杂谈伪伪女子

by:珠默



一年前，我在某个流氓论坛被几个伪流氓拍砖的时候，一个陌生ID的回帖我至今难忘，他/她说：“有着锦绣文字的人必然有颗锦绣的心。”就是因为这一句话，我立刻将所受的委屈和非难全都抛开了。
　　
　　 昨天晚上，我手里拿着羊肉串在马路边的一个书摊上淘盗版书，我的男朋友当时定然正疲惫的挤在公交车上，我们约好了七点半去某个小巷里吃火锅，酒水免费羊肉特价的那种。我说这个的意思是，如果你愿意心平气和，如果你愿意善良的体会生活，其实一切人一切事物都可以是美好的。
　　


　　 在论坛上写帖子绝对是件吃力不讨好的事，你忍着寂寞，你字斟句酌，你的手指尖被键盘磨的触觉迟钝，但是没人会体恤你。大多数的人只是扫上一两眼，说些无关痛痒的话。其中有些还会不负责任的批判你，似乎你的贴子就该是一面粘贴大字报的白墙，是一张需要别人骟耳刮子的厚脸皮。
　　 网络写手用通俗的话讲就是吃饱了撑得，或者文雅些就是神经紊乱，内分泌失调。
　　
　　 然而论坛之上定然需要一些耐心写字的人，试想如果全都是观众，全都是一些凑热闹的投机者，全都是一些故弄玄虚的玩客，那么这论坛还如何生存？写手是论坛里宝贵的财富，但是我们经常看到新写手进入一个论坛往往会遇到很多老家伙的排挤，而历练出来的写手将不可必然的接受更多责难。或许我不该这样打抱不平，有点替自己含冤的嫌疑。但其实别人的猜忌我早就看开了，我只是想说一些我认为需要说的话。费沫言道：做人要厚道。我补充：论坛需要善良。
　　
　　 我以前在西祠胡同玩过，虽然现在已经注销了ID，但是仍然会常去那里看看老朋友，知道他们还好便满足了。昨天有个当年版里的朋友突然在QQ里呼我，他说他翻了我所有的旧贴后终于找到了我的号码，他说他只是想知道我过得好不好。此时，你们知道我的感动吗？我能够理解为什么我几个月前从西祠注销的时候，会对着电脑屏幕流泪。因为那里不仅仅存着我的文字，还存着朋友间的关切，存着人与人之间的温暖。也因此我始终觉得西祠胡同可以成为我的一个家，而天涯杂谈永远仅仅是我表演的舞台。
　　
　　 我最近一直比较忙，匆匆的写这些当然也不一定是要攻击特定的谁，权当是有感而发吧。
　　 最后还是强调开始的那句话送给杂谈的一位写手——“有着锦绣文字的人必然有颗锦绣的心”。

