I ain’t a killer but don’t push me
Revenge is like the sweetest joy next to shooting Hibiki

In her latest book, Michelle Obama offers the tools to navigate the turbulences in uncertain times. As a daughter, mother, wife, black woman, and First Lady, she faced many challenges. A handful of them, including the political turmoils, she had shared in her memoir Becoming; therefore, the book is somewhat repetitive. Nevertheless, I find her personal stories on relationship and parenting to be helpful. Ms. Obama writes about her relationship with her husband:

Our love is not perfect, but it’s real and we’re committed to it. This particular certainty sits parked like a grand piano in the middle of every room we enter. We are, in many ways, very different people, my husband and I. He’s a night owl who enjoys solitary pursuits. I’m an early bird who loves a crowded room. In my opinion, he spends too much time golfing. In his opinion, I watch too much lowbrow TV. But between us, there’s a loving assuredness that’s as simple as knowing the other person is there to stay, no matter what. This is what I think people pick up on in those photos: that tiny triumph we get to feel, knowing that despite having spent half our lives together now, despite all the ways we aggravate each other and all the ways we are different, neither one of us has walked away. We’re still here. We remain.

My wife and I have been married for almost 15 years and neither one of us has walked away. We’re still holding our hands to walk together on this road of life. Ms. Obama’s parenting experience also hits come to home. She shares:

As a parent, you are always fighting your own desperation not to fail at the job you’ve been given. There are whole industries built to feed and capitalize on this very desperation, from baby brain gyms and ergonomic strollers to SAT coaches. It’s like a hole that can’t ever be filled. And as a great many parents in the United States struggle with the high cost of childcare (which can consume about 20 percent of an average worker’s salary), the stresses only grow. You can become convinced that if you pull back even a little, thanks to one tiny advantage you didn’t figure out how to provide or afford, you’ve potentially doomed your own child.

I’m sorry to say that this doesn’t end with any one milestone, either. The desperation doesn’t go away when your kid learns to sleep or walk, or goes off to kindergarten, or graduates from high school, or even moves into their first apartment and buys a set of steak knives. You will still worry! You will still be afraid for them! As long as you are still breathing you’ll be wondering if there’s something more you can do. The world will forever seem infinitely more sinister and dangerous when you have a child, even a grown one, walking around in it. And most of us will do nearly anything to convince ourselves that we’ve got even a modicum of control. Even now, my husband, the former commander in chief, can’t help but to text cautionary news stories to our daughters-about the dangers of highway driving or walking alone at night. When they moved to California, he emailed them a lengthy article about earthquake preparedness and offered to have Secret Service give them a natural-disaster-response briefing. (This was met with a polite “No thanks.”)

Caring for your kids and watching them grow is one of the most rewarding endeavors on earth, and at the same time it can drive you nuts.

The Light We Carry has the self-improvement aspect to it. I find it a bit of a drag to read at times, but it also offers some useful advice. I am not going to pick up knitting anytime soon, but I’ll try to relax a bit on parenting advice. I hope the kids will turn out OK.

Bassist Christian McBride is still at his Prime. McBride charges right off the opening “Head Bedlam” with his New Jawn—trumpeter Josh Evans, saxophonist & bass clarinetist Marcus Strickland, and drummer Nasheet Waits. “Obsequious” harks back to the hard-pop era with Evans and Strickland improvising like Clifford Brown and Sonny Rollins. My personal favorite has to be “The Lurkers.” It’s a dark beauty with McBride bows broodingly on his bass. The whole album is a masterpiece with four exceptional players joined together.

O Darling Girlfriend of mine
I want your lips to form a smile
Only when we’re together
And your enchanting eyes
To only gaze at me
when my mind’s faraway

I want you not to think of anyone
Don’t kiss, even when you see a blooming flower
Don’t cuddle with a pillow
when you sleep tonight
Don’t go swimming:
The beach today’s full of people

I want the scent of the perfume,
that you often use,
not to widely spread.
Not to enchant people on the streets,
even though they’re just passing by.

I want, during the cold nights of winter,
Dreams do not, near you, hover
Or else, I want you not to meet
Any young man in your dreams

I want the air that you just breathe
Not to touch the clothes of strangers
Your imprinted footsteps on the roads,
No one’s allowed to tread on.

It just means that:
I am very jealous
I am madly lost in Love
You Are My Everything
And Mine Alone!

