Dear F

And others who pre-ordered End of the Rainbow. Thank you so much. I have this doc all ready to upload, as soon as it passes all the checks for spelling by my team in Phnom Penh. There was some kind of wifi outage and stuff, so we had this weird delay, and it’s also quite hot. (I know that’s something you can’t really write to say, when, um, this is supposed to be finished, I know, but it’s coming today not yesterday)… But um. So, that’s also kind because of humidity. As this is Southeast Asia and if you’ve been here during any part of the year you know it can really get to you. Especially when there are storms and you are like, whoa.

I read there will be rain all week here where I am in HCMC. I’m kind of curious about that, but only from the safe, dry perch of my 2F room.

A work is not about the work itself, but the process

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Writing End of the Rainbow has been a beautiful exploration and experience, these last six months. And hard.

Because twenty years is a long time to try to put together in a packed, short PDF. In the end, I did what I did for Breakfast, and wrote bout my feelings in this current spot, and also, the things I see and people I meet, right here, where I am. In-situ, and on-the-spot. Very me. If you know me.

Who is for? Well. If you are ‘out there’ in this weird time of border closures and split family situations, then you will, I think, resonate with it. What do you do when going ‘home’ is a bizarre question, anyway? You live in Cambodia, but you’re not from there. You don’t feel connexion to the places that your passport connects you to or the one that your name links you up with. So what do you do? Stay put. In, well, why not, yet another country.

I love this jam.

Vietnam is where I’ve been these last six months, and counting. It’s not all been rosy, and there was the matter of an incident that got me into more trouble than I’ve been in than all my life, to date. So yeah. Dramatica. Et al.

Who is it for, right, I should answer. The nomads? Those who, like me, have not got a ‘home’ in the format that is defined by social norms that other people who are, well, normal, can understand. We don’t have to deal with it, though. They have their language. We have ours.

Let’s talk.

This is the book to get us started. It’s for us. And also: for the poets.


Check your inbox, sometime tonight.