有一天我坐在屋子里，我问自己：我在干嘛？
结果我把自己问疯了。
我看到窗外的阳光很好，于是我推出自行车，沿着不知道去向的路骑下去，每到一个十字路口，我就随机挑了条岔口走下去；有时候是因为前方红灯，我笼头一拐，沿着绿灯的方向骑了下去。骑了半天，我来到一个陌生的地方，四周郁郁葱葱，鸟语花香，溪水潺潺，我想要是永远能在这里不用回去该多好？
可是天色渐渐暗下来。我心里开始发慌，我暗想：我这是在哪儿？我拿出手机上了google map，找到了自己的方位。我骑上车，于是我又回到了老路上，回到了老地方。我把自行车停到车库，回到屋子，重新坐下来。我又开始问自己：我在干嘛？
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有那么一段时间，退学的想法固执地盘踞着我的大脑。
我开始和这个想法周旋、缠斗、叫骂、妥协，末了我掏出枪对着它连轰三枪，可它大笑着说：你一部片子还没拍出来呢，就学张艺谋糟蹋自己？
我没法子，只好任由这个想法在我脑袋里生根，发芽，长出枝叶，每片叶子上都写着“退学”、“不退学”。
我顶着满脑的叶子。一晃头，悉悉簌簌，落满一地。
2010年2月28日星期日
有这么一个人
有一个人，他喜欢雕塑、油画、交响乐。他曾被大卫像的阳刚征服，他曾为达芬奇的天才惊叹不已，他还曾在《悲怆》的旋律中流下热泪。
但是他强烈地厌恶同性恋，或许是因为家教，或许是从社会继承而来的“偏见”，或许是他所信仰的宗教。他认为所有的同行恋都是病态，是对自然的不敬、对美的亵渎，像厕所里的蛆一样恶心，不，比蛆更糟，应该是像Frankenstein那样的人造怪物一样恐怖。他想，幸好还有艺术，让世界远离畸形和丑陋。
后来有一天，他看到了关于米开朗基罗、达芬奇和柴可夫斯基的传记，他惊讶地发现这三个人笼罩着同性恋身份的疑云。他内心的殿堂如同遭受了一场地震，他急需找到证据支撑住他心中那岌岌可危的神龛。
此后的几年，他把所有的精力都花在了“米开朗基罗、达芬奇、柴可夫斯基不是同性恋”的证明上。他跑遍了大大小小的图书馆，为了弄通艺术与性取向之间隐含的联系，他开始学习艺术史、神经学、心理学；为了阅读原始文献，他还开始学习意大利语和俄语；为了从达芬奇的画作中找到蛛丝马迹，他还专程跑到了巴黎的卢浮宫，在原画前驻足观察。
整整三十年的时间，他所获得的所有证据还是不能证明以上三人不是同性恋，反倒是得出的结论更倾向于他们是同性恋。最后他疯了。
但是他强烈地厌恶同性恋，或许是因为家教，或许是从社会继承而来的“偏见”，或许是他所信仰的宗教。他认为所有的同行恋都是病态，是对自然的不敬、对美的亵渎，像厕所里的蛆一样恶心，不，比蛆更糟，应该是像Frankenstein那样的人造怪物一样恐怖。他想，幸好还有艺术，让世界远离畸形和丑陋。
后来有一天，他看到了关于米开朗基罗、达芬奇和柴可夫斯基的传记，他惊讶地发现这三个人笼罩着同性恋身份的疑云。他内心的殿堂如同遭受了一场地震，他急需找到证据支撑住他心中那岌岌可危的神龛。
此后的几年，他把所有的精力都花在了“米开朗基罗、达芬奇、柴可夫斯基不是同性恋”的证明上。他跑遍了大大小小的图书馆，为了弄通艺术与性取向之间隐含的联系，他开始学习艺术史、神经学、心理学；为了阅读原始文献，他还开始学习意大利语和俄语；为了从达芬奇的画作中找到蛛丝马迹，他还专程跑到了巴黎的卢浮宫，在原画前驻足观察。
整整三十年的时间，他所获得的所有证据还是不能证明以上三人不是同性恋，反倒是得出的结论更倾向于他们是同性恋。最后他疯了。
2010年2月23日星期二
we want to show some support
Today when I passed the central police office, I noticed the flag hoisted upon the mast on the bulding was the rainbow flag, a symbol of the LGBT movement.
I went into the office after school. A beatiful gilr in police suits received me.
"Hi-ya. Can I help you?" She greeted me through the window that set us apart.
"Hi." I introduced myself, and said "I'm very curious about the flag flying upon your office building-- the rainbow flag. Isn't it about the gay..."
"Oh, yes, it is about the gay movement. There is going to be a gay pride parade around this time." She said. She didn't seem to be suprised by my sudden inquiry. She was very beutiful, and the words uttered by her all came out of her mouth in a nicely organized queue.
"But... why does the police put this flag on?" I asked.
"Because the police also wants to show some support. Well, some people did ask about the flag. They were suprised to see it flying over there." She kept smiling while dealing with my answers.
"Did you receive negative feedbacks from those who inquired?"
"Well..." she laughed, "some people were... they weren't so happy to see the flag. But we fly the flag every year this time. It has been there for over a week." She grinned. I hated the window between us. I could have said You are beautiful, but I said Thank you.
I looked it up on the internet after I left the police office. On LGBT's website, it says "Lesbian Gay Bisexual Trans History Month takes place every year in February. It celebrates the lives and achievements of the LGBT community."
I went into the office after school. A beatiful gilr in police suits received me.
"Hi-ya. Can I help you?" She greeted me through the window that set us apart.
"Hi." I introduced myself, and said "I'm very curious about the flag flying upon your office building-- the rainbow flag. Isn't it about the gay..."
"Oh, yes, it is about the gay movement. There is going to be a gay pride parade around this time." She said. She didn't seem to be suprised by my sudden inquiry. She was very beutiful, and the words uttered by her all came out of her mouth in a nicely organized queue.
"But... why does the police put this flag on?" I asked.
"Because the police also wants to show some support. Well, some people did ask about the flag. They were suprised to see it flying over there." She kept smiling while dealing with my answers.
"Did you receive negative feedbacks from those who inquired?"
"Well..." she laughed, "some people were... they weren't so happy to see the flag. But we fly the flag every year this time. It has been there for over a week." She grinned. I hated the window between us. I could have said You are beautiful, but I said Thank you.
I looked it up on the internet after I left the police office. On LGBT's website, it says "Lesbian Gay Bisexual Trans History Month takes place every year in February. It celebrates the lives and achievements of the LGBT community."
2010年2月21日星期日
they tried to embarrass us
Linda is our kitchen cleaner. She has orange hair, and looks like Matt Lucas with a woman's wig on in Little Britain. It may not be a polite way to describe Linda's look, but I can't find a more effective way to portray her image.
"Oh, it's sleeting now." Linda entered the kitchen while I was having breakfast.
"I haven't seen you for a while."
"Another woman should have come to clean, but she just retired, and we are lacking people. The school asks new people to provide lots of documents. The procedures take a long time, longer than it used to."
I don't remember how I responded, but then she started talking of her husband.
"My husband is a handyman. He works in the undergrads' blocks. One day he went to a flat to check the toilet there. He knocked on the door, 'handyman!' no answer. 'handyman!' no answer. He opened it with the copy of the key. He saw a girl lying on her bed with nothing on, and she said, Go get the toilet fixed."
"Why didn't she answer the door at first?"
"Because she wanted to embarrass him. That's why she had nothing on her. The students are always doing these kinds of things to embarrass us. Sometimes when you go into a student's room, you'll see him lying on the bed with his girlfriend. They saw my husband come in, and the boy said, What are you looking at? Go get your business done. I once went to a kitchen to clean, and there the young fellows, they were only covered in towels. They were chasing each other in the kitchen, and would swing the towels to hit."
"Are they all undergraduates?"
"Oh, yes, those daffed young men. But I'm a mother of two kids. They thought they could embarrass me but I'm OK with that. I know what it was all about. In summer, you can also find some girls sitting on the lawns with little on their bodies. They want to be noticed. That's why they behave like that, want to be noticed! Sad. Very sad."
*下午上纪录片课，angela给我放了新一期的Panaroma——are you a danger to the kids，讲的是英国政府为了保护孩子和有智力障碍的成年人（怪蜀黍走开），成立了一个叫ISA（independent safeguard agency）的组织，并立法规定所有与上述两类人打交道的个人和机构（教师、义工、医生、学校大巴司机、学校保洁工、招募儿童演员的剧院……）必须向该组织注册（要缴纳注册费），只有通过ISA鉴定才会被允许与孩子和有智力障碍的成年人打交道——涉及到的人有900万之多。政府推行的这一措施遭到了巨大的反对声浪。
"Oh, it's sleeting now." Linda entered the kitchen while I was having breakfast.
"I haven't seen you for a while."
"Another woman should have come to clean, but she just retired, and we are lacking people. The school asks new people to provide lots of documents. The procedures take a long time, longer than it used to."
I don't remember how I responded, but then she started talking of her husband.
"My husband is a handyman. He works in the undergrads' blocks. One day he went to a flat to check the toilet there. He knocked on the door, 'handyman!' no answer. 'handyman!' no answer. He opened it with the copy of the key. He saw a girl lying on her bed with nothing on, and she said, Go get the toilet fixed."
"Why didn't she answer the door at first?"
"Because she wanted to embarrass him. That's why she had nothing on her. The students are always doing these kinds of things to embarrass us. Sometimes when you go into a student's room, you'll see him lying on the bed with his girlfriend. They saw my husband come in, and the boy said, What are you looking at? Go get your business done. I once went to a kitchen to clean, and there the young fellows, they were only covered in towels. They were chasing each other in the kitchen, and would swing the towels to hit."
"Are they all undergraduates?"
