2010年12月22日星期三

等父亲们死掉

《猜猜谁来吃饭》(Guess Who's Comming for Dinner)的主线是两个家庭围绕白人姑娘和黑人小伙的婚姻之争,反映的是美国的种族问题。里面闪光的台词随处可见,再加上斯班塞·屈塞(Spencer Tracy),西德尼·波蒂埃(Sidney Poitier),凯瑟琳·赫本(Katharine Hepburn),凯瑟琳·休顿(赫本的侄女),是一部从剧本到表演都极为经典的电影。老斯班塞最后的一段独白或许可以和历史上所有伟大的电影独白并列在一起,供英语老师们拿给学生当教材。

或许简·奥斯丁是对的,婚姻是个永不过时的创作素材,因为它牵涉到的太多——家庭,人伦,亲情,地位,财富,习俗,秩序,新旧思想,社会矛盾……

片子里黑人儿子和父亲的一段争论虽由种族意识而起,但说的却是“谁欠谁”的问题。无论放到哪个时代,哪个国度,哪个种族,这样的家庭矛盾一直在上演——父母要设置子女的生活,而子女则竭力要摆脱这种设置。有人摆脱了,有人没有摆脱;而那些没有摆脱的,像《死亡诗社》(Dead Poets Society)里的尼尔(Neil),面对要求自己放弃表演的强势的父亲,无法平衡自己的内心,选择了自杀;但更多的还是选择了妥协,选择了服从父母的设置——因为生活还是要继续,死亡的悲剧只得留给文学和电影。

通常为了设置子女的生活,长辈们给出的理由是:“我是为你好”,“你欠了我”。对于前者,老罗说“求求你们不要为我好”。对于后者,西德尼·波蒂埃饰演的儿子说“我没有欠你”。片中的这一段父子对话,或许可以还原很多想设置子女生活的父母和想摆脱父母设置的子女之间的矛盾。而儿子给出的答案则是:我们必须把父亲们从我们背上卸下来。可我的看法略微悲观一些,因为通常父亲们不会主动从我们背上下来,而倘若我们去强卸,在中国往往以流血首场。所以我的答案是:不要变成父亲,等父亲们死掉(若你要把它理解为政治隐喻,我也觉得没什么不妥)。

















父:儿子,你怎么也得听我一回!我不是要告诉你怎么生活,可你从来也没有犯过这样的糊涂啊。你这一生一直以来就是我和你妈的荣耀,你难道不知道吗?我看你就是不清楚自己在干什么!这门子婚事,来得太快。你自己也这么说。所以你必须得给我收住脚,想想清楚!你想过人们会怎么说你吗?放到美国的16、17个州,你这是在违法啊!你会成为罪犯的!退一步讲法律改了,但人们对这种事情的看法不会改。小子,像你这样一个这辈子都没有站错地的人,这回你可是错到十万八千里去了。

子:错没错由我自己来断,老头子。你给我闭上嘴,让我好好想想……

父:你怎么敢跟我这么说话!这些年来我这么对你,你哪有脸来这样对我说话?你我都知道这一点。你什么胚子做的,我还不知道吗?不是我拼了老命赚钱,你哪来的这些机会?你晓不晓得这30年来,我背了一个包走了20多万里的路,夜里还要拖着割草机在草坪上割草,这样你就不用去锅炉加煤,可以专心地念书。告诉你,你妈为此也失去了她原本该有的东西。碰到什么事,她都硬要替你去做,我指的不是什么贵重的东西,我说的是一件合身的外套,一件挨千刀的外套。而你现在却要告诉我,这些对你来说什么都不是?你可是要伤透你妈的心啊!

------------

父:我不管你妈怎么说,说不定她也头脑发昏。这只是你跟我之间的事情。

子:这是你说的第一句在理的话,因为这就是你我之间的事。

父:好嘛,我的意思是……

子:你已经把你要说的都讲了,现在听我讲。你说你并不想告诉我怎么生活,那你现在做的又是什么? 你告诉我有哪些权利,没有哪些权利?你为我做了那些事情,我又欠你什么呢?我告诉你,我什么也不欠你!如果你背着那个包走了百万公里的路,那也是做了你本该做的事情。因为你把我带到这个世界上,自从我出世的那天起,你就欠了我,你欠我每一件你都该做的事。 这道理就像如果我有了孩子,我也会欠他一样。但你并不拥有我!你不能告诉我什么时候、在哪儿站错了地,你也不能要我按照你定的规矩来生活。你甚至都不知道我是什么,爸爸,你不知道我是谁,你不知道我的感受、我的想法。我要是花上你的后半辈子把我的想法解释给你听,你甚至都不会明白。你比我大了足足30岁。你和你那糟糕的一代相信,既然事情是这个样子,那它以后都会是这个样子。但不会,只要你们那一代人倒下、死掉,尸体从我们背上掉下来,事情就会变个样子。你明白吗,我要你从我的背上下来!

2010年12月19日星期日

Liu Zhen and Liping Primary School



Liping Primary School


Written By Liu Zhen in Chinese

Translated by Mao Xin

English Edited by Zheng Wei

Photos Provided by Liu Zhen

also available on Gooood (谷德设计网)


刘振和他的里坪村小学校

在英国的时候突然对建筑、景观设计着了迷。怎么能叫我不着迷呢,我那个叫“拆呐”的国家,老房子在消失,农村在凋敝,光怪陆离的城市像个怪物,被开发商插满了各种层出不穷的楼盘,吞噬着父母的理智和年轻人的青春。


因为在网上搜索社区互助和环保建筑的信息,发现了谢英俊,一个在台湾地震灾区用经济实用的方法帮助村子里的村民互助建房的建筑师。四川512地震后,他把他的理念带到了受灾的村子,动员村民们合力,就地取材,用轻钢、木料造出了轻巧、结实、抗震的房屋。我不知道谢英俊的这种根植于社区的理念是否和台湾的农业传统有关。我非常喜欢的一支由美浓农民组成的乐队——交工,名字的含义就是农忙时节,农家们交换劳动,以补劳力不足。想起来,老家的村子里也有这样的风俗 。记得小时候夏耕时,大伯就让他的儿子去别家帮忙。有人造房,舅舅收到招呼时也会去做些抬楼板、上梁的力气活。不过现在农村里也没什么劳力了,抛荒的地芜草丛生;城乡一体化下的老人也都离开了土地住上了镇里的楼房。


在查找有关谢英俊的资料时,无意中——应该说也是必然吧——闯入了一个叫水稻田的博客,博主叫刘振,当时跟随谢英俊在四川援建。我看了他的博客,很感动,隐约觉得自己就应该和他们一起在村里挥洒汗水,而不是坐在地球的另一端把时间耗在一篇不甜不淡的论文上。 我随即给刘振写了封邮件,表达了我的敬意和欣喜之情。一个礼拜后我收到了他的回复,了解到他本是学建筑的,06年至09年一直在谢英俊的事务所工作,和一些教育机构、NGO在西南地区做一些支教、援建的项目。用他自己的话说就是“到处在玩”。9月份回国后我又邮件联系了他,那时他已经在上海工作了,做着一份他所鄙视的小白领工作。


三个礼拜前,我收到了一封下载文档的邀请邮件。我下载后打开文档,原来是刘振在四川省青川县里坪村重建村小的记录,有图有文字,记录得很随性。我看了之后,又很感动,回邮件说,有空一定要翻译成英文。我问刘振这么好的一件事怎么没见网上刊登?他说原本那个村小的项目和戴海飞的“蛋屋”一起被提名媒体奖了,后来一直忙于事务,就忘了。那个时候刘振已经从上海辞了职,去了深圳。


几天之后我给刘振打了一个电话,他那时正在北京帮助谢英俊做一个展览。电话那头的刘振跟我说了建好的小学校面临的困难:因为现在国家禁止村办小学,村里的孩子必须去镇里上学,所以房子空了下来,或者说是被遗弃了那里。“我自己倒是愿意去那里教书,但是找不到愿意去的老师,镇里的学校、教育部门也不支持。要办村小是不现实了,但办个幼儿园还是可以的,毕竟村子里还有留守儿童,那么小的娃娃不可能跑那么老远去镇上念书。”


上个礼拜刘振给我发来了翻译好的文档,是他的一个朋友帮忙翻的,要我给他看看。我对英文做了些修改、调整,并配上图片,重新整理了一份英文版的文档。因为想让更多的人知道,曾经有两个怀着理想的年轻人在四川的农村重建了一座小学校,我联系了谷德网,希望他们能刊登里坪村小学校项目。网站的负责人向玲说很喜欢刘振做的东西,答应放到网站上。


前两天在网上跟刘振聊天,他说老了以后要回湖北老家找快好地,建个小学,自任校长,和老婆一起在那里教书,并办一个无线电电台,策划一些节目播给村里的老乡听。


-------不是广告的分割线-------

里坪村小重建项目的中文档案
刘振的水稻田

谷德网
向玲的豆瓣

2010年12月18日星期六

当他们在谈论刘晓波的时候我想起了谁

刚进大一那会儿,给我们上口语课的是一位说话有些磕巴的中年老师。说磕巴有些言过其实,他只不过是踩到某个字上时,声音会有延时,也就是我们俗话说的拖音。这位老师叫林志平。面容沧桑,嗓音饱满,湖南人。

他的课是我大一一堆沉闷的专业课里为数不多的课堂气氛轻松的。每次上课,讲台后面有座椅他也不坐,而是径直一屁股坐在桌子上,单腿点地,单腿跨桌,扔给我们一个要讨论的话题后,从保温瓶里倒出一杯茶——那种盖子可以充当水杯用的保温杯,然后边喝边听我们说。等我们说到要点了,就放下茶壶盖,摘下眼镜,接着抓起身旁的眼镜盒,从里面拿出另一副换上,边换边跟我们解释:

“Don't be shocked. I always have two glasses with me so that I can use them for different purposes.”

现在回想,也想不起来从他的课里学了些什么,似乎很多节课扯扯淡就过去了。唯有一个段子至今还记忆犹新。

“I was in Indianna several years ago. It was raining that day when I was walking on the campus with an umbrella. Suddenly I saw a girl. She was also walking but with no umbrella or anything. So I walked to her and held mine over her head. She looked at me and said something. Can you guess what she said?”

说完换了副眼镜,抿了口茶,然后笑呵呵地看着我们。
我们大概花了10分钟提供各种答案,没有一个猜中。
最后还是他给我们解了谜。

“She said, It's too late.”

