when I feel lost I fall in love as a coping mechanism. The consistency of my crushes keeps me out of doubt. 

how do I turn away from the past? 

The pastor at my church used to tell me that I could be like him. Maybe I’m blessed. He used to say things like “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,” and “you’re tall!” My uncle was also a pastor at that church. The pastor I guess. He could speak to many types of people. Old Vietnamese people were his specialty. He’d say to them, “Since five, Vinh* has been loving the word of God.”

*Vinh is my Vietnamese name, given to me by my grandmother. She’s now passed and the last thing she said to was to go to church every Sunday.

My dad goes to church now. Some Sunday nights growing up my parents would bring my sister and I to parties where the men would sit in the garage gambling and drinking beer while the kids and women meandered through the kitchen and living rooms playing games, watching movies or just gossiping. 

Once during a New Year’s Eve gathering some drunk uncle tipped a firework and the piece launched downwards. Sparks from the street reached the porch, but nothing caught on fire. Anyways, I texted my family today and my dad told me to pray to God everyday and that’ll lead me to success. 


on race, raciness and cum

NSFW – on race, raciness and cum

on masturbation, infantilism and the courage to cum (lol)

on cum, c(um)oming out and closeting oneself

When I cum, I come into my own dissolution of power. When I cum I scream, out loud, to the chorus of wondering lights, a chorus mute as oceans – violent as seas. When I cum I see an immaterial material — shot through, half-stricken, by the foment from which its foam forms – I see – I see . When I cum. Cum comes, like exertion pulling a cartless burden, sum unto nothing, flat likened

Nguyen imagines their cum as a key from, not out of, the closet – a liquid manifestation of polysyllabic symphonies, connotating nothing, but the violence at the schism between truth and, as they state it, exertion.

Time, models of thought

Tonight I talked to Bryan, a friend I met on SQUAD (Subtle Queer Asian Dating). Across empty bowls of dan dan noodles Bryan made, they’re a food vendor @ The Mighty Manatee, I talked about time and some other stuff. The earliest memory I have of time comes in the form of fireworks at Disneyland, where my parents took me and my sister when I was a toddler. In it I remember seeing my first fireworks, eruptions of light that then fizzled downwards. In the byproduct of their explosions, fireworks leave drifting sparks that float and disappear with gravity. Against wind resistance, it looks as if time has interrupted the motion of these explosive detritus. This, I think, was my first experience with slow-motion.