CATHY WITH THE MAGIC CIGARETTES.

In Sex and the City season 1, Carrie Bradshaw had a story idea of a little girl named Cathy who had magic cigarettes that could take her anywhere in the whole wide world if they got lit up. What a pity Carrie didn't have a chance to continue telling the story.

Maybe, we can finish the work for her as this was quite an idea, a children book for adults that contained magic cigarettes. Though most of the time I don't smoke, I can still outsource the storyline with the recalls of the last times I lit up a cigarette. 

1. RAMBUTAN BY THE WINDOW.

Probably a year ago. I was chewing rambutan by the window at 1 a.m. and smoking my last white Marlboros. It was meaningless, I hardly swallowed any smoke. But during that time, I was thinking a lot about Singapore. I knew they had MM6 and Etat Libre d'Orange over there, which kept me imagining from frame to frame of my reactions when I finally got a chance to feel something Margiela and smelled the scent of Putain des Palaces.

2. AT THE STUDIO.

That's a week ago. I was finishing up some work at 1 p.m. with a stomach full of fried chicken and shrimp burger. The cigarettes were right there. Perfect timing. I lit up a blue Marlboro and lay back ready for it to kick in. Then I realized I never swallowed smoke. So I started getting lost in my thoughts again. It was New York with the fast living pace full of opportunities and risks. 

Suddenly, a piece of writing about "indigo child" showed up on my newsfeed. Do you believe in the existence of indigo children? It's like self-ascription. Did I use the correct word? I mean it's like we believe that we're special in a mystical way while we're all the same in real life. 

3. SUSHI BAR.

Yesterday, I hung out at Tadioto as they were freshly serving sushi. My salmon sashimi was ok though I still think sushi should be served in a quieter space with a more gentle service, cleaner surroundings and cozier lighting. I don't know if my experience at Tadioto was out of the box or disrespectful to sushi. The first word is too bold and the second word is too hard. But I'll definitely give it a try again soon to find out. It's my favorite place anyway, and they serve my favorite food.

The thing is, I smoked. The atmosphere that night was so heavy. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I was feeling very ugly in and out. I was sitting opposite of my friend and I felt like a part of us secretly hated each other yesterday. I sought for an invisible escape in my head but all I could think of was the exact place and time in reality. 

"You see yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror -> yourself in the mirror..."

It went on and on until I got back home. Those cigarettes flew me to nowhere but a destination of "stuck". Things only turned better the next day, today, when I stop overthinking and cook myself a decent meal.

SKYSCRAPER'S LIGHTS.

I'm sitting at Tadioto tonight, having a piece of apple pie served with cashew, caramel and vanilla ice-cream, drinking hot Earl Grey and about to smoke. Did I just describe myself in a sentence? That line can be used from now on until I stop wearing black. I had a Skype date with my best friend dude and my laptop broke three times, worked like a charm on the fourth attempt and now I bet he's helping a friend to move. I'm looking at the melted ice-cream left in my plate, looks like my mood. I'm suffering from a breakup, every time feels like the first time. Every time is different. Every one is special in their own way.

Maybe this is a different 'first time'. Because this is the first time I actually sit down and write about it. Most of the times I ran away or hid with a happy mask. 

"I thought you broke up long time ago?" Now you're kidding me.

I can feel this is the end. Not an usual fight. I'm suffering instead of enjoying. Every time I tried to find a reason, I failed. So I'm not going to do that this time. I'll take it as it is. I admit there have been several occasions I villianized him, in a way that didn't represent who he was, only good enough to make me feel better for a while. Is it something we all do? Hate so as to live again? I can't go on hating him like that. I'm not the kind of person who lies to her own feelings. I write, it's compulsory that I stay truthful to my heart. The truth is I liked the guy so much. Looking back, I'm grateful for his appearance in my life. At least I wasn't alone from December to March. I didn't love him, I adored him. I have never loved anyone. I was so excited to see him even though some nights I knew for sure it'd be like shit. But I chose to be like shit with him. That's when I knew I'd found somebody special. When I could just shut up for a minute and comfortably enjoyed the silence. 

