I read news about Salinger's death this morning. Many people are commemorating him today. There is an obituary from the NY Times, which gave me a full image of that man. One thing mentioned in the article is about Salinger's affair with a then college freshman Joyce Maynard (Salinger was 54 at that time), who later wrote a memoir about him and portrayed him as controlling and sexually abusive man. I don't think Salinger could handle the solitude well on his 90-acre farm. Although being a reclusive, he still needed some fun.
My only memory of this man is an unpleasant reading experience with his The Catcher in the Rye. I was in high school then, and all my intention was to be a good student. So the foul-mouthed Holdon didn't persuade me into finishing his story. But I was struck when I read the sentence "the weather was damn cold, so cold like a witch's tit." I was at an age when every word about the female body could arouse my sexual libido. The witch's tit is all the connection I have with Salinger.
Mark got up late today. It was about 1 pm when he opened his door and said hi to me.
"Salinger died." I said to him. I pronounced "g" in Salinger as the "g" in "anger".
"Who?" Mark looked puzzled.
"Salinger." I repeated.
"Say it agian."
I knew something went wrong. "How do you call that man... the Catcher in the Rye?"
"Oh, Salinger (g as in ginger). Yes, I knew his death last night. He's really a reclusive." Mark said. A couple of days ago, when we were sitting on the couch in Atrium, Mark said that when he was old, he would move to the moutain, live there, get rid of all the connections with the outside world.
I went to the swimming pool afterwards. I took out my shabby bike from the shed, got on it and plunged into the January's wind. I only wore a pair of flip-flops without socks. The weather was as cold as a witch's tit. It was warm in the changing room, but after I put all my personal belongings into the locker I just couldn't lock the damn thing.
There was a naked middle-aged man wiping himself dry by my side, and another tall guy wearing clothes.
"Excuse me, can you tell me why I can't lock it?" I said.
"Do you have 50 p?" The naked man said, towel in his hand.
"50 p?"
"Yes. You need 50 p to lock it." He walked up to me, and turned the locker's door, "See, here, you need to put the coin into it so that you can turn the key."
I saw a slot at one end of the latch.
"I don't have 50 p."
"Do you have a one-pound?" The tall guy asked me. "I've got 2 50-ps"
"No."
"Well, take this." The naked man took out a 50-p from his locker and gave it to me.
I took it but forgot to say thanks. I grabbed my pants and pulled them out of the locker. I groped inside the pocket and found a pound.
"I do have a pound. Thank you very much." I gave the coin back to the naked man.
"Oh, good. Hey, you can give him your 50-ps." He said to the tall guy.
I exchanged the money with him. "Thank you, mate."
"Don't worry."
I put the coin into the slot, and turned the key, but I couldn't turn the key. I tried another locker, the damn thing still didn't work. I tried a third one, a forth one, the damn latches were all stuck.
"Oh, these things are all crappy. Try this one. I just used it. It must work." He took all his belongings out of the locker, and invited me to use it.
I turned the key. Click. Locked.
"Thank you very much, sir." I said to the naked man, who was sitting on the bench wipping his legs, as I walked towards the swimming pool. "Have a good day."
"Oh." He lifted his head, "It was nothing, really."
I plunged into the water. I felt like a baby inside his mother's womb.
2010年1月30日星期六
2010年1月28日星期四
小奚的故事
家世
我的外公外婆都是跟共产党打完仗从大陆跑到台湾的。那时我外公是名在上海的国民党军官，经常跟驻上海的英国使馆打交道；我外婆在北京，那个时候应该是叫北平吧？她在北平也是给国民党的部队工作。国民党仗打输了，我外公就跟着蒋公跑到了台北，没能带上我外婆。当时我外婆还带着我两个不足3岁的阿姨。后来她们搭上了美国人的船，到了台南。我外婆跟部队的人到处打听，整整两年的时间，一路走一路打听，从台南打听到了台北，终于找到了我外公。我爷爷老家是宁波，宁波奉化的，他当时在宁波已经有家庭的。他跑到台湾后，跟一个从福建逃过来的女人结了婚——也就是我奶奶，我奶奶比我爷爷小了三十岁。我爸妈都是在台湾出生的。我爷爷说话我从来就没听懂过，口音太重。现在九十多岁了，每次过年我去看他，他都会拉住我，跟我讲这个讲那个，我只管“噢噢噢”在他前面点头，装作听懂的样子，点了差不多一个小时的头，我爷爷也很高兴，就给我一个红包。我奶奶五十岁的时候就去世了。
本省人-外省人；台湾人-中国人
在台湾，1949年从大陆跟蒋公逃过来的都被称作是外省人，而之前明清时就迁移到台湾的则被称作本省人。我是84年在台北出生的，我觉得我既是一个台湾人，又是一个中国人。可是你知不知道，想我这样的想法，在台湾就很麻烦，特别是陈水扁上台之后，就人为地搞分裂，说要外省人滚回大陆，干！那些本省人——特别是那些绿的——就认为自己是台湾人，不是中国人，其实调查一下他们的家谱，哪一个不是从福建、广东过来的，干！我在大学的时候，应该是大二吧，班上有一个老师就问我们觉得自己是台湾人还是中国人，那个老师自己是绿的嘛，问到我，我说我既是台湾人，又是中国人。他就很得意地说，原来是外省人。我当时就问，老师你不认为自己是中国人吗？他说，我是台湾人。我问，那你的祖辈是从哪里来的？你现在写的汉字是从哪里来的？他反问我，你觉得美国人就是英国人吗？我说，我们台湾还没跟大陆打过仗噢，美国人可是跟英国人打过一仗的。老师你要是认为台湾人不是中国人，就此言差矣了。结果那家伙后来到期末就把我的课荡了，干！我就组织了我的几个同学到教务部示威，他才算是给了我一个及格分数，干！
台湾，特别是台南——到处都是绿营，那里的人就认为自己是台湾人，要成立一个台湾共和国，把外省人赶出去。可我们这个文化、语言、文字就是同宗同根的嘛。你看那个汉字，真的很妙！你们大陆是不是把汉字都简化了？我知道你们还有一个拼音，就是用英文字母弄出来的。可我们有自己的拼音系统，写起来很像日语的假名，设计得真的很妙。我觉得繁体字很美啊，为什么要简化呢？
我是拥护国民党的，蒋公有恩于我的外公外婆，我的上一辈都是国民党养的。你看那个青天白日旗，我觉得很漂亮，设计得很妙，真的很妙。我们有一次在这里聚会，我就把青天白日旗拿出来，有几个大陆的学生看到了，就上来说要我把旗子收回去。干！这儿是英国哎，又不是大陆，你管得了吗？我就不答应，其中一个差点过来抢，被他的同伴劝回去了。要是在台湾，我就直接上去把他揍在地上了，干！英国既不是大陆又不是台湾，大家都是在别人的地盘上，就互相尊重嘛。我还有几个大陆朋友，都是党员。你是党员吗？噢。你知道我简直恨死大陆那些党员了。那次你们是不是国庆有游行，他们就跟我说，小奚啊，今晚有国庆阅兵，过来跟我们一起看直播。你们阅兵关我屁事啊？干！我没答应，他们就好像，好像你小奚这个人真奇怪，请你过来看阅兵竟然那么不领情。虽然我也赞成统一，但我绝对接受不了被统一到共产党下面，我也接受不了青天白日旗变成你们的国旗。所以你看像我这样的人，在台湾学生的圈子里是个少数，在大陆学生那里呢也是个少数，所以很难有什么谈得拢的朋友。
兵役
我大学毕业后，一开始没事干嘛，呆在家里，正好征兵，就被抓进去当兵了，干！在台湾，服兵役是强制的。我进去算是当陆兵，每天负责检查枪支、擦枪杆，看看哪里有坏、哪里有脏。然后又负责拆卸、组装枪支。这个活干了一年，还算是轻松的。到后来我光凭着我的鼻子，闻到开枪时的火药味就能知道这把枪哪里坏了。刚进去的时候，长官问我们有谁是刚大学毕业的，我一举手，发现只有两三个大学生。其他服役的都是些地痞流氓、街上的小混混。第一天去洗澡，大家脱光了衣服，那些人身上都是刺龙刺凤的，他们把我围到角落里，说，大学生噢，是不是觉得自己很屌啊？我就低头哈腰跟他们说，没有没有，哪里敢。
那一年台湾正好要公投，跟大陆的关系很紧张。每天我们从上头听到的都是这样的情报，今天大陆又往福州派了多少部队，明天大陆又往厦门布置了多少导弹。我的一个表哥当时被派到金门，连遗书都写好了。我是被部署在台北，但还是每天人心惶惶。我们那个基地的飞机场一半军用，一半民用，台湾总统的飞机就停在那里。春节之前陈水扁要来慰问部队，时间是早上9点。不到5点，我们就出去集队了，站在机场上等阿扁的飞机过来。为什么不晚点集合？因为连长要报告营长，营长报告旅长，再旅长报告指挥官，很麻烦。而且是总统过来，上头很紧张。这还不是气人的，最最气人的是，按照以往的规矩，总统春节慰问部队，是要给士兵红包的。你猜那天陈水扁给我们发的红包里面是多少钱？台币跟人民币是四比一。你怎么猜都猜不到。我们打开红包一看，里面只有一张纸，上面写着几个字：英勇的台湾陆战军士兵幸苦了。干！自己贪了那么多钱，竟然吝啬地一分钱都不包。而且这张纸还是打印的。这么早在机场集队，阿扁给我们发“红包”，都他妈是为了做给电视台看的。干！
那之后就要过春节了。部队里抽签，抽到单数的人留在部队，抽到双数的回家过年。我运气不好，抽到了单数。那天是年三十，大清早，天还没亮，我们还睡在营房里。突然警报就响了。我们当时就慌了，赶紧穿上裤子衣服，还互相说，这老共不过春节吗？年三十跟我们打啊！干！我们跑到外面一看，警报是假的，老共根本就没有打过来，原来是指挥官跟我们开的玩笑。干！
台湾每年花那么多钱在军队上面，但那些服了好几年兵役的人，除了部队里的那些东西，什么都不会，而且为了那一场不知道会不会打的仗，耗费了自己的青春。我因为这个，还差点出不了国。因为我也是算是个搞枪支的专家嘛，就被列在了黑名单上，是我妈通过她的关系，才让我出的国。
社会
我结束了兵役之后，就去了台北的一家报社工作。《中华时报》知不知道？以前是台湾非常好的一份报纸，我是从小就念的这份报纸。因为在台湾的报纸，不是绿的就是蓝的，《中华时报》能做到谁也不偏，真的很不容易。但是在报社干了一年，我就再也不想从事这个工作了。你不知道里面有多丑恶。刚开始的时候，我是做社会线的，经常要去报道一些社会问题。我是跟着我的一个师傅到处跑的。经常跟政府、警局打交道。当时台北发生了几起绑架国中生的案件，都是女生，先是把她们弄晕，然后给她们打毒品，最后强迫她们去做妓女。你知道这些事是谁干的？都他妈是政府里面的官员操纵的。不，不会登的，这样的新闻，编辑是不会放的。我第一次看见死尸就是那个时候。有一天我师傅跟我说有尸检，问我要不要跟他一起去。我说，那走啊。尸体是一个女学生的， 强奸后被杀了。我到了那里，看到她的眼睛还是睁开的，死不瞑目啊。那双眼睛，我现在都还想得起来。跑社会线，三天两头要和政府、警局的人吃饭喝酒，有时候还要给他们送钱。之后我去了娱乐线，那就不一样了，那些公关公司一看见我们来了，马上就塞过来一个红包，要你多帮那些唱片公司、艺人多吹捧、多宣传。总之报导的东西没一样是真的，全是假的。干！
台湾这个社会是要完蛋了。我在考虑是不是要移民。真的，不骗你。现在当官的，没有一个是要想给百姓做点事的，都在想着怎么捞钱。陈水扁那几年时间全用来在搞分裂。台湾这十几年来一点发展都没有，现在经济完全在靠大陆。共产党要统一台湾其实真的很简单。你们不应该老是在对岸架着炮弹吓唬我们，本来还想跟你们谈的，妈的一看你老是拿枪对着我，那我肯定不干嘛。你说，我要是每时每刻拿着一把枪对着你，你会不会舒服？大陆只要把企业开到台湾，把台湾的银根控制住，统一台湾轻而易举。经济渗透比战争有效得多。
不过台湾真的是个好地方，很妙的一个地方。有机会，你真的应该去看一下。
我的外公外婆都是跟共产党打完仗从大陆跑到台湾的。那时我外公是名在上海的国民党军官，经常跟驻上海的英国使馆打交道；我外婆在北京，那个时候应该是叫北平吧？她在北平也是给国民党的部队工作。国民党仗打输了，我外公就跟着蒋公跑到了台北，没能带上我外婆。当时我外婆还带着我两个不足3岁的阿姨。后来她们搭上了美国人的船，到了台南。我外婆跟部队的人到处打听，整整两年的时间，一路走一路打听，从台南打听到了台北，终于找到了我外公。我爷爷老家是宁波，宁波奉化的，他当时在宁波已经有家庭的。他跑到台湾后，跟一个从福建逃过来的女人结了婚——也就是我奶奶，我奶奶比我爷爷小了三十岁。我爸妈都是在台湾出生的。我爷爷说话我从来就没听懂过，口音太重。现在九十多岁了，每次过年我去看他，他都会拉住我，跟我讲这个讲那个，我只管“噢噢噢”在他前面点头，装作听懂的样子，点了差不多一个小时的头，我爷爷也很高兴，就给我一个红包。我奶奶五十岁的时候就去世了。
本省人-外省人；台湾人-中国人
在台湾，1949年从大陆跟蒋公逃过来的都被称作是外省人，而之前明清时就迁移到台湾的则被称作本省人。我是84年在台北出生的，我觉得我既是一个台湾人，又是一个中国人。可是你知不知道，想我这样的想法，在台湾就很麻烦，特别是陈水扁上台之后，就人为地搞分裂，说要外省人滚回大陆，干！那些本省人——特别是那些绿的——就认为自己是台湾人，不是中国人，其实调查一下他们的家谱，哪一个不是从福建、广东过来的，干！我在大学的时候，应该是大二吧，班上有一个老师就问我们觉得自己是台湾人还是中国人，那个老师自己是绿的嘛，问到我，我说我既是台湾人，又是中国人。他就很得意地说，原来是外省人。我当时就问，老师你不认为自己是中国人吗？他说，我是台湾人。我问，那你的祖辈是从哪里来的？你现在写的汉字是从哪里来的？他反问我，你觉得美国人就是英国人吗？我说，我们台湾还没跟大陆打过仗噢，美国人可是跟英国人打过一仗的。老师你要是认为台湾人不是中国人，就此言差矣了。结果那家伙后来到期末就把我的课荡了，干！我就组织了我的几个同学到教务部示威，他才算是给了我一个及格分数，干！
台湾，特别是台南——到处都是绿营，那里的人就认为自己是台湾人，要成立一个台湾共和国，把外省人赶出去。可我们这个文化、语言、文字就是同宗同根的嘛。你看那个汉字，真的很妙！你们大陆是不是把汉字都简化了？我知道你们还有一个拼音，就是用英文字母弄出来的。可我们有自己的拼音系统，写起来很像日语的假名，设计得真的很妙。我觉得繁体字很美啊，为什么要简化呢？
我是拥护国民党的，蒋公有恩于我的外公外婆，我的上一辈都是国民党养的。你看那个青天白日旗，我觉得很漂亮，设计得很妙，真的很妙。我们有一次在这里聚会，我就把青天白日旗拿出来，有几个大陆的学生看到了，就上来说要我把旗子收回去。干！这儿是英国哎，又不是大陆，你管得了吗？我就不答应，其中一个差点过来抢，被他的同伴劝回去了。要是在台湾，我就直接上去把他揍在地上了，干！英国既不是大陆又不是台湾，大家都是在别人的地盘上，就互相尊重嘛。我还有几个大陆朋友，都是党员。你是党员吗？噢。你知道我简直恨死大陆那些党员了。那次你们是不是国庆有游行，他们就跟我说，小奚啊，今晚有国庆阅兵，过来跟我们一起看直播。你们阅兵关我屁事啊？干！我没答应，他们就好像，好像你小奚这个人真奇怪，请你过来看阅兵竟然那么不领情。虽然我也赞成统一，但我绝对接受不了被统一到共产党下面，我也接受不了青天白日旗变成你们的国旗。所以你看像我这样的人，在台湾学生的圈子里是个少数，在大陆学生那里呢也是个少数，所以很难有什么谈得拢的朋友。
兵役
我大学毕业后，一开始没事干嘛，呆在家里，正好征兵，就被抓进去当兵了，干！在台湾，服兵役是强制的。我进去算是当陆兵，每天负责检查枪支、擦枪杆，看看哪里有坏、哪里有脏。然后又负责拆卸、组装枪支。这个活干了一年，还算是轻松的。到后来我光凭着我的鼻子，闻到开枪时的火药味就能知道这把枪哪里坏了。刚进去的时候，长官问我们有谁是刚大学毕业的，我一举手，发现只有两三个大学生。其他服役的都是些地痞流氓、街上的小混混。第一天去洗澡，大家脱光了衣服，那些人身上都是刺龙刺凤的，他们把我围到角落里，说，大学生噢，是不是觉得自己很屌啊？我就低头哈腰跟他们说，没有没有，哪里敢。
那一年台湾正好要公投，跟大陆的关系很紧张。每天我们从上头听到的都是这样的情报，今天大陆又往福州派了多少部队，明天大陆又往厦门布置了多少导弹。我的一个表哥当时被派到金门，连遗书都写好了。我是被部署在台北，但还是每天人心惶惶。我们那个基地的飞机场一半军用，一半民用，台湾总统的飞机就停在那里。春节之前陈水扁要来慰问部队，时间是早上9点。不到5点，我们就出去集队了，站在机场上等阿扁的飞机过来。为什么不晚点集合？因为连长要报告营长，营长报告旅长，再旅长报告指挥官，很麻烦。而且是总统过来，上头很紧张。这还不是气人的，最最气人的是，按照以往的规矩，总统春节慰问部队，是要给士兵红包的。你猜那天陈水扁给我们发的红包里面是多少钱？台币跟人民币是四比一。你怎么猜都猜不到。我们打开红包一看，里面只有一张纸，上面写着几个字：英勇的台湾陆战军士兵幸苦了。干！自己贪了那么多钱，竟然吝啬地一分钱都不包。而且这张纸还是打印的。这么早在机场集队，阿扁给我们发“红包”，都他妈是为了做给电视台看的。干！
那之后就要过春节了。部队里抽签，抽到单数的人留在部队，抽到双数的回家过年。我运气不好，抽到了单数。那天是年三十，大清早，天还没亮，我们还睡在营房里。突然警报就响了。我们当时就慌了，赶紧穿上裤子衣服，还互相说，这老共不过春节吗？年三十跟我们打啊！干！我们跑到外面一看，警报是假的，老共根本就没有打过来，原来是指挥官跟我们开的玩笑。干！
台湾每年花那么多钱在军队上面，但那些服了好几年兵役的人，除了部队里的那些东西，什么都不会，而且为了那一场不知道会不会打的仗，耗费了自己的青春。我因为这个，还差点出不了国。因为我也是算是个搞枪支的专家嘛，就被列在了黑名单上，是我妈通过她的关系，才让我出的国。
社会
我结束了兵役之后，就去了台北的一家报社工作。《中华时报》知不知道？以前是台湾非常好的一份报纸，我是从小就念的这份报纸。因为在台湾的报纸，不是绿的就是蓝的，《中华时报》能做到谁也不偏，真的很不容易。但是在报社干了一年，我就再也不想从事这个工作了。你不知道里面有多丑恶。刚开始的时候，我是做社会线的，经常要去报道一些社会问题。我是跟着我的一个师傅到处跑的。经常跟政府、警局打交道。当时台北发生了几起绑架国中生的案件，都是女生，先是把她们弄晕，然后给她们打毒品，最后强迫她们去做妓女。你知道这些事是谁干的？都他妈是政府里面的官员操纵的。不，不会登的，这样的新闻，编辑是不会放的。我第一次看见死尸就是那个时候。有一天我师傅跟我说有尸检，问我要不要跟他一起去。我说，那走啊。尸体是一个女学生的， 强奸后被杀了。我到了那里，看到她的眼睛还是睁开的，死不瞑目啊。那双眼睛，我现在都还想得起来。跑社会线，三天两头要和政府、警局的人吃饭喝酒，有时候还要给他们送钱。之后我去了娱乐线，那就不一样了，那些公关公司一看见我们来了，马上就塞过来一个红包，要你多帮那些唱片公司、艺人多吹捧、多宣传。总之报导的东西没一样是真的，全是假的。干！
台湾这个社会是要完蛋了。我在考虑是不是要移民。真的，不骗你。现在当官的，没有一个是要想给百姓做点事的，都在想着怎么捞钱。陈水扁那几年时间全用来在搞分裂。台湾这十几年来一点发展都没有，现在经济完全在靠大陆。共产党要统一台湾其实真的很简单。你们不应该老是在对岸架着炮弹吓唬我们，本来还想跟你们谈的，妈的一看你老是拿枪对着我，那我肯定不干嘛。你说，我要是每时每刻拿着一把枪对着你，你会不会舒服？大陆只要把企业开到台湾，把台湾的银根控制住，统一台湾轻而易举。经济渗透比战争有效得多。
不过台湾真的是个好地方，很妙的一个地方。有机会，你真的应该去看一下。
2010年1月27日星期三
Learn English in Britain
Yesterday, I told Ros that I had to change my dissertation topic, and there were only 15 days before the deadline for the literature review.
"Oh, then you have to start from the scratch."
scratch?
"Beginning. You need to start from the beginning again."
Today I went to see Ros in her office and told her my idea of the new dissertation topic. Ros was intrigued by my plan to make a film about the Nguni cattle in South Africa, and gave me some advice.
"OK. Good luck, and keep me posted, alright?"
posted?
"Informed. Like posting a letter. To send me a letter, to keep me posted."
After dinner, Mark, Mia and Ioana were chatting at the table in the kitchen.
"Mark, can you open the window?" Mia said. She was very tired today.
Mark stood up and went to the window. "Do you want me to open it with a crack or all the way?"
"All the way."
"Oh, then you have to start from the scratch."
scratch?
"Beginning. You need to start from the beginning again."
Today I went to see Ros in her office and told her my idea of the new dissertation topic. Ros was intrigued by my plan to make a film about the Nguni cattle in South Africa, and gave me some advice.
"OK. Good luck, and keep me posted, alright?"
posted?
"Informed. Like posting a letter. To send me a letter, to keep me posted."
After dinner, Mark, Mia and Ioana were chatting at the table in the kitchen.
"Mark, can you open the window?" Mia said. She was very tired today.
Mark stood up and went to the window. "Do you want me to open it with a crack or all the way?"
"All the way."
2010年1月20日星期三
two meaningless poems
After the Appendicitis Operation
You should be grateful, my friend said,
Think of the soldiers fighting in the front
Once wounded you either wait for death
Or be quickly and roughly bandaged
Then thrown to the corner as if abandoned.
Who would fu-care you as the nurses do here?
I suppressed my laughter in my abdomen
Released a little out of my lung,
Which made my scar throb like an erupting volcano
Now I definitely take the side of anti-war protestors
Simply for the sake of the pain that man suffers
A Top
A toy that he destroyed
Schools he went through
A job that he hunted like a dog
Are what a top is orbiting around
Taught to get above the top
He is rapidly spinning
Around his new born son
I asked him how does it feel
To be a father
Great! You have a son and your life is full.
Yes, he’s got a son
Who will turn into a new top before long
written in 2006
You should be grateful, my friend said,
Think of the soldiers fighting in the front
Once wounded you either wait for death
Or be quickly and roughly bandaged
Then thrown to the corner as if abandoned.
Who would fu-care you as the nurses do here?
I suppressed my laughter in my abdomen
Released a little out of my lung,
Which made my scar throb like an erupting volcano
Now I definitely take the side of anti-war protestors
Simply for the sake of the pain that man suffers
A Top
A toy that he destroyed
Schools he went through
A job that he hunted like a dog
Are what a top is orbiting around
Taught to get above the top
He is rapidly spinning
Around his new born son
I asked him how does it feel
To be a father
Great! You have a son and your life is full.
Yes, he’s got a son
Who will turn into a new top before long
written in 2006
praise for a female leo
(An imitation of Mrs. Browning's poem)
How do I love to praise thee let me count the ways
I love to praise thee to the depth my words can reach
and to the heat the Atlantic Ocean can never quench
Only to be cooled off when Leo-nardo says "you jump I watch"
I love to praise thee in the light of constellations
Most soft and smooth, descending from the sky inch by inch
I love to praise thee briliantly, as the picture drawn by da Vinc
I love to praise thee beautifully, in a way that Mona Lisa smiles
I love to praise thee with a passion that Copernicus has
for the celestial bodies, and with my childhood's naivety
I love to praise thee with a pulse that I never loose
and with the glow the leo sends forth, an image I name "Sweetie".
Burning, exploding, of all the strenght,-- and, oh, Zeus
Can you pin this poem to the zodiac, so it can be of eternity?
written on 2008/3/19
How do I love to praise thee let me count the ways
I love to praise thee to the depth my words can reach
and to the heat the Atlantic Ocean can never quench
Only to be cooled off when Leo-nardo says "you jump I watch"
I love to praise thee in the light of constellations
Most soft and smooth, descending from the sky inch by inch
I love to praise thee briliantly, as the picture drawn by da Vinc
I love to praise thee beautifully, in a way that Mona Lisa smiles
I love to praise thee with a passion that Copernicus has
for the celestial bodies, and with my childhood's naivety
I love to praise thee with a pulse that I never loose
and with the glow the leo sends forth, an image I name "Sweetie".