————————————————————————————————————



让我给你做顿饭吧，千万别激动。小伙子，不是我喜欢你稀罕你希望拥有你，咱俩没什么将来。鬼都知道，某一天我会踹了你或者被你踹了，明白不？为了保有美好的回忆永别是必不可少的。
　　 嗯，你在七点之前不要回家，随便在外面逛哒，靠在马路边瞟丰满漂亮的姑娘，到书店坐在地板上看免费的侦探小说，或者在地铁里头花两块钱来来回回好几趟。闲荡，像个吃饱饭的流浪汉那样。
　　
　　 五点的下班铃在我脑子里按时喧闹，我风驰电掣的从二十层的办公室垂直落到地面，虽然是在电梯里，但我仍梦想着如黑色蝴蝶般在和煦的春风里飘荡。公交车如往常一样姗姗来迟，也如往常一样把众人挤压在车厢里。身边的男人散发出交织的气味，香烟汗渍狐臭或者荷尔蒙，另一个中年女人百无聊赖中抛给我白眼，我很无辜的不断回敬她白眼。胳膊在车厢里交缠，如同好色之徒吹在耳边的膻气。彼此心照不宣的拥挤，犹若官场上杯盘交错时的尔虞我诈。我从男人的胳膊底下钻出来，公交车恶毒的冒着尾气绝尘而去。
　　
　　 按照星座来讲，我应当去图书馆音乐厅什么的，我还应该脖子里系上紫色丝巾并搭配碎花连衣裙。可是我活该倒霉的跑进了菜市场，我早晨穿的黑色裙子已经皱巴巴了，我的头发刚才被男人的胳肢窝搅和的披散着。容我先叹口气，感怀一下人生。尽管旁边水果摊上的小青年目不转睛的看我的小腿，但是我必须要站一会儿，唏嘘一下多舛的命运。
　　 我径直往菜场里面走，脚下有腐败的菜叶和油腻腻的液体物质，我装模作样的踮起脚来，绝不能像黄脸婆那样对市场的肮脏熟视无睹。小贩们热络的对我吆喝，估计我看上去是个傻大姐，似乎能够花一块钱买走八毛钱的青菜，还能够买回几根没人要的软啪啪的黄瓜。
　　 小排，某一种鱼（我叫不出任何水产品的名字，除了青蛙和虾），鸡翅膀。荤菜搞定了。
　　 “再来两个土豆儿”
　　 “小姑娘这么漂亮，应该买点笋吧！很嫩的”
　　 “靠，我是小姑娘吗？我还漂亮吗？笋是什么玩意儿，我二十五岁之前压根没见过。”我心里说完此话，对着老板干笑两声，转身飘然而去。
　　 我曾经仙女儿一样降临过某个菜市场，没有人看出我丰富的精神世界，这里没有才女的fans们，也没有编辑来廉价骗取我的文字。有个男人奉承道笋才能配得上我，而不是土豆。我拎着几个不可降解的塑料袋消失了。门口卖水果的小青年仍然目不转睛的看我，我断定他也专注的盯其他任何女人，凭此不能证明才女本人还算美丽。