The thing is, the more we care about someone, the more likely we'll hurt them, the more severely it'll be. We'll mock them for such little things, take their existence for granted. So one day they'll leave. And we wonder why. 

I looked at the thousand lights on the skyscrapers tonight, and you weren't one of them. The night is still beautiful, the light is still bright. But why am I so not still? A flip and things changed. A word and the book was finished. 

It's sadness that makes things beautiful. It distorts the perfection a little so it'll be more real. We like the idea of each other. What lies inside sometimes is too much. 

For every one, I have a box for them. This time, there's also a post. 

I don't like the mushiness of it, how it starts with "I". But it's true.

MATTER OF PERSPECTIVE.

While walking by the corner of Tadioto and Moto-san Uber, I recalled some feelings a year ago when the people and things I thought would last long turned out to end soon. I was devastated. There were several nights spent meaninglessly and a whole lot of me decayed indescribably. But after many illogical posts and much time of cleaning, I realised it was about time for me to climb off the old mountain and drive ahead to the next ones. Because you know what? Sometimes, not having what we want is a blessing.

On my way of traveling the valley to the next mountains, there is this feeling that I'm sure every one has been through, the feeling of not belonging to here and now. This state of mind only rises up when I receive too much of pressure, so it's once or twice in a while, a while as in two or three months. Instead of fighting and denying, the only way I can let it go is to accept the existence of it, which is the fact that a person can be exceptionally weak at times. Whenever I start to sing the familiar song of 'I don't belong here', I sit down in solid silence and recall Midnight in Paris. How the main character living in 2010 had longed for a reborn in the 20s, and how a beautiful lady living in the Roaring 20s had desired a life back in the Renaissance. The lesson is, we tend to want 'that' while having 'this'. It seems to always be 'here' and 'there'. His 'there' is our 'here' and vice versa. For short, we stand at the top of our mountain and choose to only see the others' mountain tops. 

On this long go from one mountain to the next, I sometimes forget that my mind should be my best alley and chase after things that are way out of my reach. It's a tiring, challenging game of acceptance and suppression. Must it be denied or faced? Not every time the dime turned out as a win. [Insert lots of confusion here].. Then again, there are yesterday and today. So ok, the doubtful shadow can stay. But how it stays will be turned into a fun experience of balancing as on a bicycle.

I used to think certain people were born to belong to certain places. Now it's only a matter of perspective to me.

THE WOODEN NECKLACE.

Hot chocolate. 

Let me acknowledge to type again. These few weeks have been rough and exciting in an oddly unpredictable way. I've been hyped, blind, and weirdly enough, calm after a long while of disappointment and discontent. When it hits the deepest it could get, something rises up in return. 

I cleaned my room today. God knows what the heck I'd been stocking. Everything was dirty, messy, some covered in stains, some stunk, some even stroke me with surprise for their unbelievable uselessness. However, some reminded me of home, the one I had ten years ago. In that exact corner of the room, with that exact jewelry, I was looking at myself in the mirror, wearing a cheap wooden necklace, and thinking: "Nope. Never again." It went straight to my childhood box for years and years, so one day, one random day, to be discovered again. That day was today. Sunday, 11th July, 2016. I stared at the wooden necklace for minutes, held it tight in silence, and put it in the throw-away box. In the process of cleaning, certain things are meant to remind us of ourselves and be placed proudly on top of the shelves, some, however, should be remembered in our heart not as an object but a dearly memory. Therefore, its past belongs to the trash. Its presence stays. Its future remains unclear. 

I threw away a lot of 'wooden necklaces' today. I also kept plenty. New 'wooden necklaces' will soon fill this room. A piano, a white table for pattern cutting, a sewing machine, perhaps soon, a mannequin.

A picture book of artist Bui Xuan Phai was found next to my old bookshelf. Such a beautiful product of technology and dreams. Written in English and French, full of paintings and sketches. I wasn't surfing the book. I was detaching it. Chunks of paper were glued by moss and dirt. The end of it had an ancient corpse of a young brownish spider. As if the grief of ruined beauty couldn't get any sadder, a Japanese notebook came up in the same condition. Goodbye friends. I will find you in another copy and we'll soon meet again. 

