Zorow's Mask

如何让讨厌诗歌的沈一新听我念写给她的诗？

2011-09-23T17:11:00.000+01:00

请她吃酸辣粉丝
关照老板娘：
放辣但不要加醋。
等她吃第一口
等她问：为什么不加醋？
然后把下面这首诗念给她
听她说：oh no
听她说：好酸！

你妈说：我就不信我们家一新
会没人追！
虽然我对你妈的了解不过是一个
爱打麻将的妇女
但我同意她的话：
这么好的姑娘怎么可以
没人追？
如果老天安排这个人是我
要我像夸父追日那样追你
（必须承认你就是我的太阳）
我会对天说：
我不做夸父，我只想站在
她巨大而温暖的光芒里
一直望着她
直到一新的老妈说：
糊了！

Scarborough Fair

2011-09-23T15:33:00.001+01:00

The original Chinese is written by Scavenger, which can be read HERE. I don't think my translation does justice to his delicate and beautiful description of the sad story. I just couldn't help translating it into Engilsh.

Before I broke into pieces, I was in love with a girl.
I won't say silly words like each girl is different in her own sweet way,
for I had never known any other girl before her.
or rather, had never GENUINELY known any.
We have discussed this many times.
Even now, I can still feel in her young heart, deep down,
that my self is still there.
Her heart is warm.
Apart from that, I can't tell you more.

When dusk was falling, that girl would cook a wok of tasty Russian soup.
To do that, she would rise early in the morning and
climb over the mountains and valleys all the way to Scarborough Fair.
Her shoes and socks were soaked in dew
must have been uncomfortable, wasn't it?
But she still carried a delicate smile on her face and walked through the fair
picked out the suitable ingredients, whose names I couldn't tell,
nor their distinctive colours and scents.
But I stood by her quietly afterwards, listening to the things
she described to me one by one and that--
that black little cat hiding in the shop.
She asked me, with pushiness, to find
that kind of black little cat for her.

I pulled at her hair, and said "Don't worry."
Then I started on my cause to look for the cat she wanted.
I had no idea that I could have walked for so long.
News came from the other side that she dropped many tears
into the soup that had already become cold.
She sewed winter clothes in the hope of my return
but the needle pricked her fingers.
I also heard that they burried us in the mountain of Scarborough
because when we were in love we had dated
at the mountain foot in the early morning.
We quickly walked up to the top.
Her face was redened and she gasped
as she pinned a little flower onto my collar.

You probably don't know that we still meet in the morning
only we are never able to come down the mountain together
I have a messy memory but I remember in my descent
I've seen numerous cats, cats of all colours and ages
but never did I find a black little cat.

Trickitty Tracy

2011-09-23T15:25:00.000+01:00

*A Poem for Jiang Cuixiao (Tracy)

I saw that cat sitting on the wall every morning
while I was carrying the crazy stone on my way to work

I broke down one day and threw it off my shoulder
I said hi to the cat and she greeted me with a Chesire grin

A trick? I thought, gaping
at the empty space which had been filled by a cat

"No, Trickitty"
A small voice broke into my ear

A trick-kitty?
Like an appiration, she was sitting on my right shoulder

"I'm Schrodinger's cat with ever-changing appearances
and an ever-lasting spirit"

What's your name? I asked
with my head turning to the right

But there was nothing, not even
a cat paw's mark left

A trickitty? I murmured
wondering whether it was me who'd been tricked

"No, Tracy" A small voice rose again
and climbed into my left ear

Tracy Cat? I turned my head to the left
trying to catch the source of the voice

A furry tail flashed in front of my eyes
before I could follow its trace

There she was, on the wall again stretching her legs and
arching her back as all cats do after a sweet nap

She squinted at me against the sun and
with a "Meow" she jumped off the wall

I looked down at the heavy stone, not knowing how to continue
the ever-lasting routine with an ever-changing heart

这颗星球上最高的男子

2011-07-23T16:30:00.009+01:00

“你听听这个人的歌，应该会喜欢。”柏桑说，“叫地球上最高的男人（the tallest man on earth）,其实个子可小了，真的是个小个子，又瘦又小。”柏桑像捏着一粒芝麻那样并住两根手指，好像那人就捏在指间。
“哪个国家的？”我问。
“瑞典的。所以这名字取得很有意思吧。歌写得也有意思。”
不久柏桑去了Green Man艺术节，见到了这个“地球上最高的男人”，回来后又兴奋地提到了他。

那差不多是一年前的事了。去年9月离开英国的时候，我带着着行囊在开往机场的大巴里听着他的歌，听着他唱到“I plan to be forgotten when I'm gone. Yes, I'll be leaving in the fall.”立马就神伤了。你看，好歌的出现总是需要天时、地利、人别。

还是一把吉他，加上出色的歌词。只靠这两样东西立足的人一般都活得很艰辛，Nick Drake, Leonard Cohen, Damien Rice，英国人不到30便抑郁而死；加拿大人命硬，但也直到74岁才被晚生Lou Reed引入摇滚名人堂，致辞时老头子仍不忘翻出陈年往事揶揄在场的美国乐评人John Landau；爱尔兰人也是在退出了唱片公司、怀着一颗破釜沉舟大不了在意大利做农民的心才大器晚成的。如果Bob Dylan不是身处那个越战、嬉皮士、民权运动风起云涌的年代，凭他的嗓音条件要成名还真不好说。高中刚脱离后街男孩、西城男孩、辣妹组合的那个阶段，我读到了那时流行的音乐杂志上介绍Bob Dylan的文章，心潮澎湃，于是跑到镇上唯一一个能买到40岁以上西方男歌手的CD店，找到了一张Dylan的大拼盘碟（当时盗版的惯常做法，即把一名歌手的歌曲尽可能多得塞到一张碟里）。回家后我怀着景仰、敬畏、期待的复杂心情，按下了CD机的播放键。一分钟后，我在一种听完恐怖故事的氛围里按下了停止键，并惊魂未定地告诉自己“他的嗓音不可能这样的，一定是盗版碟的原因。”直到进了大学再次听到Dylan，终于确信那个来回颠簸、四处漏风的声音就是他的真声。所以说，破嗓音的成名总是需要天时、地利以及John Baez.

这名“地球上最高的男子”叫Kristian Matsson，嗓音倒也没有Bob Dylan那样不堪，但是想从他的歌声里获得些愉悦也不容易。吸引我的，无非是漂亮的吉他和弦和别致的歌词（几首歌里还能听到他弹奏的banjo）。不知道为什么要给自己起这么个艺名，不过在Gardener这首歌里，他倒是唱了为什么要做“最高男”的原因——为了女人。这是一首很邪恶的歌，因为欢快的曲调之下歌唱者以第一人称讲述了一桩连环杀人案，叙述的场景丝毫不带血腥，相反让我们看到了阳光，闻到了花香、听到了爱情密语——但美丽的花圃之下却埋着三具尸体，凶手骗取了女主人公的芳心，并以一个胜利者的姿态向我们讲了这个故事。是不是很邪恶？

歌词将这个故事处理得很好，首段不露声色地出场、抱怨了一下自己变坏的头脑后，“凶手”以相同的结构讲述了三件命案的起因、结果和动机，很像三张同主题邮票并成的小型张。最后的结尾宣告了黑暗势力的胜利：死神出场，但没有黑斗篷、冷风、枯叶这些肃杀的意象，而代之以簇拥的鲜花和安宁的情绪，这样将恶与美放一起制造的诡吊效果在《香水：一个谋杀犯的故事》里有精彩的呈现；“不会再有青蛙吻你的手了”——坏蛋以这样自信的胜利口吻宣告，童话被终结。很邪恶，不是吗？

翻译歌词是一件吃力不讨好的事情，因为歌词本身的歌唱性（音节、韵脚都踩着音符走）几乎是不可译的。所幸这首歌的故事性比较强，换做Dylan的歌，虽然叙事性强，但光是对称的结构和连串尾韵一致的单词就让人断了翻译的念头。再说，干嘛要翻译歌呢？好歌就要听原文歌词。以后我再也不翻译歌了，下不为例。

园丁（Gardener）

我察觉到有人在花园里奔跑
不过你也知道，我的判断正在衰老
我曾在草坪上造过一艘蒸汽船
但我已忘了如何驾驶

我知道那个人会跑去告诉你
我的头发里并没有住着牛仔
因此他被埋在了雏菊旁
这样我可以继续是你眼中最高的人，宝贝

我察觉到有个探子伏在烟囱上
根据我烧掉的证据
我猜他会在烟雾里将毁证宣读
那样我就很快会化为灰烬

我知道那个探子会告诉你
旗杆上挂着的并非我的旗帜
因此他被埋在了水仙花旁
这样我就可以永永远远留在你的眼中，宝贝

我觉察到我的电话里有了漏隙
过去撒谎的经验告诉我
他已得到了你的私人号码
他很快会给你打一个恶毒的电话

我知道那个漏隙会告诉你
你的绳索并没有系着狗崽
因此，他成了滋养玫瑰的肥料
而我可以继续做你眼里的国王，宝贝

现在我俩在花园里跳舞
看啊，这花园多么美丽
死神养护着我的茉莉花
我得说我感到了内心的安宁

再也没必要疑神疑鬼
不会有什么青蛙吻你的手
而我要对你说的下面这话也不再是谎言：
我是个园丁，我就是你眼中的
男人，我的宝贝

the story is so meaningless and I don't know why I translated it

2011-06-15T18:31:00.003+01:00

The following article and poem are translated by me, and edited by Robert Berold, from the original Chinese written by Wuqing (乌青, meaning Bruise, pseudonym of Zheng Gongyu), who quited college in his second year and led a normadic life since then. Wuqing published his own books and sells them online. He also made short films, which I haven't seen.

Smash slate on chest

It was a hot and stuffy afternoon, and I was feeling in low spirits. Even a cigarette wouldn't have made me feel good. So I walked over to the cold drink shop at the gate of our compound and bought a cup of cucumber juice. I wandered through the neighbourhood as I drank it. A girl was pushing her bike along in front of me. She had a nice ass. So I followed her for a while. I kept walking between the apartment blocks. Water was oozing out of the air conditioners. I spat and my spit was cucumber-green.

I felt bored and restless. Then suddenly I was overcome by this strange desire. I wished I had a board with nails on it. I wanted to lie on it, and then have a heavy piece of slate laid on my chest, so heavy that I wouldn't be able to breathe. Then a person with a hammer would come along and hit it onto me. Think of that! Wouldn't that be fun!

When something comes up, act on it – that’s what I believe. There was an old woman who collected garbage where I lived. I could get anything from her. So I said to her, I need a wooden board studded with nails, a heavy slab of slate and a huge hammer. But she couldn't understand Chinese. So I explained to her with gestures. I said, wooden board, board with nails, full of nails coming out of it; slate, big big piece of rock, and very heavy; hammer, huge hammer, to hit the rock.

Nothing would lift my spirits that night. So I went back to the cold drink shop and ordered another cucumber juice. I walked out of our compound as I drank it. I decided to fritter away the time in the supermarket nearby. There was a woman on the slow escalater. Her legs were huge. I came up with a kind of desire.
‘When something comes up, act on it’. So I walked up to her and said, Your legs are fat. She responded, It's none of your business! I had said the one thing I wanted to say, so I went away without a word.

I walked to the section selling sanitary pads, and my mind got carried away while I was standing there. It's not that I was watching the stuff on the shelves, it’s just that I wanted to let my mind drift. After a while I noticed that a woman next to me was staring at me. Without saying anything, It forced a kiss on her for about 10 seconds. Then I spat out a gum and gave it back to her. It's yours, I said.

Back to my living area, I saw a stray cat. I wanted to catch it. ‘When something comes up, act on it’. So I dashed towards it, but it sprinted away without a trace. I shouted out loudly to the old woman, Where is my board with nails, and the slate and the hammer?