Burning, exploding, of all the strenght,-- and, oh, Zeus
Can you pin this poem to the zodiac, so it can be of eternity?
written on 2008/3/19
刑法老师讲的一个段子
“我读博士的时候，有一次去某地的监狱参观。你们都知道监狱里的犯人都是要干活的，而监狱很大一部分钱就是靠犯人挣的。那个监狱的犯人当时做的是一种机动车，样子像三轮摩托车，耗油大，效率也差，市场上已经快把这种车子淘汰了。当时监狱就跟犯人说，谁要是能动用自己的亲戚熟人或是利用自己的关系，卖出一辆车子，就给减刑一年。一些家里有权或有钱的就卖出了好几辆车，刑也给减了好几年。就是这样。
监狱的人跟我们说，他们也是没办法，实在是没钱才这么做。上级的拨款只有零星一点点，车子销路又不行，监狱都快支撑不下去了。
其实现在很多地方上的监狱都面临财政困境。除非你是北京的大监狱，专门展示给外国人看的，设施就特别好，国家投入多，犯人也轻松，干的活不过是糊糊纸什么的。”
记于2008年3月11日
监狱的人跟我们说，他们也是没办法，实在是没钱才这么做。上级的拨款只有零星一点点，车子销路又不行，监狱都快支撑不下去了。
其实现在很多地方上的监狱都面临财政困境。除非你是北京的大监狱，专门展示给外国人看的，设施就特别好，国家投入多，犯人也轻松，干的活不过是糊糊纸什么的。”
记于2008年3月11日
法学院的台湾内教陈老师
女诗人：
（督促我们把她幻灯片上的内容抄下来时说：）
抄过就会留下记忆
走过就会留下痕迹
爱过就会留下心碎
（底下一阵窃笑）你看你们都在笑，看来你们都没有心碎过。
女教师：
态度很重要，你现在不动笔，别看是些小细节，但别人动笔动得勤，学得就扎实。等复习的时候，一看书，发现很多都忘了，笔记又没记，到那个时候只得熬夜，直到初晨的第一缕阳光来抚慰你心中的忧伤。为什么心中充满忧伤啊？因为得恶补啊，否则就落在别人后面了。一个人的态度决定一个人的生活高度。
女医生：
以前有一次考试完成绩出来后，有个男生给我发了封Email，说他这次试没考好，是因为最近喜欢上了一个女生，之前对她没什么感觉，但现在每一次看到她就老心跳，扑扑扑猛跳的那种。
我就问他，是不是身体有什么疾病啊？去没去医院检查过？
那男生说，身体好着呢，平时心都不跳，只有看到那个女生时才跳。结果考试复习那会儿，一打开书，满页全都是那个女生的脸，根本就复习不进去。真的是书中自有颜如玉啊。
我就问那男生，你老出现幻觉，会不会是精神有什么问题啊？医生看过没有？
那男生说，精神好着呢，就是满眼睛都是那女生的脸。问题是，当时没法看书了，结果考试就考不出来了，分低了，就影响我排名了，到时我的奖学金、出国留学都有可能悬了。老师，你看能不能通融通融，看在我事出有因的份上，帮我把分数往上拉一下。
我当时就有点生气，你这不是威胁我吗？我还以为你是身体或是精神上的什么原因，还好心建议你去看医生，哪知你拿这么个理由来威胁我。后来我跟那男生说，你跟那女生表白了没有啊？
他说没有。
我说，那你就跟她去说嘛，你这样憋着老师也帮不了你的。
过了一段时间，那男生又给我发了一封邮件，说他跟那女生说了，结果一处，发现那女生不适合他，当初那种心跳、幻觉全消失了。
我问他怎么会这样呢？
他说，因为每天要给她提开水瓶实在吃不消啊。
现在不比以前啊。我们读书那个时候，要是一个女生和一个男生从东教走到西教，这一路够回味一辈子的。现在要是一个男生要和一个女生从西1走到西3，那女生就说，同学，你就不能打个的吗？
花痴：
我刚才拿出手机一看，有7个未接来电，3个是学院领导打来的，4个是学院收发室的大伯打来的。我吓了一跳，还以为是学校大楼失火了，回过去一问，原来是收发室有一份我的快递。啧啧，那个大伯真是让我感动——2008感动中国——不，感动浙大。说这收发室不起眼也还真不起眼，但没了它还真不行。少了那位大伯整理报刊、文案、信件，那地上肯定是纸张满地，四处飘落，就像楼下纷纷落下的玉兰花，就像那逝去的爱情……（停顿若干秒，回味中）
外婆：
人老了，记性就不好了，不是老年痴呆症，就是近期的事情记不住，但几年前的事会记得很清楚，我外婆就是这样。我外婆现在还记得我小学三年级某次数学考的分数，但她竟然会问我认不认识我爸爸。那天她正好来我家，一进门就看见我妈要打我，因为我数学没考好嘛。我外婆马上就展开双臂，护着我，跟我妈像老鹰捉小鸡（在讲台上伸出手比划），还一边说“快跟你妈保证，下次一定考好”。完了，她突然问我，“陈××你认识吗？”我一听愣了半天，最后才回过神来，那不是我爸吗？
日本不是有个冲绳岛么，我们那边也有叫琉球岛的，日文名叫Okinawa。旅行社都很坏，打出来的广告上面三种叫法都有，我外婆还以为是三个不同的地方，结果今年去了冲绳，明年去了琉球，后年去了Okinawa，不长记性。等她第三次到那里的时候，车子来到某个景点——旅行社嘛，走的线路都大同小异——众人准备下车的时候，我外婆说，“唉，你们往前走一百米，向左拐就是女厕所，再往前走向右拐就是男厕所。往前走300米有一个小亭子，那里可以买水。”
现在我看电视，每次打出那个什么治疗老年痴呆的广告，我就一条一条对照着自己看，越看心里越发紧，心想，这说的不就是我吗？（说完自己笑）
女管家：
我在这里看电视，一般就一个频道，不换的——中央七台，就是那个农业频道。唉，看来你们都不看。我为什么喜欢看呢，因为你可以看到那些养蚕的行家是怎么养蚕的，种果树的能手是怎么选种、施肥、育苗的。比听农学院的课还有用，因为他们都是实际操作的嘛，很直观，很实用。我就特别佩服这些人，看了大长知识，比学微积分实用多了。像我们搞人文社科的，哪里还用得着微积分啊。你看我丈夫就是工程硕士毕业的，微积分好得那是没得说啊，可每个月的钱还不都得交给我嘛。有几次，我丈夫把钱给我之后，说，“不对啊，我多给你500块钱啊。”我说，“是啊，那又怎么样？我就是不还给你。”你看，微积分再好，钱还不照样归我。不过话说回来，你们还是要学一点微积分的。
爱人同志：
我刚来内地的时候，就听见你们这儿有“爱人”这种称呼，我当时听了就脸红了，怎么你们一口一声“爱人”都不觉得不好意思啊？自己在外面搞婚外情，还说那么大声？后来才明白，原来“爱人”是“丈夫妻子”的意思。我刚来内地时，每个字都听得出来，就是放在一块不知道什么意思。那时我一个同事，一到5点就跟我说，“我得回去给我爱人做饭了。”我就奇怪，有那么“爱”吗？丈夫和妻子真有那么“爱”吗？
现在后悔，大学的时候怎么不多谈几场恋爱啊。
女驴友：
对了，你们这儿有毕业旅行吗？我们在台湾刚进大学的时候，第一件事就是准备毕业旅行。有人从大一就开始打工，为毕业时候去巴黎攒钱。一般人都是绕台湾做一次“豪华、梦幻之旅”，虽然台湾不大，但做一次环岛旅游还是一件很让人兴奋的事情。现在机票不都涨价了嘛，今年1000，明年可能就1500了，而且门票、食宿、交通费都要涨。所以你们啊，赶紧商量好了毕业时到哪儿去。唉，别等毕业了，听完陈老师的课，马上就去买机票吧。
洗澡：
你们这儿洗澡是怎么样的？浴室是有隔间的还是敞开式的？我说的敞开式不是男女不分，那不便宜死男的啦。我说的是那种没有隔板的，整个就一大间的那种。我当时在北方的时候，那儿洗澡就是这样。我一个同学请我去洗澡，我“啊”了声，说，“那多不好意思啊。”心里想，万一你发现我身材比你好，那你就感到不好意思了；要是我发现你身材比我好，那岂不是我觉得不好意思了么？——唉，北方大妞。后来跟她来到浴室门口，一看都是熟人。她们一脸吃惊，“怎么你也来了？”我赶紧捂住脸跑了。其实大陆这种洗澡的方式也挺好的，非常坦然。这也是对人一种心理素质的锻炼。你想一个国家的孩子从小就习惯于坦然地面对对方，这个国家还有什么不敢面对的呢？
开裆裤：
你们这儿的小孩子不是从小就穿开裆裤吗？我一个同事的孩子，两岁了，走路朗朗跄跄（下面有人给她纠音）——噢，是踉踉跄跄么——还穿着开裆裤。那天一不小心摔倒了，正面着地。他妈妈就在一旁说，“乖，自己爬起来。”当时我急坏了，赶紧跑过去，“来，让陈阿姨给你抱抱。”然后就看他的小鸟还在不在，是不是像那首歌唱的“我的青春从此小鸟一去不回来。”正面摔在地上啊。唉，这首歌谁写的（下面有人提醒）——噢，对了，是王洛宾。其实你要说男人那东西到底有什么用呢？不就那点用吗？但是对男人就是很重要。以前看到有人因为这个打官司，所以我特别能理解。
谁的错：
其实陈冠希有什么错呢？那些女艺人有什么错呢？（我背后一个女生嘀咕道，“就是，我就觉得张柏芝活得特自我。”）都没错。错都在我们这些看人家照片的人。（我背后另一个女生嘀咕道，“我不小心也看了。你看了没有？”）看完了，还骂人家恶心。以后千万别没事拿照相机拍照，夫妻都有离婚的，朋友更有可能分手了。
记于2008年3月18日
（督促我们把她幻灯片上的内容抄下来时说：）
抄过就会留下记忆
走过就会留下痕迹
爱过就会留下心碎
（底下一阵窃笑）你看你们都在笑，看来你们都没有心碎过。
女教师：
态度很重要，你现在不动笔，别看是些小细节，但别人动笔动得勤，学得就扎实。等复习的时候，一看书，发现很多都忘了，笔记又没记，到那个时候只得熬夜，直到初晨的第一缕阳光来抚慰你心中的忧伤。为什么心中充满忧伤啊？因为得恶补啊，否则就落在别人后面了。一个人的态度决定一个人的生活高度。
女医生：
以前有一次考试完成绩出来后，有个男生给我发了封Email，说他这次试没考好，是因为最近喜欢上了一个女生，之前对她没什么感觉，但现在每一次看到她就老心跳，扑扑扑猛跳的那种。
我就问他，是不是身体有什么疾病啊？去没去医院检查过？
那男生说，身体好着呢，平时心都不跳，只有看到那个女生时才跳。结果考试复习那会儿，一打开书，满页全都是那个女生的脸，根本就复习不进去。真的是书中自有颜如玉啊。
我就问那男生，你老出现幻觉，会不会是精神有什么问题啊？医生看过没有？
那男生说，精神好着呢，就是满眼睛都是那女生的脸。问题是，当时没法看书了，结果考试就考不出来了，分低了，就影响我排名了，到时我的奖学金、出国留学都有可能悬了。老师，你看能不能通融通融，看在我事出有因的份上，帮我把分数往上拉一下。
我当时就有点生气，你这不是威胁我吗？我还以为你是身体或是精神上的什么原因，还好心建议你去看医生，哪知你拿这么个理由来威胁我。后来我跟那男生说，你跟那女生表白了没有啊？
他说没有。
我说，那你就跟她去说嘛，你这样憋着老师也帮不了你的。
过了一段时间，那男生又给我发了一封邮件，说他跟那女生说了，结果一处，发现那女生不适合他，当初那种心跳、幻觉全消失了。
我问他怎么会这样呢？
他说，因为每天要给她提开水瓶实在吃不消啊。
现在不比以前啊。我们读书那个时候，要是一个女生和一个男生从东教走到西教，这一路够回味一辈子的。现在要是一个男生要和一个女生从西1走到西3，那女生就说，同学，你就不能打个的吗？
花痴：
我刚才拿出手机一看，有7个未接来电，3个是学院领导打来的，4个是学院收发室的大伯打来的。我吓了一跳，还以为是学校大楼失火了，回过去一问，原来是收发室有一份我的快递。啧啧，那个大伯真是让我感动——2008感动中国——不，感动浙大。说这收发室不起眼也还真不起眼，但没了它还真不行。少了那位大伯整理报刊、文案、信件，那地上肯定是纸张满地，四处飘落，就像楼下纷纷落下的玉兰花，就像那逝去的爱情……（停顿若干秒，回味中）
外婆：
人老了，记性就不好了，不是老年痴呆症，就是近期的事情记不住，但几年前的事会记得很清楚，我外婆就是这样。我外婆现在还记得我小学三年级某次数学考的分数，但她竟然会问我认不认识我爸爸。那天她正好来我家，一进门就看见我妈要打我，因为我数学没考好嘛。我外婆马上就展开双臂，护着我，跟我妈像老鹰捉小鸡（在讲台上伸出手比划），还一边说“快跟你妈保证，下次一定考好”。完了，她突然问我，“陈××你认识吗？”我一听愣了半天，最后才回过神来，那不是我爸吗？
日本不是有个冲绳岛么，我们那边也有叫琉球岛的，日文名叫Okinawa。旅行社都很坏，打出来的广告上面三种叫法都有，我外婆还以为是三个不同的地方，结果今年去了冲绳，明年去了琉球，后年去了Okinawa，不长记性。等她第三次到那里的时候，车子来到某个景点——旅行社嘛，走的线路都大同小异——众人准备下车的时候，我外婆说，“唉，你们往前走一百米，向左拐就是女厕所，再往前走向右拐就是男厕所。往前走300米有一个小亭子，那里可以买水。”
现在我看电视，每次打出那个什么治疗老年痴呆的广告，我就一条一条对照着自己看，越看心里越发紧，心想，这说的不就是我吗？（说完自己笑）
女管家：
我在这里看电视，一般就一个频道，不换的——中央七台，就是那个农业频道。唉，看来你们都不看。我为什么喜欢看呢，因为你可以看到那些养蚕的行家是怎么养蚕的，种果树的能手是怎么选种、施肥、育苗的。比听农学院的课还有用，因为他们都是实际操作的嘛，很直观，很实用。我就特别佩服这些人，看了大长知识，比学微积分实用多了。像我们搞人文社科的，哪里还用得着微积分啊。你看我丈夫就是工程硕士毕业的，微积分好得那是没得说啊，可每个月的钱还不都得交给我嘛。有几次，我丈夫把钱给我之后，说，“不对啊，我多给你500块钱啊。”我说，“是啊，那又怎么样？我就是不还给你。”你看，微积分再好，钱还不照样归我。不过话说回来，你们还是要学一点微积分的。
爱人同志：
我刚来内地的时候，就听见你们这儿有“爱人”这种称呼，我当时听了就脸红了，怎么你们一口一声“爱人”都不觉得不好意思啊？自己在外面搞婚外情，还说那么大声？后来才明白，原来“爱人”是“丈夫妻子”的意思。我刚来内地时，每个字都听得出来，就是放在一块不知道什么意思。那时我一个同事，一到5点就跟我说，“我得回去给我爱人做饭了。”我就奇怪，有那么“爱”吗？丈夫和妻子真有那么“爱”吗？
现在后悔，大学的时候怎么不多谈几场恋爱啊。
女驴友：
对了，你们这儿有毕业旅行吗？我们在台湾刚进大学的时候，第一件事就是准备毕业旅行。有人从大一就开始打工，为毕业时候去巴黎攒钱。一般人都是绕台湾做一次“豪华、梦幻之旅”，虽然台湾不大，但做一次环岛旅游还是一件很让人兴奋的事情。现在机票不都涨价了嘛，今年1000，明年可能就1500了，而且门票、食宿、交通费都要涨。所以你们啊，赶紧商量好了毕业时到哪儿去。唉，别等毕业了，听完陈老师的课，马上就去买机票吧。
洗澡：
你们这儿洗澡是怎么样的？浴室是有隔间的还是敞开式的？我说的敞开式不是男女不分，那不便宜死男的啦。我说的是那种没有隔板的，整个就一大间的那种。我当时在北方的时候，那儿洗澡就是这样。我一个同学请我去洗澡，我“啊”了声，说，“那多不好意思啊。”心里想，万一你发现我身材比你好，那你就感到不好意思了；要是我发现你身材比我好，那岂不是我觉得不好意思了么？——唉，北方大妞。后来跟她来到浴室门口，一看都是熟人。她们一脸吃惊，“怎么你也来了？”我赶紧捂住脸跑了。其实大陆这种洗澡的方式也挺好的，非常坦然。这也是对人一种心理素质的锻炼。你想一个国家的孩子从小就习惯于坦然地面对对方，这个国家还有什么不敢面对的呢？
开裆裤：
你们这儿的小孩子不是从小就穿开裆裤吗？我一个同事的孩子，两岁了，走路朗朗跄跄（下面有人给她纠音）——噢，是踉踉跄跄么——还穿着开裆裤。那天一不小心摔倒了，正面着地。他妈妈就在一旁说，“乖，自己爬起来。”当时我急坏了，赶紧跑过去，“来，让陈阿姨给你抱抱。”然后就看他的小鸟还在不在，是不是像那首歌唱的“我的青春从此小鸟一去不回来。”正面摔在地上啊。唉，这首歌谁写的（下面有人提醒）——噢，对了，是王洛宾。其实你要说男人那东西到底有什么用呢？不就那点用吗？但是对男人就是很重要。以前看到有人因为这个打官司，所以我特别能理解。
谁的错：
其实陈冠希有什么错呢？那些女艺人有什么错呢？（我背后一个女生嘀咕道，“就是，我就觉得张柏芝活得特自我。”）都没错。错都在我们这些看人家照片的人。（我背后另一个女生嘀咕道，“我不小心也看了。你看了没有？”）看完了，还骂人家恶心。以后千万别没事拿照相机拍照，夫妻都有离婚的，朋友更有可能分手了。
记于2008年3月18日
老虞的故事
老虞的罗曼史：
其实在我现在这个男朋友之前，我是有过男朋友的，那个男的和我从初中到高中。大一刚进来我体育课选的不是定向越野嘛，考试在玉泉，我跟那里的一个学长说好了，到时他骑车载我。不巧的是，那天这个学长有篮球比赛，所以就托了他室友。我那个学长长得可帅了呶，成绩又好，家里又有钱，唉，要是那天带我的是他，说不定就……可惜啊。那天之后么我就和他室友认识了。从认识到我们确立关系，不过14天。14天哦！老虞朝我伸了伸手指。
那时你跟你前男友分手了没有？
没有。当时我就跟他说，这里玉泉有个男的，对我挺有意思的，他听了心里很慌。
那是肯定的嘛。玉泉那男的不知道你有男朋友？
他不知道。其实那个学长是知道的，我以为那个学长会告诉他的，后来我就给他短信，问他知不知道我已经有男朋友了。他说不知道。过了几天，他给我电话，说他来紫金港还书，想约我吃个饭。那天他穿了灰色的衣服，特别难看。其实他长得还是挺帅的，我寝室里那几个女人看了，说我品味怎么那么差啊。后来看着，都觉得长得不错。
你跟你男朋友什么时候分的？
就在这14天里分手的。我记得那天正好是圣诞节，他说要送我礼物。我说不用了。
他在哪里读书的？工大？
上海。我跟他说不用了，他非得要来。那时我妈要过来看我，我跟他说我妈要来，没时间陪他的。结果圣诞节那天他还是来了，我和他在食堂里吃了午饭。反正两个人也不说话，气氛很冷，谁也不说话。他把礼物给我，我说什么也不要，硬是还给了他。突然，他就哭了。眼泪簌簌地下来。
怎么会哭呢？你是不是说什么了？
什么也没说啊，他就一个人自己突然哭起来了。那个时候我手机响了，是我妈，她说到车站了，要我去接她。我就跟他说，我走了，要去接我妈。
你就这么抛下他走了？
那还能怎么办呀？我妈和他之间，我当然只能选我妈了。后来我送我妈回去的时候，正好在公交站碰到他。他一直盯着我们看。我妈当时就问我，那个是不是你同学。我说，是的，不过只是一般同学。我妈当时管我管得可紧了，被她知道我有男朋友我就完了。当时他就一直盯着我俩，还发短信跟我说要我抽身几分钟跟他说话。我说不行。他就一直这么冲着我们看，气死我了。我妈当时就很疑心。回家后，她就问我一个医学院的同学，我是不是有男朋友了。我那个医学院的同学跟我关系很好的，她知道我的事情，当然我也知道她有男朋友，而她妈也是反对她在大学里谈恋爱的，所以我手里也有她的“把柄”的。我妈从她嘴里也没问出什么。后来我男朋友也上车回上海了。我就给他发了条短信，说分手吧。他马上就回了我好几十条，那个短信写得啊，感动得我都想哭呶。
靠，你也太那个了吧？分手就是不能当面说，至少也打个电话吧。发个短信就完了啊？
那还能怎么样啊？不过后来他就说我这个女人挺恶毒的。他不是有我们寝室那几个女人的qq吗，和她们聊天的时候，他就说我是个恶毒的女人。呵呵。唉，其实他长得不好看。我发现我审美真的有问题呶。
老虞遇上了大雪：
那天别提有多倒霉了。我买的是25号下午的车票。25号那天不是下大雪嘛。大毛那天回家，结果中午她给我来短信说，到温州的汽车下午都停开了，她回不去了。那个时候我就想，到宁波的车不会也停了吧？寡妇也是那天下午回家的，不过她的车比我早，是1点钟的，我的是3点。后来她也从车站发来短信说，去舟山的车也停开了。我想完了，今天肯定回不去了。于是我就马上赶到东站去签票。当时要是把行李什么的带上就好了，因为我到车站一看，那天去宁波的车市照常运行的。我就打电话让大毛和王敏赶紧打的把我的行李从学校送到车站。我在车站把票改签到5点。谁知道车站突然通知因为大雪，3点半以后所有的车停运。那个时候我想今天一定要回去，因为天气预报26号有大雪，等那时就更回不去了。于是我把票退了，又赶到火车站，让王敏和大毛改道，直接开到火车站。
北仑不是不通火车吗？
等到宁波了，我让我家里人来接嘛。只要到宁波就好办了。当时到了火车站一看，那个人啊，我们排在队伍里都望不到前头。
不是有学生窗吗？
问题是当时我把学生证放在寝室里啊。后来我跟大毛说，你么今天干脆跟我一道回宁波算了，明天再从宁波坐火车回温州。天气预报杭州明天还是大雪，明天从杭州出发的车肯定还是停开。我们后来就到学生窗口，问队伍里的人，正好有一个男的是回宁波的。我就让他给我多买一张。这样总算是回到了宁波。后来大毛还是没跟我一同去。
等我到家都已经夜里11点钟了。第二天，杭州那边也没有下大雪，大毛也顺利乘上了回温州的车。
老虞和室友：
其实原来我们住一个寝室的时候，我跟她是走得最近的，可能都是宁波人吧。当时么自然另外两个就走得比较近一些了。好像女生寝室（4人一间）一般都是这样的。现在她搬出去了，剩我们三个人，反倒是比原来更亲近了。其实也没什么大矛盾，主要是她有了男朋友之后，很多话都不跟我说了，这让我很不爽呶。
她跟她男朋友是不是分了？
早分了。唉，说起这个啊，那个男的也算是痴情啊。当时大一我们不是去大清谷玩嘛，本来那时我的师傅对忻黎黎挺有意思的，我也想趁这次机会撮合一下他们两个，我师傅去的时候也带了一个同学，谁知他那个同学跟忻黎黎聊得火热，把我师傅撂在了一边，我师傅别说有多郁闷了。后来那个男的就送东西、请吃饭，还表白了。忻黎黎每次东西也收了，饭也吃了，就是不肯做他女朋友。我们都劝她，这个男人对你那么好，自己成绩也好——保研了，家里情况也不错，你哪里去找？但忻黎黎开始就是说什么也不肯接受他。不过后来还是答应做他女朋友了。有一次她跟我们讲，那个男的竟然要跟她牵手。我们当时就说，这不很正常吗？男女朋友么总归要牵手的！
后来干嘛搬出去了？
本来我提出我们寝室要装空调的。寡妇说好的，朱金燕虽然家里条件一般，但她这个人就是随伙的，你知道的。但忻黎黎不愿装。我本来还说她买空调钱不要出了，但电费大家摊。她还是不愿意。那么为了她，我们最后还是没有装空调。后来她搬寝室，踏出门的时候还很酸地说了句，现在我走了，你们好装空调了。你说我听了要多不爽有多不爽了。
那时不经常有小偷到女生寝室偷东西嘛，我们寝室很怪的，就我没被偷过。唉，当时我别提有多郁闷了，她们少钱少什么的，就我，皮夹扔在桌上的，就是没被偷过。有一天，忻黎黎突然说她抽屉里少钱了。前一天晚上朱金燕是最晚睡的，我和寡妇很早就上床了。朱金燕听了不是很不爽的啊。而且忻黎黎那个抽屉是上锁的，我们也搞不清楚她是怎么少钱的。后来交电费，朱金燕报复了一下，说电费少了一个人（电费这个事儿当时老虞的叙述忘了）
后来忻黎黎就搬出去了。她现在住的寝室反正都各顾各的，关系挺冷淡的，肯定是没我们以前住一起的时候好啦，以前我们逛街、吃饭都是一块，玩得很疯的。换寝室后她过生日，我们寝室给她发了条祝福短信。她说，只有我们记得她的生日。以前她生日都是我们给她过的，现在搬寝室了，谁给她过啊？
忻黎黎还把我弄哭过呶。一次我和她上的是一个课，老师给每个小组布置了作业。我和她是一组的。她给了我负责的几个问题，我收集完资料、整理完成后给她。后来她跟我说，她觉得原先那几个问题不太好，可能不太合老师心意，很难拿高分。现在她想了几个新的问题，要我重新再做一遍。我当然不干了，凭什么呀。我辛辛苦苦做的东西，说重做就重做啊。
你们是在电话里说的，还是当面说的？
QQ上。然后她就说了一些很难听的话。你知道她那张嘴很厉害的，文笔又好，我是说不过她的。我就被她说哭了。我哭得很大声的，旁边寝室的大毛都跑过来问我出什么事了。
记于2008年3月
其实在我现在这个男朋友之前，我是有过男朋友的，那个男的和我从初中到高中。大一刚进来我体育课选的不是定向越野嘛，考试在玉泉，我跟那里的一个学长说好了，到时他骑车载我。不巧的是，那天这个学长有篮球比赛，所以就托了他室友。我那个学长长得可帅了呶，成绩又好，家里又有钱，唉，要是那天带我的是他，说不定就……可惜啊。那天之后么我就和他室友认识了。从认识到我们确立关系，不过14天。14天哦！老虞朝我伸了伸手指。
那时你跟你前男友分手了没有？
没有。当时我就跟他说，这里玉泉有个男的，对我挺有意思的，他听了心里很慌。
那是肯定的嘛。玉泉那男的不知道你有男朋友？
他不知道。其实那个学长是知道的，我以为那个学长会告诉他的，后来我就给他短信，问他知不知道我已经有男朋友了。他说不知道。过了几天，他给我电话，说他来紫金港还书，想约我吃个饭。那天他穿了灰色的衣服，特别难看。其实他长得还是挺帅的，我寝室里那几个女人看了，说我品味怎么那么差啊。后来看着，都觉得长得不错。
你跟你男朋友什么时候分的？
就在这14天里分手的。我记得那天正好是圣诞节，他说要送我礼物。我说不用了。
他在哪里读书的？工大？
上海。我跟他说不用了，他非得要来。那时我妈要过来看我，我跟他说我妈要来，没时间陪他的。结果圣诞节那天他还是来了，我和他在食堂里吃了午饭。反正两个人也不说话，气氛很冷，谁也不说话。他把礼物给我，我说什么也不要，硬是还给了他。突然，他就哭了。眼泪簌簌地下来。
怎么会哭呢？你是不是说什么了？
什么也没说啊，他就一个人自己突然哭起来了。那个时候我手机响了，是我妈，她说到车站了，要我去接她。我就跟他说，我走了，要去接我妈。
你就这么抛下他走了？
那还能怎么办呀？我妈和他之间，我当然只能选我妈了。后来我送我妈回去的时候，正好在公交站碰到他。他一直盯着我们看。我妈当时就问我，那个是不是你同学。我说，是的，不过只是一般同学。我妈当时管我管得可紧了，被她知道我有男朋友我就完了。当时他就一直盯着我俩，还发短信跟我说要我抽身几分钟跟他说话。我说不行。他就一直这么冲着我们看，气死我了。我妈当时就很疑心。回家后，她就问我一个医学院的同学，我是不是有男朋友了。我那个医学院的同学跟我关系很好的，她知道我的事情，当然我也知道她有男朋友，而她妈也是反对她在大学里谈恋爱的，所以我手里也有她的“把柄”的。我妈从她嘴里也没问出什么。后来我男朋友也上车回上海了。我就给他发了条短信，说分手吧。他马上就回了我好几十条，那个短信写得啊，感动得我都想哭呶。
靠，你也太那个了吧？分手就是不能当面说，至少也打个电话吧。发个短信就完了啊？
那还能怎么样啊？不过后来他就说我这个女人挺恶毒的。他不是有我们寝室那几个女人的qq吗，和她们聊天的时候，他就说我是个恶毒的女人。呵呵。唉，其实他长得不好看。我发现我审美真的有问题呶。
老虞遇上了大雪：
那天别提有多倒霉了。我买的是25号下午的车票。25号那天不是下大雪嘛。大毛那天回家，结果中午她给我来短信说，到温州的汽车下午都停开了，她回不去了。那个时候我就想，到宁波的车不会也停了吧？寡妇也是那天下午回家的，不过她的车比我早，是1点钟的，我的是3点。后来她也从车站发来短信说，去舟山的车也停开了。我想完了，今天肯定回不去了。于是我就马上赶到东站去签票。当时要是把行李什么的带上就好了，因为我到车站一看，那天去宁波的车市照常运行的。我就打电话让大毛和王敏赶紧打的把我的行李从学校送到车站。我在车站把票改签到5点。谁知道车站突然通知因为大雪，3点半以后所有的车停运。那个时候我想今天一定要回去，因为天气预报26号有大雪，等那时就更回不去了。于是我把票退了，又赶到火车站，让王敏和大毛改道，直接开到火车站。
