the old-school guestbook archives
my amazon wish list... my favorite astrologer... my favorite artist... yerba mate revolution! erowid: a travel guide for interior journeys... no more war: MoveOn.org United for Peace and Justice True Majority seek the truth: Common Dreams Unamerican Activities The Nation people I adore, diaries I read: rev.raikes ariana cubiclegirl epiphany glitter333 laurakay wammo the music: the asylum street spankers backyard tire fire blue highway bill camplin wendy colonna freedom tribe joules graves guy forsyth band hamsa lila hanuman libby kirkpatrick leftover salmon pamela means medeski martin & wood the motet the nice outfit nickel creek open road rose polenzani railroad earth south austin jug band string cheese incident taarka tha musemeant the devil makes three tim o'brien band trolley wild sage keller williams yonder mountain string band |
sleepless dreams in the DMZ... ~ November 12, 2002 - 6:05 p.m. I am exhausted... I haven't slept right for days. partly crazy hanoi energy which kept me up late, and the need to cram in experiences for my job, which got me up early... partly a night spent on a boat in ha long bay, long lovely laughing conversation with five other women, two from switzerland and three from malaysia. we giggled and talked and commiserated well into the night, sharing womanly experiences so universal that geographical boundaries and cultural differences dissolved in the sweet shared space between us. and then toan, the sweetsensitiveintelligentself-aware vietnamese boy I stayed up with after the women had taken themselves off to bed, stayed up talking in soft voices, telling stories of our lives and truths about light and darkness and the workings of the world... stayed up talking until words fell away, and we shared a sweet quiet intimacy of soft smiles and heartwarmth and waves of sorrow so delicate that the word duende hung in the sky with the crescent moon smiling down... stayed up talking without touching and then touching without talking and tasting the newness of unfamiliar lips and tongue flavored with the familiar sweetness of connection, feeding the fire which carried us into each other's arms, into the night, into bed, and into the dawn... I do so love the taste of heartlight shared... I do so love the newsweetstrangeness of vietnam. after a night in warm arms, I was carried away by the momentum of a life that moves too fast for more than moments of peaceful pleasure... back to hanoi, to climb on a bus for a long ride through another restless night. arrived exhausted at sunrise in dong ha, accepted a rented room with an acceptable level of dinge, climbed onto the back of a motorbike to spend the day touring the DMZ. the bomb craters, the underground tunnels, the bunkers, the sweet smiles of children waving and calling "hello!" to the western girl with hair the color of sunrise. I am an american in vietnam, I am a woman in the world, I am a being in a realm of light and darkness, and I don't know how to feel.
(((rings))) |