Translated by Vương Thanh

Ghen

Cô nhân tình bé của tôi ơi!
Tôi muốn môi cô chỉ mỉm cười
Những lúc có tôi và mắt chỉ…
Nhìn tôi những lúc tôi xa xôi.

Tôi muốn cô đừng nghĩ đến ai,
Đừng hôn, dù thấy cánh hoa tươi,
Đừng ôm gối chiếc, đêm nay ngủ…
Đừng tắm chiều nay, biển lắm người.

Tôi muốn mùi thơm của nước hoa,
Mà cô thường xức, chẳng bay xa,
Chẳng làm ngây ngất người qua lại,
Dẫu chỉ qua đường, khách lại qua.

Tôi muốn những đêm đông giá lạnh
Chiêm bao đừng lẩn quất bên cô
Bằng không, tôi muốn cô đừng gặp
Một trẻ trai nào, trong giấc mơ.

Tôi muốn làn hơi cô thở nhẹ
Đừng làm ẩm áo khách chưa quen.
Chân cô in vết trên đường bụi
Chẳng bước chân nào được dẫm lên.

Nghĩa là ghen quá đấy mà thôi,
Thế nghĩa là yêu quá mất rồi
Và nghĩa là cô là tất cả.
Cô là tất cả của riêng tôi!

Nguyễn Bính

My wife discovered Nguyễn Thùy Linh’s The Beatles In Jazz and passed it on to me. If I didn’t read her name, I wouldn’t have known that she’s Vietnamese. Her English is flawless and her voice is sultry. Her interpretation of The Beatles is pop-jazz at best. “All My Love” gets a straight-swing rhythm. “And I Love Her” gets a Latin flavor. “Imagine” gets a reggae groove. With “Yesterday” she pronounces through for though: “Now it looks as though they’re here to stay.” It is still an enjoyable album nevertheless.

Mother Heart’s vast… like the Pacific ocean…
Mother’s Love is everflowing Devoted Affection
Like a brook of loving sweetness…
And her lullaby: warm and gentle,
like a murmuring breeze
across the rice meadows…

Mother Heart for her children
is like the full autumn moon.
Mother’s Love for her children
is gently playful,
like a spring breeze on the lake water.
Her lullaby singing,
like the colorful kites
in a serene country sky.
Rain or shine,
day or night,
sharing in the joy of her children singing…

Many long nights, Mother stays up
with loving tender care
till her sick child fall asleep.
She feels so happy
when seeing [her child] in tranquil sleep.

Mother’s Love endures the months and years,
the hardships of life, its ups-and-downs,
she will shoulder them all and take care of her children
till they are fully grown.

Mother’s Love leads the moon to attentively listen.
Her singing touches rivers, meadows, and mountains.
The world’s in peace when Mother sings her lullaby.
Heart filled with love, her voice is sweet music to her child.

Many years, loving tears have fallen…
Mother’s hair had become almost white.
Wherever you are going this morning or tonight,
wherever you are in the course of your life,
remember Mother’s Love
and the joy of returning to her side…

Translated by Vương Thanh

Lòng Mẹ

Lòng Mẹ bao la như biển Thái Bình rạt rào
Tình Mẹ tha thiết như giòng suối hiền ngọt ngào
Lời Mẹ êm ái như đồng lúa chiều rì rào
Tiếng ru bên thềm trăng tà soi bóng Mẹ yêu

Lòng Mẹ thương con như vầng trăng tròn mùa thu
Tình Mẹ yêu mến như làn gió đùa mặt hồ
Lời ru man mác êm như sáo diều dật dờ
Nắng mưa sớm chiều vui cùng tiếng hát trẻ thơ

Thương con thao thức bao đêm trường
Con đà yên giấc Mẹ hiền vui sướng biết bao
Thương con khuya sớm bao tháng ngàỵ
Lặn lội gieo neo nuôi con tới ngày lớn khôn.

Dù cho mưa gió không quản thân gầy Mẹ hiền
Một sương hai nắng cho bạc mái đầu buồn phiền
Ngày đêm sớm tối vui cùng con nhỏ một niềm
Tiếng ru êm đềm mẹ hiền năm tháng triền miên

Lòng Mẹ chan chứa trên bao xóm làng gần xa
Tình Mẹ dâng tới trăng ngàn đứng lặng để nghe,
Lời ru xao xuyến núi đồi suối rừng rặng tre
Sóng ven Thái Bình im lìm khi tiếng Mẹ ru
Một lòng nuôi nấng vỗ về những ngày còn thơ
Một tình thương mến êm như tiếng đàn lời ca

Thương con Mẹ hát câu êm đềm
Ru lòng thơ ấu quản gì khi thức trắng đêm
Bao năm nước mắt như suối nguồn
Chảy vào tim con mái tóc chót đành đẫm sương.