说完,一个人呵呵呵笑了起来。
我们长吁一口气,对这么简单的一个答案有些失望,仿佛大山临盆,最后却只生出了一只耗子。

说了这么多关于林志平的回忆,一点都没有刘晓波什么事,看这个帖子的人可能要卓急了,其实我也很卓急啊。不过在公布林志平和刘晓波的联系之前,我也想学林志平老师换副眼镜,再说说另外一件事。

我这个人有一个毛病,或者说癖好,我喜欢把一些人的长相联系起来。这种联想的能力是如此发达,以致于在我眼里,所有中国人的脸都能分成若干原型,其它各种脸型都是从这些原型里发展出来的。后来读到一个基因学者写的一本叫The Seven Daughters of Eve的书,说是欧洲的女性都源自于远古时期的7个妇女——谓之亚娃的7个女儿。这么说有些简单,用学术一点的话说就是,科学家对欧洲女性的基因做了一番分析,结果发现,她们的基因能分成7个大类,这7类基因往远古追溯能各自找到一个共同的起源。所以看到那本书,我对我的这种直觉稍稍有些得意。后来进了外院学外语,这种联想能力就开始波及到其他人种。比如我一直觉得日语系的马安东老师长得很像范·布隆克霍斯特,而英语系的郭国良老师长得像北野武——虽然没前者那么配对,但嘴巴部分还是有那么点意思。

好了,该轮到林志平了。我想把这篇帖子从头看到尾的人也应该想到我要说什么了。那我就不说了,我直接上图吧。



2010年12月8日星期三

姓郑的小哥教你如何给学计算机的女生写情书

为叙述方便,假设那个女生叫X。以下是情书正文:

The following programme has to be debugged by X 
X()
{
#Define 1="YES"
#Define 0="NO"
# just as how these two numbers work for computer
printf ("Request from programmer: X, will you be my girlfriend?")
printf ("Please type an integer to answer the request. Beware
the number you are going to input decides a man's behavior")
if X types "1"
then end if AND the programmer shall give X a kiss;
if X types "0"
then go back to the first "if";
If X types a number other than "1" or "0"
then change it into a binary number AND go
back to the first "if" until she is kissed.
}

注:
1)该表白方式只建议那些怯于当面求爱的腼腆小哥用。毕竟那个需要眼神相对、心跳加速的时刻怎么能交给机器呢?
2)为表明此“程序”完全符合EOD (Equal Opportunity&Diversity)之精神,同性恋者或主动追求计算机男生的小妹们完全可以根据自身情况更改“程序”中的某些词汇。

2010年12月5日星期日

To a Cockroach

When the power strip was disturbed
by my headless hand,
a pair of antennae emerged from a socket hole.
A head stuck out, turning quickly to all directions
Panicked by the shadowy monstrous threat
(you see, I’m putting myself in its shoes)
the cockroach jerked out of its cave—a shelter
warmed by electric current blocked by wire resistor,
and scurried off to the cold darkness under my bed.

The temperature has fallen sharply
these days, when inflation goes the other way.
The power strip and me have become the only
two sources that produce warmth
in the cubical room embedded
in an apartment-building erected
somewhere on the earth.
The green plant I bought two months ago
is dying now
irreversibly—my static companion.

I kept the power strip on
so that with the adaptors it could stay warm
like a mini-heater.
I turned off the light and went to bed.
I covered myself with a quilt.
It’s going to be a cold night.

2010年12月4日星期六

记重大门口的一只狗

在这个叫何鲁的雕像旁,趴着一只老母鸡。或许在抱窝,或许在午休。从她安详的趴姿看,离她一米远的这只黑大狗并没有侵扰过她。狗被拴在树上,只能在以绳索为半径的圆内活动,而那只母鸡就在它的势力范围内。以前孙悟空拿金箍棒就地画圈,是给师傅加一个保护罩。可每回女妖精一出现,哭哭啼啼地讲一个悲伤的故事,唐僧就坏了原则,跨到圈外。现在母鸡就在圈里,半闭着眼睛享受着午后的安宁,可见这是一只多么有原则的狗啊,我心想。但一想到在一个晴朗暖和的下午被圈囿在一棵树上,我不禁又对它心生可怜。

我停下来和黑大狗对视了一会儿,然后走了过去。它立即迎了上来,但是树和脖子之间的绳子将它的努力钉在了一点。我走进了那个看不见的圆内,伸手摸了摸它的脑袋。它发出了“呜哩呜哩”的咽呜声,然后像圆规一样往一边划了过去,接着又划回来,把脑袋蹭到我的手掌下,喉咙里不停地发出呜哩呜哩的声音。

我拍了拍它脑袋,心说:其实我也跟你一样啊。

2010年12月3日星期五

你又叫不赢

在这个叫一号桥的地方,马路绕一个大弯,从市中心兜出来,伸向去其它地方的高架和过江的大桥。“上来下往”的车辆让它不堪重负。在地势崎岖、终日不见太阳的城市,南北已经失去了指示方向的意义。

“往坝下走。”交警对我说。
“是往南吗?”我问道。
“南?……不是,是往下。”交警朝我划了个手势,“看见那个坎没有?你左转是上去,右转才是下去的。你不是要去一号桥撒?”

我至今不知道住的屋子的朝向,因为很少看见太阳。这里的楼房似乎可以360度任意朝向。东西南北更多的是出现在麻将桌上。

马路下来的旁边有一小片居民活动区:几棵树,几张石凳,还有几个像是从水泥地里长出来的健身架,然后就是很多的狗和狗的主人。 每天早上和晚上,我住的那幢公寓楼里,就会有牵着狗的中年妇女和中年男人出来。女人们通常穿着厚实的睡衣和棉鞋,而男人们通常脖子里挂着粗厚的链条。

那些狗就在广场上和活动区里排泄、追逐、互相嗅屁股。不过也有一只白色的雪橇狗总是很忧郁地蹲在一处一动不动,它的背上有一块光秃秃的地方——上面的毛都没了,暴露出粉色的皮肉。

一只吉娃娃冲着一只苏格兰犬叫,主人很善解狗意的松了松它脖子上的绳套。小吉贴了过去,叫得更加努力。大苏伸出舌头抹了抹嘴巴,并没有要用叫声回应一下的意思。这样的状态维持了几十秒钟。小吉依然不肯罢休,于是主人扯了一下手里的绳子,说:“小崽崽,你又叫不赢。”

一只没有绳索也没有主人的哈巴狗走到一棵树旁,围着树根嗅了一圈后,抬起后腿。水泥和石砖已把树根周围的泥土封了起来,所以当小哈撒完尿,受着本性驱使撒开后腿蹬土时,只有爪子磨地的糙砺声和飞起来的几颗石子,但这并没有影响它的情绪,蹬了一会儿,它回过头嗅了嗅树根,又象征性地往后蹬了几下腿,走了。我真想对它说,你又蹬不赢。

2010年11月28日星期日

Luo Yi's Poems


The Second Dream
I dreamed I was at a meeting
behind the podium somebody was babbling on
about transcendentalism

I was sitting in the audience. Secretly
I started practising floating by holding
my body a millimetre above the chair

I was bored and the person went on talking. Secretly
I started practising weight-bearing floating by holding
my sitting posture with the chair a millimetre off the floor

I was still bored and the person was still talking
So I flew out of the window
It was already dark outside
I could do nothing else: that's how the kind of meeting it was like


Nut Tarō
One day
I picked up a nut by the river
I peeled off its shell and came out Time
I caressed and smoothed its folded skin and taught it how to walk

God be my witness
It has been 13.7 billion years since the Big Bang
(I got this from Wikipedia)
I threw away the nutshell long ago


Pok Gai
Yesterday I salvaged an old cupboard from the bottom of the lake
I lost all my strength but kept walking
Until, dizzy, I fell flat on the ground
(in a Cantonese movie they called this Pok Gai -- crushed onto the street) 
Having no strength to even crawl
I saw that the other people who also had Pok Gai
They were watching me
Grass grew out of their bodies
Then snow covered them
I couldn’t help but be happy
I wouldn’t be resentful anymore
because now I was the same as them


City
A huge cake
grows puffy in the oven
It thickens
but lacks dimensions


Long Distance Love
A and B are two dots on a plane
Most of the time
We tend to measure the distance between them
The rest of the time
We tend to personify A and B
(into a man and woman for example)
And roll up the paper so they can meet


How to Wake Up the Princess
Draw a silver line from the origin--
extend it but don’t bend it, so both ends of the line
meet at infinity. Then tie a knot.
At that moment the spell-bound princess
will awaken in the castle
She will remove the silver line from her hair,
and yawn and stretch. Then she will get onto
an ox with a silver back and leave.
Her whereabouts will never be known. 


The Piano Player
A young man is playing a piano
One note seems to be jumping out
Another keeps hiding itself
The notes are not ready
to be tamed
by this brown-haired young man



The original poems are in Chinese, translated into English by me, edited by Robert Berold.

Here is Luo Yi's Blog: wreninhernest

秋之叶

Autumn Leaves(秋之叶)这首歌由法国歌手/演员Yves Montand (伊夫·蒙当)唱过,Edith Piaf唱过,也由Nat King Cole唱过。

最近在听一张爵士乐老专辑,Someting Else(1958),头一首就是Autumn Leaves,当然是器乐版的。虽然这张专辑被视为Hard Bop/Bebop的经典之作,不过“秋之叶”这首曲子除了结构,Bop的风格没有专辑其它曲子强烈,倒是更接近于cool jazz。

曲子开始由钢琴、低音提琴、小号和架子鼓渲染出一股萧瑟的气氛。Miles Davies的小号加了弱音器,出来的声音有一种紧张和不安,仿佛预示着灾难即将发生。
突然——真的是很突然——一记鼓点落下,曲子戏剧地过渡到了“秋之叶”的主旋律,也就是一段小号的抒情。
这个由曲首铺垫转入主题的转折非常强烈而且很有戏剧张力,对于喜欢开头-高潮-结尾古典三段论的人来说,听着是非常过瘾的。
小号将主旋律温情地交代完后,一个突兀的上扬,转交给萨克斯风(Cannonball Adderley),由后者来了一段即兴;
接着是一段小号的即兴;
接着是一段钢琴(Hank Jones)的即兴。
然后再由小号回到曲子的主题,最后由钢琴和架子鼓将旋律渐渐转弱,小号声游走其间,收尾终曲。

所以这首曲子的结构是:开头——主题——即兴部分(萨克斯管/小号/钢琴)——主题再现——结尾
鼓手是Art Blakey,或许是爵士乐史上最好的鼓手了。特意扫了一下专辑信息,低音提琴手是Sam Jones——此人不熟,唉,谁让你是弹double bass的啊。




























