somewhere beyond a self…

meanwhile, i’ve stumpled upon some work on flickr that at the first sight, i would exhale a sigh of pleasure and typed it down: hat off. but after a while, things on the same stream would get boring when you realize [.....actually you did write about it beautifully in your last mail...] there’s a limit to the soul, to the perspective upon life…. if you get me right.

examples would include those who stick to one style and provide nothing new in the next shot. or more boringly, those who take self portraits time after time….

it could be a flaw of mine that i get bored very quickly with narrow souls [ the way i define it]. for which i could so well be categorized as a skeptical bitch that demands much of virtues from other people. oh not to say am leading an exceedingly decent life yet honesty is the pearl that’s hard to catch.

i find your writing very charming.

look forward to hearing from you again.

chi