"Oh, yes, those daffed young men. But I'm a mother of two kids. They thought they could embarrass me but I'm OK with that. I know what it was all about. In summer, you can also find some girls sitting on the lawns with little on their bodies. They want to be noticed. That's why they behave like that, want to be noticed! Sad. Very sad."
*下午上纪录片课，angela给我放了新一期的Panaroma——are you a danger to the kids，讲的是英国政府为了保护孩子和有智力障碍的成年人（怪蜀黍走开），成立了一个叫ISA（independent safeguard agency）的组织，并立法规定所有与上述两类人打交道的个人和机构（教师、义工、医生、学校大巴司机、学校保洁工、招募儿童演员的剧院……）必须向该组织注册（要缴纳注册费），只有通过ISA鉴定才会被允许与孩子和有智力障碍的成年人打交道——涉及到的人有900万之多。政府推行的这一措施遭到了巨大的反对声浪。
2010年2月20日星期六
Frank Mccourt
Speech at the New York State Writers Institute in 2006
My only knowledge of American high schools was what I saw on the movies, about wonderful American suburban life. Everybody was bright, clean and white. Everybody was white. All the girls had these bosoms that were apocalyptic, and I wanted one of them, even when I was 9.
At that time, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life in America. Mainly I wanted to be comfortable. [...] Then I meet a nice Irish girl named Maureen, a nice Irish girl my mother would approve of. We go out for a while, and I wouldn't touch her. Because she'd be maureen and the favourite word of an Irish Catholic girl is no at that time-- at that time, anyway. It's all changed. Got be 19 again, and I'd be dead at 21. That was my dream that I'd marry Maureen. We'd live in the suburb in the Borough of Queens. We'd have 3 children. We'd go to mass every morning, and I'd work in an insurance company till I was 65, then I'd kill myself.
I was saved by the Chinese. Mao Tsedong sent his attack to Korea, and America got nervous and turned to me and drafted me. But they didn't send me to Korea. They sent me to Germany, where for 2 years I trained attack dogs-- German shepherd attack dogs, which is good preparation for teaching.
When I got out of the army, I was working on the docks in New York, the warehouses and the piers. One day, we had unloaded a ship, and I went to a bar[...] I sat at the bar, and I started doing something that was very dangerous for a young Irish man-- I started thinking. I started wondering what was the meaning of everything.
I walked across Bleecker Str. towards NY University. I don't know why I was walking that direction. I got over there and there was NY University. I asked somebody where the admissions office was and they told me.I went in and I applied. They thought I was amusing when I didn't put down what high school I graduated from. I said I never did, and they were laughing and laughing and laughing. The dean of admissions was just passing by. It was Florence Beeman. She said what was going on. They told her, it is very funny this young man applying for NYU without a high school diploma. Then I got desperate. I was shy and not assertive. I was fairly reticent and withdrawn most of the time.
I said, I'd love to go to college, because I read a lot of books.
Oh. What books have you read?
And I mentioned Dostoevsky, and she was impressed with that. Then I mentioned Dickens. But then I clinched it-- Joyce.
Do you read James Joyce.
I said yeah, I'm Irish, I suppose all... nobody in Ireland reads James Joyce. Nobody can.
Address to Model UN students at the 2008 United Nations
I hope they encourage you to think for youself. That's the main thing. When I grew up in Ireland, that was discouraged. "Oh, you will not think for yourself, because the government knew everything, and certainly if the government didn't know, the church knew it." If you started thinking for yourself, that was almost a sin.
You might start asking questions later on. We were discouraged from asking questions. We could not raise our hands in classes "what... how could it be... how could be a virgin having a baby?" They'd cut your hand off. The other pillar of Irish education was all the things that were wrong in Ireland could be directly attributed to the English.
I grew up with all of this in Ireland, and I came over here, and I found it a strange situation. I went to school here to NYU for 4 years to become a teacher, and I found myself a bit dazzled by the atmosphere-- in a class, you were encouraged to raise your hand to ask questions. I forgot what a question looked like, and I was almost afraid to ask questions. All the time-- and this happens to all of you, all of us-- at the back of your mind, there are always quetions-- the questions and dreams, sometimes more dreams than questions, sometimes more questions than dreams. But it's all in there. I think that's the purpose of education, to help you sort that out.
I also learned the main thing is learning, because nobody knows anything. If we knew anything, the world wouldn't be in the awful state it is in. We don't know anything. Why we have educated people in every country, why are countries so stupid?
The greatest fear of all I think-- and I know this from growing up in Ireland and being exposed later on to other religions and other politics-- the greatest fear of all is to look at the two sides of the story.
My only knowledge of American high schools was what I saw on the movies, about wonderful American suburban life. Everybody was bright, clean and white. Everybody was white. All the girls had these bosoms that were apocalyptic, and I wanted one of them, even when I was 9.
At that time, I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life in America. Mainly I wanted to be comfortable. [...] Then I meet a nice Irish girl named Maureen, a nice Irish girl my mother would approve of. We go out for a while, and I wouldn't touch her. Because she'd be maureen and the favourite word of an Irish Catholic girl is no at that time-- at that time, anyway. It's all changed. Got be 19 again, and I'd be dead at 21. That was my dream that I'd marry Maureen. We'd live in the suburb in the Borough of Queens. We'd have 3 children. We'd go to mass every morning, and I'd work in an insurance company till I was 65, then I'd kill myself.
I was saved by the Chinese. Mao Tsedong sent his attack to Korea, and America got nervous and turned to me and drafted me. But they didn't send me to Korea. They sent me to Germany, where for 2 years I trained attack dogs-- German shepherd attack dogs, which is good preparation for teaching.
When I got out of the army, I was working on the docks in New York, the warehouses and the piers. One day, we had unloaded a ship, and I went to a bar[...] I sat at the bar, and I started doing something that was very dangerous for a young Irish man-- I started thinking. I started wondering what was the meaning of everything.
I walked across Bleecker Str. towards NY University. I don't know why I was walking that direction. I got over there and there was NY University. I asked somebody where the admissions office was and they told me.I went in and I applied. They thought I was amusing when I didn't put down what high school I graduated from. I said I never did, and they were laughing and laughing and laughing. The dean of admissions was just passing by. It was Florence Beeman. She said what was going on. They told her, it is very funny this young man applying for NYU without a high school diploma. Then I got desperate. I was shy and not assertive. I was fairly reticent and withdrawn most of the time.
I said, I'd love to go to college, because I read a lot of books.
Oh. What books have you read?
And I mentioned Dostoevsky, and she was impressed with that. Then I mentioned Dickens. But then I clinched it-- Joyce.
Do you read James Joyce.
I said yeah, I'm Irish, I suppose all... nobody in Ireland reads James Joyce. Nobody can.
Address to Model UN students at the 2008 United Nations
I hope they encourage you to think for youself. That's the main thing. When I grew up in Ireland, that was discouraged. "Oh, you will not think for yourself, because the government knew everything, and certainly if the government didn't know, the church knew it." If you started thinking for yourself, that was almost a sin.
You might start asking questions later on. We were discouraged from asking questions. We could not raise our hands in classes "what... how could it be... how could be a virgin having a baby?" They'd cut your hand off. The other pillar of Irish education was all the things that were wrong in Ireland could be directly attributed to the English.
I grew up with all of this in Ireland, and I came over here, and I found it a strange situation. I went to school here to NYU for 4 years to become a teacher, and I found myself a bit dazzled by the atmosphere-- in a class, you were encouraged to raise your hand to ask questions. I forgot what a question looked like, and I was almost afraid to ask questions. All the time-- and this happens to all of you, all of us-- at the back of your mind, there are always quetions-- the questions and dreams, sometimes more dreams than questions, sometimes more questions than dreams. But it's all in there. I think that's the purpose of education, to help you sort that out.
I also learned the main thing is learning, because nobody knows anything. If we knew anything, the world wouldn't be in the awful state it is in. We don't know anything. Why we have educated people in every country, why are countries so stupid?
The greatest fear of all I think-- and I know this from growing up in Ireland and being exposed later on to other religions and other politics-- the greatest fear of all is to look at the two sides of the story.
2009/10/24 反战游行
时间：2009年10月24日下午
地点：特拉法加尔广场（Trafalgar Square），伦敦
事件主题：要求布朗政府从阿富汗撤兵的集会、游行
副题：解救朝鲜人民，解救西藏人民，关注伊朗对未成年施行死刑问题，关注乌干达人权，呼吁调查世贸中心9/11倒塌真相
参与者：世界各国人民
那次去伦敦是因为学校film society组织去伦敦电影节看电影。白天大家各自活动。我实在无处可去，就转悠到了国家美术馆（National Gallery），不想前方的特拉法加尔广场上正在集会，大喇叭里，演讲者激昂地喊着“We call on the British government to get our troops back from Afghanistan before Christmas.”
特拉法加尔广场上矗立着的这根柱子叫nelson column，为的是纪念在特拉法加尔战役中牺牲的Nelson上将。特拉法加尔之战（1805年10月21日）中nelson率领英国海军击败了西法联合舰队，成为拿破仑战争中扭转海战局势的关键一役。特拉法加尔（Trafalgar）系西班牙西南海岸的海角名——Trafalgar Cape。
他不是金将军派来的，他呼吁人们要关注生活在水生火热中的朝鲜人民。
主题演讲的人包括人权活动家，前英国政府官员表，退伍军人，服役士兵的母亲，阿富汗代表，诗人，演艺界代表（最后一环是一乐队演唱了自创的反战歌曲）
BNP (British National Party)的党魁Nick Griffin在海报上被打扮成了希特勒。BNP因其白人至上以及反对外来移民的主张成为过街老鼠，但近年来因为英国恶化的经济形势获得了一部分人的支持。2009年Griffin当选了欧洲议会议员。
雪山狮子旗
同志的彩虹旗
CND (Campaing for Nuclear Disarmament)
剑桥大学的学生在现场采访游行的伊朗人。
要求调查9/11中的建筑质量的几个年轻人
午后的阳光出奇地好。闹哄哄的广场旁，一个大胡子在美术馆的一角酣睡。
演讲、控诉、诗朗诵、唱歌结束后，集会的队伍浩浩荡荡来到了不远处的唐宁街——政府官邸，挥舞着旗帜、横幅、牌子，高呼着口号。唐宁街10号的铁门紧闭着，警察站在门内，与游行的队伍隔栏相视。这让中南海看了情何以堪。
穿着黄马甲的警察远远地站在一旁，静观游行的队伍。英国的警察是不准配枪的。
2010年2月17日星期三
were you swallowed by a whale?