　　
　　 天已经开始朦胧了，确切的时间是晚上六点钟，上海的夜空永远没有星星，想必是因为城市里的灯火太过明亮。因此人生呢，必须在大多数时间苟且潦倒悲观妥协并践踏理想，否则衬托不出短暂的美好和辉煌。
　　 “家”里仍然是黑暗的，需要我先打开灯。房间里有一种单身女人的味道，陈腐而郁闷。窗帘懒散的垂落着，透出对面楼宇里通明的灯火。换上拖鞋，系上围裙，对着镜子瞧瞧自己，仍然非常没心没肺的自我赞叹着。踱进厨房，嘴里哼着若干年前一直哼过来的老歌。
　　 人常说：女人要俘获住男人，必然先俘获住男人的胃。我们也是这么照管家里的一只哈巴狗的，这不算是我故意贬低男人这类物种吧。那个小伙子这会儿在干嘛呢，闲荡得怎么样啦？有时候女人需要惦记一个人，无论是谁，否则她的心总是空落落的。
　　
　　 打开水龙头把肉骨头反复冲干净，直到流下来的水里没有血腥的红色。这是一头怎样的猪，它的肋骨里面是否浸润着爱侣的痕迹，它怎样趴在肮脏里哼哼唧唧的过日子，怎样盲目幸福的迎接宰它的刀子，它在屠夫的哈喇子里忧郁的嚎叫，有一段轻灵的音乐在它垂死的肉体间哀鸣，然后它支离了进入人类的胃，在那里面蠕动出凡夫俗子们的智慧聪明。
　　 鱼在水盆里挣扎扑腾，它的内脏已经空无一物。它对我怒目圆睁，我趴近来盯着那眼睛，里面映出了一片碧蓝的海洋，海里有最纯粹的生命和那些生命所独有的最自由的闲荡，像我等的那个小伙子一样的闲荡。轮到鸡翅膀了，可不能重复感叹主人的生辰命运，所以我转而分析此鸡的性别。我更希望它是一只公鸡，是那种总骑在母鸡背上扑棱翅膀的家伙，它和母鸡做爱的模样那么大义凛然，纯真可爱。
　　 宰割土豆吧，我最拿手的一道菜是西红柿土豆丝。别觉得奇怪，西红柿可以被我搭配上很多东西，我曾经炒过西红柿配黄瓜鸡蛋和洋葱，菜名为“四季如歌”。但是切土豆丝一定是厨房里最没有人道的酷刑。兄弟们，如果你打算甩掉你女朋友或者老婆，那么就让她每天去切土豆丝吧。姐妹们，如果你打算证明你爱你的男朋友或者老公，就每天给他吃土豆丝吧！这样的论证结果是：女人利用土豆丝证明爱男人，而同时男人用其来抛弃女人。由此可见，土豆丝是一个极品的悖论，正如男人和女人是一道无解的方程题。
　　
　　 可以打开火了，管道里的气体变成了火焰。虚无必须往实体转变，爱情总要蜕变成情爱，某男和某女必然交织成夫妻。
　　 接下来的发展很简单。把少许油倒进锅里，发呆；把肉骨头扔进锅里，发呆；把该放的佐料放进锅，发呆；加上清水盖上锅盖，发呆；把菜盛到碗里，OK了。如此循环，做好了其他三个菜，同时协调着发了十几回合的呆。发呆已经成了我生活的常态，多数人会因此断定我思想深邃，少数人则会认为我木讷肤浅。我无法把那些乐于分析人的同志们处理成一道菜，因此我决定继续发呆，以便让他们的穷极无聊变成丰富多彩。
　　
　　 隔壁邻居家的时钟敲了七下，我取下围裙走出厨房，愣头愣脑的瘫软到沙发上。对面墙壁上化妆照里的女人对我微笑，她认识我，而我不认识她，因此她眼睛里取笑我的意味我没看出来。
　　 快回来吧，小伙子，有着漂亮胸脯的美眉们都上工去了，侦探小说里的凶手正是死者的姐夫，地铁里的巡警越来越眼熟。不要闲荡了，不要像一个吃饱了饭的流浪汉那样。在七点钟准时回来，我花枝招展的奔过去开门，屋里的灯光暖洋洋的扑面而来，房间里弥漫着家的味道，一个男人和一个女人混合的味道，里面有些葱姜蒜和油盐酱醋。
　　
　　 庸俗是生着的证明吧，那么在饭桌前让我们如猪那样无耻的吃喝。放大咀嚼声并且荒诞的打嗝儿，吊儿郎当的晃动桌子底下的腿，夸张地看着电视穷乐呵。抓紧吃饭，随时我们都会分离。手里攥着擦嘴的纸巾，咱们随时准备抬起屁股人模人样的了无音讯。
　　
　　

Legendes sur mon toit

做饭也是种行为艺术

by: 困困

我在摄氏33度的高温下，上街买来牛肉四两，西芹一棵，生菜一个，西红柿半斤，三文鱼罐头一盒，奶酪一块。该洗的洗，该切的切，该撬开挖空的也收拾利索，围着长袖防水围裙，大火一开，气温登时升到华氏911度。我这么折腾既不是为了果腹，正减肥呢，一个人光喝橙汁也能活好几天;也不是为了显示贤良，等着吃的那人是个没心肺的哥们儿。我这是在搞行为艺术。

我对炒菜是种行为艺术的认识，是去年才有的。在此之前我的水平停留在衡量一个人是否会炒菜的底线:西红柿炒鸡蛋。去年我跟一个朋友流落到英国，为了能吃到物美价廉的正宗中国菜，我们决定搭伙动手烹饪。由于该朋友炒菜的技术出离了底线，我担当起现学现做的重任。初期我还有情绪。当时杨绛的《我们仨》传过来，我感慨人家的留英烹饪生活是多么有声有色:杨为了炖锅红烧肉，费尽周折，可钱吃得满意，学得投入，杨再累都有动力。我向朋友抱怨:你总是说我炒菜让你失望，你倒是写出本《围城》来别让我失望呀。后来我失望了，朋友没失望。我练就几样拿手菜:重庆辣子鸡、咖喱牛肉、西芹百合……洋的也学了几手:手制比萨、约克郡布丁、三味寿司……不列举了，关键不是菜式，是其中的乐趣。