2010年11月21日星期日

过马路的小孩

在沙中路站下车后,我犹豫是立马转车回去,还是就近先找个吃晚饭的地方。
马路上,拥堵在一起的汽车发出巨大的声浪。这时一个声音从脚下冒了出来,轻悠悠地爬进我耳朵:“大哥哥,你能带我过马路吗?”
我低头一看,是一个小孩正抬头望着我。他只到我肚脐眼那么高,脖子里挂着钥匙。
竟然叫我大哥哥!我知道今天一身学生模样的装束和肩上的书包帮了我大忙。

“你要我带你过马路?”我问他。
“可以吗?”他继续抬头望着我,然后转过头看了一眼身旁的车流,“我自己不敢。”
“可以啊。”我说。“你爸爸妈妈呢?”
“他们说好了要来接我,结果没来。”
“你刚从哪儿过来?”
“就那里的@#¥%……”他伸手指了指,我的耳朵离他的小脑袋太远了。他的声音在空中传播到半路
就被汽车噪音吃掉了。
“你现在是要去哪儿?”我弯下腰凑过去问他。
“B区。”
“重大B区?”
“对。”
看来这小家伙还是教师子弟。我看着如流的车子从斑马线上轧过,不知道什么时候能找到空隙钻过去。

“大哥哥,你是在重大念书吗?”小孩问我。
“没有。我已经工作了。”
“在哪里工作?”
“渝中。”
“哦。你们单位招人吗?”
嗯?这小孩是想干嘛?“怎么了?”我问道。
“我有几个认识的大哥哥,他们都在找工作。”
小家伙在大学里混的可以哈。“我们单位不招人。”
“大哥哥,你待会儿去我家玩吗?”
“……”这时我特别想知道他父母平时是怎么教育他的——比我妈那个时候教育我有爱多了。“我不去玩。你领一个陌生人去你家,我会被你爸爸妈妈赶出来的。”
终于,远处的一个红灯截住了长长的车流。马路对面的人绕过轧在斑马线上的汽车,小跑过来。

“我们过去吧。”我拉住他的手腕,钻进了车子间留下的缝隙里。他的手腕太细了,我仿佛手里牵着个气球,一松手就能飞走。
牵着他走到马路对面,我松开手。他什么也没说(或许说了声谢谢,但我没有听见),蹦蹦跳跳地像只气球飞走了。



上个月在渝中区民生路上拍到的照片:

结字为劳

在我开垦的这块地里
最下层埋着龟甲、兽骨
上一层是竹简、丝帛
再上一层是用树皮、麻头和破渔网磨成的纸


龟甲和兽骨已经被侵蚀
文字从上面剥离、掉落
它们笔画钩住笔画
像藤蔓一样缠绕在一起,并抱合
成粗壮的树根
密密麻麻的根须透过泥土和冬眠的昆虫
伸向幽暗的地下河


竹简和丝帛已经腐烂
蚂蚁将上面的字咬下
堆积在一处,并
往下,挖出一条


让树根穿过,与那些字会合
连成树干


然后发芽、抽条
浩浩荡荡向纸层进军
每一根新发的枝条都带着自己的使命
——使命早被刻在龟甲和兽骨上
它们要找到纸上的字——唯一的字
并将它刺穿
唯此才能破土而出,在地上
结出新字(籽?)


每一个新字都不一样
每一个都连着一段盘根错节的地下史
我双手合十,为那些在地下
夭折、落难的字默默哀悼
然后赤着双手,给地里的字
护草、松土,将其摆放停当
它们有些已经变了形
有些斑驳难辨
有些微风吹过就发出叮叮咚咚的水声
我知道
那是地下河传来的声音

罗一浮

罗一浮是一个女人
不是一种原名叫“萝衣芙”的草
也不是法国游艇“罗浮一号”的讹传
更不是“裸衣服”的隐晦用语
罗一浮是一个会漂浮术的女诗人
在我的脑海里,
罗一浮是慢慢上升的一颗气泡
在浮出海面前
罗一浮对我有着巨大的诱惑力
(这两天吃了很多零食写了很多诗)
罗一浮是万恶之源

*仿自“拉马丁的诱惑”

献给LY的情诗

我是一只执迷于一种气味的狗
花有花的气味
溪水有溪水的气味
落叶有落叶的气味
可我只认一种气味


我穿梭于街巷、庭院和林间小径
步行于广场和红灯区,并在午夜
回到昏暗的书斋——那儿有一碗热汤和休憩的地方


我是一只与众不同的狗
因为
我不追逐母狗的屁股
也不抬起后腿围着电线杆撒尿


我喜欢在废墟里
刨出一块块刻着字的陶片,然后
叼到森林里的木屋藏起来——只有一个人
知道木屋的所在


那一种气味不好寻找
我只嗅到过一次
那是一个清明节的早晨
写满悲伤的纸片在火光中化成灰
漫天飞舞
纸片上的字融化,像雪珠一样滴落
在石碑上,结成墓文
也就在那个时候  我嗅到了
那难以言状的气味
——言灵的气味


如今我又嗅到了言灵的气味
它像一只鹪鹩安静地
躲在自己筑的巢里
我决定把它从树枝上唤下来
把它带到那幢无人知晓的木屋里
我已经用集齐的陶片拼出了一副
只有它能读懂的图案


诗后记:

昨天下午上了辆公交车,车经过跨江桥,穿过林立的高楼(楼在车窗外随着蜿蜒的马路盘旋),一直来到了城西,并在一处天桥前停了下来。我忽然发现乘客走光了,空荡荡的车厢只剩下了我自己。司机说:“终点站到了”。我有些茫然地下车,然后拐进一条巷子,没想到是西政的后校门。

我走进校园,顺着高低错落的路,边走边拍照,逛到一幢教室楼前。于是我在一张石凳上坐下,然后开始写诗。写到一半,一只小狗跑到我跟前,在我脚边坐下。真是一只神奇的小狗。

2010年11月20日星期六

隐秘之术

献给佩索阿和wren的一首诗




那个会隐秘之术的葡萄牙人
把自己拆成很多小人
给他们不同的名字和职业:
有作家、诗人、神学家,还有一个
擅长解字迷。
他们相互写信,然后
由那个叫佩索阿的主人把信
连同那些小人锁在箱子里。
窗外  烟草店老板慵懒地打着哈欠
他不知道那个隐秘的箱子   以及
一个叫冈波斯的小人
正在写着一首题为烟草店的诗




有一个会编程和漂浮术的诗人
知道如何在一个无聊的午后
从会议室的窗户飞走
我站在烟草店,看见她
                                                漂浮在空中
还有一张会议室专用的椅子
粘在她的屁股上
我喊了她一声:哎,能不能把我带走啊
结果,那张该死的椅子掉了下来
砸在了我的头上……




我苏醒过来后,发现一和二
并没有什么联系

2010年11月13日星期六

唱歌的小孩

《三峡好人》这部写实感很强的片子里,一个小男孩会像神奇的天外来客突然出现在镜头中,他有时在街巷,有时在船上,嘶着嗓子,旁若无人地唱着《老鼠爱大米》、《两只蝴蝶》这样烂大街的流行歌曲。

当时感觉贾樟柯插这么一笔很做作——既然片子里的人物塑造都很写实,为什么要安排这么违反生活常理的角色(有谁在生活里遇到过直接在大街上K歌的小孩)?后来考虑到片子里有一幕,楼房摇身变成火箭飞上天,我就当这些场景是超现实处理了。

之后看到一篇贾樟柯在北大谈影片创作的文章。贾樟柯说:
“[……]在街道上走的时候就碰到唱歌的小孩子,他拉着我的手他说,你们是不是要住店,我说我们不住店,他问我你是不是要吃饭,我说我们吃过了,他很失望,你们要不要坐车,我说你们家究竟是做什么生意的他就一笑,望着14岁少年的背影,这就需要主动的生命的态度,后来我找到他,你最喜欢什么?他说喜欢唱歌,他就给我唱了《老鼠爱大米》,唱了《两只蝴蝶》,我就非常着急地说,你会唱邓丽君的歌吗?教他教不会,他只会唱《老鼠爱大米》,所以用在电影里面,他像一个天使一样,[……]”

如此说来,唱歌的小孩确实来源于实际的生活场景。但我还是觉得超现实。一个人能在大街上边走边嘹亮地唱一曲《两只蝴蝶》,除了难以抑制的内心表达外,还需要在公共场所有如入无人之境的心态——小时候只在家乡看到过一个女疯子具备这样的素质。

那天拿着相机在渝中区的老街里游荡,穿过一条被拆了一半的巷子,看到三个小男孩在残墙断壁上玩闹,其中两个骑在墙上朝下面的几个小孩扔泥巴碎砖。受欺负的几个孩子不服,插着腰要他们下来认错。就在我对着他们拍照时,从后面走上来另一个小孩,嘴里唱着某首大街上流行的歌曲,若无其事地从我身边走过,然后从那一群争执的孩子中间穿过。他忘我地沉浸在自己的世界里,逐渐远去时,我还能听见他的歌声。

紧接着,过江的缆车从头顶掠过,一声“哐当”的巨响,停靠在了矗立在半空中的终点站。

于是我那一直自视为“生活常理”的东西就顷刻间崩解了。

2010年11月5日星期五

the day a Chinese man won the Nobel Prize

It was Oct 8, Friday, 2010,
just one of the days for me, who was bombarded
by emails from customers--
emails with enquiries,
emails with complaints,
emails for information,
emails carbon copied by my colleagues,
emails I didn't bother to open and clicked
                                                               "delete".
A new email popped out--
"Dear Damien, Can you reply to this email for me? Regards!"
It was from my manager, who was sitting one metre away
with his back against me, busy typing on his computer.
"Sure, no problem. Best wishes." I replied.


It was 5 o'clock pm. Everybody seemed to be hectic
in the office, where computers were lined
in the room walled
by transparent windowpanes, through which
could be seen giant columns of unfinished skyscrapers.
A flashing dot was on and off atop
a scaffolded building exposed in grey cement.
Against the foggy tasteless sky, I recognized
that solitary
dot
was a human being welding
on the man-made dead creature in mid-air.


I stared at my reflection on the window and suddenly
noticed a pimple coming out
above my lip.
The food in Chongqing has really messed
up my body. I thought to myself as I pinched
the red lump that was stubbornly rooted
in my flesh. My belly has been full, but
my mind has been empty.


Turning back to my computer-- my livelihood gadget, I started
filling in the rigid forms, compiling bureaucratic documents and writing
emails that would never come to an end. Then I decided
to close them all, and opened
twitter. The screen was exploded--
Liu Xiaobo was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize.
The news was overflowing all over the world, the world
my country has blocked out.


