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“The problem was we had to keep choosing between one evil or another, and no matter what we chose, they sliced a little bit more off us, until there was nothing left.”

[xuanduan]

About

— BASICS

Name: Xuan Duan Age / D.O.B.: 23, September 11, 1999 Gender, Pronouns & Sexuality: N/A Hometown: Born and grew up in Vietnam / Immigrated to Canada Affiliation: Civilian Job position: Student / Occasional podcaster Education: Bachelor of Industrial Design (Carleton University) / Currently studying Business Administration in Binghamton University Relationship status: N/A Children: N/A Positive traits: curious, flamboyant, philosophical, materialistic, decisive Negative traits: nihilist, careless, apathetic, stubborn, stingy

— BIOGRAPHY

01. Xuan inherited her father's stubbornness and her mother’s materialistic view on the world. She was a bubbly, outspoken and temperamental child, but became more withdrawn and tempered as she grew older. She has one younger sister, five years apart. They keep in tight contact. 02. She was a rebellious and troublesome firstborn, always seeking for new and exciting things. She had cheated in exams (a friend ratted her out), failed exams (luckily, she still passed second-grade), stole from her parents (busted once she became greedy and took too much) and got addicted to gaming and movie-watching (she still is). Her father had beaten her multiple times to keep her in line (worked out quite well). 03. She had a normal childhood, being a chatterbox at school and making friends easy (keeping in contact with them is a different story). She worked a few customer service gigs here and there. Her short stories and essays were featured in local newspaper. Her family immigrated to Canada when she was in seventh grade. Although she retains her mother tongue, her written and speaking ability are stiff. After graduated from University, she was unable to find a job in Canada, and thus applied to Binghamton hoping to get acclimate to the country and find more job opportunities in America. 04. While attending Carleton, Xuan and her friends created a podcast together while they were drunk one night. She carried a digital voice recorder and used it as a diary. The podcast project largely was abandoned, but to pass time, Xuan sometimes edited her voice notes and conversations she recorded to the channel. 05. She was politically-conscious at a young age. During dinner, her family like to discuss politics. Back in Vietnam, her parents -- especially her father -- often criticized the Vietnamese political elites. Her father holds a death grudge against the Vietnamese government, since they executed her grandpa and stripped away all her father's family properties, forcing him to grow up poor. Thus, Xuan developed a skewed outlook toward politicians and government. Her father’s resent influenced her to seek out ways to vent her political frustration and hope for a better future. After they moved to Canada, her father was sated by the newfound freedom and so-called democratic dreamland. However, for Xuan, the rose-tinted glasses wore off quick. 06. She found cracks in the primarily-dual political parties system, and reached the conclusion that all politicians are corrupted. Anything afflicted with the government, including police officers, are also unreliable, and gangs are merely controlled oppositions that are useless in bringing any changes to society. 07. Xuan has a detached outlook toward life. She believes anarchism is the ideal societal oucome, but she doesn't act on it. Her life motto is Stay Out of the Devil's Way. Her loyalty and friendliness are questionable at times, though she usually doesn't have the gut to betray people. That being said, because she's neither attached to a particular ideology or moral compass, she is willing to bend her conscience if she deems the consequences are harmless. 08. An extremely stingy person despite being raised in a middle-class family with a plenty of money to spare. She holds a complex toward money, feeling guilty for having an abundance of it while her parents had to struggle during their youth. Thus, she often rejected monetary support from her parents. She tigtens her belt a lot and looks for free goods wherever possible, sometimes regardless of the detriments on her own body or future. Her parents are exasperated by this behaviour of her. 09. Her dream is to burrow away in a rural farmhouse and live far, far away from the City. 10. She loves Charles Bukowski. He's a big influence on her thinking as she matures into adulthood.

— WANTED CONNECTIONS / PLOTS

Sell Your Soul: Xuan needs a job, and she needs money. New York rent is cut-throat. With her background, she can take up anything ranging from product (re)design and/or altercations, drawing (blueprints, sketches of people, etc.) or research and observe human behaviour, to serving at bars, restaurants or even ghostwriting. She prides herself on her forgettableness and ability to fade in the background when the situation calls for it.