首先我发现炒菜真是个化腐朽为神奇的技术。一摊腥臊的牛肉，几下捣鼓，做成干煸是红与黑的绝配;做成咖喱的，则黄得深邃，把形容红酒的“骨架丰满”拿来都不过分。而那个只知道张嘴吃的朋友，有个坏毛病是不吃剩菜，于是我把盘子里狼藉的杂碎，加进蛋清，微波炉里一转，一盘新鲜漂亮的蛋羹就诞生了。更关键的是，炒菜可以彰显生活智慧。我不用掐着表忙活，却知道炸醉排骨的油，烧到剥两头蒜火候正好;而浇油泼面的，剥完一头蒜，那油就烧到了既不冒烟却一浇喷香的地步。炒菜时还能对一些名菜做些因地制宜的改造。比如号称“走在乡间的小路上”的香菜烤猪蹄，由于猪蹄好寻香菜难觅，我就留名换实地变成香菇炖猪蹄。而对传统的咖喱牛肉，我摸索的经验是，加点咖啡带其苦，添进柠檬增其味。不要以为我炒菜时是灰头土脸，描写起这一情景，都可以改编莫泊桑《我的叔叔于勒》吃牡蛎那段:“打扮得很漂亮的我（围裙上有个米老鼠，很可爱）炒菜。我的炒法很文雅，用一个小油瓶对着炒锅，瓶身微微倾斜，免得油溅到了手，然后锅铲轻轻一挑，就把葱姜蒜铲进来，‘哗’地倒进锅里……”曾有朋友厌恶他人动其厨房用具，称厨房之于他，相当于画室之于傅抱石，我没那么严重，却已然将厨房当做艺术品出产基地。

我的行为艺术，其中乐趣与智慧，没做过的人是体会不到了。看着吃得满脸生辉的哥们儿，我一定要明知故问一句:“好吃吗？”答:“好吃！”那吃完刷碗去，炒菜是行为艺术，刷碗可不是。

Wonderfalls

FOX sucks, vive Tele-Quebec~

We're bobbing along in our barrel
Some of us tip right over the edge
But there's one thing really mystifying
It's got me laughing, and it's got me crying
All my life it would be death-defying
Until I know

I wonder, wonder why the wonder falls
I wonder why the wonder falls on me
I wonder, wonder why the wonder falls

With everything I touch and hear and see





"great fun with a fabulously snide yet charming female protagonist"