I typed "刘晓波" on my mobile phone and clicked 
                                                                           "to send the message"
"Transmission denied."
Simultaneously, a feedback was received.
I changed "刘晓波" into a hybrid of Chinese characters and English letters and clicked
                                                                                                                                  "to send the message"
"Cool!" "Brilliant!" "Fucking great!"
Friends texted me back. 
I realized the situation I was in--
First they took the person,
now they have taken his name.


The office was still in a hectic state-- both man and machine.
My colleague next to me was talking on the phone with her client
The copier was making robotic sounds and spitting out
documents that nobody enjoyed reading.
I was in my chair watching the world.
My heart was beating.


2010年11月3日星期三

leonard cohen一首名为“诗”的诗



我听说有个人
能把言语说得美妙动听
女人们一听到他说出她们的
名字,就把自己交给了他

如果我在你身边不能言语
沉默仿佛癌症在我俩的唇上绽放
那是因为我听见他上了楼
我听见他在门外清了清嗓子


Poem

I heard of a man
who says words so beautifully
that if he only speaks their name
women give themselves to him.

If I am dumb beside your body
while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips
it is because I hear a man climb stairs
and clear his throat outside the door.


you don't have to be andrew webber to call your work cats


2010年10月19日星期二

Plant a Tree

Translated from a song written by Lin Sheng-xiang (林生祥). It is sung in Kejia dialect (客家话).















Plant a tree for those who have left home
for a road that's so big and wide
for a heart that wants to be home but can't

Plant a tree for whose who never leave
for a childhood that misfortune falls upon
for a heart that wants to leave but can't

Plant a tree for the bugs who are fleeing
for the birds who rest at night
for the sun's long long shadow that dances

Plant a tree for the river so it can cool off under the sun
for the rain drops so they can have a place to land upon
for the blowing south breeze so it can sing us a song

2010年10月14日星期四

说完瓜,再说哈

我突然想起哈利·波特来,不是因为手头的工作让我变哈——尽管有这个趋势,而是因为我突然想起了Bethan和Dave,不是因为Bethan长得像Hermione,或是Dave长得像Ron,而是他俩说起J K 罗琳的这部作品时都有些满不在乎,那语气就好象是“没吃过猪肉,我还没见过猪跑吗?”

“J K罗琳写的魔法师啊、霍格维兹啥的,都是我小时候念的童话啊。”柏桑说,“所有关于城堡和龙的想象,你都能在威尔士的传说里找到原型——威尔士不就这两样东西嘛。我不是说罗琳完全是抄的,但做为一个威尔士人,我对她里面的这些东西太熟悉了。我小时候看过一个关于魔法师的童话,在看哈利·波特的时候,我心里暗想,这不就是那个童话里的魔法师吗?”

“你以为罗琳写的故事有新意啊?伏地魔自认为是世界的主宰,将不懂魔法的麻瓜视为劣等,要消灭殆尽,听着不觉得耳熟吗?”戴夫说,“希特勒认为犹太人是劣等,把他们抓到集中营屠杀。哈利·波特就是他娘的纳粹迫害犹太人的童话翻版啊!”

我顿时有一种醍醐灌顶之感,仿佛关于J K 罗琳的所有秘密都被他俩抖了出来。“那你们最喜欢的奇幻小说是哪部?”我问。

“指环王。”
“托尔金是神。”

Metamorphoses

the original poem is writen in Chinese by Huangqian, translated by me

In a city piled with blocks of ice
people wearing headscarves are wriggling through a crack.
Blue is tonight's tone. Yellow is an apricot drink.
God is looking down at the world with his huge eyes in bitterness. Dressed as nightingales
the prostitutes are flying over to the 4th Ring Road.


At the 3rd chapter of the script, a finger
touched the dream. In your valley, you,
the singer from whose voice flows out golden sands, turn the rocks
soft with your songs. You, who speak for the angel, 
are as light as the wind.


It was in a small pub, Midnight shook out coldness from its cloak
spicy and bitter coldness. Your feet were wringing each other
on the rug. The light was dark, and silence was plucked out
in a half note from your guitar. You were sitting like an apprentice.
You were living in obscurity, the open field being your home.


In the city filled with hard ice, the blue and yellow
heavy symphony was dropped upon the tiger's tail.
It has been snowing since August.
People checked their wounds in dark, then
they started burning trivial things by the city's gate.


"Since the singer has left", the women cried
"swallows, swallows, there have been tears no more."
The wives are walking fast on the 4th Ring Road. The grey moon
is tonight's dry apricot. Snap!--the script is torn apart here,
an unnamed finger dangling in the mid air.


A big city without purpose was hanging in the tree back
and forth. The gambling started, and a puff of cigarette was taken. You,
who speak for the angel, thought of something in secret and
reached out your palm to press upon a poorly made wine glass.
"Cough harder than a dog!"-- sitting opposite was Ovid.



变形记
作者:黄茜


堆积冰块的城市,
包头巾的人在狭缝间蠕动。
蓝是夜晚的主调。黄色是杏仁酒。
神灵的巨眼苦涩地看向人间。妓女们
装扮成夜莺飞临四环路。


手指在手稿第三章
碰到了梦。你所在的山谷,你,
嗓音里流泻金色沙粒的歌手。岩石
面向歌声变得柔软。你,代表天使说话的人,
在风里和风一样轻。


小酒馆,午夜的风衣抖出
油辣辛酸的冷。双脚在地毯上
不安地扭打。灯有些暗,吉它总有半个音弹入
寂静。你端坐如学徒,你混迹
而行于旷野。


盛满坚冰的城市,蓝色和黄色的
重型交响乐,一顿身压住了猛虎的尾巴。
从八月起,没有停止过降雪。
人们在幽暗处检视伤口,把一堆杂碎
放在城门口焚烧。


“自那弹唱的人儿离开后,”她们尖叫,
 “燕子、燕子,再也没有泪水。”
四环路妻子满城疾走。铅灰的月亮是今晚的
干杏仁。手稿在此处断裂,
无名的手指悬在半空。


没有目的的大城,挂在树上
摇晃。刚开了赌局,猛吸一口烟。你,
代表天使说话的人,秘密地想起什么。
伸掌按住劣质玻璃酒杯,
“咳嗽比狗还厉害!”——对面,是奥维德。

诗人

兹比格涅夫•赫伯特(波兰),zorow_2000转译自英译版


他不是天使
他是诗人


他没有翅膀
只有右手
长着羽毛,用它


来拍打空气
划过三道弧他浮上了空
接着迅速掉落


快要落地时
他用双腿蹬着身子
于是又盘旋了一会儿
长羽毛的右手在空中挥打


噢,要是他能克服粘土的引力该多好
他就能住在群星织成的巢里
他就能跳着从一束阳光到另一束
要是那样该多好


但是那些群星啊
一想到要成为他落脚的土地
就在死亡的惊恐中一颗颗掉落


诗人用他长羽毛的手
遮住了双眼
不再幻想飞翔
而是想象跌落,跌落
就像一道闪电照出了无限的轮廓




The Poet by Zbigniew Herbert, 10/25/2002
(Translated by Roman Turovsky and Sean Monagle)

He's no angel
he is a poet


he has no wings
just has a feathered
right hand


he beats the air with it
levitates by three spans
and falls promptly


when he is almost alighted
pushes away with his legs
hovers for an instant
waves the feathered hand


oh if he only could overcome the pull of the clay
he could live in the nest of the stars
he could jump from ray to ray
if he only could -


but the stars
at the mere thought
of being his earth
fall off in mortal fright


the poet covers his eyes
with his feathered hand
dreams no more of flight
dreams of fall
that like a lightning draws
infinity's profile

2010年10月13日星期三

一个市长儿子叫瓜瓜的城市

今天早上钻进公交车,透过挂满胳膊的扶手,看到了驾驶镜旁的一则标语——“唱红歌,读经典,讲故事,传箴言:树立城市精神,提升市民素质”。当然看到笑话的本能反应是笑,所以我没心没肺地笑了一声。身旁一位用摩丝把头发隆得像块红岩的大姐看了我一眼。在这充满了包子味、皮革味、烟草味、香水味、湿气和疲惫眼神的车厢里,傻笑是个不合时宜的举动。

只是我联想起了以前在报纸上看到,某地精神病院的病人通过唱红歌成功治愈了精神病;又想起在重庆这些天,每晚楼下的广场都会放上一个小时的革命歌曲,突然有种车厢里装的都是精神病人的感觉。

类似的宣传标语是要把重庆打造成“宜居之城、畅通之城、健康之城”。我每天下班沿着铺着瓷砖的人行侧道走,一身之隔是如川的车流和扑鼻而来的尾气,小女孩追逐着在我身旁嬉闹,中年人为骑着儿童车的小孩把着扶手,老人手里牵着小狗左顾右盼。我不知道这样一个需要在汽车旁边、在瓷砖道上玩耍、休憩、遛狗的城市,如何宜居、健康。

这两天,肠胃终于随着天气一起变坏,并开始像这里的交通一样时通时堵——并且以堵为主。我知道每晚听红歌并不能治愈我的肠胃,每天对自己说“你很好、你很健康”也不能改变我不好也不健康的事实,那样做倒是很有可能把自己变成一个真正意义上的精神病人。

2010年9月28日星期二

燦爛人生

“自由,我一直認為就是人們可以選擇自己想過的生活。可是人死了,哪裡還有什麼自由。”

弟弟Matteo死後,哥哥Nicola坐在書房裡對姐姐Giovanna說。


Matteo是跳樓死的。自殺的那晚是新年。他走到陽台上,脫下鞋,看了看天空綻放的煙花,然後轉身走進屋,闔上陽台門。電視裡,主持人舉著香檳,向熱鬧的人群大聲喊着“新年快樂”。Matteo對著電視機輕輕說了聲“新年快樂”,回頭打開陽台門,迎著夜空燦爛的禮花,扶住陽台,一個縱身跳了下去。


空空的陽台之外是無盡的黑暗,絢爛的煙花在這巨大的黑色帷幕下綻放。鏡頭就在此處停留。


幾秒鐘之前Matteo的縱身一躍輕盈、矯健,就如同所有美好的青春——沒有一絲肉身的負擔。卡爾維諾在他的《新千年文學備忘錄》裡說,好的小說就要像鳥兒一樣輕盈,堅定而不含糊。但是當自殺也像鳥兒一樣輕盈時,實在是太過殘忍。因為沉重的死亡以輕盈的方式完成,這種反帶來的心理衝擊太過強烈。

看完片子,我倚在窗口,望著窗外溫潤的太陽,還有院子裡紫色的花朵——我叫不出花的名字,但這不妨礙我對它的喜愛。英國的房子沒有陽台,只有大扇的窗戶和巨大的窗台。英國的夏天沒有一絲暑氣,只有下不完的雨和蔥翠的綠意。我從坐了一天的椅子上站起來,感到身體的沉重。眼看就要離開這個國家了,可是一年的時間還是沒能讓我找到自己。

看完電影后的一個月,我來到了重慶。我在一幢高層公寓裡租了一間屋,在這個沒有陽台、只有落地玻璃窗的屋子裡,地面與我距離是那麼遠,父母與我距離是那麼遠。


在屋子裡接到了Luca從意大利打來的電話,告訴我他已經看過了La meglio gioventù。“但我沒覺得特別好,也可能是我先看了你的推薦,期望太高了。”Luca說。

“可我覺得真是好啊,無論演員還是故事,我這幾年看過的最好的電影了。”我說。

“你喜歡哪個角色?”