*“想到了就要做”原本译成do it when something comes up，改成when something comes up, act on it之后，要切合得多。

Crying

I think crying is useless
mom cried
grandma cried, too
even papa's and grandpa's crying
didn't solve anything

when they were crying
they put everything aside
tears
blocked the whole world
not even God could stop them
from crying

学单车的大龄宅男你伤不起！

2011-06-15T18:24:00.000+01:00

谨以本文献给即将离开校园的pia叔

我满以为骑单车泡妞的时代已经一去不复返了，直到pia叔告诉我，为了载一个女生，他在29岁的高龄决定学骑自行车。

其实在这样一个岁数决定对自己的人生重新洗牌的人不在少数，有人30岁决定做建筑师，有人40岁开始写歌，有人50岁丢开老婆、小孩徒步穿越中亚，前者如安藤忠雄，次者如罗思荣，第三者如20年后的我。但问题是，pia叔是为了一个女人——确切的说，是为了载女生在校园里兜风的一个承诺——决定学自行车的，这样大一新生头脑里才有的动机着实令我有些猝不及防，要知道pia叔已经研三了啊！

pia叔是一个本硕断断续续读了9年的老研究生。我第一次去见他的时候，他一个人在寝室里，四人间的寝室空着三张床。
“这个人是博士，一直跟导师在外地做项目。”pia叔指着其中一张床道。
“这个人有老婆，已经搬出去跟老婆住了。”pia叔指着另一张床说。
“这个人是富二代，每天泡妞、开房，而且是希尔顿。”pia叔指着一张下面有辆自行车的床说，左眼里写着嫉，右眼里写着妒，“我因公因私都没有住过希尔顿，这他妈天天开房希尔顿。”
发黑的蜘蛛网从寝室的天花板垂下来，纠成一团。
柜子上是一张关之琳的海报。
“是我贴的。”pia叔说，“我最喜欢的女明星，小时候常幻想她。”
“我懂的。”我说。
“你懂个屁啊，我那时就幻想和关姐姐一起上下学。”

后来我把希尔顿开房富二代的自行车拿出去在重庆大学的校园里骑了一圈，听pia叔说，车主为了跟寝室打赌能从重庆骑到成都，专门花了1600块钱买了辆车，用了3天时间随车队在成渝间骑了个来回，赌注是30块钱。

这件事对pia叔的影响有二：一，pia叔在那个赌中压了5块，并从中获利5块，这进一步刺激了pia叔买体育彩票的热情；二，pia叔因此爱上了自行车运动。

但去过重庆的朋友都知道，想在那个地形凸翘起伏的地方骑车无异于自虐，这就好比生活在水里的鱼突然决定到岸上走走，难度可想而知。当然我们知道世界上确实有这样一种会跳出水面到岸上行走的鱼，正因此，世界上也就有了pia叔这样的人。

pia叔是在QQ上告诉我这个决定的，这多少让这个决定显得不够酷，如果换做G-talk或是Skype，效果可能会好一些。其实我白天很少上QQ，更何况是在办公室，大家都忙着淘宝或是斗地主，但是因为上司要我给他的一个女同事传份文件，所以我就配合着对方用起了QQ。

我得交代一下办公室的状况，因为这对我之后的影响很大。我后面坐着一个不太年轻、但总喜欢把自己称为“小姑娘”的——怎么说呢，叫她王姐吧。王姐的一大爱好是时不时地欠过身看我在做什么，并附上简短的评论，“哎哟，小郑，你好厉害哦，英文的网站都看得懂。”“哎哟，小郑，你好用功啊，那么复杂的表格能看嘎久。”我的左边是一个瘦瘦的姑娘，在淘宝上买衣服的时候总是能坐出一副刚正不阿的样子，并会有一句没一句地接过王姐的短评，“那是，人家学历高啊。”“那是，人家年轻力壮啊。”我的左边是一个胖胖的姑娘，喜欢团购，每天吃过午饭都会在网上拍下两杯奶茶。我的前面是一个净水器。我们三人之间只有一块短短的塑料隔板，这不仅让我们看对方时无所不见，也让我们的关系很廉价。

好了，说了那么多办公室的姑娘，我得回到pia叔身上啦。当时pia叔在QQ上向我汇报了最近学骑自行车的动态：因为在拐弯、下大坡时没控制好车子，在毁了一个尾灯的同时，也把自己摔得浑身是伤。然后pia叔补了一句：“我浑身擦伤得都木法穿衣服，我现在裸体呢。”

当时我的大脑里立马浮现出了一丝不挂的pia叔坐在空荡荡的寝室里，咂吧着舌头在电脑上跟我打字。这让我始料未及，因为我是一直习惯于幻想女人裸体的，所以那一瞬间我对自己有些失望。

pia叔继续向我陈述他摔伤的各个部位以及断了的指甲，我以男性特有的方式安慰他，并建议他去豆瓣景涛咆哮组用排山倒海的“伤不起”让更多的人知道他的不幸。

也就是在那个时候，pia叔做了一件改变我整个下午的事情——他拍下了自己赤裸的腿、胳膊、小腹和胸，并截图在QQ对话框里发给了我，而王姐也就是那个时候欠过了身子来看我在做什么。“哎哟，小郑，你……”我当时的第一反应是——就像许多人在家看毛片父母突然闯进来时的反应一样——手忙脚乱地去关那个对话框。但是一切都晚了，王姐看到了那些在不仔细看的时候很像是毛片截图的东西，更糟糕的是，毛片里的主人公是个男的。

瘦姑娘转过脸，有些迷茫地看了一眼我和王姐，因为只听到了王姐半句话，她不知道该怎么接。我红着脸马上说了一句：“我在给客户传文件呢。”这句话事后经我的分析，效果无比糟糕，因为这在王姐听来是做贼心虚、欲盖弥彰。当时我还不如说“我在和一个要好的朋友聊天呢”。不过那在王姐听来，肯定会是恬不知耻之类的了。总之发生了那样的事，我是跳进黄河也洗不清了。在那之后，王姐整整一个下午都没有探过来瞧我在做什么。

更让我郁闷的是，我上完厕所回到办公室时看到王姐在和胖瘦二位姑娘窃窃私语，她们看见我进来马上做鸟兽散，各自回到座位上。更反常的是，胖姑娘一下子在团购网上买了8杯奶茶，像是在庆祝一件喜事，分发给了办公室里的每一个同事。

就这样，我在一种无比郁闷的心情和诡异的办公室氛围中度过了余下的一个下午。

下班时，我和王姐、胖瘦二位姑娘站在电梯口等电梯。我想说些什么，可脑中除了pia叔的裸体，愣是找不到可以开口的话题。进到电梯之后，王姐又和胖瘦二位姑娘耳语了几句，三人捂着嘴窃笑，并朝我看了看，这让我我又羞又臊，只感到血流一个劲地拍打着脑门。“你看到的不是裸照，那是我朋友！他在给我看他学自行车时摔伤的照片！”我差点把这句话喊出口，但在把脑门里的血流摒回去一点之后，我马上意识到这么解释下去只会越描越黑，因为一个男人给另一个男人看他受伤的肉体照，在我们这个小地方已经够骇人听闻了，再向她们解释一个男人在29岁的时候开始学骑自行车更像是天方夜谭。所以我就憋屈地看着她们窃笑私语，并和她们默默地对眼，直到走出电梯。

我觉得我在这个单位已经很难“直”着做男人了，就在几天前三番五次要给我介绍小姑娘的人力部主任，下班临走时也给了我一个意味深长的眼神。

但我一想到pia叔可以在一个礼拜后学满出山，载着姑娘在校园里上坡下坡、过弯道而不摔跤，单想想此情此景，我就觉得被办公室里的人误会又算得了什么呢？

pia叔真名陆续，来自四川泸州，因为从小被人唤作阿pia，岁月的流逝让他变成了现如今的pia叔。因为某种说不清道不明的巧合，我俩原来还同过一年校，只是那时候我不知道身边有个叫阿pia的人，阿pia也不认识那个忧郁的一心想着要退学的小郑。

杜然以及蒂姆·海瑟林顿

2011-05-16T18:17:00.001+01:00

接到杜然的电话时，我正坐在广州的地铁里，下一站——农讲所。

车里人贴人很挤，因为农讲所的创办人曾经以太阳的形象号召人们卯足干劲多“日”。车里的喇叭用普通话、广东话和英语报着站名。事实上，我周围的人都说着广东话，这几年来，我已经习惯了这种身处中国却仿佛在异域的感觉。想起不久前的“保粤”运动，以及家乡越来越少人说的方言，多少有些感慨——因为就在昨晚，我听了林生祥在雕塑公园的现场，歌唱的语言是客家话，歌唱的主题是家乡的树、老人、妻女和农事。我全然听不懂客家话，但林生祥的音乐丝毫不受方言的局限，反而因为方言有了更浓烈的乡音和地域色彩，而这其中传递出来的乡愁恰恰是引起我共鸣的。

其实我当时在满车厢的广东话声浪里用普通话接起杜然的电话时，由于耳朵感受到的强烈反差，突然觉得自己是个混入了一堆同质体里的异物。

“最近的新闻有没有看？”杜然问道，“一个英国的战地记者死了。有没有兴趣写一篇关于他的文章？”
接着他在电话里略微介绍了那个人的事迹，然后跟我说了稿费——我一口答应了。

回去查了资料，这名刚刚去世的英国战地记者叫蒂姆·海瑟林顿（Tim Hetherington），在利比亚报导途中遭到炮袭遇难，和他一同遇难的还有美国的摄影记者克里斯·洪德罗斯（Chris Hondros）。看的资料越多，就越发感到蒂姆·海瑟林顿的死是一个躲也躲不掉的结局，一方面是因为职业本身潜在的危险，另一方面是因为海瑟林顿内心强烈的人道主义责任——就像历史上那些为了道义或是使命屡次出入死神境地的伟大人物，他们的死都加重了人物命运的悲剧色彩。

翻墙看了Youtube上几个海瑟林顿的采访，他的语调平稳，谈到几次生死大劫都说自己很“幸运”，从容地像是在叙述丢了东西、失而复得的经历。“这只是职业的一部分，”他接受PBS电台的采访时说，“你报导完，然后回家、调整，修复在战场上留下的精神创伤，接着就又可以拿起相机了。”以前在卡迪夫念新闻的时候为了写一篇作业，我采访了当时在学校做博士论文的Janet Harris——一名曾在伊拉克随英美联军拍摄纪录片、报道新闻的战地记者。我问她战场上的杀戮和血腥是否会对她的精神产生影响。“我记得第一次看到一个爆炸现场，精神冲击还是很大的。”Janet说，“不过后来就觉得没什么了，因为随军记者之前要经过一系列培训，这也是我们的职业的一部分。职业的记者会调节好自己的。”

可是为什么还要去报导战争？扛着摄像机、专注地拍摄一个没有战火的世界已经不易，何况周围都是枪林弹雨？“只是一份工作而已，你要生活就需要收入，所不同的是这份工作的风险是你的生命。”Janet的这个回答多少有些不给力。我当时期待的是诸如“为了道义或是内心的calling”之类的答案。我记得问过Verica同样的问题——“为什么选择战地记者这个职业？”Verica的祖国是一个曾经叫南斯拉夫的国家，她在成为大学教师之前一直是那里的记者。她蠕动了一下疤痕下面的嘴唇，用因为口音而略显凝重的英语说：“有些人喜欢肾上腺激素涌起的感觉，就像赛车手喜欢速度，战场是个能给人带来职业刺激的地方。”

海瑟林顿是因为什么选择了这个职业？钱？他经历过身无分文的窘迫，他面临着图片报导业的寒潮，他这次去利比亚是自费的。刺激？他说话平和沉稳，对生死看得比较超脱。我愿意相信他是因为人道主义的使命感选择这个职业的。我看James Brabazon给《卫报》写的讣告，里面提到海瑟林顿在印度旅行时见过达赖，听过藏经。其它的资料里还说海瑟林顿的另外一个身份是“人权观察”组织的观察员，他在塞拉利昂报导那里因战争而失明的儿童时，曾经把这个问题反映给了“人权观察”，并希望能发明一种类似于布莱叶文的能让盲人“看”的图片。我看他拍摄的那张获得“荷赛”大奖的照片，里面手捧头盔、身着迷彩服的士兵脆弱像是一枚布满裂纹的蛋。

在PBS的同一个采访里，海瑟林顿提出了自己对战争的理解，而这种理解更多地把视角放在了人的身上：“战争机器不仅仅是科技——炸弹、导弹、电子系统，或是CNN的电视时间。战争机器是那种把男人放到一个极端环境之后产生的纽带，这种纽带剔除了他们身边的女人，却让他们紧密联系在一起、为彼此而战也为彼此而亡。这是战争机器的核心。”

我记得Mark Brayne在卡迪夫大学新闻学院那次演讲里说了这么一句话，“我相信人类文明会因为全球变暖、环境污染、人口等系列问题而在这个世纪终结，但我不会对‘人’丧失希望，因为人道的力量（humanity）不会终结。”

我想正是因为有了像海瑟林顿这样伟大的心灵，我们谈论这个世界的时候才会看到希望。

感谢杜然，让我生平写的文章第一次见报，也让我了解了一颗伟大的心灵。当然还要感谢杜然让我第一次靠文字赚了一笔稿费（虽然还没拿到，但我对钱会打到帐上还是坚信不疑的）。

杜然的博客：I'm blinded by blackness.

