If poetry failed me, I wouldn't stop it, but I would really need to wise up and get a job to support my family.

I was not going to be the person who just tinkered with their hobby while somebody else supports them.

I felt too guilty to do that.

This is Death, Sex, and Money. I felt too guilty to do that.

This is death, sex, and money.

The show from WNYC about the things we think about a lot and need to talk about more.

I'm Anna Sale.

Ocean Vuong is 34 years old and one of the literary world's most celebrated contemporary writers. As of last year, he's also a tenured faculty member at NYU, which has meant

spending time back in New York City,

where he lived for most of his 20s. When we spoke, Ocean was wrapping up the spring semester

and ready to return home to Western Massachusetts.

I'm not much of a city slicker. So I miss the sound of crickets.

I didn't realize there's no crickets in the city, my goodness.

And the sound of crickets alleviates your blood pressure

because crickets only sing when there's no predator around.

So I haven't heard a darn cricket in months, so I'm waiting to hear it.

You're safe. It's this sound of nature telling you, for now, we're safe.

Yeah, yeah, I have a really robust community of folks in Western Mass,

and we have folks, like, really like making a life.

They're ready to kind of settle into something with longevity and care.

Your favorite poet, you might talk to them one day, the next day you might do a mule train for them

because they've just had surgery or something. It's very different than the city. The city is a great

...