First the morning stretch and then the evening beers. Now I sit at Gotts roadside drinking cold anchor steam draft beers. Sometimes I feel indestructible and sometimes I feel like I miss those wonderful people in Vietnam who always did for me. In any times I could just ask and someone if I needed help would. I think the hard thing being partly drunk and sober is not knowing when I go back home. It’s not the major sights and sounds to me. It’s the day to day things. Coffee in the mornings after some pho. Afternoons walking and sweating and feeling that okay like in the morning stretch. I know I cannot just stay here. There’s not enough for me and it’s not chaos and random and strange and wonderful. California is witty and urbane and complex. Vietnam is simple and random and incomplete. And when I sit drinking at night the inescapable sounds always reach me. The vendors and the street food. The loud and boisterous and warming calls just down the street when the young people do karaoke. The piano sometimes sounding mournfully that play the scales of my heart.
Now though I’m here so I eat and drink and play. Watch and listen and think. The evening beers enlighten and dumbfound me. Simply the same when you are an old retired guy doing the evening beer. Cam on Vietnam. I love you.