北仑不是不通火车吗？
等到宁波了，我让我家里人来接嘛。只要到宁波就好办了。当时到了火车站一看，那个人啊，我们排在队伍里都望不到前头。
不是有学生窗吗？
问题是当时我把学生证放在寝室里啊。后来我跟大毛说，你么今天干脆跟我一道回宁波算了，明天再从宁波坐火车回温州。天气预报杭州明天还是大雪，明天从杭州出发的车肯定还是停开。我们后来就到学生窗口，问队伍里的人，正好有一个男的是回宁波的。我就让他给我多买一张。这样总算是回到了宁波。后来大毛还是没跟我一同去。
等我到家都已经夜里11点钟了。第二天，杭州那边也没有下大雪，大毛也顺利乘上了回温州的车。
老虞和室友：
其实原来我们住一个寝室的时候，我跟她是走得最近的，可能都是宁波人吧。当时么自然另外两个就走得比较近一些了。好像女生寝室（4人一间）一般都是这样的。现在她搬出去了，剩我们三个人，反倒是比原来更亲近了。其实也没什么大矛盾，主要是她有了男朋友之后，很多话都不跟我说了，这让我很不爽呶。
她跟她男朋友是不是分了？
早分了。唉，说起这个啊，那个男的也算是痴情啊。当时大一我们不是去大清谷玩嘛，本来那时我的师傅对忻黎黎挺有意思的，我也想趁这次机会撮合一下他们两个，我师傅去的时候也带了一个同学，谁知他那个同学跟忻黎黎聊得火热，把我师傅撂在了一边，我师傅别说有多郁闷了。后来那个男的就送东西、请吃饭，还表白了。忻黎黎每次东西也收了，饭也吃了，就是不肯做他女朋友。我们都劝她，这个男人对你那么好，自己成绩也好——保研了，家里情况也不错，你哪里去找？但忻黎黎开始就是说什么也不肯接受他。不过后来还是答应做他女朋友了。有一次她跟我们讲，那个男的竟然要跟她牵手。我们当时就说，这不很正常吗？男女朋友么总归要牵手的！
后来干嘛搬出去了？
本来我提出我们寝室要装空调的。寡妇说好的，朱金燕虽然家里条件一般，但她这个人就是随伙的，你知道的。但忻黎黎不愿装。我本来还说她买空调钱不要出了，但电费大家摊。她还是不愿意。那么为了她，我们最后还是没有装空调。后来她搬寝室，踏出门的时候还很酸地说了句，现在我走了，你们好装空调了。你说我听了要多不爽有多不爽了。
那时不经常有小偷到女生寝室偷东西嘛，我们寝室很怪的，就我没被偷过。唉，当时我别提有多郁闷了，她们少钱少什么的，就我，皮夹扔在桌上的，就是没被偷过。有一天，忻黎黎突然说她抽屉里少钱了。前一天晚上朱金燕是最晚睡的，我和寡妇很早就上床了。朱金燕听了不是很不爽的啊。而且忻黎黎那个抽屉是上锁的，我们也搞不清楚她是怎么少钱的。后来交电费，朱金燕报复了一下，说电费少了一个人（电费这个事儿当时老虞的叙述忘了）
后来忻黎黎就搬出去了。她现在住的寝室反正都各顾各的，关系挺冷淡的，肯定是没我们以前住一起的时候好啦，以前我们逛街、吃饭都是一块，玩得很疯的。换寝室后她过生日，我们寝室给她发了条祝福短信。她说，只有我们记得她的生日。以前她生日都是我们给她过的，现在搬寝室了，谁给她过啊？
忻黎黎还把我弄哭过呶。一次我和她上的是一个课，老师给每个小组布置了作业。我和她是一组的。她给了我负责的几个问题，我收集完资料、整理完成后给她。后来她跟我说，她觉得原先那几个问题不太好，可能不太合老师心意，很难拿高分。现在她想了几个新的问题，要我重新再做一遍。我当然不干了，凭什么呀。我辛辛苦苦做的东西，说重做就重做啊。
你们是在电话里说的，还是当面说的？
QQ上。然后她就说了一些很难听的话。你知道她那张嘴很厉害的，文笔又好，我是说不过她的。我就被她说哭了。我哭得很大声的，旁边寝室的大毛都跑过来问我出什么事了。
记于2008年3月
从海宁到南京
今年是一波在南农读研的最后一年，再过一个月他就要离开这个他待了7年的地方了。
在金华看完陆川的《南京，南京》，我想，趁一波还在，去南京走一趟吧。六七岁的时候随父母去过，但现在已全然没了印象。可能我把南京跟苏州搞混了，可能我小时候根本就没有去过南京。我离开金华回到了家，老妈说，你大姨夫住院了，胃出血。
听老妈说，大姨娘18岁那年就被嫁到了盐官，那个时候外婆家穷，急着把家里的大女儿嫁出去好收聘礼。
大姨夫是个躁脾气的人，我小时候去你大姨娘家，最怕你大姨夫了。你大姨娘一说错话，就被你大姨夫骂，那妈只死逼。亏得你大姨娘脾气好，呵呵笑笑就顺过去了。老妈在去海宁的公交车上对我讲。
我望着窗外的油菜地，想起小时候一次在大姨夫家做客的时候，在地上撒泼打滚讨零食吃。那个时候，在家嘴馋时是不敢撒野的，怕我爸的鞋拔子飞过来，所以逢年过节到亲戚家，总要逮个机会发发威风，以零食（或更多的压岁钱）换和平，父母也不好发作。那天，我爸很释然地坐在一旁喝着茶，脸上没有一丝愠色。当我整个人被大姨夫拎起来头朝地的时候，我才明白了父亲的淡定。
“还要不要癞地滚？还要不要讨零食？”大姨夫抓着我的脚问道。
“不要了，不要了。”我哭着求饶道。
我大姐和我大哥平时都不怎么说话，一来我大哥就是个不大爱说话的人，二来我大姐年轻的时候被我大哥吓破胆子了。你看我大姐在我们家的时候唧唧呱呱那个能讲，在我大哥面前说话都小心翼翼的。离家之前我妈跟我爸讲起大姨夫的旧事。人么省得要死，肉都舍不得吃，一辈子做生活，做得身子败掉。
到了海宁的人民医院，见到了躺在床上的大姨夫，枯瘦得像根快烧到了头的火柴。我叫了声大姨夫，他插着导管的鼻子发出了一个含混的声音。
“大哥，不要起来。我给你带了鸽子，鲫鱼汤，还有一些菜。”老妈从包里拿出一个个盒子。
大姨夫摆摆手。
“小妹，你拿这么多菜做啥，拿回去给阿维吃。”大姨妈顺着大姨夫摆着的手说。
“大姐啊，这些菜放在家里又没人吃。这个汤专门为大哥做的，现在还热。大哥还没吃饭吧，来，喝点汤。”
“我这个病，吃什么都没用了。过两天就让我出院。”大姨夫有气无力地说。他发黑的脸颊像是两块深陷下去的峡谷，每说一个字，峡谷就往下塌陷一点。
我找到了病床床尾的摇手，转动着把床头往上升起了一些。大姨娘帮大姨夫坐了起来，我妈送过去汤盆和调羹。
我难受地看着大姨夫吃鱼汤，又难受地听到大姨娘悄悄对老妈说，他前几天就吵着要出院，说看这病等于往水里扔钱。
病房里的电视机无声地放着某个娱乐节目。我局促地坐在一张空着的病床上，看着大姨夫悉簌悉簌地喝着汤。
“是不是要出国了啊？”大姨娘问我，重重的盐官腔经由老妈的转译，我才明白过来。
“是啊。”
“去哪里读书？”
“英国。”
“英国……好啊。”重新躺回到床单底下的大姨夫虚弱地叹声道。
临走时，老妈又转头跟大姨娘和大姨夫叮嘱了几句。我走到大姨夫的病床前，想说些什么，却不由自主地伸出了一只手，大姨夫也从床单底下伸出一只后，手掌粗粝，看不到血色。我握住了他的手，像是握着一快开裂的毛坯砖。“大姨夫，我走了。”
他翻滚着喉结的喉咙里发出了一个含糊的声音。
我和老妈从医院里出来，在附近的街上转了一圈。老妈出入了几家布料铺子，都没有发现中意的料子。“还是回海盐找裁衣做吧，这里的料作贵死人了。”
五月中午的天已经很热了。大街上熙熙攘攘，朝北的旧街，镶牙、磨刀、搓钥匙、穿耳孔、敲打黄金首饰、买蜜糖金丝糕的小铺子静静地站在阴影里，“清仓甩卖”的服装店放着震耳欲聋的舞曲，门可罗雀，店员靠在门口安静地发着呆；朝南的新街，巨大的商业大楼反射着耀眼的阳光，大幅的广告上，一个画着浓浓眼影的女子轻启朱唇，姿态撩人地望着街南。
我和老妈拐进了街南的一家小吃店，叫了两碗雪菜鸡蛋面。屋子里热烘烘的，像是晒谷场，几个脚边堆着大包小包的姑娘，外套脱到一半，呼哧呼哧地喝着面汤。端菜的是个50岁上下、面无表情的女人，她系着围裙，缓慢地拖着步子，漫不经心地把两碗面端到我们桌上，然后又拖着步子缓缓地走到一旁，坐到门口的椅子上，面无表情地望着街外。
老妈把她碗里的鸡蛋夹给了我，自己咕噜咕噜把面吃完了。
妈妈，你回去的车怎么坐知不知道？我们从小吃店出来，来到附近的公交停靠点。
唉呀，我晓得。你快去火车站吧。她站到一块暴晒在太阳底下的站牌下。
你当真晓得？
车等歇就来的。
你站牌站反了。这个方向是去海宁的。对面那个才是回海盐。
唉呀，幸亏有儿子在身旁啊。
从南京火车站出来，眼前一片开阔，亮晃晃的，一泊湖水就在不远的地方。走到玄武湖绕了一圈，堤岸上坐满了人和行李。我又折回车站，坐在台阶上，看着各色各样的人从车站进进出出。一个穿着环卫服的老人从我身边经过，拎着一捆塑料袋走进一旁集装箱一般的蓝色房子，一个房间挨着一个房间，给里面的马桶换上新的一次性袋子。
不久一波就到了车站。他还是一身从淘宝买来的名牌，肩上搭着个腰包。
“我日，穿得真像老板。”
“我日，你怎么穿得像个民工啊。”
我俩上了空荡荡的公车，南京城的老房、新房，老街、旧街，像胶片在我眼前一张接着一张切换，一波跟我讲着这条街上曾经发生过斗殴，那条街上一个姑娘曾被几个恶棍少年打得跪地求饶。
“你这两天到我学校睡。陈鸿现在工作，我一直跟她外面住。我的床空着，被子已经给你晒过了，床单也给你换了新的。”
车子经过中山门，在一幅卫岗牛奶的巨幅广告前停了下来。下了车，没几步就走进了南农的校园：绿树葱葱，一幢大红色的砖房砌在路尽头的陡坡上。
来到一波的寝室，看到堆成小山的可乐瓶和啤酒瓶，还有埋在灰尘里的鞋袜和网线，好像刚刚经历过洪水和鼠疫。
“我日，我是你我也要搬出去住啊。”
“呵呵，你就凑活睡两晚吧。这里洗澡厕所没有热水，你自己用热得快烧。”
“没事，冷水就行。”
“你小心感冒，这水可凉。”
“没事，我比较耐操。”
在食堂里吃完晚饭，一波一边带着我逛校园，一边跟我讲起了他的故事：
“那个时候也想赚点钱，大三那年我把学费拿出来，又向陈鸿借了一半学费，凑齐了，到学校外面租了一套公寓房，再做日租、短租的生意。谁晓得那年大家都在做租房生意，房源比房客多，于是拼命压价格。我那套公寓签的租期是半年，前3个月还有学生来租，稍微赚了点钱，后3个月来租房的学生越来越少，于是我干脆和陈鸿搬了进去，自己住。等合同到期把房子退了，一算钱，赚了个零，忙了一场空。还害得自己吃了几个月的泡面，省钱交学费。
那个时候没钱啊，于是到了暑假我就去国美打工。卖电器嘛，反正就是站柜太，来顾客了，就跟他们介绍空调。这其中有一个女顾客，30多岁吧，妆化得像个鬼一样，头发烫得像座火焰山，上身只戴了个胸罩，下身裙子刚好遮住内裤。她每天都来我们店，挺着胸，扭着腰，绕着柜台走一圈。几个营业员忍不住笑，她就转过头说，笑什么笑，没看见过美女啊。每回经过我，都要朝我抛个暧昧的眼神，我就用我一身的浩然正气把它顶回去了。大概这么来了半个月，突然有一天她不来了，消失了，害得我怪想念她的。你知道每天站柜台很枯燥的，有那么一个人，你总归觉得日子还不算太乏味。
那天我突然接到我师母的电话，她在电话里哭着说，你导师出车祸了。我打了个的就过去了。走进病房，我倒吸一口凉气，妈的那个惨象啊，半个脑袋已经没了形状。我师母说，那天你导师开车，上桥的时候前面有一辆运木材的卡车，估计是那捆木材没系好，突然松了，没有罩住的木头全滑了出来，直接飞到了你导师的车窗上，这么粗一根圆木啊，一头就戳在了他的脑袋上。本来遇到这种事，我师母找谁也不会先找我的，那天也不凑巧，儿子在外地，我的两个师兄也都不在南京，我师母又不认识学校的领导，只好打了我的手机。我又是通知学校，又是在医院陪师母服侍导师，整整一个礼拜我导师昏迷不醒，我也在医院呆了一个礼拜，端屎端尿，烧水送饭，眼都没闭。第八天，我师母要我回学校休息，于是我就回了学校。结果，那天导师醒了，他醒来的时候看到周围站着我的师兄，还有学院的同事，唯独没有我。可想而知，那之后我一直受着他的冷遇。
（你师母就没有在你导师面前提到你在医院里服侍了他一个礼拜？）
唉，那个时候他们就感情不合了。我导师出院后不久，两个人就离婚了。她哪有什么心思讲我在她老公昏迷时做的事。
（你导师半个脑袋被撞歪了，还能结婚？）
手术的时候就整好容了么。而且他娶的又不是别人，是自己带的一个女研究生。我导师醒来后的那几天，都是她去服侍的。所以我师母就更不可能在导师面前提到我了。”
第二天我骑着一波那辆女式自行车，按着地图，自东向西从中山门骑到了中山路，从卫岗骑到了古平岗，穿过南大，转游南师大，前者让我想起了西溪——布局规整，棱角分明；后者让我想起了玉泉——高低错落，轻盈葱翠。我离开紫金港快半年了。杭州与南京有多少不同？这一路走来，有多少不同？
在南大的食堂吃完午饭，出门时有人塞给我一张宣传单，单子上说科技馆有一个人体标本展。到了科技馆，掏出已经过了期的学生证，卖票的小妹接过一看，“啊哟，浙大的跑这么老远啊。”
“啊，是啊，要毕业了么，所以好好地到处走一走。”我有些局促，只要说的是关涉利益的谎话，我总会感到局促。
“哦，对哦，不过你们这个时候也在写毕业论文吧？”
“唔——差不多写完了。”
“我日，你吃你的瓜子吧。”一波抓过一把瓜子，给我满上了茶水。
陈鸿只是在一旁嗑着瓜子。她是个白白净净、嗑瓜子也没声响的姑娘。
“骑车兜南京城兜得还爽吧？”
“兜得很爽。在自行车上能够完整地认识一座城市，骑车时你不会错过太多。”
“你知不知道当初我为了贴日租广告，可是骑着这辆车把南京城跑了遍，什么几角旮旯也没放过。那之前只知道几条街名，几个大区，后来我知道哪条巷子住的民工最多，哪幢居民楼会窜出一条恶狗，哪片街区小贩扎堆城管最爱出击。贴了一个月广告，我闭着眼睛骑车都能知道我要去哪。”
“吹牛。”陈鸿说。
“呵呵。其实我要是知道自己要去哪儿就好了。广告做得好，你要是知道自己要去哪儿，全世界都会为你让路。”
吃完饭，一波和陈鸿把我领到了他俩的租屋。租屋在一个居民小区，石板路、青砖房，两个老太在楼下剥着花生，一根低矮的电线绕过一棵茂密的大树，钻进了3幢灰旧的楼房。房子里的楼梯旧仄阴暗，房子里的屋子三室一厅，厅小得像个螺蛳壳，一波和陈鸿就住在其中的一间房里。
“其它两个屋住着谁？”
“两个女生。刚毕业都工作不久。有时候男朋友也会过来，我们一起包包饺子、煮煮挂面什么的。”
“真热闹。”
屋内没有什么摆设，一个席梦思床垫席地而放，床上堆着刚收下来的衣服和一对胸罩。椅子上放着一个搪瓷盆，盆里盛着汤水，几根泡面漂浮在上面，在日光灯下闪着油光。
“你毕业了怎么打算？”
“回嘉兴工作。南京我是不想呆了。”
“陈鸿怎么办？”我望着陈鸿，“你现在不是有工作吗？”
“跟他去嘉兴再重新找份工作呗。”她递给我洗过的一碗葡萄。
我伸手拿了一颗放在嘴里，我的味蕾告诉我，很甜。
晚上，我骑着车回到了南农。高低错落的校园终于让我失去了宿舍的方向。沿着树叶掩映的坡路往下走，在几幢楼之间来来回回，像是鬼打墙，就是在原地转圈。笃笃笃，突然听见皮鞋的清响，看见一个黑乎乎的人影朝我走来。我赶紧几步迎上去，“同学，我去研究生宿舍。怎么走啊？”
啪啪啪，皮鞋声一阵凌乱，黑影甩着辫子往前猛跑。
“同学，我不是坏人，你别紧张。”说完这话，我自己也忍不住笑了起来。
“哦。不是，不是。我没——你——”黑影跑出几步后，终于停了下来。我在一旁宿舍楼灯光的帮助下，终于看清了她是个戴着眼镜的姑娘，脸颊发红，喘着粗气。
“我找研究生宿舍，迷路了。”
“哦。你看见前面的亮光没有？那就是。”
2009年五月初
在金华看完陆川的《南京，南京》，我想，趁一波还在，去南京走一趟吧。六七岁的时候随父母去过，但现在已全然没了印象。可能我把南京跟苏州搞混了，可能我小时候根本就没有去过南京。我离开金华回到了家，老妈说，你大姨夫住院了，胃出血。
听老妈说，大姨娘18岁那年就被嫁到了盐官，那个时候外婆家穷，急着把家里的大女儿嫁出去好收聘礼。
大姨夫是个躁脾气的人，我小时候去你大姨娘家，最怕你大姨夫了。你大姨娘一说错话，就被你大姨夫骂，那妈只死逼。亏得你大姨娘脾气好，呵呵笑笑就顺过去了。老妈在去海宁的公交车上对我讲。
我望着窗外的油菜地，想起小时候一次在大姨夫家做客的时候，在地上撒泼打滚讨零食吃。那个时候，在家嘴馋时是不敢撒野的，怕我爸的鞋拔子飞过来，所以逢年过节到亲戚家，总要逮个机会发发威风，以零食（或更多的压岁钱）换和平，父母也不好发作。那天，我爸很释然地坐在一旁喝着茶，脸上没有一丝愠色。当我整个人被大姨夫拎起来头朝地的时候，我才明白了父亲的淡定。
“还要不要癞地滚？还要不要讨零食？”大姨夫抓着我的脚问道。
“不要了，不要了。”我哭着求饶道。
我大姐和我大哥平时都不怎么说话，一来我大哥就是个不大爱说话的人，二来我大姐年轻的时候被我大哥吓破胆子了。你看我大姐在我们家的时候唧唧呱呱那个能讲，在我大哥面前说话都小心翼翼的。离家之前我妈跟我爸讲起大姨夫的旧事。人么省得要死，肉都舍不得吃，一辈子做生活，做得身子败掉。
到了海宁的人民医院，见到了躺在床上的大姨夫，枯瘦得像根快烧到了头的火柴。我叫了声大姨夫，他插着导管的鼻子发出了一个含混的声音。
“大哥，不要起来。我给你带了鸽子，鲫鱼汤，还有一些菜。”老妈从包里拿出一个个盒子。
大姨夫摆摆手。
“小妹，你拿这么多菜做啥，拿回去给阿维吃。”大姨妈顺着大姨夫摆着的手说。
“大姐啊，这些菜放在家里又没人吃。这个汤专门为大哥做的，现在还热。大哥还没吃饭吧，来，喝点汤。”
“我这个病，吃什么都没用了。过两天就让我出院。”大姨夫有气无力地说。他发黑的脸颊像是两块深陷下去的峡谷，每说一个字，峡谷就往下塌陷一点。
我找到了病床床尾的摇手，转动着把床头往上升起了一些。大姨娘帮大姨夫坐了起来，我妈送过去汤盆和调羹。
我难受地看着大姨夫吃鱼汤，又难受地听到大姨娘悄悄对老妈说，他前几天就吵着要出院，说看这病等于往水里扔钱。
病房里的电视机无声地放着某个娱乐节目。我局促地坐在一张空着的病床上，看着大姨夫悉簌悉簌地喝着汤。
“是不是要出国了啊？”大姨娘问我，重重的盐官腔经由老妈的转译，我才明白过来。
“是啊。”
“去哪里读书？”
“英国。”
“英国……好啊。”重新躺回到床单底下的大姨夫虚弱地叹声道。
临走时，老妈又转头跟大姨娘和大姨夫叮嘱了几句。我走到大姨夫的病床前，想说些什么，却不由自主地伸出了一只手，大姨夫也从床单底下伸出一只后，手掌粗粝，看不到血色。我握住了他的手，像是握着一快开裂的毛坯砖。“大姨夫，我走了。”
他翻滚着喉结的喉咙里发出了一个含糊的声音。
我和老妈从医院里出来，在附近的街上转了一圈。老妈出入了几家布料铺子，都没有发现中意的料子。“还是回海盐找裁衣做吧，这里的料作贵死人了。”
五月中午的天已经很热了。大街上熙熙攘攘，朝北的旧街，镶牙、磨刀、搓钥匙、穿耳孔、敲打黄金首饰、买蜜糖金丝糕的小铺子静静地站在阴影里，“清仓甩卖”的服装店放着震耳欲聋的舞曲，门可罗雀，店员靠在门口安静地发着呆；朝南的新街，巨大的商业大楼反射着耀眼的阳光，大幅的广告上，一个画着浓浓眼影的女子轻启朱唇，姿态撩人地望着街南。
我和老妈拐进了街南的一家小吃店，叫了两碗雪菜鸡蛋面。屋子里热烘烘的，像是晒谷场，几个脚边堆着大包小包的姑娘，外套脱到一半，呼哧呼哧地喝着面汤。端菜的是个50岁上下、面无表情的女人，她系着围裙，缓慢地拖着步子，漫不经心地把两碗面端到我们桌上，然后又拖着步子缓缓地走到一旁，坐到门口的椅子上，面无表情地望着街外。
老妈把她碗里的鸡蛋夹给了我，自己咕噜咕噜把面吃完了。
妈妈，你回去的车怎么坐知不知道？我们从小吃店出来，来到附近的公交停靠点。
唉呀，我晓得。你快去火车站吧。她站到一块暴晒在太阳底下的站牌下。
你当真晓得？
车等歇就来的。
你站牌站反了。这个方向是去海宁的。对面那个才是回海盐。
唉呀，幸亏有儿子在身旁啊。
从南京火车站出来，眼前一片开阔，亮晃晃的，一泊湖水就在不远的地方。走到玄武湖绕了一圈，堤岸上坐满了人和行李。我又折回车站，坐在台阶上，看着各色各样的人从车站进进出出。一个穿着环卫服的老人从我身边经过，拎着一捆塑料袋走进一旁集装箱一般的蓝色房子，一个房间挨着一个房间，给里面的马桶换上新的一次性袋子。
不久一波就到了车站。他还是一身从淘宝买来的名牌，肩上搭着个腰包。
“我日，穿得真像老板。”
“我日，你怎么穿得像个民工啊。”
我俩上了空荡荡的公车，南京城的老房、新房，老街、旧街，像胶片在我眼前一张接着一张切换，一波跟我讲着这条街上曾经发生过斗殴，那条街上一个姑娘曾被几个恶棍少年打得跪地求饶。
“你这两天到我学校睡。陈鸿现在工作，我一直跟她外面住。我的床空着，被子已经给你晒过了，床单也给你换了新的。”
车子经过中山门，在一幅卫岗牛奶的巨幅广告前停了下来。下了车，没几步就走进了南农的校园：绿树葱葱，一幢大红色的砖房砌在路尽头的陡坡上。
来到一波的寝室，看到堆成小山的可乐瓶和啤酒瓶，还有埋在灰尘里的鞋袜和网线，好像刚刚经历过洪水和鼠疫。
“我日，我是你我也要搬出去住啊。”
“呵呵，你就凑活睡两晚吧。这里洗澡厕所没有热水，你自己用热得快烧。”
“没事，冷水就行。”
“你小心感冒，这水可凉。”
“没事，我比较耐操。”
在食堂里吃完晚饭，一波一边带着我逛校园，一边跟我讲起了他的故事：
“那个时候也想赚点钱，大三那年我把学费拿出来，又向陈鸿借了一半学费，凑齐了，到学校外面租了一套公寓房，再做日租、短租的生意。谁晓得那年大家都在做租房生意，房源比房客多，于是拼命压价格。我那套公寓签的租期是半年，前3个月还有学生来租，稍微赚了点钱，后3个月来租房的学生越来越少，于是我干脆和陈鸿搬了进去，自己住。等合同到期把房子退了，一算钱，赚了个零，忙了一场空。还害得自己吃了几个月的泡面，省钱交学费。
那个时候没钱啊，于是到了暑假我就去国美打工。卖电器嘛，反正就是站柜太，来顾客了，就跟他们介绍空调。这其中有一个女顾客，30多岁吧，妆化得像个鬼一样，头发烫得像座火焰山，上身只戴了个胸罩，下身裙子刚好遮住内裤。她每天都来我们店，挺着胸，扭着腰，绕着柜台走一圈。几个营业员忍不住笑，她就转过头说，笑什么笑，没看见过美女啊。每回经过我，都要朝我抛个暧昧的眼神，我就用我一身的浩然正气把它顶回去了。大概这么来了半个月，突然有一天她不来了，消失了，害得我怪想念她的。你知道每天站柜台很枯燥的，有那么一个人，你总归觉得日子还不算太乏味。
那天我突然接到我师母的电话，她在电话里哭着说，你导师出车祸了。我打了个的就过去了。走进病房，我倒吸一口凉气，妈的那个惨象啊，半个脑袋已经没了形状。我师母说，那天你导师开车，上桥的时候前面有一辆运木材的卡车，估计是那捆木材没系好，突然松了，没有罩住的木头全滑了出来，直接飞到了你导师的车窗上，这么粗一根圆木啊，一头就戳在了他的脑袋上。本来遇到这种事，我师母找谁也不会先找我的，那天也不凑巧，儿子在外地，我的两个师兄也都不在南京，我师母又不认识学校的领导，只好打了我的手机。我又是通知学校，又是在医院陪师母服侍导师，整整一个礼拜我导师昏迷不醒，我也在医院呆了一个礼拜，端屎端尿，烧水送饭，眼都没闭。第八天，我师母要我回学校休息，于是我就回了学校。结果，那天导师醒了，他醒来的时候看到周围站着我的师兄，还有学院的同事，唯独没有我。可想而知，那之后我一直受着他的冷遇。
（你师母就没有在你导师面前提到你在医院里服侍了他一个礼拜？）
唉，那个时候他们就感情不合了。我导师出院后不久，两个人就离婚了。她哪有什么心思讲我在她老公昏迷时做的事。
（你导师半个脑袋被撞歪了，还能结婚？）
手术的时候就整好容了么。而且他娶的又不是别人，是自己带的一个女研究生。我导师醒来后的那几天，都是她去服侍的。所以我师母就更不可能在导师面前提到我了。”
第二天我骑着一波那辆女式自行车，按着地图，自东向西从中山门骑到了中山路，从卫岗骑到了古平岗，穿过南大，转游南师大，前者让我想起了西溪——布局规整，棱角分明；后者让我想起了玉泉——高低错落，轻盈葱翠。我离开紫金港快半年了。杭州与南京有多少不同？这一路走来，有多少不同？
在南大的食堂吃完午饭，出门时有人塞给我一张宣传单，单子上说科技馆有一个人体标本展。到了科技馆，掏出已经过了期的学生证，卖票的小妹接过一看，“啊哟，浙大的跑这么老远啊。”
“啊，是啊，要毕业了么，所以好好地到处走一走。”我有些局促，只要说的是关涉利益的谎话，我总会感到局促。
“哦，对哦，不过你们这个时候也在写毕业论文吧？”
“唔——差不多写完了。”
小妹满脸微笑，我腾得一下觉得脸烧着了。
走进展厅，里面摆放着去了表皮、坦露着神经、腺体、内脏的人体标本。一具男性标本前，一个女生牵着男生的手，咯咯咯地笑。一具扒开了肌肉、露出了脊柱的标本前，一位穿着朴素的老者向他周围的人讲解着每块骨骼的名称和功能。“看看人其实也真的很可怜，说穿了，就是这么一堆肉，一堆骨头，就这么简单，哪有这么多附加的意义？你说是不是，小伙子？”老者转过头看着我，他一头乌发，脸上看不到一点苍老，他脚蹬布鞋，两股间宛若清风阵阵。
“我今天去了一个人体标本展。”和一波在饭店里等上菜的时候，我说起了在科技馆的所见，“我看到了人的胚胎经历的各种形态。1个月毛豆般大，两个月鱼苗般大，到8个月一团完整的肉体，你能看到婴儿透明的手指里幽蓝的血管。可要好好待弟妹。人流太他妈残忍了。”
“我日，你吃你的瓜子吧。”一波抓过一把瓜子，给我满上了茶水。
陈鸿只是在一旁嗑着瓜子。她是个白白净净、嗑瓜子也没声响的姑娘。
“骑车兜南京城兜得还爽吧？”
“兜得很爽。在自行车上能够完整地认识一座城市，骑车时你不会错过太多。”
“你知不知道当初我为了贴日租广告，可是骑着这辆车把南京城跑了遍，什么几角旮旯也没放过。那之前只知道几条街名，几个大区，后来我知道哪条巷子住的民工最多，哪幢居民楼会窜出一条恶狗，哪片街区小贩扎堆城管最爱出击。贴了一个月广告，我闭着眼睛骑车都能知道我要去哪。”
“吹牛。”陈鸿说。
“呵呵。其实我要是知道自己要去哪儿就好了。广告做得好，你要是知道自己要去哪儿，全世界都会为你让路。”
吃完饭，一波和陈鸿把我领到了他俩的租屋。租屋在一个居民小区，石板路、青砖房，两个老太在楼下剥着花生，一根低矮的电线绕过一棵茂密的大树，钻进了3幢灰旧的楼房。房子里的楼梯旧仄阴暗，房子里的屋子三室一厅，厅小得像个螺蛳壳，一波和陈鸿就住在其中的一间房里。
“其它两个屋住着谁？”
“两个女生。刚毕业都工作不久。有时候男朋友也会过来，我们一起包包饺子、煮煮挂面什么的。”
“真热闹。”
屋内没有什么摆设，一个席梦思床垫席地而放，床上堆着刚收下来的衣服和一对胸罩。椅子上放着一个搪瓷盆，盆里盛着汤水，几根泡面漂浮在上面，在日光灯下闪着油光。
“你毕业了怎么打算？”
“回嘉兴工作。南京我是不想呆了。”
“陈鸿怎么办？”我望着陈鸿，“你现在不是有工作吗？”
“跟他去嘉兴再重新找份工作呗。”她递给我洗过的一碗葡萄。
我伸手拿了一颗放在嘴里，我的味蕾告诉我，很甜。
晚上，我骑着车回到了南农。高低错落的校园终于让我失去了宿舍的方向。沿着树叶掩映的坡路往下走，在几幢楼之间来来回回，像是鬼打墙，就是在原地转圈。笃笃笃，突然听见皮鞋的清响，看见一个黑乎乎的人影朝我走来。我赶紧几步迎上去，“同学，我去研究生宿舍。怎么走啊？”
啪啪啪，皮鞋声一阵凌乱，黑影甩着辫子往前猛跑。
“同学，我不是坏人，你别紧张。”说完这话，我自己也忍不住笑了起来。
“哦。不是，不是。我没——你——”黑影跑出几步后，终于停了下来。我在一旁宿舍楼灯光的帮助下，终于看清了她是个戴着眼镜的姑娘，脸颊发红，喘着粗气。
“我找研究生宿舍，迷路了。”
“哦。你看见前面的亮光没有？那就是。”
2009年五月初
a love letter
Joanna Newsom, or shall I call you awesome Fairianna?