“Matteo。”我脫口而出,但突然覺得這個答案把我的潛意識出賣了,於是又補了一句,“Nicola我也很喜歡”

“我就知道你肯定喜歡Matteo!”Luca在電話那頭叫道,“我看Matteo的時候就一直想到你,因為你們是那麼像啊,——脾氣很躁,但心腸好,喜歡詩歌……”

“而且說不定我也會從陽台上跳下去。”

“啊——你不會的,鄭維。我知道你不會的。”


我在想,要是Mirella接了Matteo的電話,是不是又會是另外一個結局?我總是相信生活中的蝴蝶效應,如果那一刻蝴蝶的翅膀振動——Mirella拿起了話筒,是不是死亡可以避免?這樣一廂情願的假設,不是要蓄意改寫劇本,而是出於偏愛“歷史偶然律”的一種情不自禁,我不相信什麼“歷史必然性”,我不相信什麼“人物性格注定了最後的悲劇”。其實最主要的原因,還是我不願意看到Matteo死……


Luca給我電話之後的某個夜晚,我在夢裡被一陣鈴聲吵醒。桌子上的手機發出幽光,在黑暗裡孤獨地顫栗。我看了看時間,已經兩點半了。

“喂,小葉,怎麼這麼晚給我打電話?”

電話那頭的聲音有些焦躁、喪氣,像是潮濕悶熱的夏天,胸口塞了一堵牆。這是我第一次聽到小葉的聲音。她把手機湊到身邊的小狗那裡,狗似乎對我在手機裡的招呼聲有些惱怒,我聽到了它不滿的咂嘴聲。然後我聽到了小葉的咂嘴聲,接著是一聲嘆氣。

“你那裡住得高嗎?”她問。

“挺高的,我住在17層。”

“哦,那你可不要跳下去啊。”小葉說,她的聲音有些嚴肅。

“不會的……我不會的。”我忍不住笑起來,我想起我那個只能拉開兩道縫的窗戶和跳樓後圍觀者的驚恐,頓時覺得跳樓是件多麼吃力不討好的事情。



電影裡反复出現的配樂是Astor Piazzolla的“Oblivion”。Astor Piazzolla是阿根廷著名的探戈作曲大師,他演奏的樂器叫做bandoneon,有譯成“班多扭手風琴”的。看完電影后整整三天,我一直放著這首曲子。我躺在陰冷的被窩裡(英國的夏天啊!),想著Matteo縱身一躍後那個在禮花綻放下的空空的陽台,想著Nicola獨自坐在黑暗裡晃著手裡的酒杯被痛苦包圍,想著我在英國的一年終有一天也會成為Oblivion。




2010年9月19日星期日

Great Nation

This article is translated by me from Feng Tang's "大国(GQ中文简体版专栏2010年10月被毙稿)"


Hello, UK,

For a Chinese man like me, who was born in the 1970s, your influence at that time was a little bit small. If we are talking about nation's power, the first two were the Soviet Union and United States. The Russians brought us revolution, which saved, as well as killed, lots of people. Anyway, it changed many people's lives. The Russians also helped us beat Japan, and resist the Americans in North Korea. However, they tricked Outer Mongolia into independence, and they also raped our women and stole many things in the North Eastern industrial area. Whaterever it was, they did big things to us. As for the United States, from the very first day of my memory, he had been the leader who bossed other nations around in his camp against us. You and your other European countries had to listen to him. When we were learning English, we also practiced the American accent, whose "r" sound is close to the Beijing dialect. The Americans first knocked on our head from North Korea, and then stamped on our toes from Vietnam, and then kicked in our testicles from Taiwan. The Americans didn't fire a gun or a canon ball. They simply competed against the Russians in producing weapons. The competition lasted 20 years, and the Soviet Union was gone. On the list of nation's power, the third one is Japan. They killed many of our people, and helped us drive out Chiang Kai-shek. The plastic boxes of teles and VCRs we imported from them drained our saving accounts. But the pornography we imported, we watched it for free. The following nationas of power are Germany and France. The former produces philosophy and good cameras; the latter makes nice clothes and sluts. As for you, the Great Britain, I can't think of much except that you had an elegant queen and that you have been rich before.


The frist time I ever heard that you were addressed as the Great Britain was when I was in a business school in America. An innocent-looking girl from Taiwan gave us a riddle. "Which country's man has the biggest penis?" She asked. Her tone was soft and mild. We were staring at her black-rimmed glasses, thunder-stricken by her riddle, whose resolution seemed far beyond us. The innocent-looking girl then said, "Man in the UK has the biggest penis, that's why it's called the United Condom." Can't people in Taiwan phonetically distinguish between Kingdom and Kongdom?


I have been to the States and Europe many times, and I have been to nearly all the countries in Asia, but you the UK, I haven't visited once. My impression of you is formded through the following things.

Firstly, literature. I studied English by reading British novels. I read almost the complete works of D.H. Lawrence, Somerset Maugham, Robert Stevenson. But different from their American peers, such as Mark Twin, Henry Miller and Kerouac, the British novelists don't use grass, poppy or alcohol, nor do they wear peculiar underwears or pocketwatches. They write with peacefulness and clearness. They write the biggest pain, the greatest desire and child dreams. There is nowhere but in the UK, or China's Zhejiang and Jiangsu provinces during the South Song and Ming Dynasties, where one can find the great novelists who know how to use words. Even if your novelists had had no wild energy, even if their books had said nothing, simply the words give off a clear, smooth and mild fragrance, which caressed my eyes.

Secondly, jade. I was drawn into China's ancient jade five years ago. China has a longer history of using jade than that of using characters. It seems to me that one can find more of China's ancient wisdom and mysteries in jade than in the language. I heard some experts say repeatedly that China's best ancient jade is in the British Museum although your emperial power has dwindled away. I haven't been to the British Museum, but I have read a book by Jessica Rawson on China's jade many times. Unarguably, it is the most authoritative book on this topic. The peak of craftsmanship (not the peak of arts) in human history comes in China's Qing Danysty under the reigns of Kangxi, Yongzheng and Qianlong, which is about the 19th and 20th centuries. When I read that the special envoy sent by George III exchanged with Qianlong silk, playthings, watches and chinaware, I could imagine that these two men had no trouble in understanding the beauty of the craft works of each other's country from inside out.

Thirdly, Hongkong. I have been living in Hongkong in recent years. In this crowded small island, where the gearstick needs frequent switching when the car is running on the road, I have enjoyed your establishments: law and order. Traffic is often smooth here. Even in the worst situation, there is no conjestion. One hardly sees a car cut in, jump the queue or be parked on a wrong spot. If one estimates the time he will spend on going from one place to another, the deviation varies within 5 minutes according to the time slot one estimates against in the day. I don't think it's because people in Hongkong are different. The same driver, when he drives to Shenzhen, becomes excited and shoots light from his eyes. He switches between the lanes, spits out of the window, and shouts at the pedestrians. He said, "If only we had a license plate with a number of the Armed Police Force or the government's, then we could drive in the wrong direction and run the red light." It doesn't matter how many roads you build. Look at Beijing, there are so many roads between Shuangjing and Sanli Tun, but it may cost you 15 minutes, or 60 minutes, or a whole day to get to one of these two places. Another good thing in Hongkong is her preservation of hills and the sea. It takes a taxi 10 minutes from downtown up to the hill, and a bus 10 minutes down to the sea. If there were such an island near Beijing, its best hills and waters would be first taken by different departments of the government. Then the real estate developers and the neighbouring cities would divide up all the remaining good areas, leaving perhaps an undividable green area for public use. Around this green area would be stalls selling snacks, ice creams and handicrafts. Wrapping paper and snack cartons would be littered all over the ground. The roads between the different areas would be full of cars. There would be three options to go from one area to another: helicopter, following a police car or driving between 2 am and 4 am.


We can live to see that China's GDP surpasses America's in 2050, couting for 25% of the world's GDP, the same level the Qianlong period in Qing Dynasty once reached. Now China consumes 50% of the LV bags and Patek Phillippe watches in the world, and keeps over 50% of Africa's oil and uranium minerals. But in 2050, we won't live to see great writers who know how to write in good Chinese, nor can we live to see our own "British Museum" or Beijing's traffic to be as good as Hongkong's.


I wish my judgement was wrong.



Regards!

Feng Tang

2010年8月28日星期六

hey baby, what's going on?

It's all about timing.

I think it started when I decided to download Kings of Convenience's latest album Declaration of Dependence. They're the duet of this century. How can I miss it?

Dave was watching West Ham's game in his room next to mine. The Hammers is Dave's home team. How can he miss it? They were playing Man United, and Dave just couldn't stop hammering his desk while shouting to himself-- or to the players-- "Fuck! What the hell are you doing?" and "Oh, come on, Robert Green!"

Then at one point, the MP3 player in my computer  switched to the song Mrs. Cold.
Then West Ham conceded a goal. Bang-- the desk let off a dull deep thumping. "Oh, you fucking prick! Y-o-u f-u-c-king stupid!"

"Hey, baby, what's going on? You lost control and you lost your tongue..."
Erlend and Eirik were singing.

One amusing moment in my life.