It drizzled again today. The drizzle here in Cardiff is something that puts you in a dilemma: to use an umbrella or not to?
I just walked out. I saw people walking in the drizzle like me. One girl was wearing a hockey top and a skirt. Her pink legs were exposed to the rain and Feburay's freezing air. She was holding a hockey stick not an umbrella.
Yesterday, Mark said he wanted to quit.
Don't. I said. Hold on til the end of the semester. It's just a phase. It will pass.
Has your phase passed? Mark asked.
Not really.
I brought up quitting the course a month ago. I had been thinking about being a farmer for a long time. I don't understand why people have a low opinion of those who have an affection for soil. They eat things growing out of the soil. Yet they despise those who grow them.
Do you love your course more now? Mark asked.
No. Well, the same as before. I'm still not sure whether I want to be a journalist more than a farmer. I answered. Me and Mark have talked about farming since I introduced Joel Salatin to him 3 months ago.
Mark is from Indiana. He used to study philosophy, engineering and science at Purdue University. His parents are farmers. "I used to play with pigs. You know how you can get pig shit onto your face? Use a water hose, aim at the shit, and squirt, piu-- shit all over your face."
Aftering watching Joel Salatin's video clips I sent to him, Mark said, "Damien, I have a plan. I think I can do exactly what Salatin is doing. Do you want to farm with me?"
"Sure. That's all I have dreamed of."
"I've ordered Salatin's books. When I'm back home during Christmas I'll read them and make a plan. We have 500 acres of land..."
"But didn't you tell me that your parents have rented it to other people?"
"Well, my mother still owns it. And those people are my uncles. We can stop the agreement any time we want. That's the best part of my plan. Haha! Believe me, I can make it happen. I talked to my mother. She said I'm crazy and that my way of farming won't work. She's just too conventional to believe new things."
"What am I going to do on your farm?"
"You do what I do. Management and farming. I also have a friend. He can work together with us. He's a hard worker."
After he came back from Christmas back home, Mark had a pile of books on cattle farming on his desk. He lent two of Joel Salatin's books to me. One month later, I asked Mark how his farming plan was.
I had an online chat with my mother. She listed all the things that were not in my favour. That's what my mother does-- she lists all that's against you, and makes you depair. Finally you don't want to do it any more.
My parents won't be that patient. They just say "no and don't even think about it". End of the story. I said.
I'm thinking about quitting. Mark said yesterday when he washed dishes at the sink.
Why? Did you tell your mother? I asked.
Oh, yes.
What did she say?
She said, I suggest you finish the course. But if you do want to quit, then quit. I also told my friends, and they said, just quit, you stupid.
Mark, don't. Hold on til the end of the semester...
Let's hold on together in this.
The drizzle made me wet all over. My glasses went smoky when I stepped inside the house.
Hi, Damien. Mark, Mia and Ioanna greeted me in the kitchen.
Were you swallowed by a whale? Mark said. They all laughed.
By what? A whale? I asked.
Oh, I was just saying that you look wet.
Is it derived from the story about that little wooden boy?
Pinocchio? Oh, right, he is swallowed by a whale. But, no, that's about Jonah and the fish. It's from the Bible.
We played around and joked about in the kitchen. Ioanna and Mark argued about whether leakage from a man's penis will make a girl pregnant when having sex even if the man pulls out before jerking off. Later Mark had everybody stand in front of him, and pressed our arms with his hands while we tried to open our arms against his pressing. He let his hands go after one minute, and we all had a feeling as if our arms had become wings and would fly.
Damien. I forgot to tell you, I failed my exam. I got the result this afternoon. Mark said, holding a glass of beer. The course director said I need to take the exam again next year's January, and my dissertation won't be graded until after that.
Oh, fu--. I uttered an imcomplete word. My mind went blank. I felt as if I had been swallowed by a whale.
I just walked out. I saw people walking in the drizzle like me. One girl was wearing a hockey top and a skirt. Her pink legs were exposed to the rain and Feburay's freezing air. She was holding a hockey stick not an umbrella.
Yesterday, Mark said he wanted to quit.
Don't. I said. Hold on til the end of the semester. It's just a phase. It will pass.
Has your phase passed? Mark asked.
Not really.
I brought up quitting the course a month ago. I had been thinking about being a farmer for a long time. I don't understand why people have a low opinion of those who have an affection for soil. They eat things growing out of the soil. Yet they despise those who grow them.
Do you love your course more now? Mark asked.
No. Well, the same as before. I'm still not sure whether I want to be a journalist more than a farmer. I answered. Me and Mark have talked about farming since I introduced Joel Salatin to him 3 months ago.
Mark is from Indiana. He used to study philosophy, engineering and science at Purdue University. His parents are farmers. "I used to play with pigs. You know how you can get pig shit onto your face? Use a water hose, aim at the shit, and squirt, piu-- shit all over your face."
Aftering watching Joel Salatin's video clips I sent to him, Mark said, "Damien, I have a plan. I think I can do exactly what Salatin is doing. Do you want to farm with me?"
"Sure. That's all I have dreamed of."
"I've ordered Salatin's books. When I'm back home during Christmas I'll read them and make a plan. We have 500 acres of land..."
"But didn't you tell me that your parents have rented it to other people?"
"Well, my mother still owns it. And those people are my uncles. We can stop the agreement any time we want. That's the best part of my plan. Haha! Believe me, I can make it happen. I talked to my mother. She said I'm crazy and that my way of farming won't work. She's just too conventional to believe new things."
"What am I going to do on your farm?"
"You do what I do. Management and farming. I also have a friend. He can work together with us. He's a hard worker."
After he came back from Christmas back home, Mark had a pile of books on cattle farming on his desk. He lent two of Joel Salatin's books to me. One month later, I asked Mark how his farming plan was.
I had an online chat with my mother. She listed all the things that were not in my favour. That's what my mother does-- she lists all that's against you, and makes you depair. Finally you don't want to do it any more.
My parents won't be that patient. They just say "no and don't even think about it". End of the story. I said.
I'm thinking about quitting. Mark said yesterday when he washed dishes at the sink.
Why? Did you tell your mother? I asked.
Oh, yes.
What did she say?
She said, I suggest you finish the course. But if you do want to quit, then quit. I also told my friends, and they said, just quit, you stupid.
Mark, don't. Hold on til the end of the semester...
Let's hold on together in this.
The drizzle made me wet all over. My glasses went smoky when I stepped inside the house.
Hi, Damien. Mark, Mia and Ioanna greeted me in the kitchen.
Were you swallowed by a whale? Mark said. They all laughed.
By what? A whale? I asked.
Oh, I was just saying that you look wet.
Is it derived from the story about that little wooden boy?
Pinocchio? Oh, right, he is swallowed by a whale. But, no, that's about Jonah and the fish. It's from the Bible.
We played around and joked about in the kitchen. Ioanna and Mark argued about whether leakage from a man's penis will make a girl pregnant when having sex even if the man pulls out before jerking off. Later Mark had everybody stand in front of him, and pressed our arms with his hands while we tried to open our arms against his pressing. He let his hands go after one minute, and we all had a feeling as if our arms had become wings and would fly.
Damien. I forgot to tell you, I failed my exam. I got the result this afternoon. Mark said, holding a glass of beer. The course director said I need to take the exam again next year's January, and my dissertation won't be graded until after that.
Oh, fu--. I uttered an imcomplete word. My mind went blank. I felt as if I had been swallowed by a whale.
2010年2月16日星期二
the little spark
John Geraint: "A good story is the most important in a documentary film today. It was not important 30 years ago, when documentary films were just flashy shots and beautify images. It's always about story. [...] A little spark compells you to tell a story. That little spark of idealism is something you can hang onto."
"Sorry," sitting in the back, Angela raised her hand, "John, can I say something to disagree? Story is important, on that, I agree with you. But film is about good pictures. A good story needs to go with good images. I just want to balance your point."
John and Angela are man and wife.
"Sorry," sitting in the back, Angela raised her hand, "John, can I say something to disagree? Story is important, on that, I agree with you. But film is about good pictures. A good story needs to go with good images. I just want to balance your point."
John and Angela are man and wife.
Seymour Hersh
10, Feb. Verica Rupar's seminar of Great Journalists
"Journalists in Europe are seen as part of the intellectual elites; journalists in US are seen as professionals."
"Seymour Hersh is a man who clashes with people. He is famous for exaggerating things in public speeches. It is Tim Brown, an iconic figure in American journalism, who brought Hersh into NY Times."
"Hersh uses low men, hundreds of obscure people, as sources; while Bob Woodward uses top men, only a few high-status people, for verification. Amir Taheri and David Remnick have written a book Unidentified Sources to raise their questions to and doubts about Hersh's sources."
"Hersh wrote a book, The Dark Side of Camelot, about J.F. Kennedy's dirty deeds. It stirred indignation in the American public."
"Journalists in Europe are seen as part of the intellectual elites; journalists in US are seen as professionals."
"Seymour Hersh is a man who clashes with people. He is famous for exaggerating things in public speeches. It is Tim Brown, an iconic figure in American journalism, who brought Hersh into NY Times."
"Hersh uses low men, hundreds of obscure people, as sources; while Bob Woodward uses top men, only a few high-status people, for verification. Amir Taheri and David Remnick have written a book Unidentified Sources to raise their questions to and doubts about Hersh's sources."
"Hersh wrote a book, The Dark Side of Camelot, about J.F. Kennedy's dirty deeds. It stirred indignation in the American public."