You play the harp like Athena
and sings with a voice so sharp like a lark
that flew through the transparent window in the library
guiding me all the way to find the "Kay" for elly
How shall I thank you?
Shall I confess that I love you?
But how can I say this word when you can't hear me?
So I decide not to SAY it
but to compose it letter by letterlike what you do to your instrument
With 46 strings you pluck out a fairy tale
With 26 letters I wrote you a love letter
2010年1月18日星期一
Blue Bone
The song was written and sung by Cui Jian, from his album Show You Colour. Translated by me.
I don't feel sorry
nor am I pissed off
I've made the basic efforts
and received the basic education
I'm a spring flower
blooming in the spring accidentally
My father told me that if i wanted to be somebody
I would have to study hard and get high marks
but I didn't buy it then
now I still don't buy it
For me the meaning of life depends on individual independence and personal fulfillment
So I got myself a job before graduation
I wanted to do what i liked most
regardless of how much i earned
So I turned out to be nobody but a writer
at first i just wanted to get the complaints off my chest with a pen
but who knows that once started i just couldn’t' stop
as an old saying goes that a living person won't be killed by the filling urine in the bladder
as long as i've got my pen
nobody is going to stand in my way
this is my cause
where my interest lies
can there be any job more interesting than this one
which doesn't keep me busy due to the little amount of money
the remaining time it allows me to ponder upon the meaning of life
the tripod can stand still because it has three legs
without any one of which it will move unsteadily
my life must also have three factors so I can grasp the happiness
it is the happiness that people are living for
the first one is a cause as mentioned above
work happily and earn money that will support yourself
speak out and write down what you want to say, say it completely
the beautiful emptiness will only appear when it has been done completely
the second one is health
for if your body goes ill
you can't enjoy what you get
so I keep running three times a week plus swimming
only when you do thinking during sports can it turn your mind on
the third one is of course love
in fact girls have no idea of the lads' weakness
in days of no love, you have more mates
a man with more time at hand makes more friends
the lads can either tell truths or lies when they are talking about love
but it can only be true when his heart twitches in front of a girl
when you are truly in love, theories are all bogus
the pain is not bogus when you break up
why no body has ever told me
that someone is after me
is it that I'm too busy and my feeling goes dumb
or is it because that my desire goes wild when body gains its independence
anyway, the principle of "three legs" sounds simple
but it's hard to practice even for you to get two of them
for now money and women all demand a healthy body
who can tell me how much effort i have to make to find my love?
red, yellow and blue
represent man's soul, body and mind respectively
now the three colors are all buried by mud
just like the present society which is like a dye vat
the surrounding yellow flesh have blinded our souls
I have to distort myself so that I can look up
and see there is a blue patch of sky rarely seen
red has polluted the blood
I can't tell which is warm, blood or heart?
the sunshine and lights are both cast upon my body
i will either choose solitude or downfall
the blue sky has given me infinite rationality
it looks bitter to bear
but only the infinity can give me the endless power
father, I'm just a spring flower
that grows accidentally in the spring
because my bone is blue
(trumpet blown)
I don't feel sorry
nor am I pissed off
I've made the basic efforts
and received the basic education
I'm a spring flower
blooming in the spring accidentally
My father told me that if i wanted to be somebody
I would have to study hard and get high marks
but I didn't buy it then
now I still don't buy it
For me the meaning of life depends on individual independence and personal fulfillment
So I got myself a job before graduation
I wanted to do what i liked most
regardless of how much i earned
So I turned out to be nobody but a writer
at first i just wanted to get the complaints off my chest with a pen
but who knows that once started i just couldn’t' stop
as an old saying goes that a living person won't be killed by the filling urine in the bladder
as long as i've got my pen
nobody is going to stand in my way
this is my cause
where my interest lies
can there be any job more interesting than this one
which doesn't keep me busy due to the little amount of money
the remaining time it allows me to ponder upon the meaning of life
the tripod can stand still because it has three legs
without any one of which it will move unsteadily
my life must also have three factors so I can grasp the happiness
it is the happiness that people are living for
the first one is a cause as mentioned above
work happily and earn money that will support yourself
speak out and write down what you want to say, say it completely
the beautiful emptiness will only appear when it has been done completely
the second one is health
for if your body goes ill
you can't enjoy what you get
so I keep running three times a week plus swimming
only when you do thinking during sports can it turn your mind on
the third one is of course love
in fact girls have no idea of the lads' weakness
in days of no love, you have more mates
a man with more time at hand makes more friends
the lads can either tell truths or lies when they are talking about love
but it can only be true when his heart twitches in front of a girl
when you are truly in love, theories are all bogus
the pain is not bogus when you break up
why no body has ever told me
that someone is after me
is it that I'm too busy and my feeling goes dumb
or is it because that my desire goes wild when body gains its independence
anyway, the principle of "three legs" sounds simple
but it's hard to practice even for you to get two of them
for now money and women all demand a healthy body
who can tell me how much effort i have to make to find my love?
red, yellow and blue
represent man's soul, body and mind respectively
now the three colors are all buried by mud
just like the present society which is like a dye vat
the surrounding yellow flesh have blinded our souls
I have to distort myself so that I can look up
and see there is a blue patch of sky rarely seen
red has polluted the blood
I can't tell which is warm, blood or heart?
the sunshine and lights are both cast upon my body
i will either choose solitude or downfall
the blue sky has given me infinite rationality
it looks bitter to bear
but only the infinity can give me the endless power
father, I'm just a spring flower
that grows accidentally in the spring
because my bone is blue
(trumpet blown)
Zhou Yunpeng and one of his songs
The following words are written by Zhou Yunpeng, a Chinese blind folk singer, as an introductory piece for his album The Chinese Kids. Translated by me.
------------
A snake sees what moves; a dog's world is black&white; in a dragonfly's eyes, there're a thousand suns; and in the deep sea, many fish's eyes have regressed to two white dots.
It's our destiny to see what we can see, and not to see what we can't see. I love my own destiny, because she is the closest to me, and she is the unique door that opens and shuts only for me.
There are some remote places you will never go in your whole life. In Sichuan, there is a town called "White Jade"; in Tibet, there is a place called "Gonna Go, too", "YirChang" in Xinjiang, "Torn Buttonwood" in Hunan, all these names strike one's heart. They have faces and souls, and they have their secret stories lying between the ends of the world, hospitably summoning me to come to listen. But life is short and bitter, I may not have the time to listen to all the stories. If I don't have such a chance in this life, then let's shake hands with the mountains and waters between us.
I was walking on the street, and wanted to sing some words, and just at that moment, a person nearby sang those words out. What is the mythical strength that grasps two unknown hearts? Music is the ghost that is lingering above us. Whoever he grasps starts singing like crazy. But what should I do to make me be grasped by him in his hand forever?
I walked through all the land, or lived in a hut like a snail. I indulge myself in wine in the day and chant the buddha sutras in the night. I cry out the music, trying to drag myself out of the real life, but only ending up in vain. I bury my head in life, raising it to take a look attentively while I'm walking. Music is not in the air. It's in the soil, living next to the ant's door, oppositie to the snail's home. When my road comes to an end, or when we're not able to speak, music, may you come upon us.
A Letter from Allen Ginsberg's Mother
Flowers
Blue flowers, red flowers, and green flowers
Flowers
White flowers, yellow flowers and black flowers
Allen
Go get married,
take the key and don't take drugs any more
The vegetables were bought
Here they are: carrots, tomatoes and red peppers
I'm well in the asylumn, everything is OK
I receive electric strikes everyday
now I have no troubles with my mind
I have fish, meat and milk for my meal
The glass here is not dirty at all, not at all
Go get married, Allen
take the key and don't take drugs any more
The key is in the sunshine
beside the fence
on the windowsill in the sunshine
Allen
============
蛇只能看见运动着的东西，狗的世界是黑白的，蜻蜓的眼睛里有一千个太阳。很多深海里的鱼，眼睛蜕化成了两个白点。能看见什么，不能看见什么，那是我们的宿命。我热爱自己的命运，她跟我最亲，她是专为我开，专为我关的独一无二的门。某些遥远的地方，一辈子都不可能去。四川有个县叫“白玉”，西藏昌都有个地方叫“也要走”，新疆的“叶尔羌”，湖南的“苍梧”，这些地名撼人心魄，有神态有灵魄，在天之涯海之角他们有隐秘的故事，殷勤地招呼我过去听。但人生苦短，我大概没有时间听所有的故事，如果今生无缘，那就隔着山山水水握一握手。
走在街上，想唱上一句，恰巧旁边的人唱出了那句歌。是什么样的神秘的力量抓住了两颗互不相识的心？音乐是游荡在我们头上的幽灵，它抓住谁，谁就发了疯似的想唱歌，可我怎么才能被它永远抓在手里？我走遍大地或是长久地蜗居一处，白日纵酒黑夜诵经，我呼喊音乐，把我从我的现实生活中拔出来，但常常落空，我只有埋头于生活里，专注地走一步看一步。音乐不在空中，它在泥土里，在蚂蚁的隔壁，在蜗牛的对门。当我们无路可走的时候，当我们说不出来的时候，音乐，愿你降临。
——周云蓬于香山
----------------------------
艾伦·金斯堡妈妈的一封信
花
有蓝的花，有红的花，还有绿的花。
花
有白的花，有黄的花，还有黑的花。
爱伦，结婚吧，拿着钥匙不要再吸毒了。
菜已经买好了，有萝卜西红柿，还有红辣椒。
我在疯人院里一切都很好，每天做着电击，没有烦恼。
每顿饭有鱼有肉还有牛奶。
这里的玻璃一点都不脏。
艾伦，结婚吧，
拿着钥匙不要再吸毒了，
钥匙在阳光下，
在栅栏旁，
在阳光下的窗台上。
------------
It's our destiny to see what we can see, and not to see what we can't see. I love my own destiny, because she is the closest to me, and she is the unique door that opens and shuts only for me.
There are some remote places you will never go in your whole life. In Sichuan, there is a town called "White Jade"; in Tibet, there is a place called "Gonna Go, too", "YirChang" in Xinjiang, "Torn Buttonwood" in Hunan, all these names strike one's heart. They have faces and souls, and they have their secret stories lying between the ends of the world, hospitably summoning me to come to listen. But life is short and bitter, I may not have the time to listen to all the stories. If I don't have such a chance in this life, then let's shake hands with the mountains and waters between us.
I was walking on the street, and wanted to sing some words, and just at that moment, a person nearby sang those words out. What is the mythical strength that grasps two unknown hearts? Music is the ghost that is lingering above us. Whoever he grasps starts singing like crazy. But what should I do to make me be grasped by him in his hand forever?
I walked through all the land, or lived in a hut like a snail. I indulge myself in wine in the day and chant the buddha sutras in the night. I cry out the music, trying to drag myself out of the real life, but only ending up in vain. I bury my head in life, raising it to take a look attentively while I'm walking. Music is not in the air. It's in the soil, living next to the ant's door, oppositie to the snail's home. When my road comes to an end, or when we're not able to speak, music, may you come upon us.
A Letter from Allen Ginsberg's Mother
Flowers
Blue flowers, red flowers, and green flowers
Flowers
White flowers, yellow flowers and black flowers
Allen
Go get married,
take the key and don't take drugs any more
The vegetables were bought
Here they are: carrots, tomatoes and red peppers
I'm well in the asylumn, everything is OK
I receive electric strikes everyday
now I have no troubles with my mind
I have fish, meat and milk for my meal
The glass here is not dirty at all, not at all
Go get married, Allen
take the key and don't take drugs any more
The key is in the sunshine
beside the fence
on the windowsill in the sunshine
Allen
============
蛇只能看见运动着的东西，狗的世界是黑白的，蜻蜓的眼睛里有一千个太阳。很多深海里的鱼，眼睛蜕化成了两个白点。能看见什么，不能看见什么，那是我们的宿命。我热爱自己的命运，她跟我最亲，她是专为我开，专为我关的独一无二的门。某些遥远的地方，一辈子都不可能去。四川有个县叫“白玉”，西藏昌都有个地方叫“也要走”，新疆的“叶尔羌”，湖南的“苍梧”，这些地名撼人心魄，有神态有灵魄，在天之涯海之角他们有隐秘的故事，殷勤地招呼我过去听。但人生苦短，我大概没有时间听所有的故事，如果今生无缘，那就隔着山山水水握一握手。
走在街上，想唱上一句，恰巧旁边的人唱出了那句歌。是什么样的神秘的力量抓住了两颗互不相识的心？音乐是游荡在我们头上的幽灵，它抓住谁，谁就发了疯似的想唱歌，可我怎么才能被它永远抓在手里？我走遍大地或是长久地蜗居一处，白日纵酒黑夜诵经，我呼喊音乐，把我从我的现实生活中拔出来，但常常落空，我只有埋头于生活里，专注地走一步看一步。音乐不在空中，它在泥土里，在蚂蚁的隔壁，在蜗牛的对门。当我们无路可走的时候，当我们说不出来的时候，音乐，愿你降临。
——周云蓬于香山
----------------------------
艾伦·金斯堡妈妈的一封信
花
有蓝的花，有红的花，还有绿的花。
花
有白的花，有黄的花，还有黑的花。
爱伦，结婚吧，拿着钥匙不要再吸毒了。
菜已经买好了，有萝卜西红柿，还有红辣椒。
我在疯人院里一切都很好，每天做着电击，没有烦恼。
每顿饭有鱼有肉还有牛奶。
这里的玻璃一点都不脏。
艾伦，结婚吧，
拿着钥匙不要再吸毒了，
钥匙在阳光下，
在栅栏旁，
在阳光下的窗台上。
If you were a barbarian's daughter
These two poems are written by Xu HuSheng; translated by me, edited by Robert Berold
-----------
Just You
Not books, not life, not mankind --
it was just you, river -- the wild grass on your bank
your village, your trees with their robust branches,
your town, your bridges, the boats beneath your bridges –
it was you that brought me enlightenment.
Your pool choked with shrivelled twigs,
your shrinking pool, your bumpy gravel road
your seven-storey yellow cement pagoda
your shipyard buried under a field of vegetables –
all of these, and your irresistible blue-cold sky.
It's not because my childhood and youth lie here
or because memories being here revives memories
or because I'm tired of the ungrateful insensitive city
these reasons are too shallow and intangible –
It's because of you, you who opened my eyes.
I see your true face as if for the very first time
as I press against the railings of the bridge –
I can't get enough of you, wide river –
I walk from the dilapidated street to your deserted riverbank –
There’s nowhere in the world like you glistening and shining.
--------------------
If you were a barbarian's daughter
If you were a barbarian's daughter
you would already be playing with little animals
you would already recognize a dozen wild flowers
before you learned how to count in numbers
Gradually you'd have absorbed much knowledge
you'd spontaneously accept laws and rules that are unquestionable
you'd understand how the colours of the clouds change with the wind and rain
you'd know how to tell which boy was the most trustworthy and bravest
You wouldn't need to learn how to correct mankind's tendency to evil
because you never had any evil in you. I see in you
how good human nature is, beyond my imagination –
human beings used to be as good as you.
You'd grow up like a beautiful wild cat
then marry a handsome young man.
Your eyes would be pure, your bodies healthy
Your happiness would evaporate anxiety, balance desire.
My prayer is for a big mist to descend on where you live, to cover every inch
and shield you from the civilized people who bring books, clothes and new thoughts.
Or perhaps they have already bewitched everybody, perhaps even you –
see, there they go, with their contemptible satisfaction.
Only ruthless people and poets can live happily among them
ruthless people because they don't know how to pity,
poets because they don't feel remorse. Poets regard pain
as enlightenment, they turn regret into poetry.
If it wasn’t for the eternity in every passing second
the meaninglessness of existence would overwhelm even the most creative soul –
if it were not for the angels of love, who still play in the world,
if it were not for the world as it is reflected in your bright eyes…
============
启示
不是书本，不是生活，不是人类，
是你，是你的河，是你的岸，岸上的荒草，
是你的村庄，是你的树，树的虬枝，
是你的小镇，是你的桥，桥下的船……
突然之间带来启示。
你淤满枯枝、日益萎缩的池塘，
你坑坑洼洼的石子公路，
你水泥砌成的七层黄色宝塔，
你不复存在、已经被菜田覆盖的修船厂，
像你青冷的天空一样令人着迷。
不是因为这里有我的童年和少年，
不是因为我脑海里被唤醒了什么记忆，
不是因为我厌倦了薄情寡义的城市，
这些解释都太过肤浅、太过不着边际，
是你，是你将我的双眼开启。
仿佛第一次看到了你本来的样子，
我长久地扶着桥头的栏杆，
仿佛永远也看不厌这开阔的河面。
我从破败的街市一直走到无人的河堤，
世上再没有第二个地方像你如此光彩熠熠。
-----------------
“如果你是一个野蛮人的女儿……”
如果你是一个野蛮人的女儿，
你应该还在和小动物们一起玩耍，
在学会数数之前，
你已经认得几十种野花。
你会渐渐掌握很多知识，
你会自然而然地接受一些不可怀疑的戒律，
你会懂得辨别云的色彩和风雨的关系，
你会知道哪个少年最值得信赖、最有勇气。
你不需要学习如何改正人性的恶意，
你从未接触过它们。在你身上，我看见
人性何其善良，真是难以想象，
我们也曾经这样。
你会像一只漂亮的小野猫那样成长，
然后嫁给一个诚实英俊的青年，
你们的目光纯净，你们的身体健康，
快乐多过焦虑，满足多过妄想。
最好大雾笼罩四周，处处大雾升腾，
挡住那些文明人，他们带来书本、衣服和新的思想，
他们弄得所有人，甚至连你在内，都对他们着了迷，
然后，带着可耻的满足，一走了之。
在他们那里，只有恶棍和诗人可以无忧无虑地生存，
恶棍不知道怜悯，诗人不懂得悔恨——
他们把痛苦看作启示，
他们把悔恨也变成诗句。
如果不是每一个瞬间尚且包含着永恒，
最有创造力的灵魂也无法忍受这无意义的生存。
要不是你们这些小爱神还在这个世界上嬉戏，
要不是这个世界还映在你亮晶晶的眼里……
-----------
Just You
Not books, not life, not mankind --
it was just you, river -- the wild grass on your bank
your village, your trees with their robust branches,
your town, your bridges, the boats beneath your bridges –
it was you that brought me enlightenment.
Your pool choked with shrivelled twigs,
your shrinking pool, your bumpy gravel road
your seven-storey yellow cement pagoda
your shipyard buried under a field of vegetables –
all of these, and your irresistible blue-cold sky.
It's not because my childhood and youth lie here
or because memories being here revives memories
or because I'm tired of the ungrateful insensitive city
these reasons are too shallow and intangible –
It's because of you, you who opened my eyes.
I see your true face as if for the very first time
as I press against the railings of the bridge –
I can't get enough of you, wide river –
I walk from the dilapidated street to your deserted riverbank –
There’s nowhere in the world like you glistening and shining.
--------------------
If you were a barbarian's daughter
If you were a barbarian's daughter
you would already be playing with little animals
you would already recognize a dozen wild flowers
before you learned how to count in numbers
Gradually you'd have absorbed much knowledge
you'd spontaneously accept laws and rules that are unquestionable
you'd understand how the colours of the clouds change with the wind and rain
you'd know how to tell which boy was the most trustworthy and bravest
You wouldn't need to learn how to correct mankind's tendency to evil
because you never had any evil in you. I see in you
how good human nature is, beyond my imagination –
human beings used to be as good as you.
You'd grow up like a beautiful wild cat
then marry a handsome young man.
Your eyes would be pure, your bodies healthy
Your happiness would evaporate anxiety, balance desire.
My prayer is for a big mist to descend on where you live, to cover every inch
and shield you from the civilized people who bring books, clothes and new thoughts.
Or perhaps they have already bewitched everybody, perhaps even you –
see, there they go, with their contemptible satisfaction.
Only ruthless people and poets can live happily among them
ruthless people because they don't know how to pity,
poets because they don't feel remorse. Poets regard pain
as enlightenment, they turn regret into poetry.
If it wasn’t for the eternity in every passing second
the meaninglessness of existence would overwhelm even the most creative soul –
if it were not for the angels of love, who still play in the world,
if it were not for the world as it is reflected in your bright eyes…
============
启示
不是书本，不是生活，不是人类，
是你，是你的河，是你的岸，岸上的荒草，
是你的村庄，是你的树，树的虬枝，
是你的小镇，是你的桥，桥下的船……
突然之间带来启示。
你淤满枯枝、日益萎缩的池塘，
你坑坑洼洼的石子公路，
你水泥砌成的七层黄色宝塔，
你不复存在、已经被菜田覆盖的修船厂，
像你青冷的天空一样令人着迷。
不是因为这里有我的童年和少年，
不是因为我脑海里被唤醒了什么记忆，
不是因为我厌倦了薄情寡义的城市，
这些解释都太过肤浅、太过不着边际，
是你，是你将我的双眼开启。
仿佛第一次看到了你本来的样子，
我长久地扶着桥头的栏杆，
仿佛永远也看不厌这开阔的河面。
我从破败的街市一直走到无人的河堤，
世上再没有第二个地方像你如此光彩熠熠。
-----------------
“如果你是一个野蛮人的女儿……”
如果你是一个野蛮人的女儿，
你应该还在和小动物们一起玩耍，
在学会数数之前，
你已经认得几十种野花。
你会渐渐掌握很多知识，
你会自然而然地接受一些不可怀疑的戒律，
你会懂得辨别云的色彩和风雨的关系，
你会知道哪个少年最值得信赖、最有勇气。
你不需要学习如何改正人性的恶意，
你从未接触过它们。在你身上，我看见
人性何其善良，真是难以想象，
我们也曾经这样。
你会像一只漂亮的小野猫那样成长，
然后嫁给一个诚实英俊的青年，
你们的目光纯净，你们的身体健康，
快乐多过焦虑，满足多过妄想。
最好大雾笼罩四周，处处大雾升腾，
挡住那些文明人，他们带来书本、衣服和新的思想，
他们弄得所有人，甚至连你在内，都对他们着了迷，
然后，带着可耻的满足，一走了之。
在他们那里，只有恶棍和诗人可以无忧无虑地生存，
恶棍不知道怜悯，诗人不懂得悔恨——
他们把痛苦看作启示，
他们把悔恨也变成诗句。
如果不是每一个瞬间尚且包含着永恒，
最有创造力的灵魂也无法忍受这无意义的生存。
要不是你们这些小爱神还在这个世界上嬉戏，
要不是这个世界还映在你亮晶晶的眼里……
Witness to a Heretic --conversation with a grass-root theologian
The original story is written by Guo Yukuan. Translated by me, edited by Robert Berold.
---------------
I went to the village to do field research with the local CCPPCC (Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference) and friends from the Poverty Alleviation bureau. My initial research objective was to get an idea of how the 'forest restoration from farmland' project was going. When I was in Qunming, people told me that there were quite a few bewitched pseudo-religious cult followers who deliberately acted against the government. After having arrived in Wuding, the local people told me that there were many disciples of this 'off-mainstream religion', and that they were very stubborn. However, most of the local people said those 'off-mainstream religion' followers were not bad people, for they didn't do anything bad; they are just too obstinate to change their minds when they ought to, and some people call them 'nutters'.
This intrigued me greatly. People told me about the nutters' glorious achievements, which,on first hearing, were hard to believe. According to one story, the provincial governor took charge of some of impoverished ethnic villages in the deep forest in order to alleviate poverty there, but the nutters didn't cooperate. They didn't want to develop the economy. They never set foot on the roads that the government built. They never drank a drop of the tap water that the government installed at their homes, instead, they carried on as before, walking down the hill and carrying water up on their shoulders. That reminded me of the Amish people in the US.
Early in the morning we left Wuding by jeep. For about one and half an hour we were bumping along a muddy road. Finally we came to a place called "Leech Bamboo". It was a Miao ethnic village on the top of a mountain. Its name reminded us of the idiom "poor mountain and devilish water". The conditions for irrigation there were poor indeed. The only cropland was on the top, and even there one could only grow some wheat and barley at the mercy of weather. There were no tall trees except for some dwarf pines only as high as a child.
Obviously, the "forest restoration from farmland" project hadn't brought any benefit to the village. It was hard to imagine why would people choose such a place to live. How did they manage to make a living? I thought about how this related to the name of "Wuding" (meaning "peace after military suppression"), and I guessed that these people were the descendants of the Miao, who, after military suppression after being defeated in the historical war with the Han, were forced into the deep forest.
In "Leech Bamboo", I met the legendary leader of the "off-mainstream religion" Zhang Zhimin. Friends from the local Chinese Christian church (full name Chinese Christian Church Three-self Protestant Movement, a government-controlled church) called Zhang and his people "heaven-attained", for they claimed to have realized the heaven on earth. Compared with those who described it as a pseudo-religious cult, this nickname was not vicious, perhaps just a little derisive. The official statistics by the government said there were 51 "heaven-attained" members, but the actual number was larger. Since Zhang Zhimin had a reputation for his indifference to officials from outside, my friends were not sure whether he was willing to talk to me or not.
The moment I saw him working in the field, I was quite shocked. He was small, dark-skinned and thin. He looked like a man with many stories. Although covered in tattered clothes, he had an air of dignity and decency. He rubbed his hands against his clothes, and shook hands with me humbly, but he sized me up as if he was my superior. He stared at me for about half a minute, and asked me before I even said anything: 'What is it you want to know?' Then he said, 'Follow me.'
He led me to a flat area on the top of the hill. We sat down on the ground. The village director, Zhang Zhihui and my friends from the government all sat down 7 or 8 meters away. Zhang Zhimin didn't regard himself as a religious leader, but apparently the villagers all respected him. The village director was as humble as a student in front of him.
Zhang had great confidence in his religious belief. Despite never having been to school, and being so illiterate that he could not even write his own name, he had learned the Bible mainly by letting people read it to him. He had memorized the Bible on first hearing and he had an outstanding ability to recite and chant it paragraph by paragraph.
We chatted for about 2 hours. I had to admit that after talking with him, I wouldn't call him a "nutter" any more. Rather, I had full respect for him. Though he had received little education, Zhang had the compassion of Martin Luther, and was something of an intellectual genius.
Later my friend who was there with me told me in privacy that they had met Zhang Zhimin many times, and always thought he was just a crazy old man, but today he had heard Zhang talk more sensibly than he had ever heard before.
----------------
Guo: I've heard that you call yourself a Christian, but at the same time you don't recognize the authority of the Chinese Christian Church. How could it be? When did all this start?
Zhang: I've been a Christian since I was a little boy. During the Cultural Revolution, all the Christians here were oppressed. But later we could show our belief in public. Since the 1980s, I started studying history, astronomy and geography all by myself and formed some thoughts of my own. Then I gradually distanced myself from the Chinese Christian Church because of my different views.