[xuanduan]

@astrorahi

Mean latin women seldom ever cheer him back — if the ones running the Cartel are any indication of it —, but Rahi still laughs as meets the girl’s glass in a toast. 

“Okay,” Rahi nods, following along. Immediately, his brain starts to break it all down: “There are approximately 35,000 cities and incorporated municipalities in the U.S. How many neighborhoods in those?” Fishing out a pen from his pocket, and a napkin left forgotten on the counter, Rahi scribbles every number that comes to mind. “Some of these will be hamlets that aren't big enough to have multiple neighborhoods. On the other hand, some unincorporated areas have a decent number of residents and might be considered ‘neighborhoods’, which probably wouldn’t be officially recognized by the government.” 

A scribbled equation here and there. So far, it makes little sense. The black ink bleeds, becoming blurry almost upon contact.

“...There’s maybe about uh, 250, 300 cities — with over 100,000 residents. If assume each of to have 10 or more neighborhoods — I mean, maybe over 50 in a very large city.” 100, 10, 50. Add, subtract, multiply, backflip, and roll again. He draws a circle around the end result. “Right, so between 100,000 and 150,000 neighborhoods. Let’s go with 125 for ease.” 

Rahi looks up at her as though it’s an actual, feasible plan. “We’d just have to form one-hundred and twenty-five thousand new small governments.” He flips the napkin — more math ensues. “If we do one a day, it would just take...” Well, that’s a bummer. “342 years.” 

"For an anarchist, you're very eager to form a government," Xuan smiles. She jests, albeit with a lot of teeth. "I'm thinking of creating self-sufficient neighbourhoods. Each area can independently take care of their food, water and energy needs, and regions can naturally trade resources with each other. Though, sure, some elected body would have to operate as the head."

She leans over and taps on his chicken-scratch scrawls.

"Anyway, most of the 125,000 current officially-designated neighbourhoods likely have a de facto leader already, and if there isn't yet, then someone will eventually emerge. Forming a local representative won't be an issue."

Frankly, she doesn't really care for the actual number. No point in debating the actual logistics, given that the notion of living without a government is widely rejected by the mass population. Nonetheless, she considers what this data-driven guy has said, synthesizing his math into her point-of-view.

She spins her empty beer pint 'round and 'round and slowly nods. "But you're correct. Would be centuries for the scheme to work — if it will be successful at all. Cities would struggle to be self-sufficient since condos and apartments aren't built for such purpose."

Now she gets all sober again.

After all, you don't win against governments. You just delay the formation of a government.

[xuanduan]

@davestoll​

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

May the national taxing, spending, and corruption continue strong! I'm sure you already have a copy of this, but it never hurt to refresh you memory.

Much love.

[xuanduan]

Xuan Duan @ NYE

01. Longchamp's white dress and beige spring jacket, with white sneakers and socks. Minimal make-up. Medium hand-bag, carrying her phone, wallet, a notebook and a pen, and digital recorder.

02. Xuan has a job interview nearby and stops by Hudson Yards afterward to watch fireworks. She is attending the event alone.

03. She calls her family right after the clocks turns to January 1st of the next year to say Happy New Year. She usually eats red beans on New Year Eve for good luck (she can't cook beans well, though).

[david-pavoncello]

When: Dec 27, 2022 Where: Newport Who: Open

Azra was enjoying her couple days off. ER was busier than she expected over the holidays and all the days seemed to blend together. She didn’t celebrate Christmas and usually took the shifts for those that had families could. 

All she had was herself and it would be rather pathetic to sit at home alone. 

Her first day off had the morning spent at the market to grab some food to replenish her fridge, though she was certain most of it would go bad. The Turk had a tendency to buy groceries and then still order out. Who was she to break that habit now. 

She was making her out of the store with her hands full of paper bags holding her items. Azra inwardly berated herself for not bringing her fabric bags, and just her luck, she bumped into a body and like clock work, the bottom of her bags gave out, and everything she bought now laid on the ground in front of her. 

“Allah aşkına.“ She curses under her breath, kneeling down to start to gather her food. “Nothing can go right.” 

[xuanduan]

Xuan Duan has adopted the infamous New Yorker walking style during rush hour: head down, earbuds in, stamping forward according to the flow of the crowd. It's six, and it's winter, when the sky gets too dark too quickly and she gets cranky and tired too early. The novelty of her newfound part-time jobs has already worn off.