2010年2月14日星期日
A Maverick Pig (一只特立独行的猪)
by Wang Xiaobo; translated by me.
In the village (where we were sent by Chairman Mao to be re-educated), I fed pigs, and grazed cattle. These two kinds of animals would have known completely how to live if there had been no human to manage their life. They would have strolled about at their will, drinking when thirsty and eating when hungry; and when spring came, they would have talked about love to each other. If so, their life would have been of poor quality, nothing exciting at all. Then the human came, who set rules for their life. As a result, every cow and every pig had a theme in their life. For the majority of them, the thematic life was miserable: the theme for the cattle was to shoulder the hard labor, and for the pig, to grow meat. I didn’t think they ought to complain about this, because life then for us was colorless, too. It didn’t leave us much to entertain ourselves except for eight model plays.
However, there were some very few pigs and cattle whose life was arranged for another purpose. Take the pig for example, the boars and sows were spared some freedom to do their own business besides eating. But for all I could see, they didn’t quite appreciate this set-up. The boar’s task was mating, in other words, he was allowed to be a Don Juan by our policy. But the exhausted boars acted as if they were castrated pigs kept for meat. Like a JunZi of high morals, they just wouldn’t jump onto the sows’ backs no matter how you threatened them. The sows’ task was reproducing, but some would eat their own kids. In a word, the pigs suffered tremendously. However, they accepted it: pigs were pigs.
It is the characteristic of humans to set various rules, not only for animals but for themselves as well. We all know there was a place called Sparta in ancient Greece, where man’s task was to be a sacrificial soldier, woman’s to be a reproduction machine; the former was like a fighting cock, and the latter a sow. Therefore, life there was so regulated that nothing was left but boredom. Our two animals were different cases, but I believe they didn’t like their life at all. But what could they do? Be it human or animal, both could hardly change their destiny.
The pig I’m going to talk about was special. He was four or five years old at the time when I was feeding pigs. Although he was kept for meat, he was dark and thin, with two glittering eyes. He was as quick as a goat and could jump the meter-high fence without trouble. He could even jump onto the roof of the pigsty, like a cat—so you would find him always wandering everywhere, never staying in the pigsty. All the intellectuals in the village who fed pigs treated him as their own spoiled child, and so did I—because he was friendly to nobody but us the intellectuals. He’d allow us to get as close to him as within three meters; he would run away from other people. He was a boar, and should have been castrated. But just go ahead, try to hide the castration hatchet behind your back and see if you can get him. He would instantly smell it, bulge his eyeballs at you and give a bellow. I always fed him with porridge made from rice chaff, and would dump it into the weeds to feed other pigs after he’d had enough of it. Other pigs were jealous at seeing this and squealed. Then, the pig farm was filled with horrible howling as if ghosts were crying, which he and I didn’t give a damn about. Stuffed with food, he would jump onto the roof of the pigsty to bask in the sun or imitate all kinds of sounds. He could sound like a horn, like a car or a truck
Sometimes we couldn’t find him for a whole day. I assumed he’d gone to the village nearby to look for sows. We kept sows, too, but they were kept inside the pigsty and were out of shape from over-reproducing. They were dirty and stinky. He was not interested in them. There were handsome sows in the neighboring village. He had many romantic adventures there. However, I’m not going to tell you about them because I know little about it due to the short period I spent feeding pigs. All I can say is that all the intellectuals who fed pigs liked him. We were fond of his way of being independent. We even gave ourselves credit for his free style of living. But the villagers didn’t agree on this point. They considered the pig as cynical, and as for the leaders, they hated him, which I’ll talk about later. My fondness of him even extended to respect for him, because I always called him “Brother Pig” ignoring the truth that I was ten years or more older than him. As I’ve already said, this Brother Pig could imitate any sound. I reckoned he’d tried to learn how to speak as a man, but failed—if not, we would have had a heart to heart conversation. But he was not the one to blame, to establish a rapport between man and pig was too different after all.
Later, Brother Pig learned how to wail like a whistle. This is what got him in trouble. We had a sugar factory and its whistle sounded every noon, so that the workers would change shifts accordingly. Hearing the whistle, our group, which was working in the field at the same time, would wrap it up and come back home. My Brother Pig began to jump onto the roof at ten o’clock every morning and imitate the siren there. People working in the field came back as soon as they heard it. Boy! This was one and a half hours earlier than the factory required. To be frank, there wasn’t much for us to blame Brother Pig for, and his wailing was different from the whistle. But the villagers said they couldn’t tell the difference whatsoever. As a result, the top leaders had a meeting, in which they accused him of being an agitator who was intending to sabotage the spring ploughing. What was worse, they decided to take action against him by means of persecution. Although I’d already known the meeting’s decision, I was not worried about him, for if they meant to use noose and hatchet [by means of dictatorship], it wouldn’t work on him at all. The former leaders had tried this, but even a hundred men were not able to catch him. Dogs were useless either: Brother pig ran like a torpedo, and would have elbowed the dogs miles out of the way. But Good Heaven, this time they really meant it. The instructor brought with him about twenty men, holding five-four style pistols in their hands; the deputy instructor led a dozen of people or so, all carrying guns used to protect the harvest. They split into two groups, converging from two directions in the open-air of the pig farm to corner him. This really put me into a dilemma: in view of our friendship, I should have held two butcher hatchets and stood with Brother Pig side by side to fight a way out. But on second thoughts, I realised this would probably scare the shit out of the whole world—he was after all nobody but a pig; Another reason was that I didn’t have the guts to go against the leaders, which I suspect was where the problem really lay. So I just looked on. I had admiration for Brother Pig’s composure: he calmly stayed inside the circle formed by the pistols and guns. However much the people shouted or the dogs barked, he just wouldn’t step out of the circle. Therefore, the people who were to pull the triggers of their pistols would kill those holding the harvest protection guns, and vice versa; if both groups were to fire simultaneously, they would all be killed. As for him, safety was almost guaranteed, for as a target he was not big enough. Then, after testing a couple of times, he found an opportunity and forced a way out running away in an astonishingly cool manner.
I ran into him several times in the sugarcane field after that. He’d grown fangs. He recognized me, but wouldn’t allow me to get close to him. His coldness pained me. However, I agreed that he should keep distance from those with malicious intentions.
I’m already forty years old. So far, but for this pig, I’ve never met anyone who dared to turn a blind eye to the rules imposed upon their life. On the contrary, I’ve only met people who try to set rules for other people’s lives, or who live contently with the rules imposed upon them. For this reason, I never stop commemorating this maverick pig.
In the village (where we were sent by Chairman Mao to be re-educated), I fed pigs, and grazed cattle. These two kinds of animals would have known completely how to live if there had been no human to manage their life. They would have strolled about at their will, drinking when thirsty and eating when hungry; and when spring came, they would have talked about love to each other. If so, their life would have been of poor quality, nothing exciting at all. Then the human came, who set rules for their life. As a result, every cow and every pig had a theme in their life. For the majority of them, the thematic life was miserable: the theme for the cattle was to shoulder the hard labor, and for the pig, to grow meat. I didn’t think they ought to complain about this, because life then for us was colorless, too. It didn’t leave us much to entertain ourselves except for eight model plays. However, there were some very few pigs and cattle whose life was arranged for another purpose. Take the pig for example, the boars and sows were spared some freedom to do their own business besides eating. But for all I could see, they didn’t quite appreciate this set-up. The boar’s task was mating, in other words, he was allowed to be a Don Juan by our policy. But the exhausted boars acted as if they were castrated pigs kept for meat. Like a JunZi of high morals, they just wouldn’t jump onto the sows’ backs no matter how you threatened them. The sows’ task was reproducing, but some would eat their own kids. In a word, the pigs suffered tremendously. However, they accepted it: pigs were pigs.
It is the characteristic of humans to set various rules, not only for animals but for themselves as well. We all know there was a place called Sparta in ancient Greece, where man’s task was to be a sacrificial soldier, woman’s to be a reproduction machine; the former was like a fighting cock, and the latter a sow. Therefore, life there was so regulated that nothing was left but boredom. Our two animals were different cases, but I believe they didn’t like their life at all. But what could they do? Be it human or animal, both could hardly change their destiny.
The pig I’m going to talk about was special. He was four or five years old at the time when I was feeding pigs. Although he was kept for meat, he was dark and thin, with two glittering eyes. He was as quick as a goat and could jump the meter-high fence without trouble. He could even jump onto the roof of the pigsty, like a cat—so you would find him always wandering everywhere, never staying in the pigsty. All the intellectuals in the village who fed pigs treated him as their own spoiled child, and so did I—because he was friendly to nobody but us the intellectuals. He’d allow us to get as close to him as within three meters; he would run away from other people. He was a boar, and should have been castrated. But just go ahead, try to hide the castration hatchet behind your back and see if you can get him. He would instantly smell it, bulge his eyeballs at you and give a bellow. I always fed him with porridge made from rice chaff, and would dump it into the weeds to feed other pigs after he’d had enough of it. Other pigs were jealous at seeing this and squealed. Then, the pig farm was filled with horrible howling as if ghosts were crying, which he and I didn’t give a damn about. Stuffed with food, he would jump onto the roof of the pigsty to bask in the sun or imitate all kinds of sounds. He could sound like a horn, like a car or a truck
Sometimes we couldn’t find him for a whole day. I assumed he’d gone to the village nearby to look for sows. We kept sows, too, but they were kept inside the pigsty and were out of shape from over-reproducing. They were dirty and stinky. He was not interested in them. There were handsome sows in the neighboring village. He had many romantic adventures there. However, I’m not going to tell you about them because I know little about it due to the short period I spent feeding pigs. All I can say is that all the intellectuals who fed pigs liked him. We were fond of his way of being independent. We even gave ourselves credit for his free style of living. But the villagers didn’t agree on this point. They considered the pig as cynical, and as for the leaders, they hated him, which I’ll talk about later. My fondness of him even extended to respect for him, because I always called him “Brother Pig” ignoring the truth that I was ten years or more older than him. As I’ve already said, this Brother Pig could imitate any sound. I reckoned he’d tried to learn how to speak as a man, but failed—if not, we would have had a heart to heart conversation. But he was not the one to blame, to establish a rapport between man and pig was too different after all.