Wax Lion (Pilot episode)
"I surrender to Destiny" . . . famous last words. . . seriously. . . they put it on bathrobes and stuff.
Jaye Tyler (Caroline Dhavernas), explaining the "Maid of the Mist" legend half-heartedly to a young customer.
So she agreed to live with the god in the waterfall and became "Maid of the Mist" . . . And thanks to "Princess" Niagara has remained an enchanted wonderland, despite hundreds of years of commercial development.
Did you end up over-educated and unemployable like you said in the yearbook?
Are you happy?
What's good for business is good for all of us. No one here is a loser.
This lion is defective.
Rude customer demanding money back.
Word of advice? —Don't give her money back.
Wax Lion to Jaye, the first words spoken to her by an "inanimate" object.
Sweetheart, everyone's here. Untie the door and let us in.
Jaye's mother after her "sode" (episode of fainting, after the lion spoke to her)
She lives in a trailer park, Clearly she's disturbed. I mean clearly.
She's not disturbed, she's depressed, and they have pills for that now.
Sweetheart, when was the last time you had an orgasm?
Jaye's father
That sound you hear is stunned silence.
Jaye's sister, Sharon.
I really don't want her talking to my therapist— she'll give him ideas.
I think we should put her down.
JAYE: I'm confused.
PSYCHIATRIST: That's perfectly normal.
BRASS MONKEY: Perfectly normal.
I love you.
Brass monkey to Jaye, in psychiatrist's office
Why'd you steal that Monkey?
It told me to.
JAYE: Don't you have work in New Jersey?
ERIC: I'm pretty sure they're going to fire me when I don't show up.
Eric the bartender and Jaye, after Eric reveals his recent "marital dissappointments".
ERIC: I'm almost numb enough to start something on the rebound— what do you say?
JAYE: Sweet of you to offer but— I may be clinically insane. You might want to hold out for someone a little more stable.
ERIC: I don't think that would be as interesting.
See a penny pick it up.
Wax Lion to Jaye
You're not supposed to talk to strangers— Piss OFF!
Jaye to a young girl who has just told her "Your not supposed to steal" as she reaches in for a quarter from the wishing fountain.
You've got to be kidding.
Jaye after the bouncing quarter leads her to the rude customer's purse.
So we got poor bitch, and his ring, which led us to the quarter, and the quarter led us to the purse— which was empty. Is that supposed to mean something? Is it a metaphor? —Are you Satan? Are you God?
Jaye to the inanimate objects who are showing no signs of speaking.
Oh, God. . . I'm a crazy person.
Wednesday your day to dig through the trash?
Rude customer accusing Jaye of being an accomplice of the purse-snatcher.
I came here to be nice. I knocked on seventy-one doors just looking for your sorry ass. . . my knuckles are raw.
You're twenty four— "troubled teen" is no longer flattering on you.
SHARON: You tell people we're not related.
JAYE: It was just that one time.
SHARON: It was Grandpa's wake.
Don't get in the boat. —Dumb ass.
Jaye to "Princess" in "Maid of the Mist" video
What monkey?
Jaye after being accused of stealing the psychiatrist's brass monkey.
Make me a match.
Wax Lion
You can't talk! You don't have a larynx! If you don't have a larynx you can't talk!
Jaye to Wax Lion
Sharon and poor bitch siting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G.
Wax Lion
I guess I thought if I could just get my sister laid the little wax lion might just shut up.
ERIC: The wax lion wanted your sister to have sex?
JAYE: I'm assuming.
ERIC: Does the little wax lion ever tell you to burn things or hurt people?
JAYE: He's probably working up to that.
ERIC: Your just teasing about the lion, right?
JAYE: Of course.
It's not you— really, it's not— it's me.
Oh, that old chestnut.
If I tell you something— you have to promise you won't breathe a word of it to anyone, okay?
Sure.
I'm a lesbian. The reason I'm not attracted to you is your genitals are on the outside.
Your just trying them all on for size aren't you?
I think the universe is conspiring against me.
Jaye
ERIC: What's the universe plotting?
JAYE: Couldn't tell you. Vanna hasn't turned over enough letters yet.
Actually the medium-point Bic round stick is your prefered pen for emergency tracheotomies.
Dr. to Jaye and Sharon after the allergy crisis.
Oh, so that's how it is.
Jaye observing her sister's and "Poorbitch's" ex-wife's interest in each other
You've got to be kidding me.
Final "match" of the episode becoming apparent
I don't know. . . I don't know what's going on with me. I feel like a pinball, I've been bouncing off bumpers and flippers, trying to get something to happen,but I had no idea what it was— and then all of a sudden there's a tracheotomy, and you're a lesbian, and there's this other lesbian and— I was just trying to do what I thought I was supposed to do, but they didn't tell me what it was, they just kept on making me guess.
Who. . . made you guess?
Nobody— the proverbial "They".
