Model-turn-singer Ngo Thanh Van is casting in a new romantic comedy Saigon Love Story. Based on the trailer, it looks like a banal chick flick, but we’ll see if she can act, or she will fluff through the way she does with her musical inability.

A poem by Harold Pinter (August 1991)

Hallelujah!
It works.
We blew the shit out of them.

We blew the shit right back up their own ass
And out their fucking ears.

It works.
We blew the shit of out of them.
They suffocated in their own shit!

Hallelujah.
Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew them into fucking shit.
They are eating it.

Praise the Lord for all good things.

We blew their balls into shards of dust,
Into shards of fucking dust.

We did it.

Now I want you to come over here and kiss me
on the mouth.

Woke up, peaked out the window, crawled right back into bed because snow had already covered the ground, and I have nowhere else to go. On a gloomy day like this, I was longing for some sentimental tunes, and Billie Holiday immediately came to mind. I quickly turned on my stereo, inserted The Complete Billie Holiday on Verve 1945-1959, and admitted the bittersweet vocals carried me through the day. She sang with so much emotions that when she phrased, “I’ve been down so long / that down don’t worried me” on “Stormy Blues,” we could feel her soul. Even the muted trumpet echoed her pain when she crooned, “I lose my man / I lose my head / I lose my money / Feel like I am almost dead.” She epitomized pain or as Gary Giddins described as “lady of pain.” And below is an interesting point of view on Holiday from Ted Gioia in his History of Jazz:

Holiday’s accomplishments are all the more remarkable when one realizes the limitations within which she worked. Her range, at best, spanned a scant one-and-a-half octaves. Her voice, moreover, did not project strongly—unlike, say, Bessie Smith, who also had a modest range, but could compensate by belting out a song to the back rows. Holiday lacked the scat-singing chops of an Ella Fitzgerald, the tonal purity of a Sarah Vaughan, the exuberance of a Louis Armstrong but what she had more than made up for these deficiencies. Her mastery was rooted in an incomparable sense of timing, phrasing that was supple yet uncommonly relaxed, and, above all, an ability to infuse a lyric with hitherto unknown depths of meaning. One might say that Billie Holiday was a stylist, not a virtuoso—unless emotional depth is a type of virtuosity. Her interpretations cut to the quick of a song, crafting a music of interiors, not surfaces.

Love it when I have the weekend all to myself. No traveling and no need to listen to family’s politics. Just kick back sipping coffee, relax to John Coltrane’s Classic Quartet, and read a book. Solitude is just beautiful, like a short poem from my man Song Vinh written on the back cover of Huong Mua:

Con ta mot cho rieng nay (Here’s a space left for me)
Cho mua rat lanh (A cold, rainy space)
Cho ngay rat rieng (A space of privacy)

Please help me out with the translation. Huong Mua is a book that I reach over and over again like a glass of water. The poems are refreshing, and I get a kick out of his wordplay on Trinh Cong Son’s titles every time I recite “Thang Tu 2:”

In the first two lines
thang tu nguoi ngu, yen roi
uot mi bien nho mot loi chia tay (TCS music)

In the last two lines
thang tu xa thang tu gan
hoa vang may do dau chan dia dang (TCS music)

You may say I am a loner, but I enjoy every minute of it.

Vietnamese-Australian Van Nguyen was hanged earlier today in Singapore for drug trafficking. He was only twenty-five years old. My condolence goes out to his family.

Lesson learned: If 400 grams of dope won’t kill you, the Singapore officials will. Please say no to drugs.

Ngo Minh Tri’s “Mua Xuan, Ruou va Toc Dai,” a refreshing jazz performance by Kim Phuong. I am digging the smooth-as-cognac saxophone and the intoxicating vocals. This is the kind of music I am talking about, baby. Please NMT, keep on writing jazz tunes. I am feeling it.

Rock the house for the holidays.
WTF, an amusing exercise.
The Photo Retouch gallery.

After watching Paris By Night 79 (Dreams) and reading my review, a reader, who would like to remain anonymous, challenges me to see if I have the ball to post something he has written. The piece, which based on a verse from Biggie’s “Just Playin’ (R&B Bitches),” demonstrates how a show like Paris By Night can corrupt our mind. I must admit, I was hesitated at first because of the misogynist content, but my ball is as huge as the Epcot Center, so what the heck do I gotta lose? If Nguyen Ngoc Ngan and Nguyen Cao Ky Duyen can read their fan letters on the show, why can’t I post mine on my site? He also sent along a clip of Biggie’s original freestyle. I am feeling it, man!

As I sit back relax,
Poppin’ Paris By Night into the deck
Checkin’ out the sexy singers that I wanna sex
I’d probably start off with Bao Han
Stickin’ that skinny ass just for fun
Then hit her friend Nhu Loan too.
Wait a minute, what about Ho Le Thu?
That lil’ slut can give me head
With Thuy Van and Tu Quyen rockin’ in the same bed.
I wanna do Ky Duyen too, but that bitch talks too much
So I put her in charge of my left nut
While her girlfriend Luu Bich’s on my right
Loan Chau is the one I wanna bone all night
Cause I know that pussy is tight.
Yeah! Minh Tuyet is the cutie with the big booty
I’m ma hit that ass till it gets juicy.

Dreams of fuckin’ all Thuy Nga bitches
I’m just playin’. Know what I’m sayin’.

About a month ago, I received an email from Adam Bray, “a big white guy” (in his own words) who loves Vietnamese popular music, complimented on my review column. Bray took a trip to Viet Nam and loved it so much that he ended up staying in Phan Thiet for two years. He spent his nights at local bars and hang out with the singers. The most intriguing part was that he did freelance Web design to get by. I envy him for his courageousness to live in a place that he just happened to love, and made a living with what he liked to do. I have thought of that, but never have the heart to go forward. As much as I love to live in Viet Nam, I don’t know if I can survive without a steady income. In addition, I don’t even know if I can find a job in Viet Nam. I don’t want to end up doing construction work for my uncle just like the rest of my cousins. Back to the subject, I found an interesting interview with Bray, “Mot Nguoi My Yeu Nhac Viet” (written in Vietnamese), on Giai Dieu Xanh. Bray is back in Maine now for family’s matter, but he hopes to get back to Viet Nam soon.

Hell yeah, back dem thangs up. I am feeling the Asian vibes, baby. The weekend is here, so party like it’s hot!