Guo: What is the fundamental difference between your view and the view of the Chinese Christian Church?
Zhang: Some of their views seem like superstition. I don't think there is a heaven up in the sky. Heaven is built by people. I believe Jesus Christ was born on earth. He was a human being just as we are. He was enlightened, but he was not sent by God. And I don't think what's said in the Bible is true in real life, like "the moon shall fade; the sun shall fall". I don't think this is what the Bible was about originally. Also the claim that man will be resurrected, that doesn't make sense. If people resurrected, the earth would be overpopulated.
Guo: But isn't it contradictory that on the one hand, you call yourself a christian, but on the other, you doubt the Bible?
Zhang: I studied the Bible for its philosophical, scientific and spiritual sense. I understand the Bible, while those who claim they can recite the Bible word by word don't understand it at all. Several years ago, the Chinese Christian Church organized for us to visit them. They did this with the best intention, because they thought that we had lived in the mountains too long to know what was going on in the outside world, where there were many high buildings that I'd never seen in my life. In Shanghai, I met a theology professor. But I don't think many of his interpretations of the Bible were profound. He told me that the christian heaven is more glorious than the most beautiful country in the world. I didn't contradict him, but I knew he was wrong even he was a professor in a high position.
Guo: Everybody has his own understanding of the Christianity. Everybody may have a god of his own. Why did you have to separate yourself from the Chinese Christian Church?
Zhang: The Church saw us as nonconformists. Well, we don't argue with that. We don't obey the regulations set by the church. Choir, weekly prayer, sabbath, holy communion, baptism, we do none of them.
Guo: A religion surely requires both ceremonial rituals without and spiritual experience within. Why would you go against all these rituals?
Zhang: When those superficial forms become the standards by which one group criticizes the other, then isn't that group the same as the Pharisees? Jesus Christ detested this hypocrisy. Every Sunday I have to go to the market. I can't rest on that day. The Chinese Church has a lot of useless rules, including saying you have to endorse the government and the party's leadership. This is not very christian. A real christian doesn't act like that. The Christian Philadelphia Church revolted when they had to, Abraham didn't obey his father, David didn't obey Saul; Jesus didn't obey Moses; Martin Luther didn't obey the Pope. What christians should follow is the call from their own hearts, not Caesar's laws. So a christian like me is different from those in the church.
Guo: Did you feel the call from your heart then?
Zhang: Yes, I did feel a call, the call from Wang Zhimin.
Guo: Who's Wang Zhimin?
Zhang: He used to be the clergyman here. He was doing good all his life, and was loved by the poor people of Miao ethnicity. But after 1949 the Communist Party oppressed him, because he refused to salute Mao's portrait, and also refused to report his own thoughts to the party leaders. It's not that he was against the party, but he considered it a pseudo-religious cult if it forced people to believe in it. No matter how they threatened him, beat him or threw him into jail, he insisted that he would not worship idols. Wang Zhimin was beaten to death in the Rultural Revolution by the Communist Party on the false charge that he once led a militia group and killed seven Red Army soldiers. In fact, he wasn't involved in that incident at all. His assisstant Zhang Zhiqing was also tortured to death in jail. Wang was a prophet who suffered because of people's stupidity. He's a real christian. Now he is resurrected, not in his body, but in his spirit that relives in me. I felt his call, so I decided to carry his spirit on.
Guo: But today is different from yesterday. Those extreme actions taken in Mao's time are even self-criticized by members of the Communist Party today. To my knowledge, don't the christians have the practice of forgiveness? I heard that the government came here to alleviate poverty, but you refused to take their support. Why? Isn't that a bit extreme?
Zhang: They don't feel any remorse. Instead, they make propaganda about how glorious, how correct, and how great they are. I swore in my heart by the blood of Wang Zhimin for which they are responsible, that I would never cooperate with them unless they admitted their guilt.
Guo: But you still live in Chinese society after all, how can that be possible if you don't cooperate?
Zhang: We refuse to pay taxes, and don't want anything from the government. In the old days, the government suppressed the farmers heavily. They never did anything good for us. They would demand tax payment even when we killed a pig. They were no better than a bunch of bandits. So we decided that we wouldn't pay taxes. The officials didn't dare to bother me, but they took away the pigs and oxen belonging to my brothers, and tore down their houses. We didn't rebel, because we don't like violence. We don't believe that fighting is ever a solution. Nevertheless, we don't pay taxes to the government. We tried to reason with them, but they never listened. We just had to tolerate and pray.
Guo: If this continues, there will be clashes sooner or later, won't there?
Zhang: There have never been clashes. We don't want clashes. However, there was one widely-known incident. It happened in 1992. My son went to the mountain for firewood and the village director with his followers came after him, burned my horse cart. We went to the provincial government to protest by sitting peacefully there. If they had detained any of us, we would have gone to jail together. Finally the government apologized, and refunded me a horse cart.
Guo: Why didn't you accept their help when the government came to help you out of poverty? Isn't it a good thing to improve your life?
Zhang: We are the children of heaven on earth. We work hard and care for each other in brotherhood and sisterhood. Though we don't live in high buildings, we enjoy our peace and freedom. We don't want to be enslaved by the government, or their pity. (For that reason, the local people called them the "heaven-attained" group)
Guo: I heard that you don't agree with the single child policy. I think your disagreement makes a sense for your poor living conditions here.
Zhang: We don't accept any laws made by the Communist Party. We only go by our conscience. I opposed the single birth law in the past, because a child is a gift from God. But now I realize that too much population is not a good thing. We would run out of land if there were too many people. So we' re willing to control our birth rate because of this awareness. It has nothing to do with the law.
Guo: I heard that some people from the Church describe you as a "off-mainstream religion". It sounds well-intentioned to call you that.
Zhnag: Because they are supported by the government, the Church has a great number of followers. They call us "off-mainstream"? That's ridiculous. God's eyes only see the difference between truth and falsehood, rather than the difference between mainstream and off-stream. Some officials even called us a cult. They are indeed the cult themselves.
Guo: Do you regard yourself as a religious leader of your village people?
Zhang: I don't care if I am or not. All I care is the peace and freedom of my conscience. I'd like to regard myself as a real christian.
Guo: Why would you stress that you're a real Christian?
Zhang: Many people hate me. They tried every way to prove that I'm crazy and say that what I preach are not christian tenets. They prevented people from contacting me. But I know what I am doing. Jesus says "Ye shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake". I'm willing to bear the brunt. So I'm a real christian.
Guo: Are there many people who still believe you?
Zhang: It's not a problem if there are many or few. Jesus only had a dozen disciples. I used to have over a thousand followers. Now many people have quit because they were in fear of the government's assaults and threats. I never tried to persuade them not to quit, because everybody has to follow their own hearts. What we love is the peace and freedom from our own hearts. That's our choice.
Guo: So you think there will be fewer people believing you from now?
Zhang: It doesn't matter. You can't assume that people gathering in the government's church understand God better just because there are more of them. Jesus says, "Wherever you are, I'm amongst you, as long as you gather together in my name".
*关于这篇文章的疑问：我只在牛博上看见了这篇文章（由civics转帖），去了原作者郭宇宽的博客，并无此文。
============
异端的见证
------和一个草根神学家的对话
郭宇宽
我是和当地政协和扶贫办的朋友，一起下去考察的，那次的调研，我最初的目地是想了解退耕还林的效果。在昆明的时候，有人告诉我，在云南的深山之中，有不少走火入魔的邪教徒，专门和政府作对。到了武定以后，当地的人告诉我，那里有很多“小众教”信徒，非常顽固，但大多数当地人，都说这些“小众教信徒”也不是坏人，不做什么坏事，就是脑子比较钻牛角尖，有人说他们是“癫子”。这使我产生了很浓厚的兴趣。他们告诉了我，很多那些“癫子”的事迹，乍听来是匪夷所思的，深山之中的一些少数民族村非常之贫困，省长亲自抓,要给当地扶贫,他们都不理会，他们不要发展经济。政府给他们修路，他们不走；政府给他们装自来水，他们不喝，照旧下山挑水。这让我想起了美国的阿米绪人（Amish）。
清早从武定县城出发，越野吉普行驶了大约3个小时，其中一半以上的时间都没有硬化的土路上颠簸，来到了一个叫做“蚂蟥箐”的地方，这是一个山顶的苗族村寨，这个地名也让人想到所谓“穷山恶水”，灌溉条件非常恶劣，退耕还林政策显然并没有惠及这里，田地都在山顶上的，只能种些望天收的青稞小麦，甚至连高大的树木都没有，只有不及人高的“爬地松”。颇难想象人为什么会选择这个地方？又是如何在这样的环境中生存下来？联想到“武定”的地名，这大概就是历史上在民族战争中，受到镇压，而被驱赶向深山的苗人遗民后裔。
在这里我见到了传说中的“小众教领袖”张志民，当地三自爱国会的朋友称他们是“得国派”，当时政府认定的信徒有51个，但实际人数比这要大，这个说法相对于把他们当作邪教是比较善意的，但又含有些嘲弄，意指他们宣称在地上得到了天国。陪同的朋友，并没有把握他愿不愿意和我们交流，因为他以往经常对外面来的干部爱理不理的。
我见到他的时候，心中暗吃一惊，他当时正在田里劳作，矮小、黑瘦，看上去饱经风霜，衣服也是破旧的，但却有一股轩昂之气，他把手在衣服上擦了擦，和你握手，礼节是谦卑的，而打量人的目光给人感觉却好像是居高零下。他盯着我看了大概有半分钟，我还没有说什么 话，就问我，你想知道么？他说，你跟我来。
他领着我到了一处山顶的平地，席地坐了下起，陪同他的是村长张志辉，和我一起来的有政府背景的朋友，自觉地坐在了相距7、8米远的地方。张志民不承认自己是宗教领袖，但看得出村民都对他极为尊敬，村长在他面前都像学生一样谦虚，他对自己的信仰也非常的自信。更让我吃惊的是，张志民没有上过学，是个几乎不识字的文盲，写自己的名字都有些困难，他接触圣经，主要靠身边的人读给他听，但他却有过耳不忘的能力，和近乎神奇的理解，能够大段的背诵和引用圣经。
我们一起聊了大约两个小时，不得不承认，当我和他交流过后，我非但不认为他是一个“癫子”，相反对他有非常的敬意，虽然他没有受过什么教育，但却有着马丁路德那样的情怀，甚至是智性上的天才。
后来陪同我的朋友，私下跟我说，他们以前见过张志民多次，但都以为他是个疯老头，以前从来没有听他说过这样有条理的话。
郭：我听说你是自称是基督徒，但不承认我们国家基督教三自爱国会的权威，你为什么会这样？什么时候开始的？
张：我很小就是基督徒，文革时我们这里的基督徒都受到过很多的镇压，后来可以公开信仰了，从80年代开始，我自己研究历史、天文、地理有一些感悟，后来就在思想上开始和两会拉开距离。
郭：你的观念和三自爱国会有什么根本的区别么？
张：我觉得他们的有一些观念很像是迷信，我认为不存在所谓天上的天国，天国是人自己创造的；我认为耶稣是在地上出生的，他和我们一样是人，是有觉悟的人，不是天国派来的。
而且我不认为圣经讲的都要应验，比如“月亮要不亮，太阳要落下，”我觉得这些不是基督的本意，还有人要复活，这个我觉得也讲不通。假如这么多人都要复活，地球怎么能装得下。
郭：那你一方面说自己是基督徒，一方面对圣经还有所怀疑，这不是矛盾的么？
张：我学习圣经是从哲学、科学、精神上理解，我是真正的领会圣经，而那些口口声声一个字一句话背圣经的人根本都不理解圣经。前几年，有一次，三自爱国会的组织我们出去参观，他们也是好心，觉得我这样的住在山里，太闭塞了，外面有许多高楼大厦，确实是我过去没有见过的。我在上海遇见一个神学教授，我觉得很多地方他讲得水平并不高，他告诉我有一个天国比人间最美的国家还要荣耀一百倍，我不公开反驳他，可我知道，虽然他是教授，地位很高，可他说的不对。
郭：每个人对基督都可以有自己不同的理解，每个人可以有自己内心的上帝，但也用不着和三自爱国会完全分道扬镳啊。
张：他们觉得我们不守规矩，我们也不想和他们争辩，他们三自爱国会的基督徒要守的立法我不守，唱诗、做礼拜、安息日、圣餐、受洗，我统统不守。
郭：宗教都是要讲外在仪轨和内在体验的统一，你为什么要对这些宗教仪式，这么抵触呢？
张：些外表的形式后来变成判断批评别人的标准。这不就成了法利赛人吗？主耶稣是最不喜悦这种虚伪的态度的。礼拜六我要赶集，我不能像他们一样。三自爱国会无用的规矩特别多，还必须要爱政府，拥护党的领导，这不是基督徒的态度。真正的基督徒不是这个样子，非拉铁非教会[1]一样要起义；亚伯拉罕不听他父亲的；大卫不听扫罗的；耶稣不听摩西的；马丁路德不听当时教皇的，基督徒要听的是自己内心的召唤，而不是凯撒的律法，所以我这样的基督徒和他们不一样。
郭：那你感觉到了自己内心的召唤么？
张：我感觉到自己受到了一种召唤，是王志民[2]的召唤。
郭：王志民是谁？
张：他过去就是我们这里的牧师，最受我们这里贫苦的苗民热爱，他一辈子都在做好事。就因为他49年以后一直拒绝向毛泽东像敬礼，还有拒绝向共产党的干部汇报思想，共产党就迫害他，他并不是说仇恨共产党，但他认为不能逼迫别人去信仰，否则就是邪教。不管别人怎么威胁他，打他，关监狱，他都坚持，不能向偶像崇拜。王志民在文革中被共产党打死了，罪名是诬蔑他曾经带领队伍，打死过七个红军，其实和他根本没有关系，还有他的助手张志清在监狱里被虐待致死，王志民就是为人类的愚昧受难的先知，他是真正的基督徒。现在他复活了，不是他的肉身复活了，而是他的精神在我身上复活了，我感觉到了他的召唤，我就继承他的精神。
郭：毕竟今天的时代和过去有所不同了，毛泽东时代的那种极端做法，今天即使共产党内部多少也有所反省。我想，基督徒也应该有宽恕精神吧？我听说现在政府来扶贫，你们都不接受，何必呢？这也有些走极端了吧？
张：可他们没有认罪，还在宣称自己光荣正确伟大，我为了王志民的血债，我内心发誓，共产党只要不认罪，我就不再和共产党合作。
郭：可你毕竟生活在这个社会，不和政府合作怎么可能呢？
张：我们拒绝纳税也不要政府来管我们，[3]那时候，政府压迫农民特别厉害，他们从来没有给我们做过什么好事，但我们哪怕杀一头猪，他们都要来收税，和土匪一样。我们就宣布拒绝交税，政府不敢来找我，但是把我们一些兄弟家中的猪牛都牵走了，还拆他们的房子，我们并不反抗，因为我们不喜欢暴力，相信打不解决问题，但我们就是不向这个政府纳税，我们和他们讲道理，他们不听，我们只有忍耐和祈祷。
郭：这样迟早要爆发大冲突吧。
张：倒也没有什么大冲突，我们也不希望冲突，有一次影响比较大一点，是92年，我的儿子上山砍柴，结果乡长书记带人当着众人的面，把我的马车烧掉了，我们就到省政府门口静坐，他们要是抓我们的人，我们就一起去坐牢，最后政府知道理亏，赔了一辆马车给我。
郭：那为什么政府来扶贫，你们也不接受呢？帮你们改善生活总不是坏事吧？
张：我们是人间天国的子民，兄弟姐妹相互关爱，勤劳生活，我们虽然没有住在高楼大厦里，可我们享受良心的平安和自由，我们不要受政府的役使，也不要政府的任何施舍。（当地以此称之为“得国派”）
郭：听说你们还不认同计划生育政策，我觉得在你们这样的贫瘠的土地上还是有意义的。
张：我们不承认共产党的法律，我们只遵照自己的良心行事，原来我确实反对过计划生育，因为孩子是上天赐予的，不过现在我认识到人太多不好，否则我们的土地就不够了，这是我们兄弟姐妹的自觉意愿，但这和法律没有任何关系。
郭：我听有三自爱国会的人把你们称作“小众教”，我觉得这也还是比较善意的。
张：三自爱国会因为有政府支持，所以他们人多，就把我们称作“小众教”？这也太荒唐了。在神的眼中只有真理和谬误的区别，没有大众和小众的区别。甚至有的官员说我们是邪教，他们自己才是邪教呢。
郭：你觉得你自己在这些乡民中间，算不算一个宗教领袖？
张：我不在乎是不是什么宗教领袖，我只为了自己良心的平安和自由，我愿意说我是一个真正的基督徒。
郭：为什么要强调自己是真正的基督徒？
张：很多人恨我，千方百计地说我是疯子，说我讲的不是基督教，让老百姓都不要和我接触。但我知道我在做什么，耶稣说“你们要为我之名，被万民恨恶”，我愿意承受打击，所以我才是真正的基督徒。
郭：现在信你的人多么？
张：多少不是问题，耶稣也只有十几个门徒，我最多的时候有上千名信徒，现在在政府的打击和威胁下，很多人害怕都退出了，我们也从不劝阻，因为每个人的内心都属于他自己，我们热爱的就是内心的平安和自由，这是我们选择的。
郭：以后会不会信你的人越来越少？
张：多少都不要紧，不见得那些在政府办的大教堂里聚会的人多，就能认识主，因为耶稣说“无论在哪里,有两,三个人奉我的名聚会,那里就有我在他们中间。”
1.“非拉铁非”（PHILADELPHIA）原文是“弟兄之爱”，为历史上吕底亚(Lydia)名城，在今土耳其境内，纪元后十四
世纪，拜占庭时代，土耳其的回教军崛兴，占据全小亚西亚，毁灭所有基督教会，但非拉铁非蒙特恩，巍然独存。数百
年来，希腊教徒仍然能在该处保持基督徒的崇拜机会。土耳其政府以后改称之为“阿拉·城”（ALA SEHIR），即“神
的城”。
2.据询问当地两会的领导介绍：“王志民曾在撒普山教区当牧师，一直步行传道，曾劝阻工作队批斗地主，
在文革中坚持传教，受到政府的嫉恨，最后被扣上煽动群众枪杀红军的帽子枪毙，其实那是当年的苗民抗日团干的，
阻击了一个排的红军催粮队，后来起义这些人都进了政协，王志民和此事毫无关系，却被杀。”笔者向当地信教群众
了解，他们对王志民非常同情怀念。国内资料对王志民几乎没有任何记载，而查询Wang Zhiming,英文资料却颇多，
他是基督教历史被称作圣徒的人物。他1972年在万人公审大会上被杀，1998国圣公会为表彰二十世纪人类的正义奉献
牺牲精神，在威斯敏斯特教堂塑造了十位反抗极权主义、暴政和社会不公的基督教烈士的塑像，王志民在其中，并列
的还有人们熟悉的美国民权领袖马丁．路德金；挺身抵制纳粹政权的德国信义宗神学家及牧师，后以叛国罪被绞死的
潘霍华（Dietrich Bonhoeffer）。
3.据干部介绍，当地群众89年前抗议最多，曾去省政府前18次，去国务院2次静坐，后来不公开冲突，但始终不交税。
曾有一个小石桥村，省委书记令狐安亲自去蹲点，修路、通自来水、拉电线、修小学花了几十万，可他们只有两户人
用，宣称“共产党给的东西一概不要。”
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I went to the village to do field research with the local CCPPCC (Committee of the Chinese People's Political Consultative Conference) and friends from the Poverty Alleviation bureau. My initial research objective was to get an idea of how the 'forest restoration from farmland' project was going. When I was in Qunming, people told me that there were quite a few bewitched pseudo-religious cult followers who deliberately acted against the government. After having arrived in Wuding, the local people told me that there were many disciples of this 'off-mainstream religion', and that they were very stubborn. However, most of the local people said those 'off-mainstream religion' followers were not bad people, for they didn't do anything bad; they are just too obstinate to change their minds when they ought to, and some people call them 'nutters'.
This intrigued me greatly. People told me about the nutters' glorious achievements, which,on first hearing, were hard to believe. According to one story, the provincial governor took charge of some of impoverished ethnic villages in the deep forest in order to alleviate poverty there, but the nutters didn't cooperate. They didn't want to develop the economy. They never set foot on the roads that the government built. They never drank a drop of the tap water that the government installed at their homes, instead, they carried on as before, walking down the hill and carrying water up on their shoulders. That reminded me of the Amish people in the US.
Early in the morning we left Wuding by jeep. For about one and half an hour we were bumping along a muddy road. Finally we came to a place called "Leech Bamboo". It was a Miao ethnic village on the top of a mountain. Its name reminded us of the idiom "poor mountain and devilish water". The conditions for irrigation there were poor indeed. The only cropland was on the top, and even there one could only grow some wheat and barley at the mercy of weather. There were no tall trees except for some dwarf pines only as high as a child.
Obviously, the "forest restoration from farmland" project hadn't brought any benefit to the village. It was hard to imagine why would people choose such a place to live. How did they manage to make a living? I thought about how this related to the name of "Wuding" (meaning "peace after military suppression"), and I guessed that these people were the descendants of the Miao, who, after military suppression after being defeated in the historical war with the Han, were forced into the deep forest.
In "Leech Bamboo", I met the legendary leader of the "off-mainstream religion" Zhang Zhimin. Friends from the local Chinese Christian church (full name Chinese Christian Church Three-self Protestant Movement, a government-controlled church) called Zhang and his people "heaven-attained", for they claimed to have realized the heaven on earth. Compared with those who described it as a pseudo-religious cult, this nickname was not vicious, perhaps just a little derisive. The official statistics by the government said there were 51 "heaven-attained" members, but the actual number was larger. Since Zhang Zhimin had a reputation for his indifference to officials from outside, my friends were not sure whether he was willing to talk to me or not.
The moment I saw him working in the field, I was quite shocked. He was small, dark-skinned and thin. He looked like a man with many stories. Although covered in tattered clothes, he had an air of dignity and decency. He rubbed his hands against his clothes, and shook hands with me humbly, but he sized me up as if he was my superior. He stared at me for about half a minute, and asked me before I even said anything: 'What is it you want to know?' Then he said, 'Follow me.'
He led me to a flat area on the top of the hill. We sat down on the ground. The village director, Zhang Zhihui and my friends from the government all sat down 7 or 8 meters away. Zhang Zhimin didn't regard himself as a religious leader, but apparently the villagers all respected him. The village director was as humble as a student in front of him.
Zhang had great confidence in his religious belief. Despite never having been to school, and being so illiterate that he could not even write his own name, he had learned the Bible mainly by letting people read it to him. He had memorized the Bible on first hearing and he had an outstanding ability to recite and chant it paragraph by paragraph.
We chatted for about 2 hours. I had to admit that after talking with him, I wouldn't call him a "nutter" any more. Rather, I had full respect for him. Though he had received little education, Zhang had the compassion of Martin Luther, and was something of an intellectual genius.
Later my friend who was there with me told me in privacy that they had met Zhang Zhimin many times, and always thought he was just a crazy old man, but today he had heard Zhang talk more sensibly than he had ever heard before.
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Guo: I've heard that you call yourself a Christian, but at the same time you don't recognize the authority of the Chinese Christian Church. How could it be? When did all this start?
Zhang: I've been a Christian since I was a little boy. During the Cultural Revolution, all the Christians here were oppressed. But later we could show our belief in public. Since the 1980s, I started studying history, astronomy and geography all by myself and formed some thoughts of my own. Then I gradually distanced myself from the Chinese Christian Church because of my different views.
Guo: What is the fundamental difference between your view and the view of the Chinese Christian Church?
Zhang: Some of their views seem like superstition. I don't think there is a heaven up in the sky. Heaven is built by people. I believe Jesus Christ was born on earth. He was a human being just as we are. He was enlightened, but he was not sent by God. And I don't think what's said in the Bible is true in real life, like "the moon shall fade; the sun shall fall". I don't think this is what the Bible was about originally. Also the claim that man will be resurrected, that doesn't make sense. If people resurrected, the earth would be overpopulated.
Guo: But isn't it contradictory that on the one hand, you call yourself a christian, but on the other, you doubt the Bible?
Zhang: I studied the Bible for its philosophical, scientific and spiritual sense. I understand the Bible, while those who claim they can recite the Bible word by word don't understand it at all. Several years ago, the Chinese Christian Church organized for us to visit them. They did this with the best intention, because they thought that we had lived in the mountains too long to know what was going on in the outside world, where there were many high buildings that I'd never seen in my life. In Shanghai, I met a theology professor. But I don't think many of his interpretations of the Bible were profound. He told me that the christian heaven is more glorious than the most beautiful country in the world. I didn't contradict him, but I knew he was wrong even he was a professor in a high position.
Guo: Everybody has his own understanding of the Christianity. Everybody may have a god of his own. Why did you have to separate yourself from the Chinese Christian Church?
Zhang: The Church saw us as nonconformists. Well, we don't argue with that. We don't obey the regulations set by the church. Choir, weekly prayer, sabbath, holy communion, baptism, we do none of them.
Guo: A religion surely requires both ceremonial rituals without and spiritual experience within. Why would you go against all these rituals?
Zhang: When those superficial forms become the standards by which one group criticizes the other, then isn't that group the same as the Pharisees? Jesus Christ detested this hypocrisy. Every Sunday I have to go to the market. I can't rest on that day. The Chinese Church has a lot of useless rules, including saying you have to endorse the government and the party's leadership. This is not very christian. A real christian doesn't act like that. The Christian Philadelphia Church revolted when they had to, Abraham didn't obey his father, David didn't obey Saul; Jesus didn't obey Moses; Martin Luther didn't obey the Pope. What christians should follow is the call from their own hearts, not Caesar's laws. So a christian like me is different from those in the church.
Guo: Did you feel the call from your heart then?
Zhang: Yes, I did feel a call, the call from Wang Zhimin.
Guo: Who's Wang Zhimin?
Zhang: He used to be the clergyman here. He was doing good all his life, and was loved by the poor people of Miao ethnicity. But after 1949 the Communist Party oppressed him, because he refused to salute Mao's portrait, and also refused to report his own thoughts to the party leaders. It's not that he was against the party, but he considered it a pseudo-religious cult if it forced people to believe in it. No matter how they threatened him, beat him or threw him into jail, he insisted that he would not worship idols. Wang Zhimin was beaten to death in the Rultural Revolution by the Communist Party on the false charge that he once led a militia group and killed seven Red Army soldiers. In fact, he wasn't involved in that incident at all. His assisstant Zhang Zhiqing was also tortured to death in jail. Wang was a prophet who suffered because of people's stupidity. He's a real christian. Now he is resurrected, not in his body, but in his spirit that relives in me. I felt his call, so I decided to carry his spirit on.
Guo: But today is different from yesterday. Those extreme actions taken in Mao's time are even self-criticized by members of the Communist Party today. To my knowledge, don't the christians have the practice of forgiveness? I heard that the government came here to alleviate poverty, but you refused to take their support. Why? Isn't that a bit extreme?
Zhang: They don't feel any remorse. Instead, they make propaganda about how glorious, how correct, and how great they are. I swore in my heart by the blood of Wang Zhimin for which they are responsible, that I would never cooperate with them unless they admitted their guilt.
Guo: But you still live in Chinese society after all, how can that be possible if you don't cooperate?
Zhang: We refuse to pay taxes, and don't want anything from the government. In the old days, the government suppressed the farmers heavily. They never did anything good for us. They would demand tax payment even when we killed a pig. They were no better than a bunch of bandits. So we decided that we wouldn't pay taxes. The officials didn't dare to bother me, but they took away the pigs and oxen belonging to my brothers, and tore down their houses. We didn't rebel, because we don't like violence. We don't believe that fighting is ever a solution. Nevertheless, we don't pay taxes to the government. We tried to reason with them, but they never listened. We just had to tolerate and pray.
Guo: If this continues, there will be clashes sooner or later, won't there?
Zhang: There have never been clashes. We don't want clashes. However, there was one widely-known incident. It happened in 1992. My son went to the mountain for firewood and the village director with his followers came after him, burned my horse cart. We went to the provincial government to protest by sitting peacefully there. If they had detained any of us, we would have gone to jail together. Finally the government apologized, and refunded me a horse cart.
Guo: Why didn't you accept their help when the government came to help you out of poverty? Isn't it a good thing to improve your life?
Zhang: We are the children of heaven on earth. We work hard and care for each other in brotherhood and sisterhood. Though we don't live in high buildings, we enjoy our peace and freedom. We don't want to be enslaved by the government, or their pity. (For that reason, the local people called them the "heaven-attained" group)
Guo: I heard that you don't agree with the single child policy. I think your disagreement makes a sense for your poor living conditions here.
Zhang: We don't accept any laws made by the Communist Party. We only go by our conscience. I opposed the single birth law in the past, because a child is a gift from God. But now I realize that too much population is not a good thing. We would run out of land if there were too many people. So we' re willing to control our birth rate because of this awareness. It has nothing to do with the law.