我的文章刊登在《经济观察家》报2011.5.9刊的“全球视角”版块，题为：
蒂姆·海瑟林顿：我只是想表现战争本身的质感

以下是正文：

“在四面受敌的利比亚城市米苏拉塔，卡扎菲部队的炮弹不分敌我地打过来。不见北约部队的踪影。”

这是蒂姆·海瑟林顿发布在Twitter上的最后一条消息，时间是2011年4月19日。第二天，一枚迫击炮弹在海瑟林顿身旁落下、爆炸。没能像他拍的电影在结束时打出一个“完”，这名战地摄影记者的生命才走到40岁这一帧，就戛然而止了。

高大的海瑟林顿长着一张英俊的脸，不是那种精致的英俊，而是糙砺的英俊——从眉骨到鼻梁到下巴，线条硬朗分明，如雕刻的大理石一般，一眼看去，就知道经历过生死。透过取景器，海瑟林顿在战场前线为我们拍下了大量充满人性的照片和纪录片素材，并借此获得了诸项新闻荣誉。就在遇难前不久，海瑟林顿与美国战地记者塞巴斯蒂安·荣格(Sebastian Junger)共同拍摄的反映阿富汗美军士兵的纪录片《Restrepo》获得了2011年奥斯卡最佳纪录片奖提名。他原本可以利用这段时间回到纽约，好好和妻子享受那里的春光，缓解过去一年拍摄的劳累，但此刻，阿拉伯的春天竟显得无比醉人。继突尼斯、埃及、也门、阿尔及利亚、巴林爆发了大规模的反政府示威后，利比亚的民众也开始走上街头要求统治了国家42年之久的卡扎菲下台并进行民主变革，但卡扎菲政权对民众抗议的镇压进而演变成了政府军和反政府武装力量的内战，双方胶着不下。受到职业和内心的驱使，海瑟林顿未作过多停留，自费踏上了前往利比亚的报导之路。

“他是个有抱负的人。”塞巴斯蒂安·荣格事后评价自己的同事，“利比亚的情况对他来说太诱人了，那里的战事充满了戏剧性。他必须要去，因为他想亲眼看到故事如何发展。”

海瑟林顿的新闻抱负来得有些意外。出生于利物浦一个普通的工人家庭，蒂姆·海瑟林顿最初是在牛津大学念的英国古典文学。毕业时，他身无分文。幸运的是，刚去世的祖母在遗嘱里为他留了5000英镑，海瑟林顿带着这笔钱在随后的两年里去了印度、西藏以及中国的其它地方。同许多在旅行中找寻自我的年轻人一样，中印之行为海瑟林顿打开了另一个世界。冈仁波钦峰，喜马拉雅山，还有与喇嘛的面晤，带给了他灵性的启示。“从印度回来之后，我突然有了参悟。我意识到其实自己想做的是摄影。”海瑟林顿回忆道。于是在回国后的四年时间里，他一边工作一边在夜校学习摄影。26岁那一年，海瑟林顿用攒足的学费重新回到大学专攻摄影新闻。

成为专业摄影师后，海瑟林顿的第一份工作是为英国的《大志》(Big Issue)报报导图片新闻。当时创刊不足十年的《大志》报由几个心怀理想的热血青年一手经办，报纸的经营模式简单却独特得令人乍舌：报贩必须是街头流浪的无家可归者，他们以每份报纸1英镑的价格买进，再以每份2英镑的售价卖出。这份内容完全由职业记者采编的报纸却以慈善机构的方式缓解了英国最弱势人群的就业问题。“但那个时候报社还没有成型，很多事情都是边做边摸索。”《大志》报的前主编向恩·布鲁克斯(Xan Brooks)回忆道，“当时蒂姆一进办公室，我就听到了他浑厚的声音和晃荡的相机包。他扎着运动的小辫，穿着宽松的汗衫和大裤衩。他坐下时双腿张开，一些同事发现他的裤子一直破到裆部，里面甚至不穿内裤，下巴都掉出来了。”

但是海瑟林顿很快用他生动、充满力量和现场感的照片赢得了同事的信任。他穿梭于伦敦的大街小巷，停下来与路人交谈；他出入于无家可归者的破屋，参加他们的游行；他去码头记录工人的罢工和拳击比赛。“我们也会派他去报导名人，这让他很愤怒，但他会用幽默平息怒火。他会问，当我们眼皮底下有那么多故事可报导时，为什么还要把相机对着那些名人？”布鲁克斯道。

海瑟林顿离开《大志》报后，加入了一家位于纽约、专事战地新闻的图片社。1999年至2002年，他先后去了利比里亚、科特迪瓦、尼日利亚、布基纳法索、马里和塞拉利昂。在利比里亚，他把镜头对准了反叛军一方，并完成了第一部纪录片《An Uncivil War》。“他好几次在两方的交火中幸存下来，贴身拍摄让他捕捉到了具有标志意义的图片。”詹姆士·布莱贝岑(James Brabazon)是当时与海瑟林顿身处叛军阵营的仅有的两名外国记者，纪录片摄像出身的他一直将后者视为一名人道主义者，“当时一个叛军的指挥官怀疑救护伤员的医生是间谍，要把他处决。蒂姆站到医生身前，面对火冒三丈的指挥官，摁住他手里的抢，请求他放人一命。结果医生得救了。”

或许是牛津大学的文学经历为他注入了古典的人文精神，或许是两年的中印之旅催生了他内心的佛性，海瑟林顿拍摄的照片和纪录片里，主角大多是那些被战争遗忘的人，或是身处战争里的人显露出的脆弱的人性一面。2007年，为他获得“荷赛”新闻摄影大奖的那张图片就是一个疲倦的美国士兵单手扶额，躺在阿富汗一个快被遗忘的战壕里。“那个时候，所有人的注意力都在伊拉克，可事实上阿富汗的战事已经失去控制了，那里需要有人去报导。”海瑟林顿在接受美国PBS的采访时说道，“我不想树立某种断然决然的战争观，我只是想表现战争本身的质感，而这不仅仅是拍摄战争场面，因为在没有交火的时候，战争充满了无聊，这种无聊常常会被恐惧打断。”

然而在战场上面临恐惧的同时，以海瑟林顿为代表的战地摄影记者也面临着整个行业的凋敝。2009年，法国著名的Gamma图片社濒临破产，不得不寻求贷款保护。全球各大报纸、杂志大幅度削减图片类新闻的经费，人手一相机的数码时代和公民记者的涌现，让编辑们更愿意采用那些出自“业余”之手的图片，以节省开支。在这样的背景下，海瑟林顿却依然对这个职业保持着执着和忠诚，在他眼里，以利润为主导的新闻操作败坏着图片报导。“这个行业需要那些以相机为生的摄影人，因为他们具备专业的技能，他们拍摄的的方式和讲故事的方式有别于公民记者。”海瑟林顿在接受《纽约时报》的采访时评论道，“当你看一张图片或是一部电影，你看的其实是作者花费的时间。没有捷径，只能全程跟踪，成为事件的一部分，并获取真相，而这都要靠职业记者的长时间投入。”

海瑟林顿拒绝把自己归作那一类“用黑相框把照片裱起来”的摄影师或是单纯的纪录片制作人，他喜欢借助各种艺术形式表现自己的作品，通常在现场拍摄时，他会手持相机和摄像机左右开弓。“如果要定义的话，我是一个走进世界获取影像的人，我想让尽可能多的观众看到我的作品。”而为了让更多的观众知道这个世界发生的事情，他实践了卡帕的那句“拍得不好，是因为离得不够近”的名言，直至献出了自己的生命。

Tim Hetherington, Unidentified US soldier resting in a bunker in the Korengal Valley, Afghanistan, on September 16, 2007.

Ballads for Bad Children

2011-04-02T18:58:00.004+01:00

These poems are translated from the ones in Chinese by Bao Huiyi (包慧怡), who called herself Madame Blavatsky. As you can see, her poems contain a celestial mysticism and magical imagination. You can go to her BLOG for more of her original works. Bao Huiyi is also the Chinese translator of Margaret Atwood's Good Bones.

Desert Giant

My dear dearest girl
please don't blame my rudeness
don't blame me
for swallowing you into my chest
without your permission

Calm down and mind your skirt
my gullet is probably damp
and my throat might be dark
just stay calm, don't be panicked

Turn around that curve
and you will see my heart
dry and spacious, burning
white candles give off a lovely scent

For you, my dear
I went to France and swallowed beignets
piled on the table neatly in order

For you, my dear
I went to the East and swallowed the chinaware
containing the nectar of lilies

Of course
I also swallowed many other things my throat resists--
a pair of silk dancing shoes
an ivory harp
a birch forest
and a pond filled
with sweet flag grass
I'd even swallow a little boat
so you could row it adrift
I'd even swallow a swarm of bees
and let them fly about by your hair

My dear, dearest girl
if there is anything I've forgotten
please forgive my short memory
please forever and ever
live in my heart
no turning back or whatsoever
I will be careful and make sure
it'll be a warm and peaceful place like never

My Lovers

My lovers
have always been the same one
tall and walking in hesitancy, none of the others
but always bearing the water zodiac signs
when smoking, his face looks like ceramic in profile
when walking in the sun, he is weightless almost unnoticeable
He wrote poems for me, asked me out on the phone in a low voice
and kissed me only at sunset
He never made decisions, but always kept his ambitions
as fragile as me, we were the best people
He bid me farewell with a smile, caring about me no more ever after
like two friends knowing each other so well

My lover grows a thorn that reaches inwardly
with so many enduring bronze blades
a pair of ebony hands find nowhere to land
his white face can be written on
his white eyelashes blink without an answer
a gloomy heart-beating happens once and for all
I pushed the door open and went out in the morning
the flowers were calm and elegant, silently the dews imploded
the clouds assumed an air of some sort
I thought I was a lovely being then

I thought I could love a different one
I thought I could move on anytime, and leave cape jasmine stems
on my way to gauge the border of the island
stand in the water for a bit when tired
and let the rhinoceros beetle
stand on my eyebrow for a while
I though I could plant those transparent zebras

I thought my heart was huge and grand
I even thought I could finish this song
without being sad

A long train is piercing through my rib cage
but I think I will see it again

I can Still Look at You

I can still look at you
like I've never met you before
also like
we have been in love for so long
a leopard walks out of the moonlight
by the window a basket of jelly fungi is covered in dust
If I love a man
I will only kiss his left cheek
If I'm loved
I only want to be touched on my eyebrows

a little history about today and the past

2011-03-30T20:58:00.004+01:00

I was at Jane and Nichola's today last year. It was a starry night and the leafy trees were swaying outside the shimmering bungalow house. I was taking a shower in the bathroom, fumbling in a pile of "woman use" lotions with my eyes covered in hair shampoo. Jane said the tap water in town had been contaminated, but still could be used to clean our contaminated bodies. I found the tub drain was clogged so I bent over to unclog it. A tiny ball of hair was pulled out in a tangle. Judging by the color, I knew they were not mine.

I had just returned to Grahamstown from Queenstown, where I did a whole day's documentary shooting with Asa and Zikhona, two Xhosa girls who kept making fun out of the things they had seen.

"That's the hospital where I was born! " Zikhona shouted when we were waiting for the mini-bus outside Fort Hare. "I can't believe it's still there."

She pointed to a piece of white wooden board which said "Victoria Hospital". As the bus took me away, I saw a sign nailed to a tree on the side of the road: "Abortion is a sin. God will punish you." I had heard that polygamy was a commonplace among the Xhosa people and that unprotected sex was started at an early age by the youths in townships before they even had a good knowledge about AIDs. However, Catholic churches ruled all.

The hot shower did me tremendous good or perhaps it was because I had attempted to use some of Jane and Nichola's beauty products. Mithril, Jane's wolf dog was scratching his itchy part when I came out in my top and short pants. Jane insisted that I use her room for the night. "I'll sleep in the living room. Don't worry, I like sleeping there." Jane said. Her room was tidy with three kinds of decoration: framed photos, light wooden pieces in animal shapes hanging from the ceiling, and a low shelf stacked with books. I recognized Lord of the Rings among them, from where Mithril got his name. A rug was placed before the bed and I smelt a strong scent coming out of it. A dog's smell, by all that my nose could tell. I felt a little bit sorry for Mithril who might have been a regular sleeper in this room.

"...really? Today's Chong Way's birthday?... I see..." Jane was talking on the phone when I came into the light in the living room. "Chong Way," Jane handed the receiver to me with one hand covering the upper end, "Here's a call from Mindy."

I took it over and heard Mindy saying in guilty voice. "Chong Way, I should've told Jane earlier so that she could prepare a cake and some candles for you. I'm sorry that Robert and I can't be with you to celebrate your birthday. I wish you a happy birthday."

"Thank you, Mindy, but it's alright." I scratched my head and said, "I really appreciate that you still remember it. My father could hardly tell the day I was born. It's really OK. My family doesn't have a tradition of observing birthdays."

"Oh, poor Chong Way. " Mindy said, "You deserve a birthday celebration here. Don't worry, Jane will do it for you."

I hung up the phone and found Jane discussing with Nichola.
"Hey, boy, how come you don't tell us today is your birthday?" Nichola said accusingly.
"I didn't realize it until Mindy called me." I said. Obviously the matter was taken far more seriously than I could expect.
"Well I think we've still got a half cake in the fridge. haven't we?" Jane asked.
"Oh, yes. And some candles we had used in the last black-out." Nichola added.
Then both of them giggled.

A couple of minites later, an incomplete cake and some used candles were ready out on the wooden table on the veranda.
"Make a wish, boy." Nichola said after she had lit the candles with a matchstick.
I closed my eyes and palms, and made a wish of God-knows-what. When I was about to blow the candles, Nichola interrupted, "Give it a hard blow, boy. Concentrate and wipe them out once and for all."
I re-inhaled and blew the air out.
"Hurray!" They shouted, and Jane took out a long knife and gave it to me.
"OK, now you need to cut the cake. Remember when knife touches the bottom, you must scream the hell out of you." Nichola said.
"Scream? Really?" I asked doubtfully.
"Yes, Scream, Ahhhh--! Like this." Nichola demonstrated by holding her face in two hands and let out a high-pitched voice.