Later, Brother Pig learned how to wail like a whistle. This is what got him in trouble. We had a sugar factory and its whistle sounded every noon, so that the workers would change shifts accordingly. Hearing the whistle, our group, which was working in the field at the same time, would wrap it up and come back home. My Brother Pig began to jump onto the roof at ten o’clock every morning and imitate the siren there. People working in the field came back as soon as they heard it. Boy! This was one and a half hours earlier than the factory required. To be frank, there wasn’t much for us to blame Brother Pig for, and his wailing was different from the whistle. But the villagers said they couldn’t tell the difference whatsoever. As a result, the top leaders had a meeting, in which they accused him of being an agitator who was intending to sabotage the spring ploughing. What was worse, they decided to take action against him by means of persecution. Although I’d already known the meeting’s decision, I was not worried about him, for if they meant to use noose and hatchet [by means of dictatorship], it wouldn’t work on him at all. The former leaders had tried this, but even a hundred men were not able to catch him. Dogs were useless either: Brother pig ran like a torpedo, and would have elbowed the dogs miles out of the way. But Good Heaven, this time they really meant it. The instructor brought with him about twenty men, holding five-four style pistols in their hands; the deputy instructor led a dozen of people or so, all carrying guns used to protect the harvest. They split into two groups, converging from two directions in the open-air of the pig farm to corner him. This really put me into a dilemma: in view of our friendship, I should have held two butcher hatchets and stood with Brother Pig side by side to fight a way out. But on second thoughts, I realised this would probably scare the shit out of the whole world—he was after all nobody but a pig; Another reason was that I didn’t have the guts to go against the leaders, which I suspect was where the problem really lay. So I just looked on. I had admiration for Brother Pig’s composure: he calmly stayed inside the circle formed by the pistols and guns. However much the people shouted or the dogs barked, he just wouldn’t step out of the circle. Therefore, the people who were to pull the triggers of their pistols would kill those holding the harvest protection guns, and vice versa; if both groups were to fire simultaneously, they would all be killed. As for him, safety was almost guaranteed, for as a target he was not big enough. Then, after testing a couple of times, he found an opportunity and forced a way out running away in an astonishingly cool manner.
I ran into him several times in the sugarcane field after that. He’d grown fangs. He recognized me, but wouldn’t allow me to get close to him. His coldness pained me. However, I agreed that he should keep distance from those with malicious intentions.
I’m already forty years old. So far, but for this pig, I’ve never met anyone who dared to turn a blind eye to the rules imposed upon their life. On the contrary, I’ve only met people who try to set rules for other people’s lives, or who live contently with the rules imposed upon them. For this reason, I never stop commemorating this maverick pig.
2010年2月13日星期六
俞孔坚：美丽的大脚
原文为英文，题为Beautiful Big Feet，刊登在Harvard Design Magazine, Fall/Winter 2009/10, Nov. 31。俞孔坚1995年在哈佛大学获得设计学博士学位。
当时受人尊敬的知识分子还写诗作画，对受缚的小脚大唱赞歌，今人看到这样的小脚，马上会想到丑陋不堪、人体施虐 。在画师的笔下，经典的中国美人都有着一副小脚、一对平胸，髋窄如柳、肤白如霜，这与强壮、健康的农村姑娘对比鲜明。换言之，“美”曾一度被认为要脱离生育，脱离“粗俗”，脱离以生存为本的自然演进。
几千年来，全世界的都市贵人们都把持着对美和品位的定义权，以此维护着自己的尊位和权力。为了让城市的阳春白雪超脱农村的下里巴人，成百上千的文化习俗排斥了自然本身所蕴含的健康、生存和生育美。裹小脚和压扁额只是这众多文化习俗中的两种。
但是随着中国愈来愈城市化、愈来愈“开化”，这种民间景观逐渐被剥离了它的生育功能、为生活提供的保障及其内在的自然美。就像因缠足而变成残疾的农村姑娘，这种美学逐渐被少数的城市上层阶级接纳，并摇身变成了人工装饰出来的庭院。无用、休闲、装饰的美学观占据了主导，并一举汇入了现在力求“现代”、高端的强大思潮中。
但是不同文化设计出来的景观和庭院，都根植于文明的最初形态——农业景观：伊斯兰的花园演变自需要浇灌的旱地。意大利的梯式花园，其原型是依陡坡而建的葡萄园。诗情画意的英式景观始于草场。而中国的庭院，源自于农田。但是城市花园的主人和设计者无法欣赏这样的农村景观，它们乡气十足，往往与杂乱的劳动阶级联系在一起。
在过去的50年中，中国50%的湿地已经消失。多年以来，地下水水位一直以每年一米的速度下降。
两千年来，帝王将相们出于慵懒的审美，用装饰树和假山创造出了一个假的桃花源。灌溉渠和池塘被装璜一新。渔场里饲养起了变种的、摆饰用的金鱼。绿色植物被长着金黄色叶子的植株取代；蔬菜和香草被驱逐出土，栽之以名贵的牡丹和玫瑰。原本健康的树木被修枝、弯折、矮化、隳削成了盆栽。石头里只有奇巧的“小脚”石派上了用处。栽种的桃树都是那些不能结果的。就像缠足的妇女，这些城市的装饰品不事生产，它们能存活全赖于人类恒久的看护。人们给它们浇灌、修剪、除草、人工繁衍。历史上绝大多数的“奇迹花园”随着它们主人的离去而腐朽。那些现存的或是经后人恢复的，至今仍需要人们永不间断的护理。