Tomorrow will be busy. I'm up for it with all my heart. Today has been a ride of sweat and smiles. I rewarded myself with a bowl of ramen, Earl Grey, and hot chocolate at Tadioto. You know I'm happy. Now is the time for a good sleep and a definitive enter. I'll hit Publish and on this side of the globe, we'll go to bed, while on the other side, people will close this post and go on with their lives. Some of them will clean their room today and find their own 'wooden necklaces'. Such random happiness, don't you think?

Earl Grey.

Miso, the saltiest option.

Reminds me of an African cult.

Is it some kind of mother goddess worshipping? 

An illustration in the Mekong Review.

I found it under this. Will try the yellow bottle next time.

They put a branch of leaves up there. Lime leaves?

THE INTENTION OF WHAT WE PUT ON.

I walked down the roads of Metropole, rows of bookstores, the Veneta boutique, bus stops and taxi spots, all I could think of was how different it would have been if there had not been only me. I do realize I only miss the idea of the person. And I'm aware of the fact that I need my own space. I walked by the reflective walls of Prada, Citibank, plenty of galleries and the plaza, attentively enough to see my silhouette move with ease. There is no meaning in dressing, only intention. And the best intention of all is the idea of taking them off easily.

I'M A LITTLE, SLIGHTLY DRUNK.

My friend, if you're reading this, I'm a little, slightly drunk. I drank at home and I drank at Tadioto, too. There's no logic in my thoughts right now. The chips at Tadioto is so good, buttery and fairly sweet, it suits my taste. It's really good, I can have this all day and run the hell out of me later to feel less guilty. I tried to draw but my thoughts betrayed me. I still think of him when I'm happy and sad. I know I'm only saying this because I'm tipsy. Frankly, the only way to get over it is to admit it. God the chips is so good. I love this chips. I'd have a big bowl of this, please. Thank you autocorrect. I know you're working hard right now. Anyway, I only miss the idea of him. If I can come up with this idea, I can throw it away, too. Seriously, I'll propose to the chips. There's a couple sitting in front me right now, like the other before. I dislike you guys for lacking sense of etiquette. Who goes on a date with shorts and flip flops? Flip flop, flip flop, can you imagine the sound of them when it rains?

Oh dear I'm really drunk.

I hate polo shirt. Like a t-shirt with collar. What are you thinking?

I remember our second date at Tadioto. I wore this black oversized coat with this tassel bag and he had to go out to smoke for a while to stay sane. Oh dear I'm really drunk. I can feel the wine kicking in right now. It's ok I'll have more chips. Crack, crack, chug, chug. I'll finish my tiramisu left in the fridge when I'm home.

It's going to rain. The dark sky just played rock and roll.

Then we had this night at Tadioto and enjoyed a free action movie with guys on the roof trying to lift and install a huge air conditioner, the kind they have in the restaurant. It was scary. And I loved it. Someone almost slipped. The rest stood on the edge looking tiny and vulnerable. A human falling off the roof in front of my eyes? Take my money! Seriously, the sky is about to burst into tears right now. It's gonna rain cats and dogs. I miss my cats.
I want to wear a slipper dress. I must look so good in one. The guy is touching her hair and they're kissing. Marry and Joseph, stop it! It rains. Thank God they left. I feel better now. Let's face it, I'll hate myself tomorrow reading this again. It's raining so hard I feel like I'm looking through a sheer mask of the night. I'm getting sober. See, I can handle my situation. Rain has its way. That way is my remedy. Alright I'll quit writing now and listen to the rain.

TADIOTO AGAIN.

Trên đường đạp xe về, tôi không khỏi suy nghĩ về những gì sẽ xảy ra trong vòng ba tháng tới. Thậm chí khi mọi thứ tưởng như chắc chắn, một điều gì đấy không thuận lợi vẫn có thể xảy ra. Đường về từ Ông Ích Khiêm đến La Thành chỉ ngắn như từ Moto-san Uber đến Tadioto. Lúc dừng mua thẻ điện thoại, tôi lại được hỏi về cái xe đạp. Mua bao nhiêu tiền, ở đâu, dùng bao lâu rồi, xe của Nhật hay Đức,... tất cả đều là những câu hỏi của những người sẽ không bao giờ mua xe này. Và tôi vẫn trả lời hồn nhiên như lần đầu tiên được hỏi.