2010年8月25日星期三

柏桑看到了妞桑

這個節叫“綠人節”(Green Man),今年好像才第6、第7屆吧。柏桑說。

昨天在廚房裏碰到她的時候,她剛從Breacon Beacons回來。

我們在河邊搭帳篷睡,碰上下雨,四天下來,臭死了。回來上火車,車上人一見我們背著帳篷、背包,穿著膠鞋,捂著鼻子就走開了。柏桑邊說邊弄着晚飯。

這個綠人節有什麼內容?是音樂節嗎?我問。

音樂,戲劇,詩歌朗誦,都有。有很多精彩的演出。Joanna Newsom也來了……她你知道嗎?那個彈豎琴的……

我心裏咯噔一下,媽的,Joanna Newsom也來了,我竟然錯過了。
我不僅知道,簡直是愛她的音樂啊。我說。

不過我好些朋友一聽她唱歌,就很不耐煩地說要走了。很多人不欣賞她,覺得她唱歌是在扯著嗓子叫喚。可我跟他們說,這就是Joanna Newsom,她也知道自己聲音條件不好,所以就乾脆這麼唱。而且她的歌就是這樣一種藝術形式。我跟我朋友說,你們等著瞧吧,雖然她現在唱片賣不好,再過三、四十年所有人都會聽她的歌,就跟Leonard Cohen那樣……對了,節上還放了一部Leonard Cohen的紀錄片,叫Bird on a Wire,很多都是歷史視頻。做片子的人好像是Cohen原來的一個音樂製作人,跟著他拍攝了10多年,才有了這些史料。片子裡說六、七十年代的時候Cohen有過一陣子低潮,非常抑鬱,唱片賣不掉,而且老是自我懷疑,因為他聲音破嘛,所以老對自己沒自信。有一次演唱會因為音效沒調好,破上加破,結果觀眾要求退票。

這個節票價多少?我問。
100多鎊吧,學生打了折的。如果不打折,120多鎊。確實是貴了點,但能看到好的表演,而且這個組織也就只能靠門票做經費來源。

其實那麼貴的票錯過了就錯過了。我心想。

今年3月底的時候,Chris Rea來St. David's Hall開音樂會,10幾鎊的票。可惜那時去南非了,錯過了一場想去又能去得起的演出。

2010年8月5日星期四

say Bethan like you say Before

Say Bethan, like you say before

stress falls on the second syllable

because it's a Welsh name, and

A is a cAstle, not a villA.



The first day I met her,

she was the Bethan driving

an old car to help me with the move.

It's my baby car, she said.

A touch of love emerged on her face.

My elder sister gave it to me after using it for 3 year.

It's dying, but she is my baby.



The second day I saw her,

she was the Bethan making

an omlet in the kitchen.

I don't like babies. They are ugly and annoying. She said.

I thought so when I looked at them in my teens.

You will change your mind. My parents told me.

I still think so after 10 years.



The third day I talked to her

she was the Bethan doing manual labour on her parents' farm.

I love the cows. She waved her hands with big knuckles.

My ankle hurts. She said. I injured it in my jitsu class,

but I'm going to surf this weekend.

Can I go with you and film you surfing? I asked.

No! No picture of me! I never like my own image or voice.



The forth day I listened to her stories

she was the Bethan sitting in an internet cafe in Mexico.

Outside, people were shouting and threatening to break into the shop.

Then she circled Guatemala on a rented bike, then all the way

down to Bolivia, where she helped teach in a local school.

The kids are all the same, no exception in the poorest region.

The boys are greedy and the girls are bitchy.



The fifth day I walked with her

she was the Bethan wearing flip-flops

and a blue T-shirt with 2 red cartoon cars on.

I find you attractive and I like you. I said.

Oh. She paused. I could see some light on her face

reflected from the shimmering street lamp.

I'm flattered, but I don't feel the same way.



The sixth day, I asked God, who said,

one moment please. I need to populate this land.

So he did. He brought woman and man onto the earth.



The seventh day, God said to me, I'm too tired.

I need a break. No question for today.

But Bethan... I rushed out these two words as he turned away.

Say Bethan, like you say before

when Susan took you to the same river and you fell into it.

You are in a country where the dragon was slain,

where A is a sAd, not hAppy, ending.

2010年7月29日星期四

纪录片影展、杂志及网站

出处:Alan Rosenthal. "Staying Alive", an article from New Challenges for Documentary eidted by him and John Corner.


影展及论坛:
Co-financing Forum in Amsterdam (IDFA):每年在荷兰的阿姆斯特丹举办。它也有一些对独立纪录片制作人的资助项目。其中有一个针对发展中国家的Jan Vrijman基金项目(JVF)。

International Documentary Association (IDA):见下。

Hot Docs:加拿大国际纪录片电影节。影展期间有纪录片交易大会。


与纪录片销售有关的三本杂志
RealScreen: 位于加拿大多伦多的一本杂志,双月刊。侧重于北美市场(如Discovery)。有很多业界动态的最新信息。电子版pdf浏览

International Documentary:出版方是一个叫International Documentary Association的扶持纪录片制的作非营利组织,位于美国的洛杉矶。它有一个fiscal sponsorship的项目,旨在帮助独立纪录片制作人募集资金,同时它还提供各种愿意赞助纪录片制作的基金、组织的信息

*DOX:位于丹麦,双月刊。
没找到这本杂志,倒是google到CPH:DOX纪录片论坛,每年在哥本哈根举行一次。

一个网站:
AIVF (Association of Independent Video and Filmmakers): 一个专注于独立纪录片的非营利组织。网站上有很多给独立纪录片制作者的建议和指导。

2010年7月25日星期日

沒有任何徵兆

一天早上,姓鄭的小哥醒來,感覺肩胛骨下一陣劇痛。在接下來的半個小時里,他並沒有變成一只巨大的甲蟲。那個疼痛的點一直固執地留守在原處,沒有轉移、沒有擴散,更沒有加劇。那種疼痛的感覺就好像,有什麼東西,要從你身體里長出來。

2010年7月21日星期三

勒·柯布西耶的一段話

You employ stone, wood and concrete, and with these materials you build houses and palaces. That is construction. Ingenuity is at work.
你採用石料、木料、水泥,你用它們建造房宮殿宇。這就是營造。你的智慧開始啟動。


But suddenly you touch my heart, you do me good, I am happy and I say: "This is beautiful." That is Architecture. Art enters in.
但是突然,你打動了我的心,我感到身心愉悅,我說:“真美啊。”於是,它就成了建築,藝術走了進來。


My house is practical. I thank you, as I might thank Railway engineers, or the Telephone service. You have not touched my heart.
我的屋子很實用。我感謝你,就像我感謝鐵路工程師和電話佈線員。但是它沒有打動我。


But suppose that walls rise towards heaven in such o way that I am moved. I perceive your intentions. Your mood has been gentle, brutal, charming or noble. The stones you have erected tell me so.
但是假設所有的牆壁都直衝雲霄,我因此而為之動容。我覺察到了你的意圖。你在建造它們的時候既溫柔又粗獷,既迷人又高貴。你讓這些石頭高高聳起,它們告訴了我。


You fix me to the place and my eyes regard it. They behold something which expresses a thought. A thought which reveals itself without word or sound, but solely by means of shapes which stand in a certain relationship to one another. These shapes are such that they are clearly revealed in light. The relationships between them have not necessarily any reference to what is practical or descriptive. They are a mathematical creation of your mind. They are the Language of Architecture. By the use of raw materials and starting from conditions more or less utilitarian, you have established certain relationships which have aroused my emotions.
你讓我執著於這塊地方,我的雙眼開始思考它,注視著它,因為它表達著一種思想。無需言語、聲音,僅憑各種相互關聯的構造,這一思想就能自我顯現。光線之下,這些構造呈現得無比清晰。它們之間的關係並不一定與實用、樸素有關。它們來自你大腦的創造,它們是建築的語言。你使用的那些原材料最初只是一堆實用的東西,但你在它們之間建立了聯繫,我的情感而因此共鳴。


This is Architecture.
這就是建築

-- 勒·柯布西耶,Towards a New Architecture (translated from French by Frederick Etchells), Architectural Press


這段表明柯布西耶對建築以及藝術的看法:
1,藝術是一種美,美是一種能打動人心、喚起人類內心情感的東西。
2,建築是一種藝術,一種美,因為它能打動人心。如果做不到這一點,一幢房子只是一堆死物,和交織的鐵路線和電話線無異。
3,要讓建築成為藝術、打動人心,建築師需要有意識地組織各種材料,用它們塑造各種形狀,並在這些形狀之間建立某種聯繫。

那麼,到底是怎麼樣的一種聯繫呢?
 
* 在學校圖書館搜索圖書的時候,按照作者姓氏檢索,輸入corbusier,查詢結果竟然是0。上wiki找到了柯布西耶的原名,輸進去,結果還是0。無奈,只好輸入其中一本書名,顯示的結果裏不僅有這本書,還有作者的名字le corbusier。難道le corbusier是作為整個姓氏的?輸入le corbusier,唰——滿屏都是他的書。

2010年7月20日星期二

再見,阿道夫

薩賓——沒有娜——是在Cardiff學習交通、城規的德國博士生。我忘了前天是怎麼跟她提起歷史問題的。

“那段歷史我們一般場合是不講的。”薩賓一邊吃著晚飯一邊說。

“那希特勒呢?是個敏感詞嗎?”我坐在她對面,喝著剛泡好的綠茶。

薩賓呶呶嘴。“歷史課上你說這個名字、討論這個人當然沒問題。但是你要是坐在咖啡館外喝咖啡,嘴裡冒出阿道夫·希特勒這個名字,你身旁的人就會朝你白眼的。這也是我不能理解我們德國上一輩人的地方,他們總是羞於在公開場合談二戰那段歷史。像我爺爺奶奶,他們總覺得自己是罪人,好像那個戰爭責任都需要他們來擔負似的。可對於我來說,那已經過去了,我們不需要為上一代人犯的錯誤承擔罪責。雖然我這麼想,但在國內我一般也很少跟人討論這個。”

薩賓吃完了飯,洗刷了鍋碗,重新坐到桌子前。

“我聽說8在中國是個好數字?”

“對。這個數字表示錢、財富。”

“可你知不知道8在德國可是個倒霉數字?尤其是18這個數,沒人願意用。

“為什麼?”

“在字母表裡,第一個是A,第八個是H,18也就是AH,正好是他的名字縮寫。所以18這個數字是個很不好的數字,沒人願意用。”

我頓時被德國人建立在歷史學、符號學、字母學、民族心理學上的嚴密邏輯折服了。

“還比如,我的名字是薩賓·舒爾茨,首字母縮寫是SS,納粹時候有一個秘密警察組織的縮寫就是這個,所以填表格的時候別人能用縮寫,我就很鬱悶了,得把名字寫完整。”

“希特勒在德國是個常用的姓嗎?這麼說來,阿道夫這個名字還會有人取嗎?”