Guo: I heard that some people from the Church describe you as a "off-mainstream religion". It sounds well-intentioned to call you that.
Zhnag: Because they are supported by the government, the Church has a great number of followers. They call us "off-mainstream"? That's ridiculous. God's eyes only see the difference between truth and falsehood, rather than the difference between mainstream and off-stream. Some officials even called us a cult. They are indeed the cult themselves.
Guo: Do you regard yourself as a religious leader of your village people?
Zhang: I don't care if I am or not. All I care is the peace and freedom of my conscience. I'd like to regard myself as a real christian.
Guo: Why would you stress that you're a real Christian?
Zhang: Many people hate me. They tried every way to prove that I'm crazy and say that what I preach are not christian tenets. They prevented people from contacting me. But I know what I am doing. Jesus says "Ye shall be hated of all nations for my name's sake". I'm willing to bear the brunt. So I'm a real christian.
Guo: Are there many people who still believe you?
Zhang: It's not a problem if there are many or few. Jesus only had a dozen disciples. I used to have over a thousand followers. Now many people have quit because they were in fear of the government's assaults and threats. I never tried to persuade them not to quit, because everybody has to follow their own hearts. What we love is the peace and freedom from our own hearts. That's our choice.
Guo: So you think there will be fewer people believing you from now?
Zhang: It doesn't matter. You can't assume that people gathering in the government's church understand God better just because there are more of them. Jesus says, "Wherever you are, I'm amongst you, as long as you gather together in my name".
*关于这篇文章的疑问：我只在牛博上看见了这篇文章（由civics转帖），去了原作者郭宇宽的博客，并无此文。
============
异端的见证
------和一个草根神学家的对话
郭宇宽
我是和当地政协和扶贫办的朋友，一起下去考察的，那次的调研，我最初的目地是想了解退耕还林的效果。在昆明的时候，有人告诉我，在云南的深山之中，有不少走火入魔的邪教徒，专门和政府作对。到了武定以后，当地的人告诉我，那里有很多“小众教”信徒，非常顽固，但大多数当地人，都说这些“小众教信徒”也不是坏人，不做什么坏事，就是脑子比较钻牛角尖，有人说他们是“癫子”。这使我产生了很浓厚的兴趣。他们告诉了我，很多那些“癫子”的事迹，乍听来是匪夷所思的，深山之中的一些少数民族村非常之贫困，省长亲自抓,要给当地扶贫,他们都不理会，他们不要发展经济。政府给他们修路，他们不走；政府给他们装自来水，他们不喝，照旧下山挑水。这让我想起了美国的阿米绪人（Amish）。
清早从武定县城出发，越野吉普行驶了大约3个小时，其中一半以上的时间都没有硬化的土路上颠簸，来到了一个叫做“蚂蟥箐”的地方，这是一个山顶的苗族村寨，这个地名也让人想到所谓“穷山恶水”，灌溉条件非常恶劣，退耕还林政策显然并没有惠及这里，田地都在山顶上的，只能种些望天收的青稞小麦，甚至连高大的树木都没有，只有不及人高的“爬地松”。颇难想象人为什么会选择这个地方？又是如何在这样的环境中生存下来？联想到“武定”的地名，这大概就是历史上在民族战争中，受到镇压，而被驱赶向深山的苗人遗民后裔。
在这里我见到了传说中的“小众教领袖”张志民，当地三自爱国会的朋友称他们是“得国派”，当时政府认定的信徒有51个，但实际人数比这要大，这个说法相对于把他们当作邪教是比较善意的，但又含有些嘲弄，意指他们宣称在地上得到了天国。陪同的朋友，并没有把握他愿不愿意和我们交流，因为他以往经常对外面来的干部爱理不理的。
我见到他的时候，心中暗吃一惊，他当时正在田里劳作，矮小、黑瘦，看上去饱经风霜，衣服也是破旧的，但却有一股轩昂之气，他把手在衣服上擦了擦，和你握手，礼节是谦卑的，而打量人的目光给人感觉却好像是居高零下。他盯着我看了大概有半分钟，我还没有说什么 话，就问我，你想知道么？他说，你跟我来。
他领着我到了一处山顶的平地，席地坐了下起，陪同他的是村长张志辉，和我一起来的有政府背景的朋友，自觉地坐在了相距7、8米远的地方。张志民不承认自己是宗教领袖，但看得出村民都对他极为尊敬，村长在他面前都像学生一样谦虚，他对自己的信仰也非常的自信。更让我吃惊的是，张志民没有上过学，是个几乎不识字的文盲，写自己的名字都有些困难，他接触圣经，主要靠身边的人读给他听，但他却有过耳不忘的能力，和近乎神奇的理解，能够大段的背诵和引用圣经。
我们一起聊了大约两个小时，不得不承认，当我和他交流过后，我非但不认为他是一个“癫子”，相反对他有非常的敬意，虽然他没有受过什么教育，但却有着马丁路德那样的情怀，甚至是智性上的天才。
后来陪同我的朋友，私下跟我说，他们以前见过张志民多次，但都以为他是个疯老头，以前从来没有听他说过这样有条理的话。
郭：我听说你是自称是基督徒，但不承认我们国家基督教三自爱国会的权威，你为什么会这样？什么时候开始的？
张：我很小就是基督徒，文革时我们这里的基督徒都受到过很多的镇压，后来可以公开信仰了，从80年代开始，我自己研究历史、天文、地理有一些感悟，后来就在思想上开始和两会拉开距离。
郭：你的观念和三自爱国会有什么根本的区别么？
张：我觉得他们的有一些观念很像是迷信，我认为不存在所谓天上的天国，天国是人自己创造的；我认为耶稣是在地上出生的，他和我们一样是人，是有觉悟的人，不是天国派来的。
而且我不认为圣经讲的都要应验，比如“月亮要不亮，太阳要落下，”我觉得这些不是基督的本意，还有人要复活，这个我觉得也讲不通。假如这么多人都要复活，地球怎么能装得下。
郭：那你一方面说自己是基督徒，一方面对圣经还有所怀疑，这不是矛盾的么？
张：我学习圣经是从哲学、科学、精神上理解，我是真正的领会圣经，而那些口口声声一个字一句话背圣经的人根本都不理解圣经。前几年，有一次，三自爱国会的组织我们出去参观，他们也是好心，觉得我这样的住在山里，太闭塞了，外面有许多高楼大厦，确实是我过去没有见过的。我在上海遇见一个神学教授，我觉得很多地方他讲得水平并不高，他告诉我有一个天国比人间最美的国家还要荣耀一百倍，我不公开反驳他，可我知道，虽然他是教授，地位很高，可他说的不对。
郭：每个人对基督都可以有自己不同的理解，每个人可以有自己内心的上帝，但也用不着和三自爱国会完全分道扬镳啊。
张：他们觉得我们不守规矩，我们也不想和他们争辩，他们三自爱国会的基督徒要守的立法我不守，唱诗、做礼拜、安息日、圣餐、受洗，我统统不守。
郭：宗教都是要讲外在仪轨和内在体验的统一，你为什么要对这些宗教仪式，这么抵触呢？
张：些外表的形式后来变成判断批评别人的标准。这不就成了法利赛人吗？主耶稣是最不喜悦这种虚伪的态度的。礼拜六我要赶集，我不能像他们一样。三自爱国会无用的规矩特别多，还必须要爱政府，拥护党的领导，这不是基督徒的态度。真正的基督徒不是这个样子，非拉铁非教会[1]一样要起义；亚伯拉罕不听他父亲的；大卫不听扫罗的；耶稣不听摩西的；马丁路德不听当时教皇的，基督徒要听的是自己内心的召唤，而不是凯撒的律法，所以我这样的基督徒和他们不一样。
郭：那你感觉到了自己内心的召唤么？
张：我感觉到自己受到了一种召唤，是王志民[2]的召唤。
郭：王志民是谁？
张：他过去就是我们这里的牧师，最受我们这里贫苦的苗民热爱，他一辈子都在做好事。就因为他49年以后一直拒绝向毛泽东像敬礼，还有拒绝向共产党的干部汇报思想，共产党就迫害他，他并不是说仇恨共产党，但他认为不能逼迫别人去信仰，否则就是邪教。不管别人怎么威胁他，打他，关监狱，他都坚持，不能向偶像崇拜。王志民在文革中被共产党打死了，罪名是诬蔑他曾经带领队伍，打死过七个红军，其实和他根本没有关系，还有他的助手张志清在监狱里被虐待致死，王志民就是为人类的愚昧受难的先知，他是真正的基督徒。现在他复活了，不是他的肉身复活了，而是他的精神在我身上复活了，我感觉到了他的召唤，我就继承他的精神。
郭：毕竟今天的时代和过去有所不同了，毛泽东时代的那种极端做法，今天即使共产党内部多少也有所反省。我想，基督徒也应该有宽恕精神吧？我听说现在政府来扶贫，你们都不接受，何必呢？这也有些走极端了吧？
张：可他们没有认罪，还在宣称自己光荣正确伟大，我为了王志民的血债，我内心发誓，共产党只要不认罪，我就不再和共产党合作。
郭：可你毕竟生活在这个社会，不和政府合作怎么可能呢？
张：我们拒绝纳税也不要政府来管我们，[3]那时候，政府压迫农民特别厉害，他们从来没有给我们做过什么好事，但我们哪怕杀一头猪，他们都要来收税，和土匪一样。我们就宣布拒绝交税，政府不敢来找我，但是把我们一些兄弟家中的猪牛都牵走了，还拆他们的房子，我们并不反抗，因为我们不喜欢暴力，相信打不解决问题，但我们就是不向这个政府纳税，我们和他们讲道理，他们不听，我们只有忍耐和祈祷。
郭：这样迟早要爆发大冲突吧。
张：倒也没有什么大冲突，我们也不希望冲突，有一次影响比较大一点，是92年，我的儿子上山砍柴，结果乡长书记带人当着众人的面，把我的马车烧掉了，我们就到省政府门口静坐，他们要是抓我们的人，我们就一起去坐牢，最后政府知道理亏，赔了一辆马车给我。
郭：那为什么政府来扶贫，你们也不接受呢？帮你们改善生活总不是坏事吧？
张：我们是人间天国的子民，兄弟姐妹相互关爱，勤劳生活，我们虽然没有住在高楼大厦里，可我们享受良心的平安和自由，我们不要受政府的役使，也不要政府的任何施舍。（当地以此称之为“得国派”）
郭：听说你们还不认同计划生育政策，我觉得在你们这样的贫瘠的土地上还是有意义的。
张：我们不承认共产党的法律，我们只遵照自己的良心行事，原来我确实反对过计划生育，因为孩子是上天赐予的，不过现在我认识到人太多不好，否则我们的土地就不够了，这是我们兄弟姐妹的自觉意愿，但这和法律没有任何关系。
郭：我听有三自爱国会的人把你们称作“小众教”，我觉得这也还是比较善意的。
张：三自爱国会因为有政府支持，所以他们人多，就把我们称作“小众教”？这也太荒唐了。在神的眼中只有真理和谬误的区别，没有大众和小众的区别。甚至有的官员说我们是邪教，他们自己才是邪教呢。
郭：你觉得你自己在这些乡民中间，算不算一个宗教领袖？
张：我不在乎是不是什么宗教领袖，我只为了自己良心的平安和自由，我愿意说我是一个真正的基督徒。
郭：为什么要强调自己是真正的基督徒？
张：很多人恨我，千方百计地说我是疯子，说我讲的不是基督教，让老百姓都不要和我接触。但我知道我在做什么，耶稣说“你们要为我之名，被万民恨恶”，我愿意承受打击，所以我才是真正的基督徒。
郭：现在信你的人多么？
张：多少不是问题，耶稣也只有十几个门徒，我最多的时候有上千名信徒，现在在政府的打击和威胁下，很多人害怕都退出了，我们也从不劝阻，因为每个人的内心都属于他自己，我们热爱的就是内心的平安和自由，这是我们选择的。
郭：以后会不会信你的人越来越少？
张：多少都不要紧，不见得那些在政府办的大教堂里聚会的人多，就能认识主，因为耶稣说“无论在哪里,有两,三个人奉我的名聚会,那里就有我在他们中间。”
1.“非拉铁非”（PHILADELPHIA）原文是“弟兄之爱”，为历史上吕底亚(Lydia)名城，在今土耳其境内，纪元后十四
世纪，拜占庭时代，土耳其的回教军崛兴，占据全小亚西亚，毁灭所有基督教会，但非拉铁非蒙特恩，巍然独存。数百
年来，希腊教徒仍然能在该处保持基督徒的崇拜机会。土耳其政府以后改称之为“阿拉·城”（ALA SEHIR），即“神
的城”。
2.据询问当地两会的领导介绍：“王志民曾在撒普山教区当牧师，一直步行传道，曾劝阻工作队批斗地主，
在文革中坚持传教，受到政府的嫉恨，最后被扣上煽动群众枪杀红军的帽子枪毙，其实那是当年的苗民抗日团干的，
阻击了一个排的红军催粮队，后来起义这些人都进了政协，王志民和此事毫无关系，却被杀。”笔者向当地信教群众
了解，他们对王志民非常同情怀念。国内资料对王志民几乎没有任何记载，而查询Wang Zhiming,英文资料却颇多，
他是基督教历史被称作圣徒的人物。他1972年在万人公审大会上被杀，1998国圣公会为表彰二十世纪人类的正义奉献
牺牲精神，在威斯敏斯特教堂塑造了十位反抗极权主义、暴政和社会不公的基督教烈士的塑像，王志民在其中，并列
的还有人们熟悉的美国民权领袖马丁．路德金；挺身抵制纳粹政权的德国信义宗神学家及牧师，后以叛国罪被绞死的
潘霍华（Dietrich Bonhoeffer）。
3.据干部介绍，当地群众89年前抗议最多，曾去省政府前18次，去国务院2次静坐，后来不公开冲突，但始终不交税。
曾有一个小石桥村，省委书记令狐安亲自去蹲点，修路、通自来水、拉电线、修小学花了几十万，可他们只有两户人
用，宣称“共产党给的东西一概不要。”
Spectacle in Segovia
The original story is written by "Xxlao墓". Translated by me, edited by Robert Berold.
--------------
Alas!
Spain, or all of the Spanish-speaking world, is a surrealistic land, otherwise how could she have borne El Greco, Joan Miró, Salvado Dali and García Márquez.? Since I have been here, all I do is eat and sleep, no different from what I do elsewhere. And although what I have done and written has caused a stir and won people's attention, it has never achieved surrealism, not even one tens of the scene I'm about to describe.
Scenery
We had arrived in Segovia. We came across a high aqueduct built in the Roman Empire. Looking upwards, what we saw would have been no different from how it was in the past. Then we looked down to all the people and traffics were passing through its massive base. The streets and shops instantly dragged us back to reality.
Record
Some buskers were leaning against the boulders. It's a common thing in this country. One group in particular attracted us, a group of skinny women, aged about 40 yeas old or so. They looked lifeless. One of them was shouting in a hoarse voice, calling people to gather around to watch a musical performance. The others set up a couple of microphones and speakers. Each microphone was set very low, to only leg height. I wondered what kind of music it would be.
Some people gathered around. Those skinny women suddenly pulled their skirts up-- there were not wearing any underwear. I looked into their old wares which had probably been dedicated to porn. Their pudenda were loose and elastic, like straps hanging down. With their hands, they pulled on these straps the way cooks stretch dough into noodles. Their thin fingers then plucked these flaps of skin, and the sound was amplified through the speakers. They alternately pulled and released their fingers, creating rhythemical sounds that made a pleasant absurd music which drifted beneath the ancient aqueduct.
Touched
The audience went quiet. Some looked serious. Some let out sighs. I turned around to find that my companion was weeping. Did the music touch her? Or was it they were doing with their bodies? Was she imagining the unutterable pasts of these middle-aged women. I wept, too. It reminded me of the structure of Les Miserables. But who knows if there is a structure or not? Here in broad daylight and under these clouds, people were standing in a circle around these bony women playing music with their God-given instruments, even my companion and I participated in this spectacle: two tearful faces that didn't belong to this land became two of its elements.
The end
The sky went dark. We left. We will be home in a couple of days, and I'll continue with my work. But is it necessary? Maybe I should stop worrying about playing tricks with words. Maybe I should start trying to solve real problems in a down-to-earth manner.
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阴之乐（或是西班牙旅行记）
XxLao墓 @ 2009-11-7 9:29
1、 废话
间隔多日未写博文，是去旅行了。
2、 感叹
西班牙或是整个西班牙语世界的土壤是超现实的，不然怎么会催生了格列柯、米罗、达利、马尔克斯这些人物。但自到了这里，也是每日的吃睡，并不见有什么不同，直至这次行旅，那景致出现在我与伴侣的面前，我才发现：平日里自己的做写，尽管是极尽了哗众取宠的能事，却不及这现实的十之一二超出现实。
3、 景色
我们是到了塞戈比亚，那里耸立着罗马时代建筑的高大水渠。往上看时，大约和古时没什么不同，往下看来，水渠的巨大基座间穿梭着各式人物、大小车辆，铺陈的街舍商家会把你拉回现下。
4、 实记
靠着那些大石头，有些卖艺的人，这在这国里是再平常不过，但有一组莫名地吸引我们过去。那是几个精瘦的妇人，徐娘半老的年纪，看上去了无生气。其中一个沙哑地大声召唤起来，让人们聚拢过来，声说是音乐的表演，其余几个支架其麦克风和音响，每个麦克风的架构都调节很低，只到了大腿间的位置，我却不知那是什么样的音乐。
结聚了些人，那些瘦妇人都猛地把裙子拉起来，竟是没有内裤的。我看过去，那些器具都像是拍了一辈子毛片的，松松垮垮的两片，或是说更似两条，垂在那里。她们腾出手，再把那各自的两瓣扯拽出来，竟扯得老长，像是手擀面的师傅的手法。空出的干瘦手指在面片样的东西上拨弄起来，那细微的声响被麦克风连接的音箱放致很大。手扯拽的力气时而大小，那两瓣面片也收缩松紧，这般那音律也高低变化起来，再加之几人协调合配，经形成了时美妙时荒诞的音色，在那古老的遗址下飘扬。
5、 感触
周围的人不动声色，或作严峻的研制神态，或作无奈的唏嘘表情。我看过去，我的伴侣却哭了，是那音律打动了她？或是那肢体的合韵律动？我想她又或是关联想到什么那几个半老妇人的历经身世。我也哭了，也是想到了《悲惨世界》里的结构，可谁知那是有的或没有。只是那天色云朵下，古代的纪念石碑旁，人们围拢着几个用特殊造物神器演奏音乐的枯骨女人，连我俩也参与到这一副神奇景象中：为这构成加入两具本不属于这土地的以泪洗泣的面孔。
6、 结局
天色晚了，我们回去，过几天再回到住所。我还会做下去，只是那还有必要么？或是我也许不必再操心什么魔术把戏，踏踏实实地追究些身旁的实质东西。
--------------
Alas!
Spain, or all of the Spanish-speaking world, is a surrealistic land, otherwise how could she have borne El Greco, Joan Miró, Salvado Dali and García Márquez.? Since I have been here, all I do is eat and sleep, no different from what I do elsewhere. And although what I have done and written has caused a stir and won people's attention, it has never achieved surrealism, not even one tens of the scene I'm about to describe.
Scenery
We had arrived in Segovia. We came across a high aqueduct built in the Roman Empire. Looking upwards, what we saw would have been no different from how it was in the past. Then we looked down to all the people and traffics were passing through its massive base. The streets and shops instantly dragged us back to reality.
Record
Some buskers were leaning against the boulders. It's a common thing in this country. One group in particular attracted us, a group of skinny women, aged about 40 yeas old or so. They looked lifeless. One of them was shouting in a hoarse voice, calling people to gather around to watch a musical performance. The others set up a couple of microphones and speakers. Each microphone was set very low, to only leg height. I wondered what kind of music it would be.
Some people gathered around. Those skinny women suddenly pulled their skirts up-- there were not wearing any underwear. I looked into their old wares which had probably been dedicated to porn. Their pudenda were loose and elastic, like straps hanging down. With their hands, they pulled on these straps the way cooks stretch dough into noodles. Their thin fingers then plucked these flaps of skin, and the sound was amplified through the speakers. They alternately pulled and released their fingers, creating rhythemical sounds that made a pleasant absurd music which drifted beneath the ancient aqueduct.
Touched
The audience went quiet. Some looked serious. Some let out sighs. I turned around to find that my companion was weeping. Did the music touch her? Or was it they were doing with their bodies? Was she imagining the unutterable pasts of these middle-aged women. I wept, too. It reminded me of the structure of Les Miserables. But who knows if there is a structure or not? Here in broad daylight and under these clouds, people were standing in a circle around these bony women playing music with their God-given instruments, even my companion and I participated in this spectacle: two tearful faces that didn't belong to this land became two of its elements.
The end
The sky went dark. We left. We will be home in a couple of days, and I'll continue with my work. But is it necessary? Maybe I should stop worrying about playing tricks with words. Maybe I should start trying to solve real problems in a down-to-earth manner.
