Vietnam, me love you long time. All day, all night, me love you long time. (. . . … - Alex Garland

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Maturing as a poet means maturing as the whole man, experiencing new emotions appropriate to one's age, and with the same intensity as the emotions of youth.

Alex Garland

Vietnam, me love you long time. All day, all night, me love you long time. (. . . ) Dropping acid on the Mekong Delta, smoking grass through a rifle barrel, flying on a helicopter with opera blasting out of loudspeakers, tracer-fire and paddy-field scenery, the smell of napalm in the morning. Long time.

Helicopter, Love You, Mekong, Morning, Night, Smoking

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There are one hundred glow-stars on my bedroom ceiling. (. . . ) Glow-stars are strange. They make the ceiling disappear.

Bedroom, Ceilings, Hundred, Make, Stars, Strange

Dream life, I realized, was only confusing when you were awake. It was from the perspective of waking life that dream life seemed fractured and lacking consequence, lacking any certainty that one thing led to another. But from within dream life, the world was generally coherent. Not exactly an unconfusing world-just no more confusing than any other.

Confusing, Dream, Lacking, Perspective, Seemed

By the time the plane was airborne I'd forgotten England even existed.

England, Existed, Forgotten, Plane, Travel

I knew my affection for the Philippines was equally as telling: a democracy on paper, apparently well ordered, regularly subverted by irrational chaos. A place where I'd felt instantly at home.

Democracy, Home, Instantly, Paper

Every dream that anyone ever has is theirs alone and they never manage to share it. And they never manage to remember it either. Not truly or accurately. Not as it was. Our memories and our vocabularies aren't up to the job.

Alone, Dream, Job, Jobs, Memories, Remember