请不要误解我的意思：某种意义上，所有的艺术、音乐和舞蹈都是“不事生产的”——但物种的繁衍却需要生产。我不是说以上的艺术形式都会灭绝，我也无意贬低生活中审美和享乐的价值，我想说的是，我们居住的环境生态遭受了巨大的破坏，人造的自然环境必须、也将采纳一种新的美学观，这一美学观要求我们学会欣赏具有生产能力、能够维持生态的事物。我们渴望脱离实用价值的美，但这一心理渴望正在——也应当——减弱。在现在这个世界里，人类的生存正面临着威胁。浪费，不说它违背道德，至少也令人憎恶。事实上有很多具有实用价值的东西可供我们审美。
从乡民到市民，以及生存的挑战
人们大规模地从乡村转移到城市还是近来才有的现象。今天，城市的居住人口已超过了乡村。在过去的一个世纪，全世界城市人口的比例从1900年的13%上升到了1950年的29.1%，再到了2005年的48.6%。预计到2030年，这一数字将达到60%（49亿）。到2050年底，超过60亿的人，全球人口的2/3，将居住在城镇和城市。
1950年之前的两千多年，中国的城市化得益于农业的补给，且其城市化率勉强达到10% （1950年达到了13%）。到2007年底，13亿的中国人口中约有43%是城镇居民。每年中国有180万人迁移到城市。联合国预测到2015年，中国的城市人口和农村人口将持平。
由20世纪前享有特权的少数都市人根据美学标准经营起来的景观，现在受到了大众的追捧，他们的祖先世代农民，生生世世都在挣扎着要变成城里人。这些新城市移民就像那些缠足的农村姑娘一样，迫不及待地要在肉体和精神上变成贵族。当代的中国景观、建筑、城市设计，清晰地反映了普通大众想要变成高等人的渴望。
农村人口涌入城市之前，中国的装饰性景观和城市设计，透过典型的欧洲巴洛克景观设计和装饰性花园，照射出了享有特权的市民阶层的集体愿望。黄金地段变成了新开发的城市居住区和公共场所。后乡村时代继承的关于城市性的理念不仅改变了原有的城市也改变了中国的整个景观。粗粝、野性的河流被规定了河道，铺上了大理石。赋有乡村气息的湿地被喷泉和整洁的人造池塘所取代。“杂芜”的原生灌木被连根拔除，取而代之的是外来的园艺装饰物；原生的植草被修整一新的外来草坪所取代，在北京和中国大部分地区，每一平方米这样的草坪就要消耗超过一立方米的水。
下图：台州永宁河公园，北京土人景观规划设计研究所
从2002年到2010年，中国将消耗全世界水泥产量的一半，钢铁产量的30%多。难道这是让一个农业国走向城市化必须的吗？不尽然，因为这些不可再生资源的一部分浪费在了破坏、控制“芜杂”的自然以及创造装饰性景观和“标志性”建筑上。可举的例子包括奥林匹克公园，浪费大量钢材的鸟巢体育馆，耗费巨资、堪称“奇观”的CCTV塔楼，以及耗噬巨能的国家大剧院。漂亮的鸟巢消耗了4万2千吨钢（约莫每平方米500公斤钢材）。CCTV塔楼每平方米消耗了近300公斤钢材，就钢材花费来说，它是全世界最昂贵的建筑。2008年奥运会期间，数百万美耗费在了装饰性的花圃上：所用的花盆约有4-10千万个。想象一下，要是换成4千万棵树，北京的空气会有多大的改善啊。在上海，几乎所有的地标性建筑都戴上了装饰帽：有一个楼顶象征着莲花，有一个楼顶水仙，另一个楼顶是扳头，还有一个楼顶是飞碟。这些小饰物让城市变得琐碎。
岐江公园与中国经典的太学式的庭院截然不同，自2002年落成之后，它就成了旅游者和当地居民游览的景点。它每日每年都发挥着效用，它不仅是佳人们拍结婚照最喜欢去的场所，还成了时装秀的展台。它向我们展示了景观建筑师无需事先单划出一块用以聚人存物的地就可以创造出合乎自然的公共空间，并让其自现其文化和历史的含义。岐江公园有力地支持了普通民众和环保的道德观：“野草是美丽的”。
能事生产的景观：沈阳建筑大学的稻田校区
该项目向我们展示了农业景观是如何成为城市环境的一部分，普通的生产性景观是如何培养文化认同的。中国惊人的城市化吞噬了大量了的粮田。对一个有着13亿人口和有限耕地的国家来说，粮食生产和土地的可持续使用生死攸关，这也是景观设计师必须解决的问题。
在一片自然的地势和植被间，该景观筑成了一道500米长的“红飘带”，提供采光和座位，诠释环境，标明路径。该项目尽可能地保留了自然的河道，它向我们展示了极简的设计方案如何带来戏剧化的改善。
原址本来就有着优良的生态环境：繁茂多样的原生植物为很多生物提供了栖息场所。汤河穿秦皇岛而过，这块地便位居汤河一隅，但无人修整，荒芜一片，成了垃圾的倾倒场，在那里还能发现废弃的旧屋和灌溉渠，以及多年以前建造的水塔。低矮的灌木和芜杂的青草覆盖满地，既难接近又不安全。政府既想把这块地开发成城市聚居区，又想把它变成钓鱼、游泳、跑步的场所。
汤河的下游早已被大理石划出了渠槽，装饰性的植物将它“打扮”一新，新的河槽眼看就要开凿，为了制止开凿，我们的公司提出了红飘带的设计方案。在将垃圾清理一空、重饬了这块污染的土地之后，我们仅仅是为它系上了一条轻盈的飘带。这条飘带给植被茂密的景观增加了许多亮色，不仅将自然界多姿多彩的植物串联在了一起，也为人们认识这块先前难以接近、慌乱不整的地方搭建了一条途径。汤河公园既都市又现代——这正是当地居民极欲追求的效果——但同时也巩固了生态，保留了原址的自然条件。
把活留给自然去干：“适应的调色板”，天津桥园公园
桥园公园位于北方海滨城市天津，占地22公顷（54英亩）。迅速的城市化已经把一个偏僻的打靶场变成了一个垃圾倾倒场和城市暴雨排水的接水盆。这块地污染严重，垃圾满地，被人遗弃，四周是贫民窟和破旧的临时建筑，它们在我们的设计获准通过之前被拆除。这里的土壤多盐，呈碱性。
当地的地势平坦，曾经富饶的湿地和盐碱的沼泽，均毁于近几年的城市化。尽管难以在盐碱地里栽种树木，但覆盖地表和湿地的植被异常丰富，随着地下水位和PH值的细微变化而呈现不同的形态。
原生的植被装点着当地的景观，受此启发，我们将设计方案命名为“适应的调色板”。我们的建造策略很简单，挖21个直径10-40米、深1.1-5米的地洞。有些地洞低于地平面，有些则挖在高出地面的土丘上，有些是盛水的池塘，有些是湿地，有些则是干的。这就形成了多样的栖息地，紧接着的便是自然的演化和适应。我们播撒了混合植物的种子，让它们长出植被，其它则是当地的原生植物遍布各处。随着季节的转变，成片特殊的植被蔓延到了那些挖的湿洞和干洞，找到了各自的窝。个别洞的空间随着最高地下水位变化，深度仅会有10厘米的变化。新景观反映了植被对水和盐碱土质的敏感度。每个地洞上都有一块木制的平台，游人们可以坐在植被中央。一片片的植被诠释了生态系统，描绘了自然的式样、演进和原生的种群。
桥园公园实现了核心的目标。暴雨积水蓄在了开挖的池塘里，亲水的种群逐渐在其中演化、繁衍。植物出现了季节变化，并与自然景观融于一体，每天吸引了上千的游客。公园开园的前两个月，2008年10月、11月，约有20万游客。围绕生态的大脚美学给了人们渴望得到的东西。
乌托邦方案：北京，一个新的花园城市
中国现在的城市和建筑是难以为继的：纪念碑式的建筑、宽阔的道路、数不尽的停车场、巨大的城市广场、鲜花点缀的景观、工程主导的都市网络，我们最终会意识到这些都是可怕的错误。
未来的城市应是新型的“花园城市”，排放小或者净排碳量为零、高产、具有良好的保护动植物的意识。雨水不再被城市的管道排走，而是蓄在池塘里补给地下水。绿色的空间不再是花朵和不结果的树木点缀其间，而是布满庄稼和果树。大米高粱会在社区和学校结穗。收获季节，动物和人类享乐其间。建筑物的外表能进行光合作用。屋顶可以养鱼，同时具有聚敛热量的功能，不仅节能还能提供食物。地窖则是优良的蘑菇培育基地。
CCTV大楼则会变成一个集农业、饲养、鱼塘于一体的复杂系统。裤衩下面的空洞可以安装风车发电。国家大剧院很容易就能改造成一间温室，种上各种各样的水果，地下室用来培育蘑菇。鸟巢可以变成全国的蔬菜市场。巨大的钢铁结构可以挂上容器，每个容器就是一个空中菜园。天安门广场可以改造成向日葵田，不仅能产油，还能让市民享受目睹向日葵对着太阳转脑袋的乐趣。轻轨将是城市的交通工具，连接各处密集的行人区，人们可以在行人区存取自行车。过时的停车场会被种上大麦和蔬菜，或者变成鱼塘，储蓄雨水。新的花园城市不仅标志着一个乌托邦，也标志着一种生态文明。这便是求生的艺术。
美丽的大脚（点击：原文下载）翻译：zorow_2000
近一千年的中国，年轻的姑娘为了和达官贵人一续姻缘，被迫缠足，因为她们自然生长的“大脚”被看作是未开化、乡村气。起初，缠足还只是上等人的特权。随后这一做法愈演愈烈，直到1911年清朝崩解才告消停。
这一“美”的定义，以及“美”与都市显要地位的联系，并非中国文化独有。早期的西班牙-玛雅神甫和贵族，出于显示社会地位的需要，会弄残孩子的身体。他们的“美”——前额倾斜，眼如杏仁，鼻大如蒜，双唇下垂——今天看来同小脚一样丑陋不堪。
上图：苏州留园
赛珍珠（Pearl S. Buck） 在《大地》（The Good Earth, 1931）——这部关于中国农村的小说中形象地描绘了城市化和去中心化的进程。故事开始便出现了主人公王龙，这个穷人娶了当地绅贵的一个奴仆。娶来的奴仆很能生育，嗣有三男两女。她不漂亮，但很能干活，烧饭、持家样样行，她还上街乞讨缓解家里的贫困。后来王龙变富了，不再自己下地，于是雇了其他农民给他种地。他甚至让自己的地抛荒，向其他人买粮，他还新造了房屋，娶了一个削瘦的漂亮女人当作小妾养着，不准她干活，也不准她生育。财富日增的王龙租了城里的豪宅，把全家搬了进去住。他停滞了生产，这却成了他“出人头地”的标志。
中国人的美学思想在演变，随之改变的还有人们看待景观设计中的城市性和趣味性的观念。数千年来，靠着祖辈不断试验和犯错传承下来的求生技能，中国的农民经营着生之所依的景观。世代以来，农民顺应了来自自然灾害的威胁和破坏——洪水、干旱、地震、泥石流、土壤侵蚀—— 他们不断改善技能，护地、灌溉、生产粮食。于是流传开了这样一个故事：我们的祖先创造并护育着一块“桃花满园之地”，一个渔夫发现了这片丰饶、和谐的世外桃源。正是农民努力为了营生，才创造出了各种能让土地丰裕多产、持久不衰的技艺。人们觉得桃花源是一块美丽的土地是因为那里仅仅有序、与自然相生相融，所得即自然所予。