Tôi vẫn thấy cay mắt vì chuyện học bổng. Tối hôm trước vì quá lo lắng mà đầu tôi như búa bổ. Chỉ suýt nữa là tôi uống viên thuốc đau đầu. Rất may chuyện đó đã không xảy ra. Dù có chuyện gì, tôi cũng sẽ đối mặt với thực tế bằng tinh thần lạc quan và tiếp tục đi theo con đường đã chọn. Vì vậy, tối hôm nay tôi đã đi ăn mỳ với một người bạn để giải tỏa.

Chúng tôi dừng chân ở tiệm mới của Moto-san Uber và cũng là tiệm tạm thời trên đường Lý Đạo Thành. Tôi cho rằng bát mỳ Miso vẫn vậy mà tối nay tôi không thể ăn hết được. Có đoạn sợi mỳ như nghẹn ở cổ, đoạn tôi vừa nhai vừa nghĩ mông lung chẳng biết mình đang nghĩ gì, nhai gì. Có ly nước gạo là ngon, trơn một ngụm hết sạch. Chị Trang ăn bánh mỳ có vẻ hấp dẫn. Thỉnh thoảng tôi nhìn chị Trang rồi quay sang nhìn cái đèn lồng treo trước mắt, trông như Monet, nhìn xa thì đẹp mà nhìn gần thì thấy lỗ thủng. Tôi ăn bát mỳ Miso mà trong đầu không khỏi nghĩ đến hai suất học bổng.

Chúng tôi đi tiếp đến Tadioto. Như thường lệ, tôi gọi Earl Grey nóng và chị Trang gọi nước hoa quả. Tôi muốn ngồi phòng trong hơn. Hóa ra vị trí ghế ngồi phòng đó đã được thay đổi và chị Trang thì không chịu được mùi thuốc lá vừa bước vào đã ập đến nồng nặc. Nếu tôi không nhầm thì người hút thuốc là nhà thiết kế Hà Linh Thư. Tôi phải công nhận rằng có những người cho tôi cảm giác muốn làm quen ngay lập tức dù như vậy có phần hấp tấp. Quyết định ngồi ở gian giữa, tôi và chị Trang nói đủ thứ chuyện từ cách ăn uống của người Pháp đến giọng Anh Anh, Anh Mỹ. Tối nay tôi được biết thêm hai bản nhạc mới là The Third Man của Strauss và Brandenburger Concerto của Bach. Tadioto thay đổi một số thứ nên có lúc tôi mải quay lung tung để quan sát mấy bức tranh.

Trong lúc mở điện thoại, tôi đã unblock một người bạn để xem họ đang nghĩ gì. Một lần nữa tôi lại ngây thơ vì hai lý do. Thứ nhất, facebook đổi chế độ chỉ cho phép tôi block lại người đấy sau 48 giờ. Thứ hai, tôi trẻ con khi đối mặt với chuyện này bằng cách tránh né. Tôi hạ điện thoại xuống và không nghĩ gì đến việc đó nữa. Cuối buổi, chúng tôi gọi thêm đĩa phô mai xanh, ăn kèm với ô liu, nho khô, hạt điều và bánh mỳ. Tôi hợp ăn mấy thứ này nên thấy rất thỏa mãn, có cái gì đó rất thú vị. Vừa ăn tôi lại vừa nghĩ đến hai suất học bổng.