I slowly slid down the knife through the cake's softness.
"Do you feel it?" Nichola asked tentatively.
"Yes, I think I've touched the bottome."
"Ahhh---!!!" Jane and Nichola screamed, both holding their faces in hands.
"Ahhh---!!!" I joined them with my coarse voice.
We all laughed and finished the cake while sitting on the veranda facing the starry sky. Mithril jumped onto the couch and put his head upon Jane's legs. It was early winter, but the breeze still felt warm.

We chatted and Jane told me her child story when I posed a question about the Afrikaners and British living in South Africa.
"I was about 7 when my family moved from Liverpool to South Africa. My father was an engineer, and to work as an engineer in South Africa, one can make a better life than in Britain in the 70s. I remember the family living next to our door were Afrikaners, but I was too little to know what that means. They had a little girl of my age and we'd often play together. Her mother never saw us playing so everything was OK, until one day she took me into her house. Her mother saw me, and asked me about my family. I told her that we were from Liverpool, that's when she grew furious and shouted 'Out out you go! Do you know my grandparents were killed by you people!' She pushed me out of their house. I was petrified. After that, I and that girl were never allowed to see together."

We kept silent for a while, then I started, "I remember in one of Howard's classes, he said that actually it was the British who invented concentration camp. It was during the Boer War, when the British rounded up the Afrikaners and put them in camps like what the Nazis did to the Jews. Right after Howard said that, a student, who was obviously British if not English, interrupted. 'It can't be true!' He protested, 'The Brits didn't do that.' 'It is true.' Howard said sternly, 'Go to a library, it's all written on the books. There is no need for an arguement on a historical fact, which there is no doubt about.' The student looked very defeated and didn't say anything."

"Yes, I can understand why he was upset." Jane said, with one hand stroking Mithril's head, "I also came to understand why that little girl's mother was so furious after I have learned what happened to them in the past."

既然被带到这个世界，那么就生日快乐一下

2011-03-30T20:53:00.001+01:00

Luca打来电话的时候，我正坐在办公室里昏昏欲睡。抓起电话，听到了一句久违的意大利语，耳朵顿时像找到了失散多年的亲人，却无法认出对方的脸，又羞又恼。
“Buon Compleanno，郑维！”
“啊？什么？”
“生日快乐啊！”
我惊叹一声，既为亲人的真身恍然大悟，又为这突然的生日问候感到惊喜。
“怎么，今天不是你生日吗？”
“啊，不是，Luca，明天才是。”
“我真是个笨蛋，太对不起了。”
“没什么，就当提前祝贺嘛。Grazie！”
“我知道你不觉得有什么，但是在意大利，提前祝福生日，会被朋友骂的。”

这是3月29号的下午，我在一幢写字楼的过道里打着电话。在那之后的10个小时，将是我来到这个世界的28周年纪念日。

28岁了，我银行账户里的钱仅够我在这个城市买两平米的立锥之地；28岁了，我已经丢失了我的人生目标，就像我曾经弹过的吉他被丢在了结满灰尘的角落，断了弦；28岁了，我那记不得自己儿子生日的父亲要我回去做一份他为我好不容易争取来的工作——我没有怪他，他早逝的母亲一直都记不得自己儿子的生日，靠村里接生婆的回忆，他才在自己的身份证上估摸写了个数字；28岁了，我那絮絮叨叨的母亲要她的儿子回去，为她繁衍后代，用另一个新生稳定她衰弱的神经，就像28年前她为这个家族做的那样。我快30了，他们说“你好落定了”，可我他妈还没二够呢。

今年的春天来得特别早

2011-03-28T19:24:00.001+01:00

在男人的推动下，隔壁屋的女人又开始叫床了。时间是凌晨3:30。

通常在凌晨3:00，过道里会响起凌乱的皮鞋声和两股声浪交织而成的笑声——我门上原本安装猫眼的地方是个窟窿，所以声音能畅通无阻地直达我的床，穿过我的鼓膜，在我大脑皮层的沟壑里回响，并最终将我的意识唤醒。

我睁开眼，我的意识尚不能感到肉身的存在，它仍一半沉浸在自我的深渊里，一半透过双眼在黑暗里寻找出口。但是很快，深重的黑暗将它打了回去，我的肉身化为乌有，变成一团失重的混沌之物，漂浮在无边无际的黑暗里。

一阵清冷、零碎的金属撞击声后，门被打开，又被砰地关上，那两股持续的声浪突然被截断，猫眼孔至鼓膜的无形通道顿时消失，我的心随之一沉——也就是在那个时候，我的意识找到了我的肉身。我清醒过来，感到了莫名的痛苦。

隔屋的声音变得丰富起来：桌椅和地面的摩擦声，摔东西的声音，女人一惊一乍的笑声，男人翁声瓮声的怜讨声，女人开始呻吟，听不到男人的声音，床终于开始有节奏地吱嘎起来——床头肯定顶着墙，因为我听到墙壁也在呻吟——你太单薄了啊，谁让你这么单薄！

这时，屋子里的落地窗也配合着墙壁，将隔壁的声音请进了屋。这他妈大半夜开窗做爱啊，有木有！！！

终于，女人开始忘我地叫起了床。

我起床烧上水，解了个手，然后泡上茶，坐下，开始聆听起了这天籁之音。
已经半个月了，这出戏的高潮还要持续多久？

The Summer Sun

2011-03-26T20:16:00.000Z

I dedicate this translation, which probably doesn't do justice to the original one, to Haizi on his Death Anniversay

In summer
If there is no cobbler on this street

I will stand barefoot
under the sun and watch it

Then think of the children born during the day
-- they must have planned it

You come to this world
You should take a look at the sun

and walk on the street
with your beloved one

To understand her
you need to understand the sun

(a group of healthy workers
are smoking cigarettes at midday)

The summer sun
oh, the sun

When Jesus came into this world
he also grew up in the sunshine

夏天的太阳

夏天
如果这条街没有鞋匠

我就打赤脚
站到太阳下看太阳

我想到在白天出生的孩子
一定是出于故意

你来人间一趟
你要看看太阳

和你的心上人
一起走在街上

了解她
也要了解太阳

（一组健康的工人
正午抽着纸烟）

夏天的太阳
太阳

当年基督入世
也在这阳光下长大

阳光灿烂的日子

2011-03-26T19:29:00.001Z

华一路东路口有一家小店，卖炒饭、小面和米线（经营重点逐次递减）。路的旁侧是陡坡，往下塌陷出一块二十米深的凹地。小店就搭在路崖边，一个用水泥和铁皮支起来的L型微棚。外墙已被油烟熏得漆黑，一层沥青似的东西凝固在排烟口。墙角的灌木像是一排烟鬼的牙齿，发黑并且长势稀拉。两个临时方桌放在门口狭长的过道上，提醒着路人旁边逼仄的无名小屋是个卖吃的地方。

经营小店的是一对老夫妻，老太婆负责烧，老头子负责收钱和送饭。年轻的儿媳下晚班后会来搭个手。孙女和孙子两个通常会坐在昏暗的电灯泡下，姐姐念一本发黄的童话书，弟弟拉长了声腔向爸爸提出各种得不到满足的要求。一只尾巴掉毛、身体瘦弱的小白猫会准时地从墙角的细缝里钻进来，爬过地上的土豆、萝卜和四季豆，用微弱的叫声安慰坐在地上赌气的弟弟。我就坐在靠墙的长条桌旁，默默地读报——北碚的新步行街，贝鲁斯科尼的丑闻，易建联的初秀，半年前的故事就这样糊在了墙上，被我念了一遍又一遍。

小店的拐角处是一个熟食摊，卖猪拱、猪尾、猪头和猪耳朵，还有鹅肝、鹅翅和豆干。我会关照大嗓门的老板娘不要味精，少放海椒多放葱，称5块钱猪头肉，切细了再拌上蒜泥和花椒。然后折回小店，一盘用猛火炒出的炒饭已经在桌上备好。这就是我来重庆第一个月的伙食，急火多油的炒饭和香腻的猪头肉见证了我肚子上长出的10斤赘肉和变慢的头脑。

那天是重庆少有的艳阳天。傍晚出去吃饭的时候，还能闻到阳光在街道停留一天后的味道。我已经有三四个月没有系统地吃小店的炒饭+熟食摊的猪头肉了。在老家的一个礼拜让我强烈地感受到了嘴和胃的渴望——它们已经被重庆的食物驯化，这是我不愿看到却不得不接受的现实。

下面要叙述的其实跟吃无关，跟太阳也无关，只是因为恰好发生在我去吃饭的路上，并且那天阳光又出奇地好。也就是我走在瓷砖路上，离小店还差两张桌子的距离时，背后传来了嘈杂的叫喊和奔跑声。还没等我完全转过头，一个中学生模样的小孩就被一个同样中学生模样的人踹到在马路上。他侧身倒在地上，蜷曲双脚，抱住头，任由后者在他身上猛踢。紧接着，一阵纷乱的脚步，大队人马杀到，几个顶着五颜六色头发的中学生模样的人停步在半米远的地方，气喘吁吁地看着出脚的人像喊号子一样来回喊着“我打死你狗日的”、“你妈卖P”。

老太婆拿着铁勺站在小店门口，她的围裙旁探出两个小脑袋，很快被爸爸伸手按了回去。大嗓门的老板娘站在远处，跟身旁的人耳语着什么。路上的行人都收住了脚步，只有汽车迟疑地划过躺在地上的人。作为一个心跳猛烈的旁观者，我站在原地，看着穿过树叶的阳光洒在我们所有人的身上，不知所措。

I want to take you to my childhood

2011-03-25T02:42:00.001Z

translated from a Chinese poem by an unkown author
edited by Robert Berold

I want to take you to my childhood
It's neither large nor far away
(just big enough for two)
and although I was small as a potato
I managed to save many secrets

one was my cat who lived
between when I was 7 to 14 years old
she was my best friend
and at times my enemy too

once she bit my pet chick and killed it
but I felt sorry for her when she was injured
and on cold winter nights

I let her crawl into my bed

we kept each other warm

I liked planting flowers
you really should have seen my China Rose
it grew up higher than the roof of our house
growing without limits, petals huge and dense
On summer nights its fragrance

filtered through the screen window

making me confuse reality with dream

The water in the pond was green and plentiful
and when a breeze arose the willow leaves

would draw ripples on its surface
A shoal of fish would play hide and seek

with the ducks

If you want to we could play in the water
don't be afraid --
on a quiet afternoon like this the wild geese

give way to the flourishing reeds

I'll take you to eat the elm leaves

and the flowers of the pagoda tree
we can collect sweet potatoes left behind in the soil
In autumn the rats' holes were always

stocked full of corn and beans
and I never disturbed them
(shhh-- mother doesn't know, it's our secret)

My brother had a dark skin
I never disliked it
but when he said my hair was yellowish
and called me Yellow Weasel
I decided to call him Black Dog
You know he was born in the year of dog
but I wasn't born in the year of weasel

I peeped at my sister's diary
and learned about something called love
like a wrinkled skirt it made her mind run wild

I tried to imagine its shape and scent
It must be far away, I thought,
mysterious like a riddle I could never guess

I want to take you to my childhood
I mean it
compared with your innocence

it’s the only thing

I'm not ashamed to show you

我想带你去我的小时候
作者：疯行

我想带你去我的小时候
那里不远也不大
仅够两人容身
虽然我小得像马铃薯
但攒了很多的秘密

有一只猫
从我的七岁活到十四岁
它是我的好朋友
有时也是敌人
曾咬死我的小鸡仔
可它受伤的时候我还是会伤心
在寒冷的冬夜也容许它钻进被窝
和我互相取暖

我喜欢种花
你真应该看看我的月季
它可以和房檐比高
不受任何约束
它开的花瓣阔大且繁
香气会穿过夏夜里的纱窗
让人分不清梦里梦外

池塘的水多且碧
有风的时候
柳叶在上面划出纹晕
鱼成群结队
和鸭子玩捉迷藏
我们可以玩水
别害怕
寂静的午后只有野雁会腾出茂盛的芦苇

我带你去吃榆钱捋槐花
翻过的红薯地里再捡些漏网之“鱼”
秋天的老鼠洞里总是储满的玉米和小豆
我从来不惊动它们
嘘，妈妈不知道
这是我俩的秘密

哥哥的皮肤很黑
我从不嫌他
可他却觉得我的头发黄
还叫我黄鼠狼
所以我也叫他大黑狗
你知道
他属狗
可我不属狼啊

我偷看过姐姐的日记
知道世界上还有一种东西叫爱情
像百褶裙一样让姐姐魂不守舍
我想象过它的形状和气味
它肯定离我很远
神秘有如练习册上猜不透的谜语

我想带你去我的小时候
真的
和你的纯净相比
那是我唯一拿得出手的东西

学舌的小孩

2011-03-20T16:30:00.000Z

那天我走到沙坪坝正街，拐进了一条小巷。水泥路往下降，延伸成一个坡。坡两侧是水泥灰的居民楼，几盆植株放在太阳照不到的阳台上。旁若无人，我开始顺着地势扭起了身子。

嘣！嘣！嘣！

一记三连声的喊叫从身后传来，接着是猛烈的脚步顺坡而下。我回头一看，是一个穿着红衣服的小胖子张牙舞爪地朝我跑过来。我侧过身，没想到他在我身旁刹住车，停下了。他抬起头朝我嘻嘻一笑。他的脸很红，衣领敞开，冒着汗。

“你去哪儿啊？”我问道。
“你去哪儿啊？”他说。然后他扭起了滚圆的身体，边扭边甩着兰花指，并且有节奏地发出“哎哎哎”的叫声。

阴冷的巷子里只有我和这个突然从天而降的小胖子。我才开了个头的下午顿时变得诡异起来。

“你是在学我走路吗？”我问道。
“你是在学我走路吗？”他说，这回他左右摆起了屁股，并继续“哎哎哎”地给自己打节拍。

我笑了几声。
他也笑了几声。
“你家就住这楼里？”我问道。
“你家就住这楼里？”他说。
我有些被惹恼了，但不知道该怎么冲他发火。

“o-no-gezenguang-guang-aio,ai-ke-nei-naha-o.”我用家乡的方言说道。
小胖子怔了一下。但他他很快回过神，并且吐着舌头叽里呱啦地弄出了些声响。然后他朝我白了一眼，一蹦一跳地闪进了一旁的居民楼。

我站在原地，发现坡下面是一堵围墙。我只好转过身，按原路返回，走出了巷子。

when Matteo is Nicola

2011-02-15T02:30:00.001Z

If I had a son

I would name him Nicola

Nicola, who sympathizes

who can't tell the difference between the normal and abnormal

between the sane and insane

but who can tell those who suffer

from those who inflict pains upon the former

If I had two sons

I would name the other one Matteo

because when Matteo is Nicola (and he always wants to be)

he smiles and loves

he covers his face but opens his soul

If I had a daughter

I would name her Giorgia

Giorgia, who blossoms and bends

like a flower towards the sun

who waters the cactus with orange juice when

she is mistreated in the best of her youth

but Nicola and Matteo will play music for her

and talk to her until

she unfolds herself again

Surely none of these would happen

Surely if only I were an Italian

I just love the film too much

a poem from W.Z. to X.Y.