但是随着中国愈来愈城市化、愈来愈“开化”，这种民间景观逐渐被剥离了它的生育功能、为生活提供的保障及其内在的自然美。就像因缠足而变成残疾的农村姑娘，这种美学逐渐被少数的城市上层阶级接纳，并摇身变成了人工装饰出来的庭院。无用、休闲、装饰的美学观占据了主导，并一举汇入了现在力求“现代”、高端的强大思潮中。
但是不同文化设计出来的景观和庭院，都根植于文明的最初形态——农业景观：伊斯兰的花园演变自需要浇灌的旱地。意大利的梯式花园，其原型是依陡坡而建的葡萄园。诗情画意的英式景观始于草场。而中国的庭院，源自于农田。但是城市花园的主人和设计者无法欣赏这样的农村景观，它们乡气十足，往往与杂乱的劳动阶级联系在一起。
在过去的50年中，中国50%的湿地已经消失。多年以来，地下水水位一直以每年一米的速度下降。
两千年来，帝王将相们出于慵懒的审美，用装饰树和假山创造出了一个假的桃花源。灌溉渠和池塘被装璜一新。渔场里饲养起了变种的、摆饰用的金鱼。绿色植物被长着金黄色叶子的植株取代；蔬菜和香草被驱逐出土，栽之以名贵的牡丹和玫瑰。原本健康的树木被修枝、弯折、矮化、隳削成了盆栽。石头里只有奇巧的“小脚”石派上了用处。栽种的桃树都是那些不能结果的。就像缠足的妇女，这些城市的装饰品不事生产，它们能存活全赖于人类恒久的看护。人们给它们浇灌、修剪、除草、人工繁衍。历史上绝大多数的“奇迹花园”随着它们主人的离去而腐朽。那些现存的或是经后人恢复的，至今仍需要人们永不间断的护理。
请不要误解我的意思：某种意义上，所有的艺术、音乐和舞蹈都是“不事生产的”——但物种的繁衍却需要生产。我不是说以上的艺术形式都会灭绝，我也无意贬低生活中审美和享乐的价值，我想说的是，我们居住的环境生态遭受了巨大的破坏，人造的自然环境必须、也将采纳一种新的美学观，这一美学观要求我们学会欣赏具有生产能力、能够维持生态的事物。我们渴望脱离实用价值的美，但这一心理渴望正在——也应当——减弱。在现在这个世界里，人类的生存正面临着威胁。浪费，不说它违背道德，至少也令人憎恶。事实上有很多具有实用价值的东西可供我们审美。
从乡民到市民，以及生存的挑战
人们大规模地从乡村转移到城市还是近来才有的现象。今天，城市的居住人口已超过了乡村。在过去的一个世纪，全世界城市人口的比例从1900年的13%上升到了1950年的29.1%，再到了2005年的48.6%。预计到2030年，这一数字将达到60%（49亿）。到2050年底，超过60亿的人，全球人口的2/3，将居住在城镇和城市。
1950年之前的两千多年，中国的城市化得益于农业的补给，且其城市化率勉强达到10% （1950年达到了13%）。到2007年底，13亿的中国人口中约有43%是城镇居民。每年中国有180万人迁移到城市。联合国预测到2015年，中国的城市人口和农村人口将持平。
由20世纪前享有特权的少数都市人根据美学标准经营起来的景观，现在受到了大众的追捧，他们的祖先世代农民，生生世世都在挣扎着要变成城里人。这些新城市移民就像那些缠足的农村姑娘一样，迫不及待地要在肉体和精神上变成贵族。当代的中国景观、建筑、城市设计，清晰地反映了普通大众想要变成高等人的渴望。
农村人口涌入城市之前，中国的装饰性景观和城市设计，透过典型的欧洲巴洛克景观设计和装饰性花园，照射出了享有特权的市民阶层的集体愿望。黄金地段变成了新开发的城市居住区和公共场所。后乡村时代继承的关于城市性的理念不仅改变了原有的城市也改变了中国的整个景观。粗粝、野性的河流被规定了河道，铺上了大理石。赋有乡村气息的湿地被喷泉和整洁的人造池塘所取代。“杂芜”的原生灌木被连根拔除，取而代之的是外来的园艺装饰物；原生的植草被修整一新的外来草坪所取代，在北京和中国大部分地区，每一平方米这样的草坪就要消耗超过一立方米的水。
下图：台州永宁河公园，北京土人景观规划设计研究所
从2002年到2010年，中国将消耗全世界水泥产量的一半，钢铁产量的30%多。难道这是让一个农业国走向城市化必须的吗？不尽然，因为这些不可再生资源的一部分浪费在了破坏、控制“芜杂”的自然以及创造装饰性景观和“标志性”建筑上。可举的例子包括奥林匹克公园，浪费大量钢材的鸟巢体育馆，耗费巨资、堪称“奇观”的CCTV塔楼，以及耗噬巨能的国家大剧院。漂亮的鸟巢消耗了4万2千吨钢（约莫每平方米500公斤钢材）。CCTV塔楼每平方米消耗了近300公斤钢材，就钢材花费来说，它是全世界最昂贵的建筑。2008年奥运会期间，数百万美耗费在了装饰性的花圃上：所用的花盆约有4-10千万个。想象一下，要是换成4千万棵树，北京的空气会有多大的改善啊。在上海，几乎所有的地标性建筑都戴上了装饰帽：有一个楼顶象征着莲花，有一个楼顶水仙，另一个楼顶是扳头，还有一个楼顶是飞碟。这些小饰物让城市变得琐碎。目前，中国正经历着一场“城市美化运动”（其实叫“城市美容运动”更确切），城市设计、景观和建筑艺术在“小脚美学”的指导下，塑造出了钝人头脑的传统风格、或是毫无意义的原始形式和恢弘的异域情调，如此也让景观艺术迷失了方向。这些形式的作品加剧了环境的退化。中国的人口占世界的21%，但土地和淡水只占了世界的7%。中国662个城市中，2/3缺乏用水；75%的河流和湖泊被污染。在北方，沙漠化的危机已经凸显。过去50年，中国50%的湿地已经消失。作为规划者，我们该秉持怎样的价值理念？全球和地区的各种情势迫使我们须将艺术和维持生存、培育土地、保护物种结合起来，装饰物应让位于这些目标。我们需要一种大脚的新美学——美丽的大脚。
上图：中山岐江公园，北京土人景观规划设计所
大脚美学：恢复景观建筑，将设计当成求生的艺术
如今，世人都会承认人类活动导致的气候变化已经带来、并将继续带来更多的洪涝、暴雨、干旱、疾病、动植物的灭绝，还有对人类生存的威胁。一份新的调查显示，来自矿物燃料和工业生产的二氧化碳排放量，正在以预计的3倍速度增长：北极的冰盖以3倍的速度融化；海洋正以2倍的速度快速上升。每一块大陆上都有河流枯涸，水资源紧缺日益加剧。我们正面临着自恐龙灭绝以来最大的物种消亡：每1个小时，有3个物种从地球上消失。引用爱因斯坦的一句话，“如果人类还要生存的话，我们应当以全新的方式思考。”这要求我们重新思考何为悦目、何为美丽，特别是在景观建筑领域，因为它是我们追求可持续生态的重要专业手段。
中山岐江公园
实践大脚美学
与洪水为友：台州的漂流花园——永宁河公园
该项目向我们展示了好的设计如何让我们与自然共生，如何以生态的手段控制洪水、调控暴雨带来的蓄水，并告诉人们除了工程手段之外我们还有其它办法控制洪水、还原原生植物及普通景观的美。公园占地21公顷（52英亩），傍河而立。河东岸是历史名城黄岩。永宁河正是黄岩的母亲河。由于过去治洪下达的政策，以及景观设计师受命所做的“美化”，园址大部分区域砌上了水泥。我们的公司成功地说服了当地的领导停止在余址继续原有的治洪工程，相反，我们采用了生态治洪和暴雨蓄水的调控系统。
根据水处理的分析结果，我们设计了区域性的排水方案；混凝土坝被拆除，代之以湿地，湿地既能疏导洪水、保护生物，又能为人们提供户外休闲、生态教育，展示当地的历史和文化。当地的原生草被很多人视为“丑陋的野草”，我们用它来加固河堤。我们还在恢复起来的自然景观上铺上笔直的路网，插上文字牌帮助人们享受自然演进、了解当地历史。这样做的效果立竿见影：洪水问题成功解决；青蛙、鱼和鸟儿重新归来；当地的电视台在黄金档专题称颂了“丑陋的野草” ；成百上千的人们来到公园参观这个原本被当作杂芜、粗俗的地方。
重新估量大众文化和野草的美：中山岐江公园
该公园位于广东省中山市，占地11公顷（27英亩）。公园是在一个废弃的船坞旧址上建起来的。船厂建于1950年代，于1999年破产，这在中国的历史长河里微不足道，因此也理所当然地会被抹平，为城市化和“巴洛克”式的花园腾出地方。但是船坞厂反映了社会主义中国50年的波澜历史，其中不仅有六、七十年代的文化大革命，也记录了普通大众的生活点滴。因此我们遵循的原则是精简、旧物利用、采用环保的自然和人造材料。我们保留了原生的植被和自然的栖息地，从头到尾只栽种了本地的植物。机器、码头以及其它工厂遗址都循环利用，发挥着教育、审美、使用的功能。这样的设计解决了园址向我们提出的挑战：维持原有的水位，我们用榕树来保护老河堤，既规整河流宽度又控制洪水，达到两者的平衡。
能事生产的景观：沈阳建筑大学的稻田校区
该项目向我们展示了农业景观是如何成为城市环境的一部分，普通的生产性景观是如何培养文化认同的。中国惊人的城市化吞噬了大量了的粮田。对一个有着13亿人口和有限耕地的国家来说，粮食生产和土地的可持续使用生死攸关，这也是景观设计师必须解决的问题。
上图：沈阳建筑大学稻田校区，北京土人景观规划设计研究所
沈阳建筑大学的新校区占地80公顷（198英亩）。设计和建造不仅预算小而且工程紧（6个月），但校方还是想要一个能体现强烈校园特色的景观。我的公司建议建造一片能事生产的稻田（间种当地其它作物），同时也满足各种新的功能需要。暴雨蓄水成池，浇灌农田。青蛙在田间生长，控制虫害。稻田里养的鱼还能让作物的产量翻倍。“除草”的羊儿则让重污染的割草机没有了用武之地。
景观的生产性也包括学生的参与。每一年校区都被会举办播种节和丰收节，中国的农耕文化得以复苏。农业生产成了大学生和附近中学生的胜景。收割的粮食被装在“黄金稻米”的袋子里，不仅在学校食堂出售，也当作纪念物赠送给访客。现在“黄金稻米”已成了学校的身份标志，在国内举校皆知。
稻田校区让多数来自城市的学生对环境和农业变得敏感起来。它向我们展示了廉价、高产的农业景观在精心设计和细心经营下也可以为我们带来愉悦和享受。最后，这样可供人们劳动的景观再次明证了新的大脚美学——不受约束，美丽大方。
秦皇岛的汤河公园（红飘带），北京土人景观规划设计研究所
将人为干涉减小到最低
红飘带：秦皇岛汤河公园
