Xin được chia sẻ thư từ một bạn đọc trẻ. NT viết:

Hello chú Donny.

Con vô tình tìm được trang này và xem qua bộ web/sách nghiên cứu viết Typography Việt Nam của anh/chú. Con ngưỡng mộ quá. Cảm ơn chú nhiều đã làm nên công trình này.

Xem qua mấy trang trong samples này con cũng ngưỡng mộ luôn gu đọc/nghe của chú nữa. Quá xịn luôn.

Nghe hơn fanboi request xíu mà không biết chú có đọc Nguyễn Ngọc Tư hông, tiếng Việt của Tư cũng đẹp, nếu mà chú có làm thêm 1 trang nữa tribute 1 tác giả nào đó thì cho con request cô Tư. Kk.

Lần nữa cảm ơn chú đã làm nên web này ạ. Con chuẩn bị đi để dành đọc/khám phá từ từ mấy lời hay ý đẹp, và chữ đẹp, layout đẹp trong này.

Chúc chú một ngày thiệt tốt lành ❤

Tôi rất vui khi nhận được thư này và lời yêu cầu của cháu. Tôi cũng rất thích tản văn của nhà văn Nguyễn Ngọc Tư. Trong tương lai khi có thời gian tôi nhất định sẽ làm một cái sample cho cô Tư.

Not a whole lot to read, but a whole lot to marvel at Louise Fili’s elaborative identity designs. Ms. Fili has a distinctive style with whimsical lettering and playful typesetting. For a Vietnamese restaurant located in the food court at Grand Central Terminal, she set the name “Nem” in chopsticks. Flipping through 100 of her logo designs give me an idea of how to showcase my own identity design.

I love the typographic treatment on the album cover. It’s the huge word Play in black spreading around the cover with small black text of the players’ name—Theo Croker and Sullivan Fortner—and orange text of their instrument—trumpet and piano.

Play kicks off with “A Prayer for Peace” as the duo sets off the hushed tone for their collaboration. Croker plays the trumpet with such clarity as if he’s singing while Fortner drops scintillating keys to respond to his partner.

“First Light” Croker holds long notes while Fortner plays short ostinatos behind him. It is so calm until Croker switches up with his screeching sound, but his tone is never out of control. “Midnight Bloom” is a short piece (1:24) on the album, but it showcases the two improvisational masters at play. They understand each other. They support each other. They completed each other’s thoughts.

This is what jazz is all about. It’s all on the spot. No practice. No written notes. No pressure. They just Play. So just kick back, relax, pour out some Cordon Bleu, and enjoy the conversations.

Saou Ichikawa’s Hunchback is a beautiful, dark, twisted novella. The book focuses on Izawa Shaka who suffers from myotubular myopathy. She depends on an electric wheelchair to move around, a ventilator to breathe, and a nurse to give her a bath. Her body is trapped, but her mind is running wild. Shaka writes about threesome porn, tweets about wanting to get pregnant so she can get an abortion, and wants to do normal things like a normal girl. Translated into English by Polly Barton, every detail in this 90-page book burned into my fucking brain. I didn’t know a category for disability literature existed, but Hunchback is a groundbreaking literature period. If you have a few hours to spend this winter holiday, read this book.

Yesterday we took Vương back to the Pediatric Specialists of Virginia (PSV) for a check up. After removing his cast, they took another x-ray. The orthopedic checked his arm to see if he was still hurting. Even though he said, “No,” his eyes were red and watery. Seeing his tears hurt my heart.

Since he was in the cast for five weeks, the orthopedic wanted to keep his arm in place for another week or two. She gave us two options. She could put an arm sling on him to remind him that he should take it easy or she could put him in a full cast for another two weeks. I wanted to put him back on the full cast just to make sure that his fracture will be completely healed. I asked him if that was OK with him. Even with tears in his eyes, he nodded “Yes.” He’s now back on the full cast for two more weeks.

I tried to figure out why he was tearing up, but he wouldn’t give me an answer. At bedtime, I brought back the subject again. With a Robux deal, he finally revealed, “I was happy that my arm was healing.” I asked him, “Wait, you were crying happy tears?” He replied, “Yes.” What a sweet kid.

I usually don’t drink bourbon, but tonight I have to break out a bottle of Bardstown (Amrut) to marinate my soul into the blues. I haven’t listened to the good ole blues in a while and Kirk Fletcher’s eighth studio release, Keep On Pushing, fills that gap.

