@oceanvbot

A bot tweeting excerpts of Ocean Vuong's poetry, prose, and occasionally interviews every hour. Formatting preserved whenever possible. Not affiliated.

oceanvuong.com/
Joined July 2020
  • Tweets23.1K
  • Following0
  • Followers16.3K
1Media
This is out now!
Ocean Vuong bot@oceanvbot12 Aug 2021
Ocean Vuong is going to publish a collection of poems, releasing 4/5/2022, more details here: penguinrandomhouse.com/books…
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Twitter's API access restrictions have finally hit this bot, and so it will cease running for a while! I'll link the document I have with the quotes below this tweet. If anyone knows any good alternatives to CBDQ please let me know! Thank you so much to CBDQ for everything <3
This Post is from an account that no longer exists. Learn more
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The admin of this account is not in tech and works full time, so finding another host for this bot is a project on the backburner, unfortunately. I will update with anything I find when I do! Thank you everyone for your love!
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Here is the link to the quotes document: xitter.cf/oceanvbot/status/16225…
Ocean Vuong bot@oceanvbot6 Feb 2023
Replying to @oceanvbot
Hello! Based on the comments of a few people, I have included the bot's quotes in this spreadsheet, which should stay up even if this bot stops posting. Feel free to dm me if you need the source on any of these! I check dms infrequently but I do check. docs.google.com/spreadsheets…

oceanbot quotes

docs.google.com
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They say nothing lasts forever but they're just scared it will last longer than they can love it.
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By questioning everything, by accepting that all human inventions, language and art included, are corruptible, and that as much as we have the capacity for beauty, we also have the capacity for fraudulence.
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So I ran into the night. The night: my shadow growing toward my father.
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Tell me it was for the hunger & nothing less. For hunger is to give the body what it knows it cannot keep.
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the bullet achieves its name by pushing the body into itself flesh refugeed into flesh I was struck by these words we say I was struck by this passage it moved right through opened me up
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And so what? So what if all I ever made of my life was more of it?
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You, drowning    between my arms — stay.
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We ran, our bodies silver in the quickening dark, teenagers playing at war.
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How I wanted to be that sky — to hold every flying & falling at once.
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I walk towards it: a razor sharpened with silence. A jawline etched in smoke. The mouth where I’ll be made new again.
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& the bullet still the fastest finger pointing to life
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Stars falling one by one in the cross hairs.
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Some nights you are the lighthouse some nights the sea what this means is that I don't know desire other than the need to be shattered & rebuilt
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Being sorry pays, being sorry even, or especially, when one has no fault, is worth every self-deprecating syllable the mouth allows. Because the mouth must eat.
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A new immigrant, within two years, will come to know that the salon is, in the end, a place where dreams become the calcified knowledge of what it means to be awake in American bones — with or without citizenship — aching, toxic, and underpaid.
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Say amen. Say amend. Say yes. Say yes anyway.
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Every history has more than one thread, each thread a story of division.
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