2011-01-27T19:49:00.002Z

A-B-C-D-E-F-G
where can I find thee?
It is only the start of the alphabet
how can it end with you and me?

U and I, I and U
little by little we can find some more new
not a bad way to start with, you see?
but how can I make it end with me and you?

In the kingdom of two, U are Q and I am K
like in cards that's Queen and King, two hearts of sunshine ray
and if you like we can make a little j (let's call it Jack)
but how can we sort out the other letters before he grows to be J ?

I know everyone calls you Grace, because you R
grace, and I want to write you a poem in a bar
how about a love poem written in HTML?
so that our road to the alphabet's end won't be far

But you said NO, a cold N and a bitter O.
You said, Don't let wine spoil your mind and let your love go
just use a human language and I'll be fine
P.S. When can we get to the end that nobody seems to know?

Yes, yes, you are right, wine is no good, that's true.
But don't you see the letters we've been through?
You just picked out 4, so 21 letters are gone.
The flag of V is flying over the kingdom of two.

Hold my hand, here we come to the end: WXYZ
There you are, W-X-Y-Z
interlocked initials of the king and queen
now the alphabet is complete with you inside me

见或不见

2011-01-22T05:15:00.000Z

我已经好几次在梦里见到杨潇了。

第一次见到时，她是楊瀟，是一个足足200斤重的胖姑娘。
我是个胖子，她说。
我喜欢胖子，我说。
滚！结果她一脚把我踢出了我的梦。
我睁开眼，发现窗外的天空一片灰暗。窗口，我种的那棵冷杉长得又挺又绿。

第二次见到时，她是杨潇，是一个只有100斤重的瘦姑娘。
我还是个胖子，她说。
可是你已经减了100斤了！我抗议道。
但我内心还是一个胖子，她说。
至少你已经成了一个内胖外瘦的漂亮姑娘。我补充道。
滚！结果她又一脚把我踢出了我的梦。
我睁开眼，发现天空依旧灰暗，而那棵冷杉已经枯萎发黄，一蹶不振。

第三次来到梦里时，杨潇已经不在了。我一路找了很久，碰到了一个叫疡箫的姑娘，她骨瘦如柴，害着胃病。我跟她说了几句话，知道她不是我要找的杨潇。

我知道一个叫杨潇的姑娘，病姑娘说，她去了一个叫木水的地方。

于是我继续一路找，四处打听木水的去向。这个梦做得真鸡巴累人啊，我边走边嘀咕，真希望有人能一脚把我踢出梦境。

不久我遇到了一个叫炀啸的姑娘，她身材火辣，嗓门洪亮，但我知道她不是我要找的杨潇。
我在找一个叫木水的地方，我说。
你站的这个地方就是撒！火辣姑娘用大嗓门回应道。
为啥子叫木水？
因为原来有一个叫杨潇的姑娘在这里想明白了其实胖子不胖子神马的，都是浮云，关键是要有一颗低脂的心。于是她卸下了心里的木枷，并且大哭了一场，她的泪水聚成了你看到的这三个相联的水池。这就是木水的由来。
后来她去了哪儿？
火辣姑娘摇摇头，说，没人知道，不过听说自那以后，她就成了昜萧，所有见过她的人都说，那是你做梦能梦见的最美丽的姑娘。

我按火辣姑娘指点的方向，找到了杨潇扔下的木枷。我将它埋在泥土里，并在三个水池里各舀了一壶水，浇在上面。很快，一星绿色破土而出，不断变大，最后长成了一棵又绿又挺拔的杉木。我把杉木锯下，刨空，做成一艘木船。我坐在船里，任由它在三个水池里晃荡，直至晃出了我的梦境。

我睁开眼，发现窗外的天空已经放蓝，而窗口，那棵冷杉长得又挺又绿。

Mr. King

2011-01-21T07:53:00.006Z

The pictures of Mr. King are drawn by 扫把（Besom）, who is an illustrator and picture book writer based in Chongqing, China. I translated the Chinese into English and applied it to the original pictures. Thank Besom for her kindness to let me share this imaginative story told in her beautiful drawings on my blog.

For more illustrations done by Besom, please go to her Douban album.

自画像

2011-01-19T17:52:00.002Z

是的，我叫鄭維，我已经很久没有照镜子了。自从她挥一挥丝绢，绝尘而去，我就仿佛被抽走了肋骨，整个人分崩离析。你知道，上帝用男人的肋骨创造出女人，我的女人走了。

我开始用文字寻找色彩——油菜花的色彩，那是太阳在花瓣上停留后的颜色，耀眼，尊贵，如火的热情。她曾经站在金灿灿的油菜地里，乌黑的头发里插着一朵小花。她从旗袍襟口取下丝绢，用黄线在上面绣出一朵小花。她望着我说，我要把它种在你的心田里，这样，我将会变成你的一根肋骨，谁也不能将我俩拆散。

我试图用文字把哪副景象找回来，印在纸上，但终究不可得。我已经失去了驾驭文字的能力，我隐约感到我的名字正在与我剥离，就像我失去的那根肋骨。

结果，我终于疯了。我站在油菜地里，拿起刀割下了自己的右耳，并且在一年之后，第一次照了镜子。镜子里的我已经不是我了。

我叫奠主，镜子里的人对我说。

我已经很久没有见到TA了

2011-01-19T14:07:00.004Z

引子
我已经很久没见到中中了，这次见到，他身旁多了一个人，于是中中成了仲仲。

变形记
我已经很久没有见到罗一了，这次见到她，因为太宅的缘故，她的脑袋上已经长出了草，同时下半身长出了一条又长又弯的尾巴。她说，现在我已经叫萝乙了。

蓝莲花
我很久没有见蓝天了，这次见到，他已经落了草，脸上还多了一道疤，他说：我扔了我的吉他，烧了我的诗歌，现在兄弟们都叫我监夫。
现在应该没有什么能够阻挡你对钱和妞的向往了吧。我心想。

日不落
我已经很久没有见到太阳了
最后一次见到是在英国
那一早太阳很低
他把我从床上叫醒
我曾经这么叫醒过马雅可夫斯基
和弗兰克·欧哈拉，你是第三个。太阳说
一边儿去，我说，我要再睡会儿
从那以后我就再也没见到过太阳

现在我在一个灰色的城市
没有蓝天也没有
青草
人们互相喝血，吃对方的肉
没有教堂，只有摩天楼
插入云霄

在种满假花的街道上
我遇到了苏晨阳
办辰耳！我大声叫道，双眼
仿佛被一束久违的阳光刺中
啊？苏晨阳回给我一声惊叹

我已经很久没有见到草和太阳了
我说
我都快认不出你了

月亮上的男子
我已经很久没有见到周高逸了，这回见到，他竟飞到了月亮上。他说，因为要兔年了，我为了奔月把双脚都留在了地球，所以现在成了周膏兔。

是为了那只兔子吗？我问。
不，她叫邦妮。周膏兔说。
那还不是兔子？
如果你非要加个兔字，请叫她邦妮兔。
还不是兔子？我话音刚落，就飞过来一个白色的东西，把我蹬下了月球。我想不出来那个白色的东西是什么，好像是一只兔子——可能是邦妮兔，也可能是周膏兔；或者是周高逸原来的那双大腿。

离开女儿国
我已经很久没有见到张宇婷了，这次见到她，她正准备离开女儿国。她说，我在这幢姑娘扎成堆的屋檐下一待就是7年，现在我要离开此地，离开王佳兰和那些带上了蓝色流苏帽的姑娘们。从今以后，我将是张于亭。

你舍弃藏身的屋宇，丢掉自己的女儿身，难道是为了追寻唐三藏？我问道。
嗯。于亭点点头道，他曾经骑着白马而来，在我心里留下一段诵经，又骑着白马而去。他是我命中的白马男子，我一定要找到他。
去哪儿找？
我弃走的屋宇和女儿合起来为何字？
安。
唐僧去取经走的是哪个方向？
西。
对，就去西安找。
好，别忘了给我带几个肉夹馍。

He is studying in the UK

She is taking photos all around the EU

给自己的2011年1月1日

2011-01-09T15:36:00.000Z

杨柳青青发春心
潇江水暖鸭未醒
残酒余脂霜满地
梦里披斗续炭薪

等父亲们死掉

2010-12-22T18:09:00.005Z

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

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

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

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

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

子：错没错由我自己来断，老头子。你给我闭上嘴，让我好好想想……

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

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

父：我不管你妈怎么说，说不定她也头脑发昏。这只是你跟我之间的事情。

子：这是你说的第一句在理的话，因为这就是你我之间的事。

父：好嘛，我的意思是……

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

Liu Zhen and Liping Primary School

2010-12-19T13:02:00.067Z

Liping Primary School

Written By Liu Zhen in Chinese

Translated by Mao Xin

English Edited by Zheng Wei

Photos Provided by Liu Zhen

also available on Gooood (谷德设计网)

The house I wanted to build was a house purely in my imagination.

Thus I had this very first experience of fighting, through my own way, against the village government, and against the central primary school of the town.

We went about, collecting materials deserted at the post-earthquake reconstruction sites.
We lived under harsh conditions but maintained our work.
We had no backups. We didn't belong to any organization.
Only the volunteers and the villagers supported us.

Finally, we made it.

Liping Primary School

Designed by
Liu Zhen

Coordinated and fund raising by
Liu Zhen
Cao Guilin

Sponsored by:
Hsieh Ying-chun and his Atlier-3
Zhang Lixian and his Du Ku
Shanghai Oasis Ecological Conservation and Communication Center

Built by
Volunteers
Villagers of Liping village

How We started

After the 5.12 Si Chuan earthquake, I worked on a reconstruction programme with architect Hsieh Ying-chun from Taiwan.

I would travel between two villages at that time: Liping and Shazhou.

There is a river in the middle of these two villages, and my friend Guilin was working there across the river opposite me. At night I rowed a boat to go to his place. At day time I came back by motorcycle. The place where we lived had no proper bed. Wind would break in and dance in the corner. But I thought it was indeed a paradise for us.

It was in a mid-night that our boat nearly capsized when we were crossing the river.
Guilin asked me why we were here.
After a long time of silence, we decided to build this primary school.

He is a programmer. I am an architect.

We started to write project proposals and negotiated with the local government and NGOs. We tried to raise money from everywhere possible, although we had failed all along...

The original design had included a school, a health centre, the village committee office and a play ground. The initial vision we had was: in the remote mountain area, there are teachers reading books aloud to their students, the kind-hearted villagers, the bright sunshine, the quite gardens, and the beautiful rice paddies. People come and go without disturbing each other; rather, they take care of each other. When the sunshine comes through the window, the twinkling light casts spotted shadows on the wall and floor.

However, the head of the village failed to reach an agreement with the secretary of the village’s communist party committee. We only got the right to rebuild the primary school.

With the help of a friend who was working on a project in Shazhou, we used the money the World Bank had given him as start-up funding. We recruited volunteers and got ready to build the school by ourselves.

All the ideas concerning the design focused on how to save materials and minimize costs. The needed construction work was based on what had already been there.

The original building area was 68.3 m2. The structural timber was 6.15 m3. After rebuilding, the building area was enlarged to 201 m2, with 3.22 m3 added structural timbre.

When built in the traditional Chuan-dou style, the wood efficiency ratio was 1 m2 structural timbre/ 11.2 m2 building area. After rebuilding, we have improved the wood efficiency ratio to 1 m3/31.4 m2 building area.

