How to Handle Saigon Noir in Your Substack Inbox

A survival guide for mystics who flirt with the universe and occasionally get flirted back at.

Apr 21, 2025

Intro: A Little Mood Music
Imagine this: The humid heat of a late-night Saigon street, cigarette smoke curling through neon lights, a jazz saxophone playing somewhere down an alley. It’s Casablanca meets LinkedIn - you’re minding your digital temple, and in walks a poetic stranger with a beer in one hand and Baudelaire in the other. He’s not asking for your heart, just a little bit of your attention. Not for love, but for a few lines of shared existential longing. Bringing delicious replies. A little roguish, a little tipsy-in-Saigon, a lot of charm - and totally in the spirit of the post you wrote.

So cue the soundtrack,

light a metaphorical cigarette or candle, and settle in.

1. The Unexpected Visitor
You're sipping water, minding your own post, and suddenly -
a poetic stranger appears.
He's got metaphors. He’s got mild mischief.
He's in Saigon, possibly sweating, definitely typing.
And he calls you baby.

Pro Tip #1: Not every “baby” is a boundary violation.
Sometimes, it's just a man with a beer and a strong wi-fi signal.

2. The Inner Monologue
You blink. Smile.
Half of you wants to reply like a queen.
The other half wants to… well, screenshot it for your girlfriends.
But instead - you alchemize.

Pro Tip #2: Self-awareness is sexier than silence.
Laugh at yourself and hold your ground with grace.

3. The Artful Reply
You respond.
Not with defensiveness, not with flirtation.
But with poetry. With clarity.
With a gentle reminder that married doesn’t mean dead - and connection doesn’t equal confusion.

You say:

“Thanks for playing. Now back to our respective kingdoms.”
Pro Tip #3: Boundaries can be written in velvet ink.

4. The Muse Blessing Ritual
You realize: this man may not be yours -
but he is a muse.

So you write.
You turn the moment into metaphor,
and the comment into content.

And somewhere in Saigon, or Singapore
a beer-slick soul smiles at the fact that he, too,
was part of a poem.

Pro Tip #4: When in doubt, make art. Always.

5. The Legacy
Dear reader,
I wrote this for the fun of it.
For the joy of navigating strange, sparkly interactions
with reverence, humor, and a very married heart.

To the muse in Saigon:
May your inbox be as poetic as your outbox.
And may we all remember that inspiration
doesn’t ask for ownership - just expression.

He signed off like they always do in the black-and-white films -
with a trailing ellipsis and the faint scent of trouble:

“You know where to find me... Somewhere in Asia.”

I smiled.
And went back to writing.

Epilogue: When the Comment Section Turns into a Cabaret

Just when you think the curtain has fallen, a new track drops.

A Spotify link. A lyric. A line from Fear & Delight.

A man quoting poetry, then Baudelaire (in French), then sending swing music from Saigon.

And me?

Googling translations, laughing into my tea, and realizing: I have two friends who dance swing.

So next time a poetic stranger sends a soundtrack, consider this your warning:

We just might stage a performance.

Curtain closed. Lights dimmed. Archive button… clicked.

Bonus Track: When the Comment Section Becomes a Graduate Seminar in Jazz-Flavored Romance

I didn’t know who Paolo Conte was.

I don’t speak French.

I had no idea Hugo Pratt illustrated vinyl sleeves.

And yet, thanks to one poetic, possibly tipsy reader, I now know how to translate “typed love letters” in Italian, how to dance around metaphors with a sailor named Corto Maltese, and how to survive an inbox full of Radiohead and wine.

Turns out, you don’t need to know everything.

Just show up curious, gracious, and slightly mischief-prone.

The comment section will take care of the rest.