---------------
阴之乐（或是西班牙旅行记）
XxLao墓 @ 2009-11-7 9:29
1、 废话
间隔多日未写博文，是去旅行了。
2、 感叹
西班牙或是整个西班牙语世界的土壤是超现实的，不然怎么会催生了格列柯、米罗、达利、马尔克斯这些人物。但自到了这里，也是每日的吃睡，并不见有什么不同，直至这次行旅，那景致出现在我与伴侣的面前，我才发现：平日里自己的做写，尽管是极尽了哗众取宠的能事，却不及这现实的十之一二超出现实。
3、 景色
我们是到了塞戈比亚，那里耸立着罗马时代建筑的高大水渠。往上看时，大约和古时没什么不同，往下看来，水渠的巨大基座间穿梭着各式人物、大小车辆，铺陈的街舍商家会把你拉回现下。
4、 实记
靠着那些大石头，有些卖艺的人，这在这国里是再平常不过，但有一组莫名地吸引我们过去。那是几个精瘦的妇人，徐娘半老的年纪，看上去了无生气。其中一个沙哑地大声召唤起来，让人们聚拢过来，声说是音乐的表演，其余几个支架其麦克风和音响，每个麦克风的架构都调节很低，只到了大腿间的位置，我却不知那是什么样的音乐。
结聚了些人，那些瘦妇人都猛地把裙子拉起来，竟是没有内裤的。我看过去，那些器具都像是拍了一辈子毛片的，松松垮垮的两片，或是说更似两条，垂在那里。她们腾出手，再把那各自的两瓣扯拽出来，竟扯得老长，像是手擀面的师傅的手法。空出的干瘦手指在面片样的东西上拨弄起来，那细微的声响被麦克风连接的音箱放致很大。手扯拽的力气时而大小，那两瓣面片也收缩松紧，这般那音律也高低变化起来，再加之几人协调合配，经形成了时美妙时荒诞的音色，在那古老的遗址下飘扬。
5、 感触
周围的人不动声色，或作严峻的研制神态，或作无奈的唏嘘表情。我看过去，我的伴侣却哭了，是那音律打动了她？或是那肢体的合韵律动？我想她又或是关联想到什么那几个半老妇人的历经身世。我也哭了，也是想到了《悲惨世界》里的结构，可谁知那是有的或没有。只是那天色云朵下，古代的纪念石碑旁，人们围拢着几个用特殊造物神器演奏音乐的枯骨女人，连我俩也参与到这一副神奇景象中：为这构成加入两具本不属于这土地的以泪洗泣的面孔。
6、 结局
天色晚了，我们回去，过几天再回到住所。我还会做下去，只是那还有必要么？或是我也许不必再操心什么魔术把戏，踏踏实实地追究些身旁的实质东西。
2010年1月17日星期日
西溪的博士楼
那个夏天发生了奥运，发生了我要出国的决定，还发生了什么？那个至今回想起来还有一股暑气的夏天，还有楼巍，和那幢空荡荡的、蒸笼一般的博士生楼。
那天家里的阳台上吹着热风，我站在窗口接了蓝天从上海打过来的电话，第二天我拖着行李箱去了杭州，在车站见了蓝天那个要我做翻译的老板。“来的是个德国外科专家，会讲英语。”他这么告诉我。我们在机场接到的是一个有着德国国籍的越南人，是一个会说粤语和基本普通话的越南华侨。就这样，我的翻译身份成了可有可无的摆设。陪着他们在杭州吃喝了两天，在青年广场写字楼那个挂着人体骨骼图的办公室里，我看着大老板、小老板、父子老板把杭州的医疗器械市场图从暗箱里拿出来，钉在墙上，操起美元这把尖刀把它的外皮一层层剥去。“好的，那我回去跟上司讲讲，让公司把气管支架的代理权转给你们。”持有德国国籍的、会说中文的越南华侨最后点着头说道。
第三天一早，老板掏出三张票子，我接过钱。
“小郑，不会嫌少吧。”
“没有，韩总。其实这两天我也没干什么，光跟你们吃吃喝喝了。”
“那就好。”
我拖着箱子，一个人从宾馆出来。前面是中山路，头上是天桥，桥上桥下车流不息。我站在太阳底下，被西装裤包裹着的双腿像是顷刻间被送进了烤炉。我掏出了手机，手指和手机粘在了一起。
“楼巍，我现在杭州，没地方住了。能到你那住两天吗？”
我下了公交，拖着箱子，太阳一路尾随着我跟到了西溪的生科院，走进一片树荫，太阳倏然从头顶消失。遮阳伞下静静地躺着卖报的三轮车，卖报人不见去向。我走到博士楼对面的小超市买了个西瓜，让店老板切成瓣，然后拖着箱子，拎着西瓜上了楼。
楼巍给我开了门，屋子里站着一个姑娘。“我女朋友，这两天在我这住着呢。进来吧。”
“你好。”我跟楼巍擦着桌子的女朋友打了声招呼，“给，楼下买的西瓜。”我把瓜放在桌子上。
墙上的空调张着扇叶，但似乎没有冷气从里面吐出来。地上是刚拖过地的水印。楼巍抓过一把凳子，用脚勾过垃圾桶，拿起一瓣西瓜，咔嗤咔嗤啃了起来。
我在他的床上坐了下来。头上顶着上铺的床板。“好热啊，怎么不开空调啊。”
“开空调要钱啊。你以为我这电费白送啊。来，吃块西瓜。”楼巍掰下一块给他女朋友。
“好热啊。”我边说边脱下衬衫，露出了里面的背心。
“好热啊。”我继续一边说，一边解开了皮带，把长裤退到了膝盖。
“哎，狗日的，别脱裤子啊。”
“我热啊。你看我裤子里都冒蒸汽了！”
楼巍的女朋友背过了身，小心地啃起了西瓜。
“你这个猥琐男。”楼巍站了起来，幸灾乐祸地端着瓜皮对着我，“你真是个猥琐男。”
“不用让你女朋友这么不好意思，我里面穿着内裤呢。”我从桌子上掰下一块西瓜，“你睡下铺，脑袋不会撞到上面的床板吗？”
“赶快吃西瓜，吃完给我走。”
我吃完西瓜，提起裤子，拴上皮带。“你这博士的宿舍真爽啊。有空调，还有女人。”
“给，钥匙拿去。就在三楼3××室。我一个哥们的寝室。很好的一个人。叫xi颖瑞，xi是奚美娟的xi。”
我走出楼巍的房门，门口的热气似乎已等候了我多时，刹那间把我团团围住。我来到楼上，挨着寝室号一个一个走过去。我打开门，屋子里窗帘紧闭，只有透过阳台门的玻璃窗跳进来一道明晃晃的阳光。屋子里的热气像是轰隆隆地往我身上打桩。我脱掉了衣服、裤子，从箱子里拿出毛巾到厕所里洗了一把脸。屋里只有一台纤小的电扇。我插上电源，电扇呼呼地把更多的热气送到了我身上。我关掉电扇，试图让自己凉下来。
我看着窗帘周围一圈明晃晃的光晕，感到说不出来的燥热。我走到窗口，拉开窗帘，阳光像开了闸的洪水朝我扑来，我猛地把窗帘拉上，透过中间的缝，我看到对楼一个寝室不关阳台门，不拉窗户，通透光明，一个男生赤裸着上身坐在电脑桌前，光明通透。
我就这样静静地坐在屋子里，直到窗帘周围的光晕消失，直到太阳落了山。我该干嘛？我问我自己。我接下来该干嘛？
“等明年毕业了，我准备去开公交车。”楼巍啃完西瓜后靠在书架上对我说。
“你不是开玩笑吧？你要是去开公交，那我就去开拖拉机。”我吃了一半的西瓜停在手中。
“骗你做什么。我准备去考个A驾照。然后开一年车。”
“哎呀，你当真啊？”楼巍的女朋友叫了起来。
“你爸妈那边怎么交代？”我问道。
“他们能怎么样。反正这是我的打算。给，钥匙拿去。就在三楼3××室。……“
我从椅子上站了起来，听见一声大腿的表皮和椅子表面剥离的声音。我往叠在桌子上的书堆里看了看，全是维特根斯坦的原著复印稿。我拿起其中的一本，念了几段，脑子里嗡的一下就失去了意识。
“你这么多碟毕业了又带不走，还不如卖给我呢。”我啃完西瓜后站在楼巍的CD架前，从中间一层密密麻麻的CD中抽出了GRACE，“Jeff Buckley的这张卖不卖嘛？”
“你呀，少听些碟，趁年轻多做些事情。光听音乐有什么用？你听一整天Mazzy Star的碟，你能够得到什么？”
我走出了寝室，到空空荡荡的食堂里买了些吃的。天色暗了下来。我走回博士生楼，来到了楼巍的门口，我犹豫了一下，又继续往前沿着楼道走下去，走到另一端的楼梯，上了三楼。两旁的寝室从我眼前一个个掠过，寝室门上的白色封条向日历一样昭示着现在是一年之中的暑假，人去楼空。零星几间寝室敞开着大门，屋内已被清扫一空，黑洞洞的静候在暮色中，静候着下一届的新生。一阵咯咯咯的笑声从前方传来，我心里不禁紧张起来。越往前走，笑声越大。终于在一间开着门的寝室里，看见一个男子手举着床单，上下挥动，地上铺着席子，上面坐着一个姑娘，咯咯咯地笑，挥着手，推挡着男子向她罩过来的床单。男的也笑了起来。从阳台吹来的风吹得床单飘舞了起来，对楼传过来的点点灯光给他俩的轮廓描上了淡淡的光晕。他俩对一个从他们房门口游荡过的孤影并没太在意。
我来到了屋里，爬上了床。床上的凉席下还垫着冬天用的褥子。一股燥热从凉席的竹篾的缝隙里渗了出来。我把电扇放到了床上，重新躺下来，望着天花板，直到天花板变成一片漆黑，什么也看不见。
那天家里的阳台上吹着热风，我站在窗口接了蓝天从上海打过来的电话，第二天我拖着行李箱去了杭州，在车站见了蓝天那个要我做翻译的老板。“来的是个德国外科专家，会讲英语。”他这么告诉我。我们在机场接到的是一个有着德国国籍的越南人，是一个会说粤语和基本普通话的越南华侨。就这样，我的翻译身份成了可有可无的摆设。陪着他们在杭州吃喝了两天，在青年广场写字楼那个挂着人体骨骼图的办公室里，我看着大老板、小老板、父子老板把杭州的医疗器械市场图从暗箱里拿出来，钉在墙上，操起美元这把尖刀把它的外皮一层层剥去。“好的，那我回去跟上司讲讲，让公司把气管支架的代理权转给你们。”持有德国国籍的、会说中文的越南华侨最后点着头说道。
第三天一早，老板掏出三张票子，我接过钱。
“小郑，不会嫌少吧。”
“没有，韩总。其实这两天我也没干什么，光跟你们吃吃喝喝了。”
“那就好。”
我拖着箱子，一个人从宾馆出来。前面是中山路，头上是天桥，桥上桥下车流不息。我站在太阳底下，被西装裤包裹着的双腿像是顷刻间被送进了烤炉。我掏出了手机，手指和手机粘在了一起。
“楼巍，我现在杭州，没地方住了。能到你那住两天吗？”
我下了公交，拖着箱子，太阳一路尾随着我跟到了西溪的生科院，走进一片树荫，太阳倏然从头顶消失。遮阳伞下静静地躺着卖报的三轮车，卖报人不见去向。我走到博士楼对面的小超市买了个西瓜，让店老板切成瓣，然后拖着箱子，拎着西瓜上了楼。
楼巍给我开了门，屋子里站着一个姑娘。“我女朋友，这两天在我这住着呢。进来吧。”
“你好。”我跟楼巍擦着桌子的女朋友打了声招呼，“给，楼下买的西瓜。”我把瓜放在桌子上。
墙上的空调张着扇叶，但似乎没有冷气从里面吐出来。地上是刚拖过地的水印。楼巍抓过一把凳子，用脚勾过垃圾桶，拿起一瓣西瓜，咔嗤咔嗤啃了起来。
我在他的床上坐了下来。头上顶着上铺的床板。“好热啊，怎么不开空调啊。”
“开空调要钱啊。你以为我这电费白送啊。来，吃块西瓜。”楼巍掰下一块给他女朋友。
“好热啊。”我边说边脱下衬衫，露出了里面的背心。
“好热啊。”我继续一边说，一边解开了皮带，把长裤退到了膝盖。
“哎，狗日的，别脱裤子啊。”
“我热啊。你看我裤子里都冒蒸汽了！”
楼巍的女朋友背过了身，小心地啃起了西瓜。
“你这个猥琐男。”楼巍站了起来，幸灾乐祸地端着瓜皮对着我，“你真是个猥琐男。”
“不用让你女朋友这么不好意思，我里面穿着内裤呢。”我从桌子上掰下一块西瓜，“你睡下铺，脑袋不会撞到上面的床板吗？”
“赶快吃西瓜，吃完给我走。”
我吃完西瓜，提起裤子，拴上皮带。“你这博士的宿舍真爽啊。有空调，还有女人。”
“给，钥匙拿去。就在三楼3××室。我一个哥们的寝室。很好的一个人。叫xi颖瑞，xi是奚美娟的xi。”
我走出楼巍的房门，门口的热气似乎已等候了我多时，刹那间把我团团围住。我来到楼上，挨着寝室号一个一个走过去。我打开门，屋子里窗帘紧闭，只有透过阳台门的玻璃窗跳进来一道明晃晃的阳光。屋子里的热气像是轰隆隆地往我身上打桩。我脱掉了衣服、裤子，从箱子里拿出毛巾到厕所里洗了一把脸。屋里只有一台纤小的电扇。我插上电源，电扇呼呼地把更多的热气送到了我身上。我关掉电扇，试图让自己凉下来。
我看着窗帘周围一圈明晃晃的光晕，感到说不出来的燥热。我走到窗口，拉开窗帘，阳光像开了闸的洪水朝我扑来，我猛地把窗帘拉上，透过中间的缝，我看到对楼一个寝室不关阳台门，不拉窗户，通透光明，一个男生赤裸着上身坐在电脑桌前，光明通透。
我就这样静静地坐在屋子里，直到窗帘周围的光晕消失，直到太阳落了山。我该干嘛？我问我自己。我接下来该干嘛？
“等明年毕业了，我准备去开公交车。”楼巍啃完西瓜后靠在书架上对我说。
“你不是开玩笑吧？你要是去开公交，那我就去开拖拉机。”我吃了一半的西瓜停在手中。
“骗你做什么。我准备去考个A驾照。然后开一年车。”
“哎呀，你当真啊？”楼巍的女朋友叫了起来。
“你爸妈那边怎么交代？”我问道。
“他们能怎么样。反正这是我的打算。给，钥匙拿去。就在三楼3××室。……“
我从椅子上站了起来，听见一声大腿的表皮和椅子表面剥离的声音。我往叠在桌子上的书堆里看了看，全是维特根斯坦的原著复印稿。我拿起其中的一本，念了几段，脑子里嗡的一下就失去了意识。
“你这么多碟毕业了又带不走，还不如卖给我呢。”我啃完西瓜后站在楼巍的CD架前，从中间一层密密麻麻的CD中抽出了GRACE，“Jeff Buckley的这张卖不卖嘛？”
“你呀，少听些碟，趁年轻多做些事情。光听音乐有什么用？你听一整天Mazzy Star的碟，你能够得到什么？”
我走出了寝室，到空空荡荡的食堂里买了些吃的。天色暗了下来。我走回博士生楼，来到了楼巍的门口，我犹豫了一下，又继续往前沿着楼道走下去，走到另一端的楼梯，上了三楼。两旁的寝室从我眼前一个个掠过，寝室门上的白色封条向日历一样昭示着现在是一年之中的暑假，人去楼空。零星几间寝室敞开着大门，屋内已被清扫一空，黑洞洞的静候在暮色中，静候着下一届的新生。一阵咯咯咯的笑声从前方传来，我心里不禁紧张起来。越往前走，笑声越大。终于在一间开着门的寝室里，看见一个男子手举着床单，上下挥动，地上铺着席子，上面坐着一个姑娘，咯咯咯地笑，挥着手，推挡着男子向她罩过来的床单。男的也笑了起来。从阳台吹来的风吹得床单飘舞了起来，对楼传过来的点点灯光给他俩的轮廓描上了淡淡的光晕。他俩对一个从他们房门口游荡过的孤影并没太在意。
我来到了屋里，爬上了床。床上的凉席下还垫着冬天用的褥子。一股燥热从凉席的竹篾的缝隙里渗了出来。我把电扇放到了床上，重新躺下来，望着天花板，直到天花板变成一片漆黑，什么也看不见。
2010年1月16日星期六
宽容
我看到了那么多的不幸，那么多被污染的河流，那么多被夷为平地的房屋，那么多死去却来不及闭上眼的人，那么多被埋进泥土的真相，那么多光怪陆离的城市，那么多承受着上辈留下来的苦难的农民，那么多的图片、影像和口述者的声音，胸中的块垒让我无力。
我们这个国家真的有多少变化吗？从焚书坑儒到文化大革命再到防火墙的信息封锁，从文字狱到谭作人再到刘晓波，从被压迫了两千多年没有自己土地的农民到现在连自己的房子也保护不了的“钉子户”，从古代上京拦道申冤的百姓到现在上访被遣返的访民，从卖炭翁遭遇官吏到小商贩遭遇城管，从东厂西厂锦衣卫到便衣国宝网络警察，从封建专制到人民民主专政，从一朝一君到一国一党，这样的历史真的有多少变化吗？看看当下的现实，这个国家让我觉得无力。
崔健有一首歌叫《宽容》，以前听，一直把它当作爱情歌曲来听。没想到今天听到，突然发现这首歌与我的心境是那么契合。
歌词唱的是说不出的压抑和无力，万念俱灰、只待放弃。可是到最后崔健几乎是咬牙切齿地唱道“我们看谁能够坚持到底”，似乎是触底反弹，爆发出了要和对方死磕到底的力量（无能的力量？）。可是我的无力感是如此之强，所有有关这个国家的历史和现状让我看不到一个头。在我以为互联网正在让这个国家的专制变得越来越虚弱的时候，中国开始了网络的闭关锁国，从明清的海禁，到现在的网禁，为什么中国的历史总是在自我重复？
中国，草泥马。我们看谁能够一直坚持到底，我们看是你的墙头硬，还是凿墙的锤头硬。
我们这个国家真的有多少变化吗？从焚书坑儒到文化大革命再到防火墙的信息封锁，从文字狱到谭作人再到刘晓波，从被压迫了两千多年没有自己土地的农民到现在连自己的房子也保护不了的“钉子户”，从古代上京拦道申冤的百姓到现在上访被遣返的访民，从卖炭翁遭遇官吏到小商贩遭遇城管，从东厂西厂锦衣卫到便衣国宝网络警察，从封建专制到人民民主专政，从一朝一君到一国一党，这样的历史真的有多少变化吗？看看当下的现实，这个国家让我觉得无力。
崔健有一首歌叫《宽容》，以前听，一直把它当作爱情歌曲来听。没想到今天听到，突然发现这首歌与我的心境是那么契合。
我的两眼睁开却充满委屈
看着你的样子我心中更感到压抑
我想唱一首歌宽容这儿的一切
可是我的嗓子却发出了奇怪的声音
我不再爱你，我也没有恨你
虽然你还是你
我没有力气，我也没有必要
一定要反对你
我去你妈的，我就去你妈的
我背后骂着你
我们看谁能够，看谁能够
一直坚持到底
歌词唱的是说不出的压抑和无力，万念俱灰、只待放弃。可是到最后崔健几乎是咬牙切齿地唱道“我们看谁能够坚持到底”，似乎是触底反弹，爆发出了要和对方死磕到底的力量（无能的力量？）。可是我的无力感是如此之强，所有有关这个国家的历史和现状让我看不到一个头。在我以为互联网正在让这个国家的专制变得越来越虚弱的时候，中国开始了网络的闭关锁国，从明清的海禁，到现在的网禁，为什么中国的历史总是在自我重复？
中国，草泥马。我们看谁能够一直坚持到底，我们看是你的墙头硬，还是凿墙的锤头硬。
“一块红布的歌词好像从字面上看是一个爱情歌曲。我发现我周围很多的年轻人，我很多的朋友，他们愿意把自己的眼睛挡住。他们觉得这样让自己舒服。因为你看到了太多真实的东西，你不能自己骗你自己。很多的文化也是这样。你真正地看到了那些东西，你会觉得自己太弱，或者自己的生活太复杂，不是很纯洁，他们觉得挡上了一点好。越是看不见就越是幸福。这有两个意思，一个是文化、是政治的；还有一个是爱情的。所以这首歌不应该说是完全的政治的歌曲。好像是这样的感觉，本身也有这样的感觉。我听很多朋友这么说，很多记者也这么问，‘艺术是不是就是政治？’一般这个时候我会这么说，艺术是有政治的责任，但是没有政治的目的。”
——Rock in Berlin "THE CHINESE AVANT-GARDE"，1993.
2010年1月14日星期四
越是穷越是要生
福冈正信在他的《一根稻草的革命》讲到他种植水稻的方法是少浇水，抑制其生长，为的是让水稻多结谷粒：
这两天在看Joel Saltain的Salad Bar Beef。Michale Pollan曾在TED的一次讲演中说Joel Salatin养牛、养鸡的秘诀其实在于养草。Joel Satalin在书中"Grass Observation"这一章里讲到，要把草养好，关键是要让它多长茎叶、少结籽：
这跟福冈正信种植水稻所要追求的效果恰好相反，但道理确是一个：繁殖后代、传播基因乃第一要事，作物在生存条件不利的时候会毕其功于一役，将有限的养料用于结籽育种；如果养料充足，作物则会把生育的事搁置一边（because "its future is assured"），把自己先养肥再说，反正结籽育种不用愁。
哈，这是不是跟人类一样？越是穷就越是要生，反倒是社会保障体系完善的富庶之地，人们不那么热衷于生育了。就像Joel Salatin在章首解释的：
因此，如果是为了获得作物的种子（或是果实），则根据这一道理，我们应该给作物创造一个险恶的生存环境；如果是为了获得作物的茎叶，则应给它物创造一个舒适的生存环境。
----------------------
福冈正信的水稻种植法还强调秸秆还田，为的是补偿土壤的肥力。有趣的是，Joel Salatin在这一章提到了他注意到的一个现象：
“我不主张从一开始就有意识地进行管理，促使水稻分蘖。我生产大米的方法，考虑的不是想方设法培育稻秧，使其粗壮，使其结大穗，而是尽量压制稻秧，使其长得矮小，不让其粗壮。这种方法才能获得高产。
我研究了与此相适应的水的管理。最简单的方法是，通过不使用水来抑制稻子的生长发育。目前好像有人正在研究断水栽培的技术，我的方法比断水栽培更加彻底。使用这种方法，稻子只能长到五六十厘米高。
一般认为，水稻高度达到l米左右、茎叶长得粗大时，同化作用的能力最强。其实它的效率很差，生长的只是茎叶。淀粉的生产量虽多，但为维持其自身的生长，它自我消耗的淀粉量也很多，扣除自身的消耗，所剩淀粉储量的比例就少了。
总之，理想的稻作只需要在培育稻子的过程中，不要使其过早地粗壮，尽量采取压制的方法，限制其生长。即，1月前播种，长时间不施肥，不浇水，耐心地等待着它缓慢地生长。”
这两天在看Joel Saltain的Salad Bar Beef。Michale Pollan曾在TED的一次讲演中说Joel Salatin养牛、养鸡的秘诀其实在于养草。Joel Satalin在书中"Grass Observation"这一章里讲到，要把草养好，关键是要让它多长茎叶、少结籽：
"When grass is strong and its roots have ample nutrition, it needs not make many seedheads. Its future is assured. Its puts its energy, instead, into growing more leaves and amassing more solar energy, creating more wealth, so to speak.”
这跟福冈正信种植水稻所要追求的效果恰好相反，但道理确是一个：繁殖后代、传播基因乃第一要事，作物在生存条件不利的时候会毕其功于一役，将有限的养料用于结籽育种；如果养料充足，作物则会把生育的事搁置一边（because "its future is assured"），把自己先养肥再说，反正结籽育种不用愁。
哈，这是不是跟人类一样？越是穷就越是要生，反倒是社会保障体系完善的富庶之地，人们不那么热衷于生育了。就像Joel Salatin在章首解释的：
"Psychologist who study populations tell us that big familities result from social stability. When food is scarce and life is difficult, families tend to be large so that at least a couple of the offspring will survive and provide for the parents in old age. As a culture's wealth and stability increase, family size adjusts downward."
因此，如果是为了获得作物的种子（或是果实），则根据这一道理，我们应该给作物创造一个险恶的生存环境；如果是为了获得作物的茎叶，则应给它物创造一个舒适的生存环境。
----------------------
福冈正信的水稻种植法还强调秸秆还田，为的是补偿土壤的肥力。有趣的是，Joel Salatin在这一章提到了他注意到的一个现象：
"One thing I've noticed is that the more fertile the soil, the fewer the seedheads and more numerous the leaves."也就是说，土壤里作物的茎叶长得越繁茂，土壤越肥沃。所以把作物的种子收割下来，还是要把它的茎叶还给土地啊。
A girl called Kelly
It's not Emmie, not Sally, not Emily
It's elly, with an "e" little and sweety
I saw her sitting under a tree, unhappy
So I asked: you look lost, why?
Because I dropped my Kay in the valley
I looked for it all night and now I’m just elly
I looked at her moon-shadowed face with sympathy
and decided to get her Kay back with alacrity
I bid Elly goodbye and started my journey
Not knowing what the Kay was but finding the loss was my specialty
There was a boar bathing in a swamp, muddy yet shiny
I asked him: Do you happen to see a Kay, my lord?
Oh, yes, you mean the Kay golden and glossy?
It was picked from here by Mr. Witty, Monkey of the Valley.
I crossed the swamp and came to a tree on which dangled Mr. Witty
Monkey of the Valley, do you have the Kay?
Oh, yes, you mean that Kay, golden and glossy?
It was taken by a bear who must have thought it yummy.
I bid him adieu and went on to look for a bear with a big belly
and found him by a stream holding a sunflower as an umbrelly
Bear with big belly, do you have a Kay golden and glossy?
If you can give it to me I'll repay you with a pot of honey.
Oh, the Kay is not with me. I dropped it near a red lily.
But if you don’t mind I’ll still accept the pot of honey
I left the pot and walked along the stream playing in reverie
Ah, there you are, red lily and here's the Kay, golden and glossy
I turned back, with the Kay in hand, happy as a kiddie
Along the stream, and passed the tree, crossed the swamp
and came out of the valley, all seemed pretty
I came to the tree under which sat Elly
Hi Elly, I found your Kay, now you can be happy.
Your name can be restored now to its former beauty.
Ah, my Kay! Thank you so much Humphrey.
My Kay's back, now you can call me Kelly.
It's not Carrie, not Cherry, not even elly
It's Kelly, with a big "K" golden and glossy
written in March, 2008.
It's elly, with an "e" little and sweety
I saw her sitting under a tree, unhappy
So I asked: you look lost, why?
Because I dropped my Kay in the valley
I looked for it all night and now I’m just elly
I looked at her moon-shadowed face with sympathy
and decided to get her Kay back with alacrity
I bid Elly goodbye and started my journey
Not knowing what the Kay was but finding the loss was my specialty
There was a boar bathing in a swamp, muddy yet shiny
I asked him: Do you happen to see a Kay, my lord?
Oh, yes, you mean the Kay golden and glossy?
It was picked from here by Mr. Witty, Monkey of the Valley.
I crossed the swamp and came to a tree on which dangled Mr. Witty
Monkey of the Valley, do you have the Kay?
Oh, yes, you mean that Kay, golden and glossy?
It was taken by a bear who must have thought it yummy.
I bid him adieu and went on to look for a bear with a big belly
and found him by a stream holding a sunflower as an umbrelly
Bear with big belly, do you have a Kay golden and glossy?
If you can give it to me I'll repay you with a pot of honey.
Oh, the Kay is not with me. I dropped it near a red lily.
But if you don’t mind I’ll still accept the pot of honey
I left the pot and walked along the stream playing in reverie
Ah, there you are, red lily and here's the Kay, golden and glossy
I turned back, with the Kay in hand, happy as a kiddie
Along the stream, and passed the tree, crossed the swamp
and came out of the valley, all seemed pretty
I came to the tree under which sat Elly
Hi Elly, I found your Kay, now you can be happy.
Your name can be restored now to its former beauty.
Ah, my Kay! Thank you so much Humphrey.
My Kay's back, now you can call me Kelly.
It's not Carrie, not Cherry, not even elly
It's Kelly, with a big "K" golden and glossy
written in March, 2008.
临沂
离开阿飞家的时候，阿飞的妈妈送给了我两双她亲手纳的鞋垫，厚厚的底子，密密匝匝的针线，一双纳的是牡丹，一双纳的是龙纹。我想起来阿飞以前在学校，皮鞋里垫的就是这种样式的鞋垫。
刚背起包要走，阿飞的妈妈又执意让我捎上她中午刚煮的两根玉米棒子和一袋水煮花生。
在日照火车站，继续买不到坐票，只好又一路站到了临沂。下了临沂车站，天正下着小雨。我在出口看到了老赵在朝我招手。
有一条宽阔的江静静地流淌着，这条江叫沂河；一个城市临河而建，于是就有了临沂。江的西岸是老城，拥挤、喧哗、看得到破旧；江的东岸是新城，空旷、萌动、看不到过去。沂河的两岸矗满了在建的高层楼盘，王羲之的兰亭序被拿来做成了楼盘广告。我和老赵沿江骑着自行车，江面徐徐吹来的清风吹散了笼罩在我们身上的汽车尾气，老赵指了指江东一座巨大的泛着光泽的建筑说，那就是临沂市政府，因为造得太奢华，被人举报了。
我在临沂吃到了一种叫糁的东西，用水、苞谷、牛肉、胡椒熬成，出缸——因为熬制的容器是一缶大缸——时打个鸡蛋，撒上香菜，再搭两根油条，老祖宗给我们后代的赐馈就全在这一碗糁里了。在临沂的三天，老赵每天早上带我去喝糁，让我过了一把小瘾的同时，也让我对这样的美食只能在临沂吃到感到惋惜。
在临沂的第二天去了90多公里外的沂水，玩了那里的山东大峡谷。这是一个你去过一次绝不再想去第二次的旅游景点。所谓峡谷其实是一个地下溶洞，洞里的石头长得无趣至极。漂流的小艇慢慢腾腾漂了一半，就在渠里搁浅了，我和老赵不得不靠人力——双手抓住两边的石块往后送——船才算是又漂了起来。稀稀拉拉的游客让无生意可做的小贩们哈欠连连。半山腰的前殿里，一个丰满的、涂着厚厚一层粉膏和眼影的姑娘出现在我和老赵面前，欢迎两位先生，让我来给你们做义务讲解。我望着她那红红的嘴唇和闪着七彩光的眼睑。她一旁的两座金刚象举着剑戟、抱着琵琶，对我们怒目而视。两位先生知道这尊佛叫什么吗？两位先生知道他手里这把剑杖朝下是什么寓意吗？我望着她闪闪发光的睫毛，觉得她比那金刚漂亮多了。两位先生，我的讲解做完了。前面是后殿，你们可以继续参观。老赵说了声“不客气”，我俩笑着仓皇而逃，来到后殿，只见一个光头师傅（和尚？）捧着一把蜡烛，蹲在地上，懒洋洋地抬起头看了我们一眼，哎，要不要烧点香？唉，这鬼地方真太令我这样的游客绝望了。
记于2009年9月初
刚背起包要走，阿飞的妈妈又执意让我捎上她中午刚煮的两根玉米棒子和一袋水煮花生。
在日照火车站，继续买不到坐票，只好又一路站到了临沂。下了临沂车站，天正下着小雨。我在出口看到了老赵在朝我招手。
有一条宽阔的江静静地流淌着，这条江叫沂河；一个城市临河而建，于是就有了临沂。江的西岸是老城，拥挤、喧哗、看得到破旧；江的东岸是新城，空旷、萌动、看不到过去。沂河的两岸矗满了在建的高层楼盘，王羲之的兰亭序被拿来做成了楼盘广告。我和老赵沿江骑着自行车，江面徐徐吹来的清风吹散了笼罩在我们身上的汽车尾气，老赵指了指江东一座巨大的泛着光泽的建筑说，那就是临沂市政府，因为造得太奢华，被人举报了。
我在临沂吃到了一种叫糁的东西，用水、苞谷、牛肉、胡椒熬成，出缸——因为熬制的容器是一缶大缸——时打个鸡蛋，撒上香菜，再搭两根油条，老祖宗给我们后代的赐馈就全在这一碗糁里了。在临沂的三天，老赵每天早上带我去喝糁，让我过了一把小瘾的同时，也让我对这样的美食只能在临沂吃到感到惋惜。
在临沂的第二天去了90多公里外的沂水，玩了那里的山东大峡谷。这是一个你去过一次绝不再想去第二次的旅游景点。所谓峡谷其实是一个地下溶洞，洞里的石头长得无趣至极。漂流的小艇慢慢腾腾漂了一半，就在渠里搁浅了，我和老赵不得不靠人力——双手抓住两边的石块往后送——船才算是又漂了起来。稀稀拉拉的游客让无生意可做的小贩们哈欠连连。半山腰的前殿里，一个丰满的、涂着厚厚一层粉膏和眼影的姑娘出现在我和老赵面前，欢迎两位先生，让我来给你们做义务讲解。我望着她那红红的嘴唇和闪着七彩光的眼睑。她一旁的两座金刚象举着剑戟、抱着琵琶，对我们怒目而视。两位先生知道这尊佛叫什么吗？两位先生知道他手里这把剑杖朝下是什么寓意吗？我望着她闪闪发光的睫毛，觉得她比那金刚漂亮多了。两位先生，我的讲解做完了。前面是后殿，你们可以继续参观。老赵说了声“不客气”，我俩笑着仓皇而逃，来到后殿，只见一个光头师傅（和尚？）捧着一把蜡烛，蹲在地上，懒洋洋地抬起头看了我们一眼，哎，要不要烧点香？唉，这鬼地方真太令我这样的游客绝望了。
记于2009年9月初
19 Hours in XiaoJin
The bank is closed, so I know I have to wait for tomorrow coming.
I’m not desperate, for there is nothing I can do about it. In a small mountain county like XiaoJin, it is routine for a bank to be closed at 4:30, as well as its ATM machine, even though it has a sign above it that reads: 24 hours for cash withdrawal.
“Therearetwootheragriculturebankshere. Let’sseeifwearelucky.” the taxi driver says with a strong local accent, which takes me a while to dig his meaning out. Then he hurries to take me to the destination. He doesn’t want the payment to be postponed.
Well, I’m out of luck. I only manage to catch one of the bank’s clerks tidying up their desks, ready to go home.
“You’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning.” the woman tells me.
“Can’t you just extend your work a little longer? I need to withdraw the cash. I haven’t got even a cent in my pocket and I got to go back to RiLong town. Please!”
“Sorry, there’s nothing I can do to help you. The computer is turned off, you see? It’s impossible to get it back on, the whole computerized system is not controlled by us.”
“So tomorrow 8:30?”
“No. 10:30.”
“Why? The sign outside says …”
“Tomorrow is Saturday, and we don’t open the door until 10:30 on Saturdays. It’s a routine, regular thing.” She is a little annoyed. For her, the job taking and paying out money, not answering questions.
“Now, whatyougonnado? Howaboutmy20yuantaxifee?”
I’m lying on a bed in a small dark room now. There are two other empty beds in the room. The Darkness is falling. Bulbs are lit up outside and the shimmering light comes onto my face through the window. The dark room is quiet, deadly quiet. The ceiling is so high that all I can see is only a black hollow above me, coming down to devour me. There is a moldy smell coming from God-knows-where.
I have an oily and stained quilt covering my body. I don’t take off my clothes nor my shoes. It is going to be chilly in the valley in the night, although it is August. I don’t want to get a cold.
Three hours ago, I got on the taxi in the hope of fetching the money. We could have withdrawn the cash from the bank in RiLong, if it hadn’t been moved to XiaoJin three days before we arrived there for the mountain climbing. After paying the climbing guide 300 yuan including the money for the rental of horses and tents, we ran out of money, yet we still needed to pay for the accommodation and buy two return tickets. Now I’m in XiaoJin, 35 kilometers from RiLong, where my friend is lying in the hotel after a hot relaxing bath, watching TV probably, and here I am, on a appalling bed, under a smelly quilt.
I spent 2 yuan for a simple supper: a bowl of dumplings. Now there is only 2.5 yuan left, which will enable me to buy myself a breakfast and make another call to my friend tomorrow, who, at the same time, in RiLong. I could use my cell phone to kill the time if it was able to pick up the signal. The mobile telecommunication company in its advertisement tells the customers that the signal can be picked up almost everywhere even in the mountains or on the oceans. Bastard! Now I have the evidence that they are liars.