When it comes to seismic resistance, the most serious weakness in the traditional Chuan-dou styled architecture is the lack of lateral restraint.

There is an old Chinese saying
which goes: even when the wall falls, the house won't collapse.

But why the wall falls? I regard it as a question that deserves our attention.

After the earthquake happened, although most of the houses did not collapse, the wood frames had tilted to the sides. This is because, generally speaking, the traditional Chuan-dou structure has no foundational connection. Displacement had taken place in many wooden houses after the earthquake.

Rebuilding Liping Primary School

Building area: 201 m2

Cost: 112,000 RMB (≈1,700 USD)

Time of completion: January 2010

1 Classroom
2 Studio for volunteers
3 Rest-room for volunteers
4 Library
5 Bedroom for teachers
6 Tea room

The rebuilding was based on the original structural frame of the house. The reinforcement and space-extension was done with the purpose of improving its seismic resistant capacity and making the Chuan-dou structured house more comfortable to live in.

A proper reinforcement of the traditional structure does not cause much cost. However, some methods go against the traditional craftsmanship. The local craftsmen usually think these reinforcements are unnecessary, such as lateral bracing.

Along with the aging of the connection between tenon and mortise, nodes of the Chuan-dou structure would grow weaker accordingly.

In some areas, even without earthquakes, the frame of an old wooden house built in Chuan-dou style would become deformed or displaced because of its lack of lateral restraint.

Reinforcement can be done in traditional ways, too. Wood is a kind of material in which the fiber grows vertically. Thus, the bracing could be designed in such a way that with the pull-push rods, the tension would be transformed into pressure.

When the wooden frame was finished, we used it as a makeshift stage and held a show with the villagers.

Massive people gathered around by the primary school.

By our surprise, the atmosphere was superb.

That night our school was like the Bird Nest filled with magnificent lights. The villagers and us were singing altogether with our self-made microphone under our self-made stage light.

When the spinning electrical fan drove the iodine lamp over its head, the light on our stage was shining and changing just the same as that on television.

The wall

There are lots of restrictions in the traditional wall-building techniques.

Rammed earth wall is restricted by the quality of the earth and the season.

Adobe wall is restricted by the structure.

In addition, they both demand a lot of time and extensive labour, which lacks flexibility.

We adjusted the method and found the advantages as follows:

Unaffected by the quality of the earth

High flexibility in practice
Less labour
Superior humidity-resistance
Easy plastering

Roof

The polystyrene foam boards used as insulation layer were the leftover from the makeshift modular houses that were torn down during the post-earthquake reconstruction. We went out to pick them back every day. The water-proof layer is a thick layer of plastic sheet, which was the original roof of the primary school.

When the rebuilding was under way, the children were in their summer vacation. They all joined in. The youngest was only 6 years old.
With everyone's participation, the process of rebuilding became more and more interesting.

Earthen floor laid upon bamboos

Earthen floor laid upon wooden bars

Bamboo floor

Wooden floor

Studio for Volunteers

The door could be a window, or a cupboard. When we we define the function of the architectural parts freely, they could combine with each other freely, and transform accordingly to the needs of the users. It could fit different groups of people. It is similar to the volunteers, who could either be a teacher, a designer, a geological explorer, or an artist. Wheather you stay shortly or over a long period of time, no matter how many people there are, they can adjust themselves. It is also a space for games.

When the room is without a door or with doors everywhere, the children will free their nature. They will jump to the front of you by your surprise.

In the studio, people could make their own desks. The wooden board could be set right on the shelf, and removed when not in use.

Assembling and prefabricating come as the priority in designing.

When we raised one side of the foundation, the steps gave us more possibilities. Windows and doors are not barriers anymore.

Children would celebrate their nature freely.

The children had already loved these steps even before they were finished.
They came in through the door and walked out over the steps.

They put their feet or their bags on the steps, climbing, jumping and running.
They created their own games.

Foundation

A traditional Chuan-dou styled house is not attached to its foundation.

The house is simply placed upon the compacted ground, or supported by pillars with stones padded underneath.

This results in the easy displacement during an earthquake and poor humidity resistance.

If we raise one end of the foundation up a little bit then the horizontal displacement of the structure could be prevented.

A column base of the foundation could prevent the vertical displacement of the frame, and make the house more humidity resistant.

These methods are not very different from the traditional ones. Everyone from the village could practice these methods by themselves.

When the concept of space breaks the concept of wall, the children were found rapidly adapted to the brand new environment

In this self-creating space, they made all kinds of games according to their curiosity.

The two windows flanking the blackboard are not in parallel with it. Such a design could be realized because of the thickness of the wall.

The angle between the blackboard and the windows could prevent sharp reflection from the blackboard while students were having classes.

At the same time, the light reflected from the sloping wall of the second floor would be diffused when coming through the high windows, so that the classroom could gain more light.

In the classroom where there is no gable, the sunlight-plate will borrow light from the classroom next door.

This guarantees a good illumination in all the classrooms.

The rest-room for volunteers

We had slept on the ground before. The sleeping bag was our home.

But then I thought, when the morning sun spread its beams into the rest-room, wouldn’t it be pleasant if we could actually enjoy the gentle sunshine and the fragrance of the soil from outside the window while lying on the floor with a book in hand?

The cob wall and tilting window after plastering

Tilting window is designed to prevent the sharp reflection on the blackboard inside the room.

Tea room

In order to gain more space for the attic on the third floor, we made an overhanging "Mei Ren Kao"(“the backrest for the beauty”, but don’t take it too literally).

A tilting window was placed upon the Mei Ren Kao, which maximizes the utilization of the attic area, while at the same time people could enjoy the scenery of the whole village from there.

We left Liping on January 5th
We felt so sad that we shed tears.....

The very moment when we were to leave, the villagers of Liping, unexpectedly, got together and saw us off. They followed our car and walked along as far as they could.

Alas, we used to think they were trouble-makers...
They gave us peanuts and millets.
The head of the village and the party leaders were not there, only the villagers, with whom we had quarreled and played.
Half a year passed.
So many feelings of gratitude and resentment
so many brothers and sisters that had came and left
so many heroic vows and our twinkling ideal
suddenly draw a full-stop for me.

Facing this end, I felt a little bit lost.
The night before we left, I sat in front of the door of the newly rebuilt school. I made a big bonfire.
The darkness of the night was so thick that I only saw the school shimmering through the fire.

Every piece of wood, mud and bamboo is part of our burning youth.
My back was cold, but my face was warm because the fire was big.
The villagers gave us a lot firewood. They were all burning brightly.
It came to me that when something was finished, there would be a feeling of sadness.

In fact, I believe we could have done better. For some reasons, we didn’t.
But the memory we share, I hope, is good and useful in some way.

刘振和他的里坪村小学校

2010-12-19T12:48:00.003Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-------不是广告的分割线-------

里坪村小重建项目的中文档案
刘振的水稻田

谷德网
向玲的豆瓣

当他们在谈论刘晓波的时候我想起了谁

2010-12-18T16:53:00.003Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She said, It's too late.”

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

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

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

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

姓郑的小哥教你如何给学计算机的女生写情书

2010-12-08T17:20:00.001Z

为叙述方便，假设那个女生叫X。以下是情书正文：

The following programme has to be debugged by X

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

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

To a Cockroach

2010-12-05T05:17:00.000Z

When the power strip was disturbed

by my headless hand,

a pair of antennae emerged from a socket hole.

A head stuck out, turning quickly to all directions

Panicked by the shadowy monstrous threat

(you see, I’m putting myself in its shoes)

the cockroach jerked out of its cave—a shelter

warmed by electric current blocked by wire resistor,

and scurried off to the cold darkness under my bed.

The temperature has fallen sharply

these days, when inflation goes the other way.

The power strip and me have become the only

two sources that produce warmth

in the cubical room embedded

in an apartment-building erected

somewhere on the earth.

The green plant I bought two months ago

is dying now

irreversibly—my static companion.

I kept the power strip on

so that with the adaptors it could stay warm

like a mini-heater.

I turned off the light and went to bed.

I covered myself with a quilt.

It’s going to be a cold night.

记重大门口的一只狗

2010-12-04T17:22:00.001Z

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

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

我拍了拍它脑袋，心说：其实我也跟你一样啊。

你又叫不赢

2010-12-03T15:28:00.003Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luo Yi's Poems

2010-11-28T16:35:00.001Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Here is Luo Yi's Blog: wreninhernest

秋之叶

2010-11-28T13:53:00.009Z

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

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

曲子开始由钢琴、低音提琴、小号和架子鼓渲染出一股萧瑟的气氛。Miles Davies的小号加了弱音器，出来的声音有一种紧张和不安，仿佛预示着灾难即将发生。
突然——真的是很突然——一记鼓点落下，曲子戏剧地过渡到了“秋之叶”的主旋律，也就是一段小号的抒情。
这个由曲首铺垫转入主题的转折非常强烈而且很有戏剧张力，对于喜欢开头-高潮-结尾古典三段论的人来说，听着是非常过瘾的。

小号将主旋律温情地交代完后，一个突兀的上扬，转交给萨克斯风（Cannonball Adderley），由后者来了一段即兴；

接着是一段小号的即兴；
接着是一段钢琴（Hank Jones）的即兴。
然后再由小号回到曲子的主题，最后由钢琴和架子鼓将旋律渐渐转弱，小号声游走其间，收尾终曲。

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

过马路的小孩

2010-11-21T09:10:00.001Z

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

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

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

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

上个月在渝中区民生路上拍到的照片：

结字为劳

2010-11-21T07:58:00.000Z

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

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

竹简和丝帛已经腐烂
蚂蚁将上面的字咬下
堆积在一处，并
往下，挖出一条
通
道
让树根穿过，与那些字会合
连成树干

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

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

罗一浮

2010-11-21T07:08:00.001Z

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

*仿自“拉马丁的诱惑”

献给LY的情诗

2010-11-21T04:14:00.000Z

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

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

我是一只与众不同的狗
因为
我不追逐母狗的屁股
也不抬起后腿围着电线杆撒尿

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

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

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

诗后记：

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

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

隐秘之术

2010-11-20T17:41:00.000Z

献给佩索阿和wren的一首诗

一

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

二

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

三

我苏醒过来后，发现一和二
并没有什么联系

唱歌的小孩

2010-11-13T15:11:00.000Z

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

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

之后看到一篇贾樟柯在北大谈影片创作的文章。贾樟柯说：

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

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

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

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

于是我那一直自视为“生活常理”的东西就顷刻间崩解了。

the day a Chinese man won the Nobel Prize

2010-11-05T15:29:00.001Z

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

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

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

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

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

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

leonard cohen一首名为“诗”的诗

2010-11-03T12:41:00.000Z

诗

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

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

Poem

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

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

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

2010-11-03T12:31:00.000Z

Plant a Tree

2010-10-19T17:17:00.002+01:00

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

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

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

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

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

说完瓜，再说哈

2010-10-14T17:50:00.000+01:00

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

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

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

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

“指环王。”
“托尔金是神。”

Metamorphoses

2010-10-14T15:23:00.000+01:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

变形记
作者：黄茜

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

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

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

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

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

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

诗人

2010-10-14T15:13:00.003+01:00

兹比格涅夫•赫伯特（波兰），zorow_2000转译自英译版

他不是天使
他是诗人

他没有翅膀
只有右手
长着羽毛，用它

来拍打空气
划过三道弧他浮上了空
接着迅速掉落

快要落地时
他用双腿蹬着身子
于是又盘旋了一会儿
长羽毛的右手在空中挥打

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

但是那些群星啊
一想到要成为他落脚的土地
就在死亡的惊恐中一颗颗掉落

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

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

He's no angel
he is a poet

he has no wings
just has a feathered
right hand

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

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

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

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

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

一个市长儿子叫瓜瓜的城市

2010-10-13T18:25:00.000+01:00

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

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

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

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

燦爛人生

2010-09-28T19:04:00.004+01:00

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

弟弟Matteo死後，哥哥Nicola坐在書房裡對姐姐Giovanna說。

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

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

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

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

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

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

“可我覺得真是好啊，無論演員還是故事，我這幾年看過的最好的電影了。”我說。

“你喜歡哪個角色？”

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

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

“而且說不定我也會從陽台上跳下去。”

“啊——你不會的，鄭維。我知道你不會的。”

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

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

“喂，小葉，怎麼這麼晚給我打電話？”

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

“你那裡住得高嗎？”她問。

“挺高的，我住在17層。”

“哦，那你可不要跳下去啊。”小葉說，她的聲音有些嚴肅。

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

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

Great Nation

2010-09-19T18:29:00.002+01:00

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

Hello, UK,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I wish my judgement was wrong.

Regards!

Feng Tang

hey baby, what's going on?

2010-08-28T19:10:00.001+01:00

It's all about timing.

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

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

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

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

One amusing moment in my life.

柏桑看到了妞桑

2010-08-25T02:11:00.000+01:00

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

昨天在廚房裏碰到她的時候，她剛從Breacon Beacons回來。

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

這個綠人節有什麼內容？是音樂節嗎？我問。

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

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

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

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

其實那麼貴的票錯過了就錯過了。我心想。

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

say Bethan like you say Before

2010-08-05T03:52:00.004+01:00

Say Bethan, like you say before

stress falls on the second syllable

because it's a Welsh name, and

A is a cAstle, not a villA.