Right off the bat, Fletcher gets down with the 12-bar blues. With Ted Jarret’s “It’s Love Baby,” Fletcher sings the AAB form: “Honey my days and nights are lonely, I need your lovin’ every day / Honey my days and nights are lonely, I need your lovin’ every day / But I think about you baby, 24 hours of the day.”

In addition to his intoxicating vocals, Fletcher is a hell of a blues guitar player. Check out his breathtaking solo on Arthur “Big Boy” Crudup’s “I’m Gonna Dig Myself A Hole” or the deep-down blues on Percy Mayfield’s “Lost Love,” and his begging is so damn hard to resist: “Baby please, baby please come back to me / Baby please, Please come back to me / Because I am a prisoner / I need your love to set me free.”

What I love about the good ole blues is sometimes you can get some life lessons out of it. Al K. Smith gives sound advice in his “Think Twice Before You Speak.” Fletcher preaches: “The graveyard is full of people that talk too much / I know my time is coming but I’m in no rush / Many hearts have been broken because someone lied / My advice is let your conscience be your guide.”

Of course “Every Dog Has Its Day,” as Edward Bocage has penned it and Fletcher shares it: “My friends turn their back on me / When hard times come scratching at me / Hard times, hard times got me now / As Confucius say, every dog has its day.” What can you do about it except to “Keep On Pushing” as Fletcher reminds us, “Don’t get lost in the struggle, gotta live your live with ease / Don’t get lost in the struggle, gotta live your live with ease / That good lovin’ woman, she almost brought me to my knees.”

Good music needs no liquor, but bourbon and blues definitely lift up your spirit or drown you in it. Either way, I enjoy Keep On Pushing.

Yesterday, I brought a bottle of Kirkland Signature 16-Year Highland Single Malt Scotch Whisky to a friend’s house. I copped it a few months ago and I wanted to try it with my buddies. Between the three of us, we finished the whole bottle and it felt nice—at least for me.

It was a fine and smooth bottle of Scotch straight out of Costco. It didn’t have a complex taste, but it had a slightly smoky quality and a dollop of sweetness. Because it didn’t have a strong, distinctive personality, it went well with a bowl of spicy bún bò Huế. Of course, it only got better with a bit of HaH! Chili Sauce.

Truth be told, I enjoyed the bottle because of the companionship. Drinking and bullshitting with my two buddies made the dreary, rainy Sunday late fucking afternoon brighter. Cheers, fellas!

Fuck! Olivia Dean sounds like Amy Winehouse, especially after a few shots of Lagavulin (16). The smokiness in her timbre; the soulfulness in her delivery; particularly her outpouring emotion in “Let Alone the One You Love,” from her latest release, The Art of Loving. She begins the soul-jazz ballad with her own realization, “Thought I was done with this feeling / I really thought you could be him / Thought I was safe.” Then she reveals her disappointment, “You were the warmth that I needed / Like a breeze in the evening / And then you changed / You’re all the same.”

From the neo-soul production to her storytelling, Dean’s definitely channeling Winehouse in “Close Up.” In the second verse, she flows, “Now I’m more than a voice on the phonе / Now I’m here and we’re finally alone.” Then she pauses on the word “Why” in the next bar, “Why… do we feel so distant? / You’re… treating me like I’m one of the rest / I feel stupid for wearing that dress.” Her delivery sounds more dynamic between those pauses.

“So Easy (to Fall in Love)” is a romantic track with a bossa nova flavor. The lyrics are quite lovely: “There’s no need to hide if you’re into me / ’Cause I’m into you quite intimately” I like the way she phrases “intimately.” She continues, “And maybe one night could turn into three / Well, I’m down to see.”

The album has a few upbeat grooves including “Nice to Each Other,” “Man I Need,” and “Something Inbetween,” but the essence of The Art of Loving are the slow, heartrending tracks. The album closer, “I’ve Seen It All,” is just her voice accompanied by an acoustic strumming guitar. She leaves listeners with something to remember: “The more you look, the more you find / It’s all around you all the time / Catches your eye, you blink and then it’s gone.” She closes out with “Brings out the worst, brings out the best / I know it’s somewhere in my chest / I guess it’s been inside me all along.”

I don’t smoke, but I enjoy the smoke in Dean’s voice as well as the smoke in Lagavulin (16). Music and whisky have been my mechanisms for dealing with stress. I just need a moment to escape all the dramas in my life. As the album plays, I pour out some liquor and reminisce: Rest in peace Amy Winehouse.

I haven’t been keeping up with the rap game for a while. I just can’t understand the new mumble raps. I have been listening to G Herbo’s Lil Herb. I hadn’t heard of this guy before, but I could feel that he rhymed from his fucking heart.