She probably bumps into a few people's shoulders while getting on and off the train, probably a few more as she shoves her way out of the tunnels and away from Times Square. So she didn't really thinks much when she collides with another body as they are crossing the busy intersection until she hears a loud rip and things rain down around her feet.

"Sorry, are you alright?" Xuan says, a bit too fast to be sincere.

The person who she slams into didn't seem to have heard her. Instead, the unfortunate woman mutters something under her breath as she scoops up her grocery, which was being jostled around by the stampede of never-ending pedestrians. Xuan considers leaving the woman right there and slinks away. She has another train to catch.

Across the street, the timer counted down to 10. Cars start honking. Mentally rolling her eyes and swallowing down her guilt, Xuan also swoops down to grab some of the spilled stuffs.

"My apologies. Let's get you off the street first. Got everything?₩

[xuanduan]

@astrorahi

“I guess, yeah,” Rahi answers quietly. This is something he can’t argue against — hell, even the anarchist group he’s a part of has a leader to guide them through. One could argue it’s hypocritical, but others could argue back that it must be done. You can’t simply take on the government of the United States without being somewhat neatly organized. He nods, “It’s the best we have for now. ...I’m hoping not forever.”

What irony, that his heart is split between the two sides: lawful, such as Abel and Alan — and the unlawful, such as Milo, Lonnie, and the rest of the Brotherhood. Last but not least, one mustn’t forget he’s an active member of NASA too. Awful as the idea may be, there’s no rocket launches without abundant public funds.

“In Mexico?” He asks, recalling the story. “Yeah. But Cherán is tiny — how many residents? 10k? Versus our 300 million?” Rahi laughs, but not in a mocking way. It’s far too sincere and almost awkward, like the engineer he is — trying to round up the numbers. 

Numbers first, plans later. “...Maybe all we need is an army of latin women to sort it out for us.” Another heart-felt laugh, and a shrug. “The only ones I know are kind of mean.”  

Xuan raises her glass in a cheer and laughs. "Maybe tomorrow, the local army of mean Latin women will seize NYPD's HQ and chase off the gangs, and New York will be the next Cherán."

She has just enough alcohol in her system to feel bigger-than-life, excited after meet a like-minded, albeit reluctant, person. She spreads her arms, gesturing widely, words tripping out of her mouth.

"A country is made out of different states, different areas, and different neighbourhoods. Like the federal government is composed of states and municipalities." She makes a hammer motion with her arm. "Target the smallest government unit, and you break the whole system. If each neighbourhood patrol and take care their own area, we're looking at thousands of co-independent Cherán. The feds don't have enough force or power to control all 300 million of people ignoring their order and ready to storm the capital. That's how we take back the power: arm the desperate and the angry."

It feels sleazy to condone something akin to the CIA's honeytraps, but being armed is necessary. Hell, she has been sneakily looking to buy a gun herself, due to pesky gun laws. An unarmed citizen can't protect themselves, much less shooting at the corrupted bastards they want to drive out. And sadly, no matter how much she turns it, the gun-scare propaganda wins out in the general public's eyes. The only people that can easily be swayed are young, dumb and broke folks, or depressed and lonely outcasts at the lowest ring, who gangs, governments and cults all simultaneously want to recruit into their program.

[xuanduan]

@astrorahi

Rahi blinks, slowly. He reminds himself that he’s an insufferable scientist, and that she’s young and not American. Therefore, an eye-roll can easily be replaced by just a sigh. So, he sighs.

“That’s not how that works,” he says, like it’s simple. “If you voted, then you can and should complain. And, working off the assumption that you’re saying we give them power — then the same people who can give something, can also take it away.” 

Why vote? “Because some of those ‘corrupted bastards’ have bad tax ideas, and others flirt with genocide. It’s simple math.” He holds back from arguing that there’s different kinds of gangsters, too — how it’s a choice between one which destroys private property or one who murders loved ones. He knows where he stands, and the criminals he’s willing to keep as pets. “I mean, I’m an anarchist, but I’m not delusional. I want it all to fucking explode,” — quite literally so — “but until it does, voting unfortunately matters.”