Tôi mời chị Trang đi dạo vì đó là thói quen khi tôi rời Tadioto. Tôi dẫn chị Trang đến The Concept Warehouse, nơi có sân mầm non và khu nhà cổ trông như nhà ma vào buổi tối. Nó buồn cười ở chỗ tầng một là khu trông trẻ, tầng hai là phòng khám bệnh tâm thần. Ngồi chơi một lúc thì một con gián đuổi chúng tôi đi trong luống cuống. Đừng bay! Nhưng nếu nó bay thì cũng hay đấy. Tiếp sau, tôi dẫn chị Trang qua Casa Italia, rồi đến Luala, nơi đang bày một tác phẩm sắp đặt trong khuôn khổ của Into the Thin Air. Nói thật, tôi không hiểu. Tôi chỉ biết rằng, khi đứng trước một tác phẩm nào đó, tôi đều có cảm xúc riêng. Tôi thầm cảm ơn người đã tạo những tác phẩm như vậy vì họ đã đem lại cho tôi cảm xúc và cũng cảm ơn bản thân vì đã không thờ ơ với sự vật. Chúng tôi đi qua Prada và lần này thì tôi chẳng cảm thấy gì. Tôi nhớ khi đi qua Luala và nhà thờ 61 Lý Thái Tổ với một người bạn, tôi đã thấy một bầu trời đầy sao. Đó là buổi tối đầu tiên sau rất nhiều năm tôi không thấy sao. Khi tôi và người bạn đó định ngồi trên bậc cầu thang thì chúng tôi để ý có bác bảo vệ đang ngồi trong phòng xem bóng đá. Vậy là suýt nữa chúng tôi đã có một Midnight in Paris. Nhưng thú thật, tôi vẫn nghĩ đến hai suất học bổng.

Tôi về nhà như vậy, trong lo âu và nhẹ nhõm dù tôi chẳng hiểu tôi thấy nhẹ ở điều gì. Một người bạn ở Singapore đã đề nghị cho tôi ở nhờ khi đến đây. Tôi thật biết ơn sự có mặt của họ và cũng tự trách mình vì chỉ nhận ra điều đó khi nhận được sự giúp đỡ. Tôi không biết chuyện gì sẽ xảy ra tiếp sau. Đêm đã muộn, tôi sẽ không ngủ ngay mà mải suy nghĩ về tất cả khả năng trong ba tháng tới.

Bát mỳ Miso vẫn ngon như vậy dù tôi để lại một ít mỳ và giá. Để lại đồ ăn trong bát lúc nào cũng thật phí phạm và thậm chí còn không tôn trọng người nấu ra chúng.

Món bánh mỳ của chị Trang trông rất ngon. Nhân đầy đặn và nhiều rau là hai thứ tôi thích ở bánh mỳ.

Tôi vẫn nhớ ngày xưa hay mày mò làm cheese plate. Hồi đó tôi chưa biết google nên ăn cái gì thấy hợp là tôi để vào một khay rồi xếp lại cho đẹp, cắt ra thành từng miếng cho vừa miệng.

Bức tranh tôi thích nhất ở Tadioto.

Đúng là "Người buồn cảnh có vui đâu bao giờ." Chỗ tôi ngồi, bên trên là bức tranh nền xanh với ngôi sao xanh thủng lỗ chỗ. Tôi vẫn thấy màu xanh không buồn mà đầy hy vọng.

Cái kệ tạp chí này ở ngoài trông đẹp hơn khi lên ảnh.

Bức tranh này khó hơn những bức còn lại ở Tadioto. Tôi rất sợ vẽ người và càng sợ hơn khi xem tranh có người. Một người bạn tôi quen qua mạng đang học ở Central Saint Martin đã thích bức tranh này. Tôi muốn hỏi vì sao lắm mà thấy câu hỏi cứ thừa thừa mà mình lại chẳng thân.

Tôi không có nhiều cảm xúc với bức này lắm.

Đây chính là cái sân mầm non nơi chúng tôi chơi thú nhún. Chính tại đây con gián đã lồm cồm bò ra từ phía cầu trượt.

Bức ảnh này đánh dấu một giây sợ hãi. Ý định của tôi là chụp lại cái cửa. Khi vừa bấm máy thì ảnh hiện lên một bóng người như trên. Thực sự suýt tí nữa tôi ngã khỏi con cá ngựa.

Ảnh này khá hay. Tôi vẫn hay đi dạo và đạp xe qua ngã tư Casa Italia và Metropole. 

Mỗi lần ngước lên nóc nhà Metropole tôi lại tự hỏi bây giờ là 4 giờ sáng hay 8 giờ tối.