The first day I met her,

she was the Bethan driving

an old car to help me with the move.

It's my baby car, she said.

A touch of love emerged on her face.

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

It's dying, but she is my baby.

The second day I saw her,

she was the Bethan making

an omlet in the kitchen.

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

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

You will change your mind. My parents told me.

I still think so after 10 years.

The third day I talked to her

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

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

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

but I'm going to surf this weekend.

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

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

The forth day I listened to her stories

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

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

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

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

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

The boys are greedy and the girls are bitchy.

The fifth day I walked with her

she was the Bethan wearing flip-flops

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

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

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

reflected from the shimmering street lamp.

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

The sixth day, I asked God, who said,

one moment please. I need to populate this land.

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

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

I need a break. No question for today.

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

Say Bethan, like you say before

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

You are in a country where the dragon was slain,

where A is a sAd, not hAppy, ending.

纪录片影展、杂志及网站

2010-07-29T23:36:00.001+01:00

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

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

International Documentary Association (IDA)：见下。

Hot Docs：加拿大国际纪录片电影节。影展期间有纪录片交易大会。

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

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

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

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

沒有任何徵兆

2010-07-25T21:37:00.000+01:00

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

勒·柯布西耶的一段話

2010-07-21T00:06:00.005+01:00

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

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

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

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

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

This is Architecture.
這就是建築

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

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

那麼，到底是怎麼樣的一種聯繫呢？

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

再見，阿道夫

2010-07-20T14:12:00.001+01:00

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

“那段歷史我們一般場合是不講的。”薩賓一邊吃著晚飯一邊說。

“那希特勒呢？是個敏感詞嗎？”我坐在她對面，喝著剛泡好的綠茶。

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

薩賓吃完了飯，洗刷了鍋碗，重新坐到桌子前。

“我聽說8在中國是個好數字？”

“對。這個數字表示錢、財富。”

“可你知不知道8在德國可是個倒霉數字？尤其是18這個數，沒人願意用。

“為什麼？”

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

我頓時被德國人建立在歷史學、符號學、字母學、民族心理學上的嚴密邏輯折服了。

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

“希特勒在德國是個常用的姓嗎？這麼說來，阿道夫這個名字還會有人取嗎？”

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

那些被革了命的漢字

2010-07-15T15:25:00.018+01:00

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

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

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

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

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

*《西遊記》雖然裏面也有趟水渡河，但總不能把腳給整沒了吧

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

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

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

歷：歷史
                 -- 經簡化--> 历
曆：日曆

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

面：面孔
                   -- 經簡化--> 面
麵：麵條

里：里程
                         -- 經簡化--> 里
裏（裡）：裏面

穀：稻穀
                    -- 經簡化--> 谷
谷：山谷

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

不知道黨是什麼時候簡化成党的，黑社會組織馬上變成兄弟連了。

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

方舟子，求求你還是專心打假吧：汉字简化常识

蘆笛：漢字簡化的是與非（上）、（下）

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

從前有個姓鄭的小哥去游泳

2010-07-14T18:50:00.002+01:00

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

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

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

就在這個時候，令姓鄭小哥意想不到的事情發生了。

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ji Zhaohua and His Drawings

2010-07-12T20:16:00.003+01:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said yes.

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

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

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

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

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

Bookplate for the 0905 issue of Book Reservoir

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

News-Knight and His One-Man's Newspaper

2010-07-12T18:19:00.004+01:00

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

-- Zhai Minglei (翟明磊)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

* Zhai Minglei's 1bao and Twitter

*Interview with Zhai Minglei conducted by Danwei: Youtube Video

* Pictures are all from Internet

[1] Project Hope (希望工程) is a Chinese public service project organized by the China Youth Development Foundation (CYDF) and the Communist Youth League (CYL) Central Committee. Started in October 30 1989, it aims to bring schools into poverty-stricken rural areas of China, to help children whose families are too poor to afford it to complete elementary school education.

[2] "to have a cup of tea" (喝茶) is a Chinese euphemism for secret police's interrogation.

[3] Xu Zhiyong (许志永) is a lecturer at the Beijing University of Post and Telecommunications. He was one of the founders of the NGO Open Constitution Initiative and an active rights lawyer in China who helped those underprivileged. In 2009, July 29, he was arrested at his home, and detained by Chinese authorities on charges of tax evasion.

An Innocent Poem

2010-07-11T00:12:00.000+01:00

The poem is originally titled Me and Woman, which is addressed in the first person (I/me), written by Yang Haisang (杨海桑). I came across the adapted version of the poem in Lao Liu's blog, adapted in a sense that the first person is changed into Man. The poem is said to be a perfect choice to read at a wedding ceremony. I translated it into English as follows:

Man and Woman

Man likes woman, man likes

to see woman

Man sees good in a good woman,

which turns his heart into a river of kindness

Every woman is a lovely thing

If God nods, she can

grow a lovely face, bear a lovely name and have a lovely voice

because she comes into the world

not to live, but to have a story

completed-- silently, to have it unfolded in her

She doesn't need the whole world, she only needs a man

who sees her and utters her name

Man knows that he comes from a woman

and between him and a woman

there lies the most innocent thing

When a man sees a hundred or a thousand women grow in beauty

he only hugs one, kisses her and marries her

what a romantic thing it is

simply to think of it makes me happy

男人和女人 （摘自老六的博客）

男人喜欢女人，男人喜欢

看见女人

男人看见很好的女人很好

于是他的心，善良如水

每一个女人都是一件可爱的事物

如若神点头示意，她就会

模样可人，名字好听，声音清纯

因为她来到这个世界上

不是为了生存，是为了一个故事

静悄悄，从她身上开始

她不需要整个世界，她只要一个人

看见她，念她的名字

男人从女人那里来，男人知道

他和女人之间

有一件最清白无邪的事

所以男人看见一百个一千个女人美好地生长

只抱住其中一个，亲亲她，娶她为妻……

这件事啊，如此浪漫

只想一想，就是幸福

踢点球要从娃娃抓起

2010-07-05T20:30:00.001+01:00

戴夫说他小时候曾是西汉姆联队青训队的队员，后来因为膝盖受伤才退出。“没准我现在已经是职业球员，在踢英超呢。”

所以这两天看球，听他在一旁讲，也注意到了以前从未留意的细节。看阿根廷比赛，除了对马拉多纳的英式仇恨外，看到德米凯利斯、海因策，戴夫也总是嗤之以鼻。“这些南美人，总喜欢飘一头长发。后卫怎么能留那么长的头发呢！”

“留长发怎么了？”我问。

“头球时不容易控制。而且他们不仅头发长，还油腻腻的，球会打滑的。你看德米凯利斯的头发，呃！”一个厌恶的声音从戴夫的喉咙里跳了出来。“我们在学校踢球，一律光头。你看英格兰的后卫，不是光头就是短发。”

“头发长短对头球影响真有那么大？”

“也不绝对。但你看那些南美球员的头发，太油腻了啊，用发箍箍也箍不住！”

阿根廷被德国屠杀后，戴夫开怀无比，“手球队，活该！这让我对英格兰的失败感觉好多了。”

“马拉多纳那个手球真得那么不可饶恕吗？要说那也是裁判的责任啊。换作谁也不会自己主动跟裁判说，刚才那个是手球，不该算进。”

“不不。那不一样，马拉多纳是个骗子(cheater)，他一开始就不应该伸手去打那个球。我没指望他当场主动承认。但你一开始就手球，那就是个骗子。”

看到乌拉圭的苏亚雷斯在球门线上挡出加纳队的射门时，戴夫大叫到：“手球！骗子！红牌！他应该被额外禁赛。”

我不知道是因为马拉多纳的上帝之手给英格兰人造成了沉重的心理创伤，还是真的因为不列颠人对诸如诚实、公平看得比什么都重。

乌拉圭和加纳的比赛最终还是要通过点球的方式一决胜负。

“噢，上帝。干嘛要踢点球呢。真受不了这样的结果方式。”戴夫用手蒙住了眼睛。

“不是很刺激嘛。再说这两支队跟我们又没关系。”

戴夫摇摇头：“我们受不了点球。这是我们文化的一部分，我们害怕点球。”

你书念多了吧？这点球恐惧跟文化有什么关系？我心想。

“我们在学校踢球，如果一场比赛打平，但又要分胜负的时候，会算点数，比如谁角球数多、射门次数多就算赢，不踢点球，那实在是要人命的事。所以英格兰踢点球，脚发抖，踢一回栽一回。没办法，足球学校里没这个。”

原来如此。

萨宾——没有娜——是住楼下的博士生，德国人。说起德国队，她一直用enjoy这个词，“他们是在享受(enjoy)比赛啊。你看穆勒、厄齐尔踢球，真是在玩游戏(enjoy the game)，我特别喜欢这种状态。”

“现在德国队里有一半人不是‘纯粹’的德国人，里面有波兰后裔、土耳其后裔，甚至还有加纳来的，你们不会觉得别扭？”

“不会。多种族融合(multi-nationalism)不是一个很好的趋势吗？而且像厄齐尔这样的土耳其后裔为德国队踢球，会提高土耳其人社区在德国的知名度，让他们更有社会地位。”

同样的问题我也问过另一个德国姑娘，她眼神有些诧异地看着我，“但他们都是德国籍啊！只要是德国籍的，代表德国踢球会有什么问题呢？”

这两天看到一些支持德国队的朋友的签名档，满是“意志”、“日耳曼”、“战车”这样的字眼。我一直觉得我们这个不会反省历史的民族，再来一场文革之类的运动，差的只是有人在天安门城楼振臂一挥。

姓屠夫的人

2010-07-05T02:16:00.003+01:00

搬到了新屋，Tewksbury路103号。往西走两条街是一片巨大的公墓，那里埋葬着上辈的尸骨和有关他们的记忆。一张枯旧的长椅被安放在那里，与林立的墓碑相望。

我已经在这片街区住了9个月了，可还是分不清那些街道和街道两旁的房子。这里跟U2的那首歌正好相反——it's where the streets do have names。这里的路大多取自于人名：罗伯特、弗洛伦蒂娜、布鲁斯、斯班瑟、范妮，但是他们长着千篇一律的面孔：连成片的房子一户挨着一户，颜色、门窗的尺寸和屋子造型都像是遵循了一个标准，唯一能区别它们的是门牌号上的数字以及住久之后的直觉。

我的隔屋住着一个叫屠夫的英格兰人——他的姓是Slaughter。“可能我们的祖辈是杀猪的吧。”戴夫笑着说。盖在他一米九零身体上的是一头橘红的头发。“我爸妈一个金发、一个黑发，奇怪的是生下三个小孩都是红头发。”

戴夫说他三岁那年参加了父母的婚礼。“我爸妈一直拖着，想看看带着我是不是能过日子。结果又怀上了我妹妹，再也拖不下去了，终于把我一道拖去参加了他俩的婚礼。”

戴夫念的是中世纪欧洲研究。我问他有没有想过去做研究或是教书，他说他不想，因为教书不赚钱。“很多人都觉得我这个专业出来就是当老师，但我要证明这样的想法是错的。钱能让我高兴，所以我要做能赚钱的工作。可能跟我劳动阶级的家庭出身有关吧，呵呵。”

我大致能体会清苦的家庭出身会让人对金钱有一种强烈的渴望，更何况金钱、权力这一类东西的魔力是不分阶级、肤色和种族的。但劳动阶级这四个字——确切的说是working class这个词——一开始也让我将戴夫与另外一些词发生了联系：勤俭、持家、善于家务。

我们这幢屋子住了5个人，共用一个卫生间。卫生间在二楼，进门的绳子负责亮灯和开动排风扇。头一次戴夫洗完澡出来，我进去后发现电灯亮着、排风扇嗡嗡吹着，我想那是他一时疏忽吧。第二次戴夫洗完澡出来，我进去后发现电灯和排风扇还是开着，我想可能是他赶时间一时失手吧。第三次我进去发现电灯和排风扇依旧开着，而那时戴夫正在屋里休闲地上网，我终于剪断了持家和他劳动阶级的联系。

戴夫早晨洗完澡，便去体操房健身。他现在是学校橄榄球队的队员，一个月之后是校际比赛，为此他还特地买来了蛋白质冲剂（protein shake）给自己长肌肉。“这玩意儿用牛奶泡，吃起来特别恶心。我眼一闭，嘴一张，咕咚一口就吞下去。”我来英国后一直很纳闷的一点是，为什么很多人那么不正经吃饭还能长那么大个？见到很多胖姑娘，也没见她们怎么吃一日三餐，很多时候一包薯片就是一顿中饭，但一身的赘肉就像是给肉联厂打的广告。戴夫的身体自然健壮，毕竟每天往健身房跑，但他的主食基本就是超市买的现成的牛肉汉堡，拿回家放烤炉一烤，就对付了。刚搬来这里的第二天，戴夫专门回到旧所给一个同住的哥们儿告别。“他人特别好，每回煮东西都给我留一份。”我来这里两个礼拜，有三回晚饭也给他“留了一份”，他高兴地直夸我人好。我问他为什么不自己煮饭呢，挺简单的一件事情，特别是你们英国人，开水里滋一下就能吃。“我妈不让我学。”戴夫回答说，“小时候去厨房做，她就说这也不对，那也不对，后来干脆就让我站一旁看了。”可现在你妈不在身边，你不是有煮饭的自由了？“从超市买省事嘛。”考虑原先认识的Mark还有宿舍楼上的另一个美国小哥也都是劳动阶级出身，但都是耍刀弄锅的好手，于是我对这样一个劳动阶级出身的英国小哥着实另眼相待。

