We talk all the time. The On Being Project Tippett: Yeah, even that notion that language is clear, even this presumption that we walk around making, that what we mean when we use any word transmits perfectly to another. I think this is why the work of Toni Morrison’s Beloved was so important to me, because I saw in Beloved a first-generation testimony, in the character, Sethe, leaving the South and creating Beloved, her daughter — to save her daughter. Eliot Prize and the Whiting Award; and a novel. And each day, each family got three cups of rice. I grew up in New England, and I heard boys talk about pleasure as conquest. Asian bodies. Slay — I slayed them. [laughs] And so he met my grandmother and they married, and he was gonna stay there. But I still have my body and with it these words, hammered into a structure just wide enough to hold the weight of my living. At the far end of the room, I leaned forward, closed my eyes, and heard his voice as if he were right next to me. You have to articulate the world you want to live in first. I don’t think writer’s block is real. So this conversation holds a last memory before the world shifted on its axis. And for a long time in our species, we had been carrying it. And I think, even consciously, when I read or give lectures or when I teach, I lower my voice. “You’re killing it.”, Tippett: You’re so acute about the violence of the American lexicon …. Not at the dinner table. We police access to ourselves. He is the author of the poetry collection Night Sky with Exit Wounds, which won the T.S. [laughs], Vuong: It’s kind of like — a lot of things flow, but not all of them are good. It was much delayed. And I think, thinking about death and thinking about what we do towards it, around it, helps me center myself in such a chaotic space. The conditions of our lives will be vanquished through death. So this conversation holds a last memory before the world shifted on its axis.… I think it’s the mythos of capitalism — that you’re always supposed to be producing; this anxiety of being productive and quantifying your self-worth through page counts and word counts. Maybe there’s questions you’re not asking. We’ve been telling stories as we work, side by side. None of us would have guessed that within a handful of days such an event would... – Luister direct op jouw tablet, telefoon of browser naar Ocean Vuong — A Life Worthy of Our Breath van On Being with Krista Tippett - geen downloads nodig. ‎Krista interviewed the writer Ocean Vuong on March 8 in a joyful room full of podcast makers at On Air Fest in Brooklyn. And you were literally born because of that war. I just wanted to note this: the picture on the cover of Night Sky with Exit Wounds, it looks like such a happy picture of a little boy and two women who love them; you imagine one of them is his mother. None of us would have guessed that within a handful of days such an event would become unimaginable. He is the author of the poetry collection Night Sky with Exit Wounds, which won the T.S. Bodies that look like me. [music: “Seven League Boots” by Zoë Keating], It’s such an honor to be invited to be part of the On Air Fest and to do a show here. And I think being able to articulate and talk to each other face-to-face like this, having the sonic reality, to see how your words land in somebody’s body, is so important. Ocean Vuong is an assistant professor of English in the MFA Program at the University of Massachusetts Amherst. He was a 2019 MacArthur Fellow. Supporting organizations and initiatives that uphold a sacred relationship with life on Earth. He is the author of the poetry collection. And so spirituality began with care rooted in physical bodies. Today a conversation with the writer Ocean Vuong that happened right before the world changed, and speaks vividly and helpfully to the reality we’ve now entered. And that is true, and we’re gonna talk about violence, but I’d also say that the sweep of your work is about bearing witness to the other side of violence and the possibility of joy, while taking nothing away and continuing to bear witness to the fullness of what has been carried and what has been survived. And so — and I’m so glad that I got to see the embodiment of your language. And I think it goes back to Noah’s Ark, too. But you have ways of making that more possible in yourself. The Pause is our Saturday morning newsletter, a gathering of threads from the far-flung, ongoing conversation that is The On Being Project. And looking at — I remember, when I heard of his suicide, I was a student at Brooklyn College in New York. The On Being Project And it was a reckoning, I think, existentially, with myself as an artist. And so I think it’s valuable to open up that debate again. This is not cocktail conversation,” what have you.