The Emperor of Gladness

by Ocean Vuong

He was nineteen, in the midnight of his childhood and a lifetime from first light.

“You see, carrots become bright orange because it’s so dark in the ground. They make their own light because the sun never reaches that far—like those fish in the ocean who glow from nothing? So when you eat it, you take in the carrot’s will to go upward. To heaven.”

“Grazina! Who’s the president?” “Jesus Christ!” she’d shout up, annoyed. “Obama!”

“Chiều đi lên đồi cao, hát trên những xác người,” he tried. “Tôi đã thấy, tôi đã thấy bên khu vườn / Một người mẹ ôm xác đứa con.”

Three or four years of reading, then maybe I’ll be ready to write. It’s like a pregnancy.”

One kid from the same refugee camp as Hai’s family was called MJKarlMalone Truong;

“Go ahead and taste this truth, friend.”

He had become an employee and thus had obtained an eternal present, manifested only by his functional existence on the time card. He had no history because one was not required of him, and having no history also meant having no sadness. Instead, he was part of a workforce that fed people. He was America’s fuel. And he was burning to be used, to be useful.

“No other restaurant ever thought to give you a little table to serve the spirits with. Only Pizza Hut.”

Better than Robert Frost, if you can believe it. What did he do anyway, look at trees and feel bad?

“Maybe you can make use of this mess, huh?” “It’s a good mess,” he said, scanning the spines.

That among a pile of salvaged trash, he would come closest to all he ever wanted to be: a consciousness sitting under a lightbulb reading his days away, warm and alone, alone and yet, somehow, still somebody’s son.

a cuter version, Hai thought,

?

There were times, too, when people were just people, which meant they were assholes.

“You know, I did eat durian all through my pregnancy with you—and that gave you the good brains.”

There are entire places in this world built just so specific phrases can be said, he realized now. Phrases like “I hereby solemnly swear,” “Do you have any last words?” “I want a divorce,” “I want an abortion,” “Congratulations, class of 2006,” or “I do, I do, I do.”

“Really. Just don’t push yourself. Take everything slow, okay? Don’t read too fast. Pick up a book and then, after ten minutes, put it down and look out the window. Your brain is like a car, you have to let it—”

“I was adopted. Ate mostly waffles my whole life and now I’m fucked.”

hai is diabolical just lying for fun lmao

Because to remember is to fill the present with the past, which meant that the cost of remembering anything, anything at all, is life itself. We murder ourselves, he thought, by remembering.

Some of our leaders are even lizards in disguise. I mean, how else do you explain Dick Cheney?

“Flat white at the register!” another worker shouted, setting a drink on the counter. “What the hell did you just call me?” Maureen said.

LOL

“There. Now you’re double okay.”

“It’s not littering if it’s part of nature.”

agree i fear

“Words cast spells. You should know this as a writer. That’s why it’s called spelling, Labas.”

We were having a cookout, my cousin, Danil, and I. Well, not really a cookout—but a grill with some chicken on it.”

One day, when Hai was in middle school, Randy showed him a new candy.

thats sick.

‘Candy Maaaan! Caaaaandy Maaaan!’ You were Elroy’s age, just about.” He nodded toward his son somewhere in the house, then shook his head, deep in a memory while trying to say something.

how ru gonna have a son then feed kids drugs

I worked my ass off, fed you and clothed you all these years. For what?” “I’m sorry your investment didn’t pay off. I didn’t know raising children was like throwing dice at a casino.”

and he was warm as a blood cell being swept through the vein of a fallen angel, finally good.

“My granddad told me when trees stand on their own, with no other trees around them, their branches grow wild like that. Branches twisted all over the place, like they’re trying to grab at everything and nothing’s around to hold on to.”

“And all the devils besought him, saying, Send us into the swine, that we may enter into them. And forthwith Jesus gave them leave. And the unclean spirits went out, and entered into the swine: and the herd ran violently down a cliff into the sea.”

At what point does childhood sadness become adult sadness anyway? Does the tsunami get larger as the figure grows? Was his wave already twice the size of the one in the poster?

“Do you know who else read the dictionary, cover to cover?” BJ glanced around the room. “Eminem. That’s right.” She looked at Russia, who nodded.

HELP

And you boys can share it if you want. It’s for you both, really.” Before he knew it, Hai found himself holding what seemed like a plaster mold of a phallus the size of a middle school baseball trophy.

oh!

Above him was a poster of George W. Bush with a speech bubble that said, Freedom ain’t free.

But hey…actually,” the clerk leaned over the faded counter, “you guys know anything about astrology? I’ve been trying to get into it. My new girlfriend is obsessed. I’m telling you, broads with bangs love this shit.

OMG

Why would you listen to sad things when you’re already sad?”

“Guess it gives the feeling a place to stand in. Like a little bus stop.”

She was the kind of person who would say “You look tired,” her head tilting with feigned concern, and mean that you were actually ugly.

“Nothing. That’s what happens when you do nothing with what you know. It’s like filling a car with gas and never having the balls to turn the ignition.”

“I had a life, Labas.” She paused and thought about it. “It started on a burning hill.

“People don’t know what’s enough, Labas. That’s their problem. They think they suffer, but they’re really just bored. They don’t eat enough carrots.”

But it’s the kind of light that makes you think about people. You feel both lost but also at peace with everything, and it makes you want to call somebody on the phone for no reason.”

Sony turned to his hero with a hurt look. “But I love it here. East Gladness is the best place on earth. We have two McDonald’s and a GameStop. Who can say that?

I don’t have any second chances. Just you. That’s it. You’re my second chance.”

“But you can’t control your mind. Even if you think you should, you can’t.”

“Hey. Do you think a life you can’t remember is still a good life?” The question sounded almost silly aloud. “I mean, like—” “Yes,” said Sony. “Why’s that?” “Because someone else will remember it.”

What you see might not always be what you feel. And what you feel may no longer be real.

“But am I still me if I don’t remember who I was?”

“The fuck was that? You can’t hit me. You’re autistic.” “I’m sorry, I had to make a statement.”