在一片自然的地势和植被间，该景观筑成了一道500米长的“红飘带”，提供采光和座位，诠释环境，标明路径。该项目尽可能地保留了自然的河道，它向我们展示了极简的设计方案如何带来戏剧化的改善。
汤河的下游早已被大理石划出了渠槽，装饰性的植物将它“打扮”一新，新的河槽眼看就要开凿，为了制止开凿，我们的公司提出了红飘带的设计方案。在将垃圾清理一空、重饬了这块污染的土地之后，我们仅仅是为它系上了一条轻盈的飘带。这条飘带给植被茂密的景观增加了许多亮色，不仅将自然界多姿多彩的植物串联在了一起，也为人们认识这块先前难以接近、慌乱不整的地方搭建了一条途径。汤河公园既都市又现代——这正是当地居民极欲追求的效果——但同时也巩固了生态，保留了原址的自然条件。
把活留给自然去干：“适应的调色板”，天津桥园公园
桥园公园位于北方海滨城市天津，占地22公顷（54英亩）。迅速的城市化已经把一个偏僻的打靶场变成了一个垃圾倾倒场和城市暴雨排水的接水盆。这块地污染严重，垃圾满地，被人遗弃，四周是贫民窟和破旧的临时建筑，它们在我们的设计获准通过之前被拆除。这里的土壤多盐，呈碱性。
当地的地势平坦，曾经富饶的湿地和盐碱的沼泽，均毁于近几年的城市化。尽管难以在盐碱地里栽种树木，但覆盖地表和湿地的植被异常丰富，随着地下水位和PH值的细微变化而呈现不同的形态。
天津桥园公园，北京土人景观规划设计研究所
纪念碑式的建筑、宽阔的道路、数不尽的停车场、巨大的城市广场、鲜花点缀的景观、工程主导的都市网络，我们最终会意识到这些都是可怕的错误。
我们整体的设计目标是要建造一个能为城市和周边居民提供自然多样性的公园，这样的多样性包括储存、净化城市的暴雨排水，通过自然调节改善盐碱的土质，恢复景观中原本无需太多人力照料的植被，提供环境教育的场所，使人们认识当地的景观、生态系统、暴雨积水的排给、土壤改善和景观的可持续发展；并为人们创造铭记于心的审美体验。
桥园公园实现了核心的目标。暴雨积水蓄在了开挖的池塘里，亲水的种群逐渐在其中演化、繁衍。植物出现了季节变化，并与自然景观融于一体，每天吸引了上千的游客。公园开园的前两个月，2008年10月、11月，约有20万游客。围绕生态的大脚美学给了人们渴望得到的东西。
乌托邦方案：北京，一个新的花园城市
未来的城市应是新型的“花园城市”，排放小或者净排碳量为零、高产、具有良好的保护动植物的意识。雨水不再被城市的管道排走，而是蓄在池塘里补给地下水。绿色的空间不再是花朵和不结果的树木点缀其间，而是布满庄稼和果树。大米高粱会在社区和学校结穗。收获季节，动物和人类享乐其间。建筑物的外表能进行光合作用。屋顶可以养鱼，同时具有聚敛热量的功能，不仅节能还能提供食物。地窖则是优良的蘑菇培育基地。
CCTV大楼则会变成一个集农业、饲养、鱼塘于一体的复杂系统。裤衩下面的空洞可以安装风车发电。国家大剧院很容易就能改造成一间温室，种上各种各样的水果，地下室用来培育蘑菇。鸟巢可以变成全国的蔬菜市场。巨大的钢铁结构可以挂上容器，每个容器就是一个空中菜园。天安门广场可以改造成向日葵田，不仅能产油，还能让市民享受目睹向日葵对着太阳转脑袋的乐趣。轻轨将是城市的交通工具，连接各处密集的行人区，人们可以在行人区存取自行车。过时的停车场会被种上大麦和蔬菜，或者变成鱼塘，储蓄雨水。新的花园城市不仅标志着一个乌托邦，也标志着一种生态文明。这便是求生的艺术。
2010年2月10日星期三
2010年2月9日星期二
凤凰财经做的大豆专题
http://finance.ifeng.com/topic/money/ddzz/
专题报导里一些细节，我难以认同，我甚至认为这些细节所反应出的是现代农业本身的结症，而这些从固有思维出发的草率的论断及其误导人。
我粗略地看了些农业的书以及bbc的纪录片，讲到土壤问题是这么说的，土地的板结是由于1）使用化肥、2）耕地，特别是深耕、3）不让土地休耕导致的。
英国有个fordhall农庄，牧场的理念就是不耕地，因为“给土壤耕地就等于人扒掉自己的皮肤”（ploughing is like a human being ripping off his skin），杀死土壤中的生物，继而严重破坏土壤。
日本农民福冈正信的水稻种植法其中一条也是不耕地，另外一条自然是不用化肥。福冈正信年轻时是微生物研究员。
就我从Food Inc.这部纪录片、以及和美国室友（他家就是农民）的聊天中了解到的，食品这个大豆产业链的最大的获益者是像孟山都这样的跨国公司，美国的农民种大豆不仅不能自己留种，还要支付昂贵的买种费，他们肯定不会是最大的受益者（事实上美国的农民也入不敷出）。如果美国的农民是最大的受益者，那像孟山都这样的公司就成了义务帮助农民的慈善机构了。我不知道巴西的农民是否是最大的受益者，但我的猜测倾向于否。
专题报导里一些细节，我难以认同，我甚至认为这些细节所反应出的是现代农业本身的结症，而这些从固有思维出发的草率的论断及其误导人。
陈彦贵（黑龙江省大豆协会副会长、齐齐哈尔市大豆协会会长）表示，目前国产大豆面临质量、产量双双下滑的困境。究其原因，他分析说：“首先，土地板结严重，分田到户后，大部分农民的土地没有深松、深翻过；其次，大豆种子老化、混杂，年年混种混收，优良种子繁育和推广工作根本无人问津。”（引文出处）
我粗略地看了些农业的书以及bbc的纪录片，讲到土壤问题是这么说的，土地的板结是由于1）使用化肥、2）耕地，特别是深耕、3）不让土地休耕导致的。
英国有个fordhall农庄，牧场的理念就是不耕地，因为“给土壤耕地就等于人扒掉自己的皮肤”（ploughing is like a human being ripping off his skin），杀死土壤中的生物，继而严重破坏土壤。
日本农民福冈正信的水稻种植法其中一条也是不耕地，另外一条自然是不用化肥。福冈正信年轻时是微生物研究员。
根据海关统计，我国2月进口大豆326万吨，3月进口386万吨。比去年同期分别上涨了61.4%和66.4%。不过，在全球化的大豆产业链上，其最大的获益者，不是东北农民，而是美国、巴西的农民。（引文出处）
就我从Food Inc.这部纪录片、以及和美国室友（他家就是农民）的聊天中了解到的，食品这个大豆产业链的最大的获益者是像孟山都这样的跨国公司，美国的农民种大豆不仅不能自己留种，还要支付昂贵的买种费，他们肯定不会是最大的受益者（事实上美国的农民也入不敷出）。如果美国的农民是最大的受益者，那像孟山都这样的公司就成了义务帮助农民的慈善机构了。我不知道巴西的农民是否是最大的受益者，但我的猜测倾向于否。
2010年2月6日星期六
无题
我现在在一个叫英国的地方——我不知道是否应该称之为国家，因为这里的威尔士人觉得威尔士是个国家，苏格兰人觉得苏格兰是个国家，英格兰人无所谓大不列颠是不是个国家，反正在他们眼里威尔士人是sheepshagger，苏格兰人是ginger-haired heathen，英格兰才是个文明之邦。我第一次去重庆的时候，当地人火锅味十足的四川话让我的耳朵惊慌失措，当时我就产生了身处异邦的感觉。国家到底是个什么东西？
我在伦敦看到了芳芳，我见了她三次。第一次她请我在chinatown吃了顿饭，第二次我们在泰晤士河转了一圈，第三次我在离她家不远的麦当劳店里拿到了家里托她从国内带来的包裹。我忘了跟她讲了什么话，我好像没怎么跟她说话，我记得她说话很多句子里带着“never ever”这两个词，我记得她跟一起和我们吃饭的一个师弟讲“我真不明白办公室里那些人怎么对手里的工作那么感兴趣”，她说话的时候我嗅得到从她嘴里发散出来的一股潮湿的味道——我以前便秘的时候也有这味道。我在地铁上问她是不是“肠胃不好”，“我很好啊，怎么了？”
我想芳芳应该过得很好吧。
我在这里看到了国内很多百姓的不幸和苦难，我念的这个专业让我了解到了很多人类的不幸和苦难——我不应该感到吃惊，我自认为对人性之黑暗、人类之愚蠢有了充分的心理准备，但我的抵抗力还是在一条条的新闻、一部部的纪录片面前逐渐瓦解。你说，这人到底是个什么东西？
在这里留学的，其实十有八九都跟我一样，都不知道自己要什么。我隔壁住着一个上海女宁，她说她要拿到学位好赚莫姥姥的钱，好以后买东西不看价格。妈的，我怎么就不能有她那样的境界。我想起了简南俊的老婆，那个某一天突然痛哭流涕的女人，对着丈夫说“我每天都在干什么啊？”我想，她也有莫姥姥的钱，她买东西也应该不看价格，可她为什么哭得成了个泪人？
我在伦敦看到了芳芳，我见了她三次。第一次她请我在chinatown吃了顿饭，第二次我们在泰晤士河转了一圈，第三次我在离她家不远的麦当劳店里拿到了家里托她从国内带来的包裹。我忘了跟她讲了什么话，我好像没怎么跟她说话，我记得她说话很多句子里带着“never ever”这两个词，我记得她跟一起和我们吃饭的一个师弟讲“我真不明白办公室里那些人怎么对手里的工作那么感兴趣”，她说话的时候我嗅得到从她嘴里发散出来的一股潮湿的味道——我以前便秘的时候也有这味道。我在地铁上问她是不是“肠胃不好”，“我很好啊，怎么了？”
我想芳芳应该过得很好吧。
我在这里看到了国内很多百姓的不幸和苦难，我念的这个专业让我了解到了很多人类的不幸和苦难——我不应该感到吃惊，我自认为对人性之黑暗、人类之愚蠢有了充分的心理准备，但我的抵抗力还是在一条条的新闻、一部部的纪录片面前逐渐瓦解。你说，这人到底是个什么东西？
在这里留学的，其实十有八九都跟我一样，都不知道自己要什么。我隔壁住着一个上海女宁，她说她要拿到学位好赚莫姥姥的钱，好以后买东西不看价格。妈的，我怎么就不能有她那样的境界。我想起了简南俊的老婆，那个某一天突然痛哭流涕的女人，对着丈夫说“我每天都在干什么啊？”我想，她也有莫姥姥的钱，她买东西也应该不看价格，可她为什么哭得成了个泪人？
2010年2月3日星期三
Ryszard Kapuscinski
"In a closed society, information is power; in an open society, information is business."
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