“其實希特勒不是德國人,他是奧地利的。但我們德國人會盡量把持自己,不再合併他們了。”薩賓朝我會心一笑,“不過,阿道夫這個名字是沒有人再用了。它算是被封起來,專供那個人使用了。”

2010年7月15日星期四

那些被革了命的漢字

本來這些字都長著不同的面孔,“花開兩朵,各表一枝”。將這些意義本不同的字簡化成同一個字後,消失的是那個意義所寄託的、一路沿承下來的歷史符號。《淮南子》有載:“昔者倉頡作書,而天雨粟,鬼夜哭。”古人敬畏文字。可能這樣說有煽情之情,但如果把下面這些字看成是有生命的個體,則那些消失的意符則是被抹去的生命。如果漢字的簡化不是刪減繁多的筆劃(如學-->学,龜-->亀),而是要破壞漢字“物種”的多樣性,這樣的簡化有什麼意義?

五四時期,魯迅說艱深的漢字乃是開啟民智的阻礙;漢字不簡化,則民族必亡。魯迅的謂之簡化是哪一種簡化?難道開啟民智、提高民族素質的根本不是普及教育嗎?

發現有必要梳理一下漢字簡化的歷史:歷次漢字簡化方案到底怎麼簡、簡化了哪些字?民國時期與共產黨執政後漢字簡化措施有哪些異同?


:博士後
                       -- 經簡化-->
:皇太后


:游泳
                         -- 經簡化-->  
:西遊記

*《西遊記》雖然裏面也有趟水渡河,但總不能把腳給整沒了吧


:干戈、天干地支
:幹活、幹你老母        -- 經簡化-->
:乾渴、乾柴烈火


髮:头发
                    -- 經簡化-->  
發:發财

* 簡化為見1935年中華民國推行的《第一批簡體字表》,但次年初改革就暫緩推行了




:歷史
                  -- 經簡化-->
:日曆


:我的心上人會駕著雲彩來娶我
                                             -- 經簡化-->
:古人云,孫子們老想革這革那


:面孔
                   -- 經簡化-->
:麵條


:里程
                         -- 經簡化--> 
):裏面



:稻穀
                    -- 經簡化-->         
:山谷



:左手一隻雞,右手一隻鴨
                                          -- 經簡化-->
:我只想說,這個世界真操蛋啊


不知道黨是什麼時候簡化成党的,黑社會組織馬上變成兄弟連了。

我想起來,初中的時候去杭州參加書法比賽。臨場時突然得知,為配合簡體字推廣,比賽規定不得書寫繁體,選手拿到的命題必須用簡體字書寫。忘了我寫的是那首詩了,但記得裡面有個飛字,寫在紙上,一個“飞”,被我寫成了一隻在趴地上的蝸牛。很多平時用毛筆寫習慣了的繁體字,突然不知道該如何刪減筆劃,將它妥帖地安放在宣紙上。



方舟子,求求你還是專心打假吧:汉字简化常识

蘆笛:漢字簡化的是與非()、(

1977年12月20日中國文字改革委員會提出的《第二次漢字簡化方案(草案)》實在太他媽讓人崩潰了。不過那個時代,什麼事情幹不出來?

2010年7月14日星期三

從前有個姓鄭的小哥去游泳

從前有個姓鄭的小哥在威爾士的卡迪夫留學,有一天他去離住處不遠的Maindy Pool游泳。

Maindy Pool是游泳館的名字,因為它在Maindy路上。游泳館裏面分男女更衣室,互不相通。但游泳池是男女共用的,池子裏有男有女,有老有少,還有不少父親或母親是帶著自己的小孩一起來的。有些小孩還只是娃娃,圓滾滾、胖嘟嘟的,像一顆顆白白嫩嫩的娃娃菜,必須套著氣墊、大人一邊陪護才行。

姓鄭小哥用自以為標準的蛙泳姿勢,在慢速泳道裏游了幾圈就上岸了。他回到男更衣室,從儲衣櫃裏取出毛巾、洗浴液,走到一排蓮蓬頭下沖澡,同時在那裏沖澡的還有一個白人大叔。洗完上身洗下身——這個時候,一般害羞的小哥會穿著泳褲洗,但姓鄭小哥是個勇敢的小哥,雖然天賦不高,他還是脫掉了泳褲,光著腚坦然面對一旁晃著巨大天賦、撮著大腿的白人大叔。

就在這個時候,令姓鄭小哥意想不到的事情發生了。

一個白人大叔領著他的女娃娃走到了蓮蓬頭下,兩個人赤條條,一前一後,有說有笑。小姑娘奶聲奶氣地要爸爸給她毛巾。蓮蓬頭的水冲下來,小姑娘歡喜地一蹦一跳,一個轉身,面朝面看到了一旁赤條條的姓鄭小哥。這個時候,姓鄭小哥再勇敢,也難為情地抓過一旁仍在地上的泳褲,遮住了他天賦不高的地方。

"Don't jump. It's slippery."爸爸拉住女娃娃的手,要她停下來。

"Sorry, but I don't think it's a good idea to bring your daughter here."姓鄭小哥開口說話了。他有些害臊,也有些慍怒,因為游泳館的工作人員——另一名小哥——就在一旁拿著皮管子沖洗更衣室。

爸爸朝姓鄭小哥笑了笑,並沒有說什麼,低下頭繼續給女兒擦身子。女娃娃伸出胖嘟嘟的手指,指了指姓鄭小哥,說了幾句姓鄭小哥沒聽懂的話。

姓鄭小哥提著泳褲,護住天賦不高的地方,怏怏地走回儲衣櫃,快速擦乾身子,套上了內衣內褲,頓時覺得有了安全感。

這個時候,爸爸和女兒也來到了儲衣櫃旁。爸爸把女兒放在了中間的石台上,女娃娃一絲不掛地站在石台上,像是顆被摘了葉子、露出芯蕊的水汪汪的娃娃菜。在這顆娃娃菜的旁邊,一個白人老大爺正在脫去衣服和褲子,不緊不慢地換上了泳褲,並笑嘻嘻地跟一旁的娃娃菜說了幾句姓鄭小哥沒明白的話。爸爸光著身子從櫃子裡取出一個包裹,來到石台給女兒擦乾身子換上衣服。游泳館的小哥還在一旁捏著皮管沖著地面。

"Now, Daddy is gonna take you to see Andy."爸爸自己換上衣服後,抱起女兒出了更衣室的門。

姓鄭的小哥有些暈乎乎,他不解地問一旁冲地的游泳館小哥,"Is it all right for fathers to bring their daughters to the changing room?"

"Oh, yes."游泳館小哥抬起頭,望著姓鄭小哥說,"if the children are under 6, parents can bring them to the oppposite-sex changing room."看到姓鄭小哥困惑的眼神,游泳館小哥繼續道,"because there are single fathers and mothers. The kids are too little to leave them alone in the room to change themselves. It's just for security reason."

姓鄭小哥想起小時候,媽媽也會領著他去絲廠女浴室的大池子洗澡,心裏有些釋然了。

2010年7月12日星期一

Ji Zhaohua and His Drawings

This article is written by Lao Liu, nickname of Zhang Lixian (张立宪), editor of Book Reservoir (读库, Duku) . You can read the original article on his blog. I translated some parts of it into English.



Eleven years ago when I was working for a magazine, a little boy would often come to our house to hang around and see what we were doing. If there was an article that needed illustrations, he would pick up a sheet of paper by hand and draw the pictures for us.


That little boy is called Ji Zhaohua (姬炤华). Eleven years later, he contacted me. He has got a family and career, and become Mr. Ji.


We had that reunion which came after eleven years through emails. I had a feeling from our correspondence that he was calm and peaceful, sturbbon and straightforward, with an air of old-fashioned manner . He was no longer the little boy eleven years ago indeed.


He contacted me for the matter of his teacher's manuscript. I asked him how his career as an illustrator was. He replied that he hadn't published comic drawings for many years, and that he wasn't optimistic about this field in China. He only attended international competitions occasionally and had done alright.


For these recent years, Ji Zhaohua and his wife have beeing exploring in children's literature. They write as well as draw ilustrations for some publishing houses in Taiwan. In March 2008, their first drawing book No! That's Wrong was published in the USA. The frist edition of that book has been sold out. Now they are working on their second book.


I asked him to draw bookplates (ex-libris) for Book Reservoir, and he sent me a couple of drawings he had done before, each of which was of different style. I picked one and used it in the 0803 issue of Book Reservoir.


Soon after the New Year of 2009, I received an e-mail from Ji Zhaohua. In it was a new bookplate dedicated to Book Reservoir. A pile of books fell off his hands when a poor intellectual was moving them. The page of one falling book was transparent, which reflected the man's sleeve like a glass, in which the sleeve was brand new and decorated with beatiful patterns. The illustration was both classic and surreal.


The technique he used in that drawing was fine and meticulous strokes which can be found in traditional Gongbi. The paper he used was handmade watercolour paper made in Britain. "The drawing is sort of a combination of Sino-Western elements. The surface of the paper is not smooth, which gives it a fantastic texture. Drawing on it has a quality of fresco." explained Ji Zhaohua.




I was so fond of it that I phoned him and asked him if he could make the bookplates a series, so that I could use them for this year's 6 issues of Book Reservoir.


He said yes.


A friend in Shanghai wanted to introduce Zhang Dachun's novels into Peopel's Republic of China, and she needed some one who could do the illustrations for them. I recommened Ji Zhaohua to her, and showed her that drawing. It is so vivid as if the person was alive. She praised


Later I phoned Ji Zhaohua and asked him if he was interested. Please give me some time to think about it. He answerd.


The next day he replied, Can I drop it? I just have the fear that too many tasks could reduce the quality of my drawings.


I passed on his reply to my friend, who said, I really hope he can be an established figure in drawing some day. He's very careful about what he should not do. I really admire that.


* To see more drawings by Ji Zhaohua, you can go to his blog: 黑云翻墨未遮山


Bookplate for the 0905 issue of Book Reservoir




Caesar kicked away a bundle of maps, shouting: "More!" Within a blink, millions of lives turned into white bones. From that moment on, things on that land, underneath which lied the wrongly smitten souls, were changed: ethnics, langauges, words, architecture, painting, music... such a change is upside-down and irrevocable. Today, we call the result of that change "tradition", and the process of that change "merging".