Dù ai xa vắng trên đường sớm chiều về đâu
Dù khi mưa gió tháng ngày trong đời bể dâu
Dù cho phai nắng nhưng lòng thương chẳng lạt mầu
Vẫn mong quay về vui vầy dưới bóng mẹ yêu

Y Vân

Cecile McLorin Salvant is a rare jazz singer who has the the vocals and the chops. What makes Salvant a fascinating artist, however, has been her brilliant song choices—particularly her attention to the lyrics. With Mélusine, I just have to enjoy the music and the singing since the entire album is in French, with the exception for half of the title track in English. Since French is Salvant’s first language, her phrasings and annunciations are just sensational. I liked the up-tempo songs like “Il m’a vue nue” and “Doudou” as well as the mysterious slow-burning tracks like “Est-ce ainsi que les hommes vivent?” and “Petite musique terrienne.” Yet I loved the weirder sounds like “Wedo” and “D’un feu secret.” I enjoyed this album immensely.

Let’s talk about life
When I’m no longer among the living
What will I bring with me
To the world on the other side
Except for the void in my heart
O Thụy, O Love!

Like a kingfisher
On the wooden stakes of a hundred years
I seek for the life that was lost
In the water puddle of Life
In the water puddle of Life
O Thụy, O Love!

My Love, don’t ever ask
Why we love each other
Why my lips are hot
Why my hands are cold
Why my body shivers
Why my legs are shaking
Why, and why!

Love’s like the edge of a knife
Love’s like a pointed blade
Smoothly and sweetly
Cutting off a first love
Thụy, where are you now?

Thụy, where are you now?
I’m a kingfisher
You’re a reflection of the silver moon
We’re only separated by a lake
But forever apart…

Translated by Vương Thanh

Khúc Thụy Du

Hãy nói về cuộc đời
Khi tôi không còn nữa
Sẽ lấy được những gì
Về bên kia thế giới
Ngoài trống vắng mà thôi
Thụy ơi, và tình ơi!

Như loài chim bói cá
Trên cọc nhọn trăm năm
Tôi tìm đời đánh mất
Trong vũng nước cuộc đời
Trong vũng nước cuộc đời
Thụy ơi, và tình ơi!

Đừng bao giờ em hỏi
Vì sao ta yêu nhau
Vì sao môi anh nóng
Vì sao tay anh lạnh
Vì sao thân anh rung
Vì sao chân không vững
Vì sao, và vì sao!

Tình yêu như lưỡi dao
Tình yêu như mũi nhọn
Êm ái và ngọt ngào
Cắt đứt cuộc tình đầu
Thụy bây giờ về đâu?

Thụy bây giờ về đâu?
Anh là chim bói cá
Em là bóng trăng ngà
Chỉ cách một mặt hồ
Mà muôn trùng chia xa…

Thơ Du Tử Lê, nhạc Anh Bằng

Denis Moyogo Jacquerye writes:

Hi Donny,

Thank you for Vietnamese Typography, it’s a great resource.

I’m wondering if it would be worth mentioning the forms of capital Đ with the bar across the whole letter width used in Vietnamese until about the 1980s in the Dyet section of the Diacritical details of Vietnamese Typography. It seems these forms were common in the 1800s and a large part of the 1900s.

For example:

Nguyễn Đình Hoà, Vietnamese-English dictionary, 1966

Của tôi: tập đọc chữ quốc ngữ, 1924

Kind regards
Denis Moyogo Jacquerye

I must admit. The form of capital Đ with the bar across the whole letter is new to me. I don’t recall seeing that. I am not sure when the cross bar was shortened, but it has be been much earlier than 1980s. Though I can’t confirm that. I decided not to include in my book to make it less confusing for type designers since the practice is no longer applicable.

French Trumpeter Erik Truffaz obviously spends lot of time studying Miles Davis. In his latest release, Rollin’, Truffaz channels Davis’s fusion as well as film scores. With mysterious synthesizer and distorted electric guitar backing him up, Truffaz plays like Miles on Bitches Brew, particularly on “Route de nuit” and “Thème de Fantômas.” “Quel temps fait-il à Paris” harks back to Davis’s Ascenseur pour l’échafaud. Sandrine Bonnaire’s reading in French sounds so damn sexy. I enjoyed this short album.