My mother is going to be crazy. I have been phoning her since the beginning of the tour to report that I’m safe or everything is OK, things like that. Three days ago when I was still in ChengDu, a pig plague broke out in a small town of southern Sichuan. I forgot to phone her that day, and she called me instead in a furious and hysterical pitch accusing me of making her mad. Since my father left her for another woman, she’s been in an uneasy state and she becomes so overwhelmingly possessive of me that her nerves are on the edge of collapsing. One day she told me, What am I going to do if you leave me, too? I consoled her by saying that I wouldn’t. She murmured, Yes, you will, someday, sooner or later. She just couldn’t let it go.
I lied to her when I was planning to go to Sichuan for mountain climbing. I told her that the school had assigned me research to do for this summer holidays and I needed to go to ChengDu. She sighed and said, If it’s the school’s assignment, then I’m not going to stand in your way. It would be harsh and cruel for her to know that I’m 2000 kilometers away and yet full of uncertainties.
Half an hour ago, I made a call to my friend in an IP telephone supermarket.
“I’m stuck here.” I said in a calm tone. I don’t understand how I maintained my composure.
“What? You mean you can’t get back?”
“Yes. The banks had been closed when I got here and won’t be open until 10:30 tomorrow morning. I’ve checked the time table in the bus station here. Tomorrow, the last bus back to ChengDu is due at 11:30 by way of RiLong and I’ll pick you up there. So we still have time, just have to wait.”
“Why don't’ you ask the taxi driver to take you back to RiLong?”
“I did, but he said it would be impossible for him to take me back unless I promised to pay him twice the price.”
“That bastard! Then where are you gonna spend the night?...You only have 9 yuan with you…Have you had supper?” A deflated voice came from the other end of the cord.
“The driver got me a place to sleep. Don’t worry. It’s OK. We just need to wait.”
The driver knew a woman who ran a cheap inn. It’s only costing me 4.5 yuan for a night, a good deal. I know I can’t ask too much when I haven’t brought luck with me.
My friend used to be a straight-A student at high school. But he succeeded in changing himself to a new man after attending university. Maybe it’s the university that changed him. His mother was very strict on him when we were little kids. She never allowed him to play with us. Now beyond his mother’s control, he was addicted to video games, playing day and night. I once said to him, You are taking revenge on your mother by getting the childhood back that you missed. He smiled and said, I can’t say you are wrong.
Last semester, he failed 3 courses. When I went to see him in the winter holidays, his mother told me he’d gone to the internet bar for video games since last night. Then with tears dripping out of her eyes, she begged me to help her son out of this game addiction, You are his best friend. He won’t listen to me but he will listen to you. I complied. It was embarrassing for me to see someone else’s mother crying in front of me.
One night I asked him whether he was ready to quit. He said, you’re fond of reading, then when are you going to quit? I answered, How come these two things are related? He suddenly got a little excited, you’re entertained when reading books, so am I; you live in your own world, so do I; you’re not going to make a living by reading books, neither am I.
But think about your mother, how concerned she’s about you.
Well, she doesn’t know much about me. Everything that she thinks she’s done for my good makes me depressed. She’s happy to do whatever she thinks makes a perfect child but never asking my feelings. That’s selfish.
I was speechless. If a son accuses his mother of being selfish, what else could I say.
My mind is clear, terribly clear. I’m supposed to be tired and drowsy after two-day’s climbing, so that I can instantly fall asleep and forget all the troubles to be awake in next day’s dawn.
The peak of the snow mountain is 5760-meter high. It happened only 9 hours ago. The night before our ascent, we pitched a tent 1500 meters below the peak. At midnight, I went out of the tent to pee. The rain was dripping and the wind brushed my neck softly. I shivered. All the mountains surrounding me were dark and melancholy. How could they appear so tender and warm to me when they claimed a number of lives every year? The next early morning when we reached the peak, looking at the snow caps near us, I cried. I don’t know why I cried. I just couldn’t suppress my tears.
We sat there for almost an hour. I could have sat there all day but for the guide’s urging us to leave.
I thought of my mother, her weary face. Finding a job, meeting a man, getting married, giving birth and maintaining the family were all she had since she became a woman. Now part of the family is lost, she is at loss. I don’t know why my father left us. I guess he must have been tired of the marriage or the family. Me and my parents used to be silent at supper except when my father would occasionally ask me, How is school? He and my mother seldom talked at the dining table. What have they got to talk of after 22 years of marriage? My girlfriend once told me that she was amazed that her parents never appeared to be tired of conversation at supper. How come there’s so much for them to talk about? I can never imagine living with a man for 20 years and still having much to talk about, she said to me on a sunny afternoon. Two years after that sunny afternoon her parents divorced. Maybe they found there was nothing much left to talk about. 3 days later, she sent me a text message saying she wanted be left alone for a while and asking me to forget her forever. I know the reason. Two weeks before we were done with talking.
The woman that keeps the inn lives downstairs in a dark cell. The cell is in a horrible mess. I got a glimpse of it when the woman asked me to have a seat to watch TV. I refused. She is watching TV now. I can hear the sound distinctly. She has two cats, two fat cats, just like her. She lives all alone, I can tell. She is too heavy to get herself a man.
The door is smashed open violently. I know I’ve got a company.
He gropes for the bulb wire in the darkness. He sees me when the flickering light is on. He is short, wearing tattered jeans and an oddly dyed hair, standing at the threshold emotionlessly. His pants have cement on them, and mud, too. He is a laborer working at a building site here without any doubt.
The light is turned off, back to darkness again. I hear him falling down onto the bed. The bed instantly makes a creaky sound. Then come the alternate sounds of drinking and chewing. He sighs heavily every time after he finishes swallowing. The room is filled with a mixed smell of mould and snack. Bang! He throws his plastic bottle onto the floor. The bottle rolls in the unpredictable darkness till it meets the wall and stops. He lets out a heavy sigh, lying down. His bed creaks.
Back to silence.
Administratively, XiaoJin is a county, which governs several other towns including RiLong. But it’s actually quite small. After supper, I walked through all the streets, and I then looked at my wrist watch, only 11 minutes and 27 seconds had elapsed. The central area consists of four streets, like two overlapping crosses, forming a Chinese character “Jing” meaning “well”. Yes, this remote valley county is like a well with mountains circling it. Then I walked and walked, to kill time, aimlessly and without direction, back and forth, covering the well-formed streets 5 times until the dusk fell. The route was monotonous, like a hideous refrain hypnotizing my feet. The shop keepers along the streets must have thought I was a lunatic. I noticed one of them talking with a cop and then pointing at me. It is probably rare for them to see a stranger here, especially a stranger wandering the streets and circling them like a stray dog as if there was no end to the road. They can totally tell I’m not a local by the way I dress and look.
I walked and walked. I don’t remember at which spot I stopped. But I do remember a shopkeeper who sold stewed pork. He kept a tiny shop at the street. Inside the shop it was dark and a couple of tables were arranged. I saw him putting a pig’s head into a bubbling cauldron. The pig’s blank and bloodless eyes on its head were right staring at me. Then he stooped down to deal with the beheaded pig, rinsing and chopping. There were ham and sausages hanging down from the ceiling, and all the stewed organs were placed on the table with flies hovering above. It was like a butcher’s shop. So boring to have a job of killing and stewing day after day!
Yes, so boring to have circled the streets 5 times, each time to meet that pig’s dead eyes!
The door creaks, a man slides in. He switches on the light, surprised to find a stranger here. Then he gives me a smile, and turns off the light. He looks like a farmer but a farmer can hardly make a living in this barren valley. His face is so tired yet smiley. He walks secretively to the only vacant bed, takes off his shoes, pants and outfit. Then he slides onto the quilt and props himself against the bed. It seems to me that he’s quite familiar with this room, as if it was his own house.
He lights a cigarette and exhales a long grey cloud of smoke. The smoke rises up slowly to the ceiling, like a winding snake desperately struggling in the endless darkness. I watch that red shimmering dot, which illuminates a pair of tired lips, inhaling and exhaling, alternately. The grey snake is still twisting and rising, coming out of that tired mouth, like there is no end.
The room is so silent that I can hear the burning of the tobacco. And it is motionless, except for that snake moving up to the dark and hollow ceiling.
The morning comes. I open my eyes with a suffocating feeling to find the room full of smoke and hundreds of cigarette butts lying on the floor. That man is still propped against the bed in the same posture. His face was pale like a dead man. When I rise from the bed, he lifts his eye lids, and gives me a smile, exactly the same smile he gave me last night. Then his eye lids are quickly shut. I carefully slide off the bed, trying not to make any noise, but the stupid bed just won’t let me. It creaks again. Fortunately, the other man is still snoring. Can’t believe he can sleep like that in such a smoky room. I go outside and make a deep breath. It’s chilly outside but it feels good.
It’s only 6:54 by the time I’ve had breakfast. I have 4 hours and 36 minutes to wait. I roam over to the square. All the shops are closed. It’s a fancy square, paved with marble tiles, facing the Party committee building. There is a monument erected in its center. According to the inscription, the monument was built ten years ago to honor the Long March when the Red Army arrived here. On top of it is a statue of a soldier holding a rifle charging at the direction in which the sun rises. It’s not a well-designed monument, and the statue is featureless, the soldier’s body ill-proportioned by any esthetic criteria. The county doesn’t need esthetics, too luxurious a word I presume. They just need a square and a monument. Soon after I sit down under the monument, some people come to rally at the square. So many people, most are women of different ages, among them Tibetans, at least their costumes are Tibetan’. It suddenly dawns on me that XiaoJin used to be habitat of Tibetans. Then music fills the air, flying into the square in all directions. It is “The Earth is Red”. Then people start dancing to the music. They dance in a moving circle, and moving in a Tibetan style. Then the song changes into “On the Top of Beijing’s Mt. Gold”. It is originally sung by a famous Tibetan singer to show respect to our beloved Chairman Mao. But this version is electrified with a lot of pop elements. Now people are dancing to it. They don’t seem to be particularly exited, mechanical rather. I guess they do this as a routine every morning, so inevitably they get a little tired of it. Life here is so designed and doomed. I would rather die than spend all my life here. Well, maybe it’s the same everywhere. Everything is designed. I glance at my wrist watch. It’s 7:42 now. I still have 4 hours to go. I only have 30 cents left in my pocket but I’ve got a handful of time, which I don’t know how to make use of and have already idled away much of.
I get up from the marble floor and start walking. I succeed in keeping myself unconscious when walking. After a while, don’t know how long it is, I realize that I’m back to the square. I don’t count how many rounds I have circled the streets, but my watch tells me 45 minutes have elapsed.
Nearby there’s a seesaw. I see a little girl in a Tibetan costume sitting on one end. I walk over to her, and try to strike a conversation by asking her age in Mandarin. She seems to be at a loss when spoken to because a puzzling expression appears on her flushed face. Then she answers with a strong local accent, so strong that now I’m lost in return. Oh, she said “eleven”. But how come “eleven” sounds so odd! A pity that we can’t communicate in Chinese without trouble. I force a smile and she smiles back. Two old Tibetan women come sit beside us and chat in a dialect which sounds very exotic to me. I can’t make sense of their talk. They are so feeble that I wonder how they’ve managed to cover such a long way to make it here. They are 70 or older, wearing a bunch of Tibetan necklaces and ornaments. They have probably never walked out of this valley. My body shivers with cold at this thought.
I leave the seesaw and put my feet back to my street-circling routine.
It’s 10:00. Never have I felt time going so slowly. It makes me restless. I sit down at the step in front of a theatre. My feet hurt. To my right is an Agriculture Bank of China, doors shut. It’s not the branch where I’m supposed to go get the money. I remember the taxi driver told me that it’s a privately-owned bank.
“How can it be possible that the bank is privately-owned?”
“Idon’tknow. Seeminglyamansignedacontractwiththebankandrunsitbyhimself. Thingsarereally chaotichere.”
Yes, things are really disorganized here. There are three agriculture banks here, including the private-owned one and the one moved from RiLong town. There are other two banks, too, as I discovered when I walked all along the streets, a Bank of China and a Postal Savings bank. Dammit, there are 5 banks in such a small valley county, where the birds are not willing to make their nests.
3 meters away from me, a beggar is leaning against the theatre door. He is looking at me as he bites into a rotten peach. There are several half-rotten apples and pears scattered besides him. His eyes are blank and lifeless. They remind me of that pig’s dead eyes, staring at me while being stewed in a bubbling cauldron. My body shivers with cold. It’s hot now, but I can’t help it. I move my butt a little bit further to make the distance between us less embarrassing. The beggar responds by acting in the same way. He also moves to close the distance between us. I move again. He follows again. After four ups and downs, I decide to go to the bank to waiting for it to open.
40 minutes later, right after I came out of the bank, I met the taxi driver. Yesterday, when I was circling the streets I came across him in his taxi. I told him to wait outside the bank around 10:30. He is truly relieved when I gave him the money I owe him. Then he drives away.
Finally, I get on the bus. Damn, it feels so good to place my butt on a soft seat. I realize that it is the same bus we got on when we left ChengDu for RiLong town, even the driver is the same one.
Now my bus is driving away, away from this depressing place. Suddenly I catch a sight of a Lama. Yes, I remember, he’s the Lama who was with us on this bus when we came to RiLong.
I’m not desperate, for there is nothing I can do about it. In a small mountain county like XiaoJin, it is routine for a bank to be closed at 4:30, as well as its ATM machine, even though it has a sign above it that reads: 24 hours for cash withdrawal.
“Therearetwootheragriculturebankshere. Let’sseeifwearelucky.” the taxi driver says with a strong local accent, which takes me a while to dig his meaning out. Then he hurries to take me to the destination. He doesn’t want the payment to be postponed.
Well, I’m out of luck. I only manage to catch one of the bank’s clerks tidying up their desks, ready to go home.
“You’ll have to wait till tomorrow morning.” the woman tells me.
“Can’t you just extend your work a little longer? I need to withdraw the cash. I haven’t got even a cent in my pocket and I got to go back to RiLong town. Please!”
“Sorry, there’s nothing I can do to help you. The computer is turned off, you see? It’s impossible to get it back on, the whole computerized system is not controlled by us.”
“So tomorrow 8:30?”
“No. 10:30.”
“Why? The sign outside says …”
“Tomorrow is Saturday, and we don’t open the door until 10:30 on Saturdays. It’s a routine, regular thing.” She is a little annoyed. For her, the job taking and paying out money, not answering questions.
“Now, whatyougonnado? Howaboutmy20yuantaxifee?”
I’m lying on a bed in a small dark room now. There are two other empty beds in the room. The Darkness is falling. Bulbs are lit up outside and the shimmering light comes onto my face through the window. The dark room is quiet, deadly quiet. The ceiling is so high that all I can see is only a black hollow above me, coming down to devour me. There is a moldy smell coming from God-knows-where.
I have an oily and stained quilt covering my body. I don’t take off my clothes nor my shoes. It is going to be chilly in the valley in the night, although it is August. I don’t want to get a cold.
Three hours ago, I got on the taxi in the hope of fetching the money. We could have withdrawn the cash from the bank in RiLong, if it hadn’t been moved to XiaoJin three days before we arrived there for the mountain climbing. After paying the climbing guide 300 yuan including the money for the rental of horses and tents, we ran out of money, yet we still needed to pay for the accommodation and buy two return tickets. Now I’m in XiaoJin, 35 kilometers from RiLong, where my friend is lying in the hotel after a hot relaxing bath, watching TV probably, and here I am, on a appalling bed, under a smelly quilt.
I spent 2 yuan for a simple supper: a bowl of dumplings. Now there is only 2.5 yuan left, which will enable me to buy myself a breakfast and make another call to my friend tomorrow, who, at the same time, in RiLong. I could use my cell phone to kill the time if it was able to pick up the signal. The mobile telecommunication company in its advertisement tells the customers that the signal can be picked up almost everywhere even in the mountains or on the oceans. Bastard! Now I have the evidence that they are liars.
My mother is going to be crazy. I have been phoning her since the beginning of the tour to report that I’m safe or everything is OK, things like that. Three days ago when I was still in ChengDu, a pig plague broke out in a small town of southern Sichuan. I forgot to phone her that day, and she called me instead in a furious and hysterical pitch accusing me of making her mad. Since my father left her for another woman, she’s been in an uneasy state and she becomes so overwhelmingly possessive of me that her nerves are on the edge of collapsing. One day she told me, What am I going to do if you leave me, too? I consoled her by saying that I wouldn’t. She murmured, Yes, you will, someday, sooner or later. She just couldn’t let it go.
I lied to her when I was planning to go to Sichuan for mountain climbing. I told her that the school had assigned me research to do for this summer holidays and I needed to go to ChengDu. She sighed and said, If it’s the school’s assignment, then I’m not going to stand in your way. It would be harsh and cruel for her to know that I’m 2000 kilometers away and yet full of uncertainties.
Half an hour ago, I made a call to my friend in an IP telephone supermarket.
“I’m stuck here.” I said in a calm tone. I don’t understand how I maintained my composure.
“What? You mean you can’t get back?”
“Yes. The banks had been closed when I got here and won’t be open until 10:30 tomorrow morning. I’ve checked the time table in the bus station here. Tomorrow, the last bus back to ChengDu is due at 11:30 by way of RiLong and I’ll pick you up there. So we still have time, just have to wait.”
“Why don't’ you ask the taxi driver to take you back to RiLong?”
“I did, but he said it would be impossible for him to take me back unless I promised to pay him twice the price.”
“That bastard! Then where are you gonna spend the night?...You only have 9 yuan with you…Have you had supper?” A deflated voice came from the other end of the cord.
“The driver got me a place to sleep. Don’t worry. It’s OK. We just need to wait.”
The driver knew a woman who ran a cheap inn. It’s only costing me 4.5 yuan for a night, a good deal. I know I can’t ask too much when I haven’t brought luck with me.
My friend used to be a straight-A student at high school. But he succeeded in changing himself to a new man after attending university. Maybe it’s the university that changed him. His mother was very strict on him when we were little kids. She never allowed him to play with us. Now beyond his mother’s control, he was addicted to video games, playing day and night. I once said to him, You are taking revenge on your mother by getting the childhood back that you missed. He smiled and said, I can’t say you are wrong.
Last semester, he failed 3 courses. When I went to see him in the winter holidays, his mother told me he’d gone to the internet bar for video games since last night. Then with tears dripping out of her eyes, she begged me to help her son out of this game addiction, You are his best friend. He won’t listen to me but he will listen to you. I complied. It was embarrassing for me to see someone else’s mother crying in front of me.
One night I asked him whether he was ready to quit. He said, you’re fond of reading, then when are you going to quit? I answered, How come these two things are related? He suddenly got a little excited, you’re entertained when reading books, so am I; you live in your own world, so do I; you’re not going to make a living by reading books, neither am I.
But think about your mother, how concerned she’s about you.
Well, she doesn’t know much about me. Everything that she thinks she’s done for my good makes me depressed. She’s happy to do whatever she thinks makes a perfect child but never asking my feelings. That’s selfish.
I was speechless. If a son accuses his mother of being selfish, what else could I say.
My mind is clear, terribly clear. I’m supposed to be tired and drowsy after two-day’s climbing, so that I can instantly fall asleep and forget all the troubles to be awake in next day’s dawn.
The peak of the snow mountain is 5760-meter high. It happened only 9 hours ago. The night before our ascent, we pitched a tent 1500 meters below the peak. At midnight, I went out of the tent to pee. The rain was dripping and the wind brushed my neck softly. I shivered. All the mountains surrounding me were dark and melancholy. How could they appear so tender and warm to me when they claimed a number of lives every year? The next early morning when we reached the peak, looking at the snow caps near us, I cried. I don’t know why I cried. I just couldn’t suppress my tears.
We sat there for almost an hour. I could have sat there all day but for the guide’s urging us to leave.
I thought of my mother, her weary face. Finding a job, meeting a man, getting married, giving birth and maintaining the family were all she had since she became a woman. Now part of the family is lost, she is at loss. I don’t know why my father left us. I guess he must have been tired of the marriage or the family. Me and my parents used to be silent at supper except when my father would occasionally ask me, How is school? He and my mother seldom talked at the dining table. What have they got to talk of after 22 years of marriage? My girlfriend once told me that she was amazed that her parents never appeared to be tired of conversation at supper. How come there’s so much for them to talk about? I can never imagine living with a man for 20 years and still having much to talk about, she said to me on a sunny afternoon. Two years after that sunny afternoon her parents divorced. Maybe they found there was nothing much left to talk about. 3 days later, she sent me a text message saying she wanted be left alone for a while and asking me to forget her forever. I know the reason. Two weeks before we were done with talking.
The woman that keeps the inn lives downstairs in a dark cell. The cell is in a horrible mess. I got a glimpse of it when the woman asked me to have a seat to watch TV. I refused. She is watching TV now. I can hear the sound distinctly. She has two cats, two fat cats, just like her. She lives all alone, I can tell. She is too heavy to get herself a man.
The door is smashed open violently. I know I’ve got a company.
He gropes for the bulb wire in the darkness. He sees me when the flickering light is on. He is short, wearing tattered jeans and an oddly dyed hair, standing at the threshold emotionlessly. His pants have cement on them, and mud, too. He is a laborer working at a building site here without any doubt.
The light is turned off, back to darkness again. I hear him falling down onto the bed. The bed instantly makes a creaky sound. Then come the alternate sounds of drinking and chewing. He sighs heavily every time after he finishes swallowing. The room is filled with a mixed smell of mould and snack. Bang! He throws his plastic bottle onto the floor. The bottle rolls in the unpredictable darkness till it meets the wall and stops. He lets out a heavy sigh, lying down. His bed creaks.
Back to silence.
Administratively, XiaoJin is a county, which governs several other towns including RiLong. But it’s actually quite small. After supper, I walked through all the streets, and I then looked at my wrist watch, only 11 minutes and 27 seconds had elapsed. The central area consists of four streets, like two overlapping crosses, forming a Chinese character “Jing” meaning “well”. Yes, this remote valley county is like a well with mountains circling it. Then I walked and walked, to kill time, aimlessly and without direction, back and forth, covering the well-formed streets 5 times until the dusk fell. The route was monotonous, like a hideous refrain hypnotizing my feet. The shop keepers along the streets must have thought I was a lunatic. I noticed one of them talking with a cop and then pointing at me. It is probably rare for them to see a stranger here, especially a stranger wandering the streets and circling them like a stray dog as if there was no end to the road. They can totally tell I’m not a local by the way I dress and look.
I walked and walked. I don’t remember at which spot I stopped. But I do remember a shopkeeper who sold stewed pork. He kept a tiny shop at the street. Inside the shop it was dark and a couple of tables were arranged. I saw him putting a pig’s head into a bubbling cauldron. The pig’s blank and bloodless eyes on its head were right staring at me. Then he stooped down to deal with the beheaded pig, rinsing and chopping. There were ham and sausages hanging down from the ceiling, and all the stewed organs were placed on the table with flies hovering above. It was like a butcher’s shop. So boring to have a job of killing and stewing day after day!
Yes, so boring to have circled the streets 5 times, each time to meet that pig’s dead eyes!
The door creaks, a man slides in. He switches on the light, surprised to find a stranger here. Then he gives me a smile, and turns off the light. He looks like a farmer but a farmer can hardly make a living in this barren valley. His face is so tired yet smiley. He walks secretively to the only vacant bed, takes off his shoes, pants and outfit. Then he slides onto the quilt and props himself against the bed. It seems to me that he’s quite familiar with this room, as if it was his own house.
He lights a cigarette and exhales a long grey cloud of smoke. The smoke rises up slowly to the ceiling, like a winding snake desperately struggling in the endless darkness. I watch that red shimmering dot, which illuminates a pair of tired lips, inhaling and exhaling, alternately. The grey snake is still twisting and rising, coming out of that tired mouth, like there is no end.
The room is so silent that I can hear the burning of the tobacco. And it is motionless, except for that snake moving up to the dark and hollow ceiling.
The morning comes. I open my eyes with a suffocating feeling to find the room full of smoke and hundreds of cigarette butts lying on the floor. That man is still propped against the bed in the same posture. His face was pale like a dead man. When I rise from the bed, he lifts his eye lids, and gives me a smile, exactly the same smile he gave me last night. Then his eye lids are quickly shut. I carefully slide off the bed, trying not to make any noise, but the stupid bed just won’t let me. It creaks again. Fortunately, the other man is still snoring. Can’t believe he can sleep like that in such a smoky room. I go outside and make a deep breath. It’s chilly outside but it feels good.
It’s only 6:54 by the time I’ve had breakfast. I have 4 hours and 36 minutes to wait. I roam over to the square. All the shops are closed. It’s a fancy square, paved with marble tiles, facing the Party committee building. There is a monument erected in its center. According to the inscription, the monument was built ten years ago to honor the Long March when the Red Army arrived here. On top of it is a statue of a soldier holding a rifle charging at the direction in which the sun rises. It’s not a well-designed monument, and the statue is featureless, the soldier’s body ill-proportioned by any esthetic criteria. The county doesn’t need esthetics, too luxurious a word I presume. They just need a square and a monument. Soon after I sit down under the monument, some people come to rally at the square. So many people, most are women of different ages, among them Tibetans, at least their costumes are Tibetan’. It suddenly dawns on me that XiaoJin used to be habitat of Tibetans. Then music fills the air, flying into the square in all directions. It is “The Earth is Red”. Then people start dancing to the music. They dance in a moving circle, and moving in a Tibetan style. Then the song changes into “On the Top of Beijing’s Mt. Gold”. It is originally sung by a famous Tibetan singer to show respect to our beloved Chairman Mao. But this version is electrified with a lot of pop elements. Now people are dancing to it. They don’t seem to be particularly exited, mechanical rather. I guess they do this as a routine every morning, so inevitably they get a little tired of it. Life here is so designed and doomed. I would rather die than spend all my life here. Well, maybe it’s the same everywhere. Everything is designed. I glance at my wrist watch. It’s 7:42 now. I still have 4 hours to go. I only have 30 cents left in my pocket but I’ve got a handful of time, which I don’t know how to make use of and have already idled away much of.
I get up from the marble floor and start walking. I succeed in keeping myself unconscious when walking. After a while, don’t know how long it is, I realize that I’m back to the square. I don’t count how many rounds I have circled the streets, but my watch tells me 45 minutes have elapsed.
Nearby there’s a seesaw. I see a little girl in a Tibetan costume sitting on one end. I walk over to her, and try to strike a conversation by asking her age in Mandarin. She seems to be at a loss when spoken to because a puzzling expression appears on her flushed face. Then she answers with a strong local accent, so strong that now I’m lost in return. Oh, she said “eleven”. But how come “eleven” sounds so odd! A pity that we can’t communicate in Chinese without trouble. I force a smile and she smiles back. Two old Tibetan women come sit beside us and chat in a dialect which sounds very exotic to me. I can’t make sense of their talk. They are so feeble that I wonder how they’ve managed to cover such a long way to make it here. They are 70 or older, wearing a bunch of Tibetan necklaces and ornaments. They have probably never walked out of this valley. My body shivers with cold at this thought.
I leave the seesaw and put my feet back to my street-circling routine.
It’s 10:00. Never have I felt time going so slowly. It makes me restless. I sit down at the step in front of a theatre. My feet hurt. To my right is an Agriculture Bank of China, doors shut. It’s not the branch where I’m supposed to go get the money. I remember the taxi driver told me that it’s a privately-owned bank.
“How can it be possible that the bank is privately-owned?”
“Idon’tknow. Seeminglyamansignedacontractwiththebankandrunsitbyhimself. Thingsarereally chaotichere.”
Yes, things are really disorganized here. There are three agriculture banks here, including the private-owned one and the one moved from RiLong town. There are other two banks, too, as I discovered when I walked all along the streets, a Bank of China and a Postal Savings bank. Dammit, there are 5 banks in such a small valley county, where the birds are not willing to make their nests.
3 meters away from me, a beggar is leaning against the theatre door. He is looking at me as he bites into a rotten peach. There are several half-rotten apples and pears scattered besides him. His eyes are blank and lifeless. They remind me of that pig’s dead eyes, staring at me while being stewed in a bubbling cauldron. My body shivers with cold. It’s hot now, but I can’t help it. I move my butt a little bit further to make the distance between us less embarrassing. The beggar responds by acting in the same way. He also moves to close the distance between us. I move again. He follows again. After four ups and downs, I decide to go to the bank to waiting for it to open.
40 minutes later, right after I came out of the bank, I met the taxi driver. Yesterday, when I was circling the streets I came across him in his taxi. I told him to wait outside the bank around 10:30. He is truly relieved when I gave him the money I owe him. Then he drives away.
Finally, I get on the bus. Damn, it feels so good to place my butt on a soft seat. I realize that it is the same bus we got on when we left ChengDu for RiLong town, even the driver is the same one.
Now my bus is driving away, away from this depressing place. Suddenly I catch a sight of a Lama. Yes, I remember, he’s the Lama who was with us on this bus when we came to RiLong.
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