News-Knight and His One-Man's Newspaper

To define journalism is as impossible as to define a person. But be it print journalism or on-line journalism, be it press journalism or citizen journalism, they all have one thing in common: truth. The path to journalism is the path to truth.
                                    -- Zhai Minglei (翟明磊)


"I hereby resign as a journalist of South Weekend. For the past three years, I have never used South Weekend as a tool to build my own fortune, or promote myself to a higher position. I came here for journalism. Now I'm leaving also for journalism. "


On August 17, 2003, Zhai Minglei wrote this resignation letter to the Board of Editors of South Weekend, reportedly the biggest weekly newspaper and probably the most influential and critical newspaper in China. Zhai Minglei was 30 years old then, a golden age for a journalist. Before the resignation, his coverage of the fraudulent letters found in the Hope Project [1] was awarded the 10 best national news in 2001, the only awarded news published by South Weekend; his story which unravelled the myths around China's national treasure sold at auction gained international attention in 2002; later, Zhai Minglei caused national sensations with his stories about an innocent girl who was framed for prostituting, a charity school trying hard to fulfill its ideal of education, and government's monopoly over the sale of condoms. His investigative pieces into the scandal of Shanghai Jiaotong University's student recruitment, and a poisoning case in Nanjing, were thought highly by his peer journalists and the readers. Why, then, would an emerging star resign from such a promising career?


"It was insufferable to see your story be killed because it criticized the local government. It was an insult to the journalists who had made great efforts to write the story, and an insult to the integrity of journalism." Zhai Minglei explained in his resignation letter, "I had never seen such a thing happen in South Weekend before , and it was more than I could bear. "


The aborted story aforementioned was about the government's insufficient protection of Mingxiao Mausoleum, a royal cemetery of Ming Dynasty, in Nanjing. His colleagues had prepared for the story to be printed on the newspaper, but the new Chief Editor ordered it to be taken off for the reason that the news had targeted at the municipal authorities. Zhai Minglei protested. Then he was suspended. At last, he resigned.


"I hate to work in an environment where the news room was like bureaucratic institute and where news was not about truth. I must leave because I'm a knight of news." When recalling this incident, Zhai Minglei didn't seem to be reminiscent of the "glorious" time he had at South Weekend, "I'm not a nostalgic person. Past is dead history. When I look at that past, I was as if reading another person's story. Some people might sigh and say to me, 'What a pity. You should have dealt with it in a strategic way instead of confronting the newspaper and resigning.' It is a rational saying, but I'm an individualist. I can't just bend myself and play by the unfair rules."


Born in 1973, Zhai Minglei lived through the last 3 years of Cultural Revolution in his childhood. It was a time when the craziness of the country was waning, new thoughts were blooming and the first one-child generation was formed. The whole period of 1980s-- before the students' demonstration and government's crack-down on them in Tian'anmen Square in 1989-- was free, a time of "Enlightenment". Universities were permeated with liberated minds and freedom. Students would have dance party after class. Posters of different political views could be seen on the walls on campus. "I studied journalism at university, but I didn't spend much time in studying. I even sold my text books for beer because all that was written in the text books could be summarized in one sentence: do journalism under the party committee." Although learning little from the books, Zhai Minglei launched a newspaper for his class, called Mirror. He also went to the Department of Chinese Language, and published an article by his schoolmate "Reflection on Cultural Revolution". The school later order it to be removed. Upon graduation, he wrote "The Forth Power in the United States" as his dissertation, but no teacher wanted to grade it. "Individualism is rooted in my nature." said Zhai Minglei. "I studied little at university, but I developed my character, which always views the individual above everything."


After leaving college, Zhai Minglei didn't actually want to choose journalism as his career. However, he slowly realized that he couldn't fight against his nature. "I'm a freedom-lover, and a truth-teller. I'm full of curiosity and energy. So I ended up being a journalist soon after that because it suited me."


However, when submiting his resignation letter, Zhai Minglei had made his mind that he would not work for any press organization any more. There were two things he had learned from his work experiences: for a young man, if he wants to make some achievements, he must do it outside the "box"; and he must do it by starting with the little things.


Jumping out of the "box", Zhai Minglei established an NGO group Green Root Power together with his friends in 2003. "I didn't simply want to be a critic or challenger of the authorities. I also wanted to be a builder, to build citizenship in our society." The group was funded on the 80,000 yuan Zhai Minglei and his three other friends gave out. Their job was to train people how to do social work. Group members came from all walks of life. Zhai Minglei thought that by staying away from government and politics-- because it was "non-governmental"-- he could gain more freedom and do more things at a civil level. However, his training classes were under the police's supervision. Secret police followed their whereabouts, and even invited Zhai Minglei for "a cup of tea [2]". In 2005, Green Root Power was banned.


Nonetheless, Zhai Minglei didn't stop his effort in raising civil awareness among the grassroots and realizing his individualism. In that year, with the help from Sun Yat-Sen University, he launched the magazine Civil (民间). He was the chief editor and coordinator. "I could write any story I wanted because the magazine was independent and non-profit. It allowed me to interview the most ordinary people whose stories I had overlooked when I worked for the newspaper." As its name indicates, the magazine was all about the civil activities in China. Zhai Minglei wrote stories about young volunteers teaching in the village, about lawyers offering help to poor people, about animal activists trying to save bears from people's inhumane treatment. Again, the magazine got on the authorities' nerves. After several warnings and attempted suppressions, on November 29, 2007, police came into Zhai Minglei's home in Shanghai, searched his house, confiscated all the copies of the magazine, and took away the hard-drive from his computer. The two-year old magazine was officially claimed dead. "When I was involved in Green Root Poewr and Civil, I actually wanted to evade politics. But then I said to myself, Can I just report civil society and events of public interests? As it turns out-- No. Anything can go wrong when there is no democracy but dictatorship. No one can evade politics. One must have political awareness unless he wants to separates himself from civil life."


Right after the magazine was banned, Zhai Minglei decided to launch his own newspaper. "I didn't want to bring trouble to my friends any more. So I said, OK, I'm going to take the responsibilities on my own." He created a personal blog as an on-line newspaper-- "1bao", meaning One-Man's Newspaper, and became a citizen journalist. "1bao" carries on the style of the magazine Civil. It continues to focus on the ordinary people, whose voices are rarely heard or silenced. In its first edition, Zhai Minglei wrote on his "newspaper":


What China lacks is a healthy individualism. Therefore, "1bao" will be a medium of individualism. It may have prejudices or even arbitrariness, but it will never have lies.


When asked what significance it makes to be a citizen journalist under the harsh political situation in China, Zhai Minglei said what he feared was not the one-party dictatorship, nor the lack of democracy, but the declining pursuit of civil justice and civil morality. "I can't see that happen to our civil life. If nobody pursues those things, if nobody tells the truth, our country will die out." But three months after its launching, "1bao" was blocked in China. Although he has a mirror page of "1bao" on www.my1510.cn, the biggset platform of China's citizen journalists, Zhai Minglei still saw pieces of his news removed from the website because they didn't pass the censorship. How could he practise citizen journalism and spread his civil ideas then, when many people in China have no direct access to his blog and news on the mirror page is under censorship? "So long as a citizen journalist finds the topics of public interests and issues that people really care about, blockade or censorship won't be a problem. I remember once I wrote about Robert's Rules of Order on '1bao'. Surprisingly, a community civil rights activist contacted me and asked me for more means to break the blockade. I was so happy. When my articles are deleted from the website, I would try every way to break through, like when my story of Xu Zhiyong [3] was removed, I used docs.google.com to disseminate the artilce. I even put on free ads of google's tool to let more people know. A citizen journalist is totally dependent on himself. He writes what the mainstream media don't write, which proves that China has individuals. As long as individuals survive, we can make it, because the seeds of hope are sown in people's hearts."


But Zhai Minglei confessed that he was not always that upbeat. Sometimes he would also be hopeless and speechless, and stop updating his blog for weeks. His fear was mostly from the police's abusive use of power. "After I was questioned by the police for the first time, I was so paranoid that I would check the windows and door time after time at home." That's why Zhai Minglei wants to introduce citizen journalism to more people and make them join him. He compares every single citizen journalist to a wave. When enough waves are converging, the sea will emerge. That's when changes happen. "It's not complicated to practise citizen journalism. Everybody who wants to tell truth can do it. "


However, citizen journalism is different from press journalism. Sometimes simply the difference in names means difficulty. As a citizen journalist, Zhai Minglei is denied of interviews with government officials more than when he worked for South Weekend. "But I keep on trying. I offer the opportunity and my honesty to them. Identity isn't that important. Even if you are a student, tell them who you are. They might accept your interview request. Not all the interviewees judge you by whether you're useful to them or not." Sometimes the difference means flexibility. In the September of 2007, the local government in Longquan issued a notice to the farmers that their farmland would be taken back by the government together with their crops that were ready for harvest. Tension was increasingly high between two sides, and a conflict was on the edge of break. "1bao" then played as a participant in that incident when Zhai Minglei was following the story. He helped two sides arrive at negotiation. A bloody conflict was prevented from happening. "I think a citizen journalist should also be a participant in our civil life." commented Zhai Minglei, "In that sense, a citizen journalist changes the traditional understanding of a journalist."


But how can a citizen journalist tell a truthful story while he plays a role in it? "Avoid being tangled in the different groups of interests." said Zhai Minglei. "When I was reporting in Longquan, I paid for all my travels and accommodations. Although I was in a poor financial state, I must pay these fees myself. Only by doing so could it be possible for me to report objectively. Also because of my noninterested stance, both the government and farmers trusted me." Touching upon the money issue, I asked Zhai Minglei how he managed to handle it while working for his own newspaper. "I don't make money from my blog. It's just something I enjoy doing. I earn money from short-term jobs. I have academic contract with Hong Kong University, and I'm also a guest lecturer at South China Normal University. Other incomes are from writing and training programme."


As Zhai Minglei describes himself, he is a very simple person who lives a simple life. "I'm not an ambitious man who wants to make history, neither am I a decisive or calculating person. Every time I speak out because I can't keep it to myself-- I must say it. I act simply out of a citizen's conscience. I reported the news and I felt I did justice to my moral sense. When my stories get down to the readers, my mission is completed."



* This article is based on email interviews with Zhai Minglei, his resignation letter and two autobiographical articles, and another article about him written by Huang Jinfen.

* Zhai Minglei's 1bao and Twitter

*Interview with Zhai Minglei conducted by Danwei: Youtube Video

* Pictures are all from Internet
 
 
 
[1] Project Hope (希望工程) is a Chinese public service project organized by the China Youth Development Foundation (CYDF) and the Communist Youth League (CYL) Central Committee. Started in October 30 1989, it aims to bring schools into poverty-stricken rural areas of China, to help children whose families are too poor to afford it to complete elementary school education.
 
[2] "to have a cup of tea" (喝茶) is a Chinese euphemism for secret police's interrogation.
 
[3] Xu Zhiyong (许志永) is a lecturer at the Beijing University of Post and Telecommunications. He was one of the founders of the NGO Open Constitution Initiative and an active rights lawyer in China who helped those underprivileged. In 2009, July 29, he was arrested at his home, and detained by Chinese authorities on charges of tax evasion.