We are in Hanoi, Vietnam and this is where our work begins. Where our parents’ generation got soggy and high and flaked out until they woke up in a Middle Eastern desert.
We have just inherited our chunk of history and this is the first step we’ve made toward shaping it: Getting gone. This journal and website–the fiction, poetry, video, and essays–are the record of our witness. The future, or present, is free to do with this what they like–learn from it, or present it as evidence at our trial. Regardless, like our man Kilgore Trout said, “You were sick, but now you are well again. And there’s work to be done.”