Quotidian Sweat
Typed during a break at a plastic recycling plant in Vietnam, Linh Dinh writes, the lower you’re on the ladder, the more buttocks you see above you
Typed during a break at a plastic recycling plant in Vietnam, Linh Dinh writes, the lower you’re on the ladder, the more buttocks you see above you
Linh Dinh talks to an expatriate Canadian about the benefits and pitfalls of life in the Philippines
In Saigon, you can’t walk a block without seeing an English language school, and sometimes several, with each showing a smiling white teacher on their poster
In the West, the concept of race replacement is routinely mocked as racist paranoia, but entire neighborhoods or even cities have been racially replaced.
As the brick and mortar US is increasingly looted, dismantled or even burnt down, its mythic version will survive, in tiny bits, across the globe, until that, too, fades away
Its infrastructure duct taped and its global prestige splattered with innocent blood and relentless mendacity, Linh Dinh reflects on a decomposing America
Inside the Beltway may be a swamp, but it’s a gilded one, designed for the most arrogant and smug. Outside, the quicksand ocean keeps on devouring
Until now, Americans have watched with indifference or excitement the little people everywhere being blown up in their name. Soon enough, it will be American’s turn.
I enjoyed Saigon while there, but as soon as I left its KFC and Eon Shopping Mall sophistication, I felt lighter and freer
Linh Dinh revisits his grandmother’s house in Saigon, where he had lived before being airlifted out
Linh Dinh reflects on comfort food and the masters of inversion
The Nazis’ racism was but a mirror and fleeting offshoot of Jewish racial supremacy, which endures to wreak havoc on humanity, with Jews themselves among its victims