Right off the opening track, “Every Night,” he wastes no time setting up his story: “Lay awake in bed, thinkin’ all night / Sometimes in my feelings, I was livin’ a hard life.” Over the rock guitar riff and pounding bass, he warns, “Pray to God that nobody brings me harm or don’t even start a fight / I control the crowd with my left arm, you know I’m armed, right.”

Not only does he sound so damn hungry on “Reason,” he also proves that he’s a vivid storyteller: “Bullets tap they head / I was fightin’ a fed case, but I did not go fed / Pay my lawyer bread, then went and tuck my kids in bed.” He rhymes on, “I’m still havin’ nightmares, I wake up seein’ red / Think back, if it weren’t for rap, where would I be instead? / Probably, probably jail, probably, probably dead, probably.”

“Blitz” kicks off with a gun-loading sound then raining bullets throughout the beat as Herb rips through striking details full of actions: “Blitzin’ with his fire, he can’t even hit back, watch his shit splat / Squeeze until it click-clack, fuck the talkin’, we don’t chit-chat / Bring it to your front door like it’s gift wrap / Fuckin” with my bro, we caught a dime at the kickback.” Likewise “Radar” is another action-packed storytelling verse, in which Herb sets off the scene: “You ever lived through a nightmare? / Looked death in the face, he might stare / Somebody try and kill you right there.”

At first, I assumed Herb is a new artist with an ole soul, but in “Win Again,” he reveals, “I’m grateful for my fans, I started rapping in 2010 / Got turnt, I went up ten, I’m tryin’ to run up ten again / I grew up gangsta, wanna be a businessman like 50 Cent / Got labels askin’ about my masters ’cause I got fifty percent.” He has been in the game for 15 years; therefore, he still has that old-school goodness in him. Lil Herb is a banging album filled with virtuosic flow and compelling storytelling.

Dear Đán,

Happy fourteenth birthday, my son. You are growing up fast, physically and mentally. I have come to realize that you are becoming stronger as I am getting weaker. I can no longer hold you down. As much as I want to keep you close to me, I have to let you go. Of course, I will always be here for you whenever you need me.

You said that I don’t love you like I love your other brothers, but that’s not true. Believe it or not, time will tell. I love all my sons, but in different ways. I worry about you much more than your brothers, but I have learned to accept the fact that you are beyond my reach. You have made the decision not to be down with me. I used to demand that you come out with me instead of spending time on your PC, but I can no longer make you do things you don’t want to do.

I was deeply concerned that you spent too much time on your digital devices. Trying to intercept that had backfired. I regret the choices we made in regard to our kids’ digital exposure. I should have been firm about it when you guys were still little. I didn’t tighten up when other adults let loose. It’s too late now. I just have to accept it and hope for the best.

Luckily, you are taking your education seriously. You care about your grades. You don’t know how happy I am inside when you told me that school is your first priority. Your education is your future, not mine. I already had my shot. Believe me, an education will make your life easier. You will get more respect for being educated. Even if you have the money, you don’t get the proper respect without the education.

I understand that keloids prevent you from playing sports even though you excel at anything you do. You could skate better than me. You could rollerblade better than me. You could snowboard better than me. I had to work hard to catch up with you and I never will. I always admire your natural ability. I have keloids too, but I could care less about my body image. I passed that stage a long time ago. I do it for the love of the sports and the feel-good vibe . I still enjoy the sports we used to do together. Now, it’s just me going to the skatepark. I am trying to be less nostalgic.

Then again, you haven’t quit everything. You still take piano lessons. As long as you continue, we are willing to pay for your lessons. I no longer ask you to perform at the recital or our family gathering. It’s up to you to do it or not. I don’t even require you to practice. If you want to practice, you should do it on your own.

You still take drawing classes. You seem to enjoy it a great deal. I am glad that you found some creative outlets. I hope you will stay with it as well and we will pay for it for as long as we can.

I know you can write too. Over the summer, I had always looked forward to reading your hilarious blog posts. Next summer, I won’t make you write anymore, but I hope you will. As you can see, I love writing even though I am not a good writer. I write to express myself and to get things off my chest.

After our last conflict, I did some self-reflection. I decided to give you the space for you to grow. When I was your age, my father was not around and I still turned out fine. I made the mistake of overthinking and overworrying. I am still here for you. I am not going anywhere, but I am backing off until I hear from you. I think that will be best for both of us.

Once again, enjoying being fourteen. Life will pass you by fast. Before you know it, you will become a man and I will be old or gone.

I have nothing but love for you.
Dad