It feels wrong to even go into those whats, buts, and ifs — to defend a system he’s so vehemently against. Rahi takes a sip off his drink then, washing the rancid taste down with alcohol. Still, he’s curious:

“What’s your solution?”

That's not how it works. Xuan almost wants to repeat the same line with air quotation and a sneer. She has heard that too many times, but to hear it from another self-proclaimed anarchist is hilarious -- especially while he's trying to convince her into the government's scheme.

"I guess I'm the other type of anarchist," Xuan says. "Humans are wired to look for a leader -- governments, unfortunately no matter how terrible, serve as our leaders. Blow them up and a worse entity will arise. The vicious cycle continues, whether you vote or not. Yet if we want changes we need a drastic measure. So you're right in that there's no effective solution aside from voting because it's the best we have."

It's delusional, of course, to believe just by voting or protesting people can weed out the evil. American democratically-elected government still destroys individuals' life, infringes on citizens' rights, kidnaps and murders dissenters on islands away from public's eyes. CIA and FBI manufactures criminals and terrorists to instill more fear and gain more control over the stupid mass. Bad tax and forever-wars continue, regardless of how many election cycle they went through.

Xuan downs the rest of her beer and orders for another pint. "However. I do believe there's a way out. Heard of Cherán?"

[xuanduan]

@astrorahi

“‘You’?” Rahi echoes, and deliberately laughs. He’s a science man before he could ever bend himself into a politician, yet one that has always felt passionate for the matter. “I mean, you’re a voter too, right?” He thinks so — otherwise, it would make little sense. “We both do. That’s the people we elected, like it or not.”

Faces slide in and out of the screen. Pretty and ugly transitions, back and back around.

“So either you don’t vote and expect a result you didn’t partake in — or you do vote, and that’s what we get. Being within that percentage of people who elected someone isn’t a bad thing, because at least you showed up and used your voice. If they’re good, great. If they’re bad — we’ll give them hell.”

She cackles. "Bold of you to assume I'm American." It's a reflex reply, more than anything. The world is interested in American politics — everybody has a say on how America should be run, the same way Americans assume they have a say on how the rest of the world should function.

Around them, the bar hums with the evening energy. Somewhere in the corner, a slot machine rings. Xuan gulps down her beer.

"See, I used to be excited about voting because I believe it's our God-given, democratic right to express your opinion," she interweaves her fingers and leans forward. "But why vote when all politicians are corrupted bastards? If you ask me, the government is the largest gang that's being left unchecked. People don't vote not because they don't care. They are unhappy with all the choices. After all, once you voted, you made your bed with one side. If they win, you have no right to complain because you were the one who gave them the power."

[modelsof-color]

Estelle Chen by Liu Wen for GQ China Magazine, Dec 2021

[astrorahi]

@xuanduan​

“God. Okay. I can’t listen to that,” Rahi admits, bowing his head off the projection unfolding in the small TV screen — broadcasting politics to the rest of the bar. Politicians take their time, giving speeches and making announcements. “They just expect us to clap at the simplest things. It’s not enough change.” To his side, he catches the girl’s gaze. “Right?”

[xuanduan]

Xuan flicks her eyes from the TV to the man sitting next to her.

"Yet every year you elect the same bastards into the office," her mouth says, before her caught-off-guard brain can catch up. She smiles, anyway, turning in her seat to face the stranger better. A little thrilling excitement swarmed at the bottom of her stomach.

It has been a long while since she gets riled up.

She doesn't often stop at the bar after work, but today, she craves the greasy fish n' chips this particular bar offers. She was expecting to finish her food and head home as usual, but seems like her bland night will be a bit more exciting over good ol' politics.

On the TV, the prim-face politician whose name she doesn't really care about was replaced by the faux-serious facade of the news anchor. Xuan raises her arm and gestures at their surrounding. "Nothing is going to change because people keeps listening to the same pretty lies and promises made by the politicians."