出于感激之情，吃完饭戴夫都会主动要求洗碗。但是我见过他洗的碗，上面的洗洁精泡沫没冲掉，就直接放碗架里了。我想提醒他，“哎，泡沫得洗掉啊。”但这就好像提醒一个挖过鼻子的人脸上粘着鼻屎，让我很难开口。前两次我都谢绝了，第三次拗不过，碗还是让他洗了。他把碗从漂浮着洗洁精泡沫的水槽里撩出来，往架子上一放，就上楼了。我看着闪着七彩光的碗，泡沫一点一点地褪去，于是又拿过来用水冲了一遍。后来我发现他连自己的水壶都是这么处理的，于是很担心这劳动阶级一家子的身体健康。

戴夫的爷爷

“我爷爷是二战老兵，但在他死之前，我们都只知道他参加过那场战争，除此之外别无所知。他也闭口不谈，每回讲到那个年代，他都立即沉默，所以我们也不好再问。我奶奶那时跟我讲，我爷爷从战场上回来后，就几乎变了个人，因为看到了太多可怕的事情。我爷爷死后，我们从他的遗物里发现了他当兵时的军衔和番号，根据这些信息我们在档案馆找到了他当兵时的资料，原来他上过前线，去过敦克尔克，在德国的集中营解救过犹太人。战争对于胜利一方也毫无光荣可言，所以我一直是个和平主义者。”

美国梦还是没做成

2010-06-29T12:34:00.001+01:00

连续两场美国的球都在walkabout这个酒吧里看，连续两场美国的球看得都是没有声音的默片。

酒吧里的舞曲叫人鼓膜发胀。足球在硕大的投影屏幕上无声地飞滚，屏幕下是舞池，一个穿着紧身裤的灰发男人手里攥着啤酒瓶，在一堆飘着酒精和香水的雌性动物前扭动着屁股。

我低头望着这片荷尔蒙的海，海里漂着一个穿婚纱的肥胖女人，挺着隆起的肚子，像颗弹子球在厌弃她的男人间穿梭。延伸到舞池的楼梯上走下来另外3个穿着婚纱的女人，她们大叫着，挥舞着手掌，仿佛要一头扎进这片海里。我抬头看了看一池之隔的屏幕，美国和加纳的比分定格在1：2。

Mark刚从巴斯回来，特意从那里买了一件白色的美国队球衣。“卡迪夫买不到。没想到在巴斯看到一家店有卖，一问竟然还是最后一件。太走运了！”Mark不是个“爱国”的美国人，平时吃饭聊天，一直开着自己国家和人民的玩笑。“我也不知道是怎么了，在英国生活了大半年，开始在意起自己的国家来了。现在碰到有谁说美国不好，我就忍不住要维护一下自己的国家形象。中学里我可不这样，那时我觉得‘爱国主义’是个特傻冒的词汇。”Patrick是个安静的博士生，安静地吃完一个汉堡，喝完一杯啤酒，就一直在一片喧闹中安静地看球。好几个机会美国没抓住，他也只是摊摊手，耸耸肩，come on一句，比不上在一旁大呼小叫的Mark左fuck右shit。

从酒吧出来已经晚上10点了。51度的纬度让太阳迟迟不能沉到地平线之下，天空依然很亮。喝了两杯扎啤的Mark红着脸和脖子。“我想朝那面窗户吐口水。”Mark对Patrick说。

星期六的圣·玛丽大街上到处是来赶酒场的男人和女人，他们的笑声在街道上横冲直撞，几只原本在地上争抢薯条的海鸥拍地而起。

熙熙攘攘的圣·玛丽大街一角，明晃晃的落地玻璃窗里映着我、Mark和Ptrick，里面影影绰绰的人群一闪而过，奔向酒吧去开始又一个周末的狂欢。

“我数三声，一、二、三，啐——”Mark和Patrick把口水吐向了两米开外的窗户。

“真恶心。你们这样应该给抓起来。(That's disgusting. It's arrestable.)”三个穿着低胸露背装的女人从我们身边踩着高跟鞋哒哒哒走过。一个黑衣，一个白衣，一个黄衣，三人的腋下不约而同地夹着阔绰的皮夹，臀部上方的开阔地带不约而同地刺着纹身。“恶心！”其中一个不知着什么色的女人又强调了一遍。

“恶心？瞅瞅你们自己吧，身上敲着婊子戳。(Disgusting? Look at you, tramp-stamp!)”Patrick朝着她们的背影喊道。Mark开始放肆地大笑起来，并拍起了手。“嘿，接着，这是给你们的。”Patrick从裤兜掏出一个硬币朝远去的三个背影扔去。一记清脆的“叮”，人群的嬉闹声和酒吧里渗出的音响迅速淹没了那枚在地上翻滚的硬币。

2010年6月26日

苏格兰周游计划

2010-06-09T01:53:00.007+01:00

6月14日

Cardiff--(megabus)-->London
04:00        £4                07:30

London--(megabus)-->Glasgow
08:00        £11              17:15

Accomodation: Euro Hostel (G1 4NR)

6月15日

Glasgow--(citylink)--> Fort William
09:00          £4             12:08

Fort William--(Scotrail train)--> Mallaig
12:48                £3.75               14:09

Mallaig--(ferry)--> Armadale
15:10                      15:40

Armadale--(Stagecoach #52)--> Broadford
17:10                                                 17:37

Broadford--(Stagecoach #50)--> Portree
17:40                                             18:37
19:02                                             19:37

Accomodation: Portree Independent Hostel

6月16日

Portree--walk--> Uig

Accomodation: Uig Hostel (IV51 9YD)

6月17日

Uig     --(citylink)--> Kyle of Lochalsh
09:30        £9.6               11:14

Kyle of Lochalsh--(Scotrail train)--> Inverness
12:03                        £7.45                14:37

Accomodation: Inverness Student Hotel (IV2 4AB)

6月18日

Inverness--(megabus)--> Edinburgh
09:10           £10               12:45

Accomodation: Edinburgh Nights Hostel (EH1 1DE)

6月19日

Edinburgh--(megabus)--> London
22:30             £14              07:30 (6月20日)

注：
1）订火车票，勿通过Nationalrail或者Raileasy，直接去火车运营商Scotrail的网站去订，因前两家都要收取一定数额的手续费。

2）Citylink有一种通票叫Explorer Pass，可以根据自己乘坐的交通核算，试看买Explorer Pass划算，还是单独订票划算。

3）Mallaig到Armadale的渡轮，如果不是自驾汽车或是自带自行车的，直接就地买票，无需网上订票。

4）从Armadale到Portree有Stagecoach的52路车直达，网上不能订票，就地买票。但是公交的运营时间，周中与周末不一样，夏天旺季与其余季节也不一样。如果凑不上直达的车次，只好像我这样倒车了。公交时刻表查询：timetable for 2010

5）线路最好以格拉斯哥或者爱丁堡为两个端点（即一个为起点、一个为终点），然后走环线，这样是最经济的。选择格拉斯哥为起点的好处是，作为交通枢纽，格拉斯哥是进入苏格兰的必经之地，到了格拉斯哥，既可以往西走，又可以往东走，还可以干脆直接北上去inverness，选择余地比较大。如果从爱丁堡出发，往西、往inverness这两条线路还是要经过格拉斯哥。

今天是2010年6月4日

2010-06-04T01:30:00.002+01:00

Give me the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to conscience, above all liberties.

-- John Milton, Areopagitica

Lost and Found
(translated from a poem by an unkown author )

They were gathering at the Lost and Found
trying to get back what was lost 21 years ago
"We want..." they uttered
"Who are you?" a voice answered back

They couldn't describe what on earth was lost
but they were sure that something had been lost
They were confused as to who they were
but they knew their blood had stopped boiling

The gathering at the Lost and Found slowly becomes
a ceremony
Even that questioning voice has become
part of it

失物招领 （作者不详）
他们集聚在失物招领处
想找回贰拾壹年前丢失的东西
“我们要……”他们说
“你们是谁？”有个声音反问

他们说不出究竟丢了什么东西
但他们确信一定有什么东西丢失了
他们弄不清自己变成了谁
但他们知道自己不再热血沸腾

集聚在失物招领处，渐渐变成
一种仪式
连那反问的声音，也成了
仪式的一部分

李志：《广场》

Leek Chicken (recipe for Mark)

2010-05-31T02:34:00.000+01:00

what you need:

chicken (free range is the best)

leek: chopped

garlic: crushed

ginger: sliced

chili pepper

mushroom: sliced (optional)

peanut (optional)

sunflower oil (optional if you fry the chicken's fat to make oil)

salt

cooking wine (or red wine, beer, etc.)

soybean sauce

*there are many kinds of soybean sauces produced in China, Japan, Korea, etc. the Chinese soybean sauces also have many different kinds according to the color and flavor. Normally I use two, the light soybean sauce, which is of bright color, and the strong soybean sauce, which is of dark color. it depends how many soybean sauces you like to use in the chicken or what kind of sauces. just find the ones you like.

How to make the chicken:

1, chop the chicken to pieces and put them in a bowl, add a little cooking wine, crushed garlic, sliced ginger. leave them for about 30 minutes.

2, heat a pan (or wok) til it's really hot. add a little oil (or fry the chicken fat to make oil). when the oil is hot, fry the peanuts til they turn golden and you can smell the aroma. put in the leeks, stir for a while. put in the chili peppers, and fry them altogether til the leeks become soft and golden.

* the temperature of the oil should not be too high, otherwhise the peanuts and leeks would be over-fried.

3, put in the chicken with the garlic and ginger. stir. but you can leave the leeks at the bottom.

4, when the chicken turn from pink to white, put in the mushrooms, and add the light soybean sauce. stir a little bit. boil it for about 5 minutes, then add the strong soybean sauce. stir.

5, turn the oven to middle level heat. leave the pan (or wok) with a lid on for about 10 minutes til the chicken turn brown, which means the soybean sauces have entered the meat. taste the sauce with a spoon, see if it's alright. add a little salt if you find it bland.

6, let the chicken simmer for another 10 minutes. turn off the oven. leave it there til it's set.

* normally you don't need to add water, because the leeks provide juice. that's why when the chicken is done, the leeks are gone.

两个菜

2010-05-29T15:15:00.001+01:00

Mindy's pickled onion:

橄榄油，醋：比例1/3
洋葱：环条
thyme（麝香草）：取叶

放在干燥的玻璃瓶里泡上就行了。

Maureen's food：

白马铃薯：切大块，加盐水煮，直至酥软，捣碎成泥
洋葱丁，青椒丁，番茄丁，虾仁：过油煸炒，可加鸡精

以上两者捣一块就行了。

注：蕃茄先（或者和洋葱一起）放到油里煸炒，容易把汁炸出来。

Damien Rice谈创作

2010-05-25T03:42:00.000+01:00

2010年5月2日晚,哥伦比亚首都波哥大下着大雨。雨点像豆子噼里啪啦地打在遮雨棚上和雨伞上。

遮雨棚下是狭小的舞台，上面站着Damien Rice。雨夜下，歌迷们打着伞驻足听歌。Damien Rice拨拉了几下琴弦，伴着巨大的雨点声说：

有一天我坐在家里，窗外下着雨。爱尔兰是个经常下雨的国家。我看着窗外的雨，突然觉得很不爽。没有来由，就是不爽。我打电话给了一个朋友，她住在城市的另一头。“你现在在干嘛呢？”我问她。她说：“没干嘛。你怎么样呢？”我说：“唉，我心里不爽死了。”她说：“哦，那你过来吧。”

于是我坐上了公交，来到了她的家。我们做了些吃的，然后聊天，最后就到了睡觉的点。“你今晚可以睡我的床。”她说。

就在那一刹那，我整个人快活了起来。心情顷刻间由阴转晴，哇哦。我和她做了很多年的朋友，但也只是朋友。她这么一说，我就感觉有了。

但是她接着说了一句：“我妹妹今晚不在，我可以睡她的床。”

“哦，这样啊。那也好。”我整个人又立马不爽起来。

她坐在我的床头，说，“我这儿有扇大窗户，你可以看星星。”因为爱尔兰白天下雨，但一到晚上就放晴了，天空既干净又漂亮。她接着对我说：“你需要跟自己相处一会儿，想想现在的事情，好好把思路捋捋。”

我说：“好吧。好吧。”

她离开屋子后，我就跟自己处了一会儿。我很快又快活了起来，那股快活劲大概有那么两三分钟。然后我蹑手蹑脚地走到她家的卫生间，洗干净后，我又回到了床上。坐在床上，我又开始不爽起来。于是我决定按她说的，抬头看窗外的星星。我记不得我看到了什么，好像当时天空有奇怪的景象……我当时是不是喝酒来着，记不清了。但第二天从屋子里出来，我就写下了这首歌。

Amie: