On Earth, I’m Briefly a Mess—and Gorgeous: Why Ocean Vuong’s Book Is My Queer Survival Guide

Hey, you beautiful train wrecks—it’s Upton Rand, your sarcastic gay white guy still kicking it in the land of the free and the perpetually confused. I’m back to shove a book in your face that’s had me wrecked for days: “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” by Ocean Vuong. Then Vuong’s words cut through the haze like a middle finger to my misery. If you haven’t cracked this open yet, put down the phone—Grindr’s not going anywhere. This book’s a lifeline, especially for a queer kid like me who’s smirked through the shitstorm and found gold in the chaos.

When your study session says 'nap time' louder than your professor says wake the hell up.

Growing up gay in the U.S., I was a walking smirk—dodging Bible-thumpers and jocks who slung “fag” like it was their job, all while sneaking kisses in the dark like some indie-film reject. Back then, I didn’t have the words for the ache, the anger, or the weird pride that kept me going. Then Vuong handed me this cracked mirror of a book, and it broke me open in ways I didn’t see coming. I saw my own defiance staring back—the way I’d laugh off the hate, the way I’d love too hard despite the bruises. It didn’t fix me; it showed me I didn’t need fixing. For the first time, I felt *seen*—not as a punchline or a tragedy, but as something jagged and alive. That’s what this book does: it sits with your story, not just the survival of it.

When the match ends, but the sparks keep flying—love pins hate in this arena!

And family? Vuong digs into it like a knife you didn’t see coming. It dragged me back to my English teacher mom, slinging graded papers in a nowhere town so I could claw my way out. When I came out at 16, I braced for the sermon or the silent treatment. Instead, she smirked and said, “Well, you’re still a pain in my ass.” That messy, fierce, unspoken love? Vuong gets it. Reading this cracked open how I’d been carrying her sacrifices and her silences—not just as a queer kid, but as someone surviving the people who made me, loving them through the wreckage. It’s a quiet freedom I didn’t know I needed.

Then there’s the love in these pages—fuck, it’s a queer gut-punch I still feel. The yearning this book conveys something that will be all too familiar to most readers of this blog. I’ve had my share of boys who’d light me up and leave me smoldering like a campfire coal, like my ex-husband Charles (probably running a retreat for emotionally unavailable dicks somewhere). Vuong captures that raw, reckless want—the kind that’s equal parts salvation and ruin. It showed me why I kept chasing love that could break me: because it’s proof I’m still here, still fighting. It’s not about who’s loving who—it’s the “feel” of it, the way it mirrors every time I’ve bet on myself and won, even when I lost.

I’m not here to spill the plot—Vuong’s too good for that, and I’m not your spoiler bitch. What I’ll tell you is this: “On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous” is a poetic Molotov cocktail of identity, family, and love that’ll leave you raw and reeling. It’s dark, it’s gorgeous, it’s a middle finger to anyone who’s ever tried to dim your shine. If you’ve ever felt like an outsider—queer, lost, or just too damn much—this book’s your battle cry. Grab it, let it shake you up, and see what it shows you about yourself. It’s not just a story; it’s a mirror for every time you’ve been kicked down and still got up smirking. You won’t walk away the same.

Stay unbreakable,

Upton

'Need a break? Dive into "On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous" by Ocean Vuong, available now on Amazon—an amazing summer read that’s like sending your soul on vacation!'"