[xuanduan]

@tommykang

STARTER  FOR:  everyone

SETTING:  anywhere that makes sense, maybe some suss area where your character shouldn’t be. early morning between 2-6am

the whirring of a car engine catches tommy’s attention. he isn’t expecting anyone else to be around, not at this time. he follows the sound to investigate, turning a corner for the headlights to shine in his face. he only squints to make out the type of car and number plate, neither of which he recognises. firm steps take him to the side of the car, leather clad knuckles slowly tapping against misted up windows. 

In her defense, she doesn't notice anybody around because she was too pre-occupied with trying to parallel-park the rental car between two rusty Hondas.

So when a sudden knock comes at the passenger's side of the window, Xuan nearly jumps in her seat, a scream half-formed in her throat. She can't see much beyond the misted-up windows -- whoever on the other side was reduced to a black vertical blob.

They just had to approach right after she turned off the ignition.

"Hi?" She yelps, then scrambles to twist the key and rolls the window down once she belatedly realized the person obviously won't hear her. It's still too dark to make out the person's figure. The trees spiderwebbing above the street obscured the streetlight and the waning moon. "Hi." She says again, baring her teeth in a wide smile.

[xuanduan]

@milanarora

“ that’s exactly what i thought, ” he says. why should he pick one or the other, when he could just have both? when she turns around, for a brief moment he thinks that’s the end of the conversation. eyes blink rapidly -- that’s it? it’s as if he was disappointed, since people are usually more interested in him, because when he sees her grabbing other flowers, the look on his face reads: of course.

“ let’s have a look ... ” he takes a step to stand by her side so he could position the hydrangeas and roses in an arrangement he’d like to see. “ i like it, ” he says, looking at the flowers. then, he turns to the florist, a boyish smile on his lips, “ i like it a lot. ”

the question doesn’t come as a surprise -- he prefers being recognised for the news more than anything on his imdb. truth is, he loves being recognised all the same. the curling of his lips comes from practice, as if he’s humble enough to be cool about it. “ oh no, no way. i hate that guy, ” he laughs. “ i have way better hair than him, don’t you think? ” lifts his chin to show off his hairline. 

Working in customer service for years, yet the little naive and approval-seeking kid inside her still preens every time a customer nod in approval and beam. When the man looks at the flowers, and turns to her with a playful smile, Xuan can only helplessly mirrors, to her great embarrassment. She has to tamp down the childish glee and gestures at the cash register.

"Shall I wrap this up for you now, then? Or we can pot them, if you prefer." Xuan says. "We also have scented candles on sale, would you like to check them out? You'd love them." She wants to scurry along and cut off her own rambling before the bubbling excitement gets the better of her.

When she blurts out a question fishing for the man's identity confirmation, she's already half-expecting him to play coy like most B- or C-listers. Indeed, he does exactly that -- denying and laughing at himself as if that would cover up the smugness in his voice. She laughs, too, eyes curve into thin half-moons. Her hands clasp together in front of her chest.

"You're right. How could I've mistaken you for Milan Arora. You've better beard, better face, and a significantly better head of hair compared to him."

[milanarora]

STARTER  FOR:  everyone SETTING: a florist in manhattan, anytime 

is someone taking a photo of him? it certainly feels like it. muscles relax, showing the face of someone content. “ five years into a marriage and this still confuses me, ” he says, to the person nearest to him. “ what do you think? these hydrangeas– ” he holds them in one hand, they’re light blue, “ with the coral roses, pink roses or both? ” he holds the roses in the other, twisting his wrist so they can observe the colour combinations.

[xuanduan]

Xuan Duan slides her gaze away from scrutinizing the man's face to the flowers in his hands, her mouth automatically draws up into a friendly grin.

"You've a good eye, good Sir. The light blue of the hydrangeas contrast well with both the coral and pink roses," she says, anyway, putting her scissors into the front pocket of her apron. Turning, she pulls out a branch of pink astilbes, coral bells and sweetspire each, and holds them up to the flowers in the customer's hand. "We can wrap them with these for you, too. They compliment the hydrangeas and will make an interesting bouquet."

She knows what she's supposed to say. Asking for the occasion, the recipient, the meanings behind the gifts, some random comments on the colour combinations, yadi yada yada. She has been working as a florist for a few weeks -- she knows the drills. But, frankly, she could care less about that.

She shifts on her heels and narrows her eyes a bit. "Are you Milan Arora from the ABC News?"