Tác phẩm sắp đặt trong khuôn khổ của Into the Thin Air. Tôi xin tạm gọi đây là một chương trình và tôi muốn gửi đến cảm nhận của mình như sau: tôi thấy chương trình đã làm rất tốt phần đầu khi gợi được sự tò mò của mọi người và kết hợp với app dành cho điện thoại. Về sau khi chương trình chính thức mở thì tôi không thấy phần thực hiện còn hấp dẫn nữa. Tôi thấy các bạn đã làm được một điều mới mẻ ở bước đầu tiên rồi lại đi vào lối mòn ở những bước còn lại.

POEM: THE USUAL TEA.

Hot Earl Grey.

Japanese messenger's bicycle.

Old house in Trang Tien alley.

As seen at Lukas.

The little garden.

Hanoi swings in the cold of winter
Gives us time for cookies and tea
Dipped into the liquid
Softened with ease.

"No Dignity" played
Smoothened in jazz
Leather shoes danced
It wasn't bazaar.

Dark outside
Half past 5 no less
Tea ran out
Should have already left.

Jamie.

FIRST POST AFTER THE 20TH BIRTHDAY

What I wrote on the first day of October:

Hand-writing cards has been tragically forgotten in this time. Modernization calls it the innovation of convenience. Emails, messages and live calls save time and money, yet less emotion and effort. "Happy birthday" wishes are sent through cables but feelings. It's been hard to compliment someone for their memory since the appearance of reminders.

I was surprised to receive birthday wishes from people involved in fashion quicker than from my friends. Some of them didn't even say anything. I get them. Weirdos with beautiful souls.

Anyway, I'm burying my head into application. Thinking of my future cheers me up. Sometimes I ask myself where all of this energy comes from. The drive for fashion and writing. Older people told me I have this motivation because I'm young. "Pardon me. Could you repeat it?" Age is the lamest excuse anyone could use to cover their laziness, unwillingness to learn and lack of hard work. I can't erase or paint their mindset brighter. Maybe I can listen and understand because I write, I must observe and see through things. At the same time, I have to create the ability to ignore their influence. If being heard comfort people, I'll keep doing it. But they are the only ones who can help themselves.

I'm facing fashion with a different attitude. Materials and techniques interest me. I no longer want to establish myself as an entrepreneur in fashion. I'll be happy to find a brain for the logical work and a mentor who guides me with a heart. No one is really their own boss. We can never have full control as long as we are trapped in an industry. So why don't we make it less painful by giving more love and less hatred?

There are plenty of questions I have for myself. The beginning of my 20 is a rocky road and I'm a curious driver. This unlicensed me wants to give strangers a lift and keep choosing the roads leading into the woods. What do I do now?

What I wrote this midnight:

I just came home from Tadioto, check 24B Tong Dan street if you're in Hanoi. I've always liked the atmosphere here. The color tone is reddish and friendly for any types of cameras. Drink and food are well selected and A for the service. There will be an endless crowd coming in and out of Tadioto, but you'll never notice any chaos. Only you and your own favorite bar. My usual drink is Earl Grey and a choice of tapas. Tonight, I switched it to chocolate truffles with the hope of romance. And it tasted minty. 

Good news. I made a new friend today. She's taught English, German and Italian for years, and she also loves music, piano in particular. I also shared the night with my dear friend who, to me, represented the definition of sincerity. Beautiful autumn night surrounded with happiness. I have many things to tell, yet not much, as I listened to the two of them the whole night and focused on the flavors of the truffles. Less sweet, more bittersweet, I think. 

It's been a long time since I last enjoyed midnight in breeze. I wish I could relive the poetic, romantic and calm moment I just had in these words, but as you already guess, feelings are left and locked inside. I went home by bicycle. The one with brown and beige leather. Something is still flowing in my veins. I'm feeling like well boiled tea. Pure, rich in flavor and light in scent. 

I'll go to bed with this heart-warming present and leave this song here for your preference. Don't be shy in front of good music. This was a suggestion from my friend, Quincy. The two photos of me above were taken by photographer Le Tuan Anh. The third one at Tadioto was taken by chi Yenism Giap. Good night.