I. . . love you. Please don't respond to that.
She was surrendering to destiny.
ERIC: So why struggle with fate? Life can be sort of peaceful when you stop struggling.
JAYE: It's a lot like drowning that way.
Hey— lady. Hey! I think I'm supposed to help you. . . and by the way you've got toilet paper on your shoe.
[edit]
Karma Chameleon
Sharon: Jaye their youngest, holds a Philosophy degree from Brown, and works retail. Thats twelve more words.
Aaron: And lives in a trailer park. Thats five right there.
Jaye: Why not? Those things are all facts. Should I be ashamed?
What if I only ever rate four words and a digit?
Get her words out!
Spoken by a Fish on the wall (and later by a Chameleon in the racks).
BINKY (to customer): Come again!
JAYE: Don't encourage them.
It's like you've been at it all your life, and yet not managed to have your soul crushed.
SHARON: She must be nuts if she thinks you inspire!
JAYE: —"with effortless and undemanding style".
You've gotta choose people who arent much more motivated than you are— but don't surround yourself with total narcissists. Otherwise, things start to be about something other than you.
If you mean it looks a little like Jeannie's bottle, I get that a lot.
Your home is a trailer. Don't you see the beautiful poetry in that? It's a thing thats been designed to go someplace, and yet the hitch isn't hooked up to anything. So it just sits here, never living up to it's potential… but never in any danger of breaking down either.
You have really managed to create a stressless expectation-free zone for yourself.
So are we almost done? 'Cause suprisingly I'm getting tired of talking about myself.
That's my zone. You're parked in my zone!
Bianca is a "Single White Female".
I should have tossed her out on her buh-buh-butt!
A brother who lives at home, and is still considered more succesful than I am— which could be because I live in a trailer that— while it may look like Jeannie's bottle— is actually slightly smaller.
Like the falls of Niagara that rage at the center of her little town, some powerful force forever threatens to sweep Jen into roiling chaos. It is a force against which she struggles. A power she cannot name. Whether it is the undertow of contemporary life, or something more ancient, "Life as it has alway been", Jen will continue to struggle, to thrash and fight. Yet in her most personal unguarded moments she will speak of a calm pool, a place where the waters become still and the chaos abates. A place where a father's wisdom, a mothers compassion, a brothers protection, and a sister, 35, all combine to show Jen she is not alone.
Today's America article "Who is Jen Why? Slacker or living stress-free? The truth about Generation 'Y' "
Daughter Jaye lives in Niagara Falls, her blurb, and life are a work in progress.
[edit]
Wound-up Penguin
. . .Eighty-eight bottles of beer on the wall…
Inanimate objects singing, waking Jaye.
This is what cults do you know. Deprive their converts of sleep so they'll be confused and vulnerable and more likely to do the stupid things you ask them to do. Like drink the Kool-aid. Is that what you're working up to?
Jaye to the chorus of "objects" singing "99 Bottles of Beer"
Is there some sort of leader I could speak with? Leader? Hello! Anyone want to let me in on the plan? —'cause I'm assuming there's a plan, a reason for all this. Anyone?
Bring her back.
Wound-up Penguin
You're going to hell. . .
Jaye after finding out the man they thought was a pimp is a priest.
What do you get off brow-beating a hooker? Jesus was nice to prostitutes.
Jaye to Priest
Now I'm going to hell.
Jaye finding out the women she thought was a prostitute is a nun.
Did you "Agnes of God" her? I bet he did— I bet he Agnes of Goddded all over her!
He didn't "Agnes of God" me.
Bring her back to him.
The dairy-board must love you.
Jaye to Nun, after her solilquoy about "Cheese".
You don't really want the "out loud" part do you? I mean, its got to be upsetting. I'm sure of it.
Jaye to Nun about wanting proof of the supernatural.
How am I supposed to commit my life to something I'm not sure is real?
I'm not a liar. Not in this instance anyway.
Break the tail-light.
Wax Lion to Jaye
I lost faith in that whole other life. And I don't know if I want it back.
Well, smell me! I'm better than I thought I was.
Jaye after Nun declares she's been persuaded to faith.
The voices, the animals, I was just mad at them. — but they aren't demonic. It just feels like that sometimes when they make me help people.
"Bring her back to him" — Wow.
A miracle happened because of you.
God led me back here, and I've got to trust him. This is where I'm meant to be.
Priest to Jaye and Eric
ERIC: Turns out your were right.
JAYE: Huh. . . I almost never hear that sentence.
[edit]
Pink Flamingos
Those sons of biscuits!
Jaye's father complaining about garbage collector's
Get off your ass!
Pink Flamingo to Jaye
I don't hate you. I know when you're careless it's not because you don't care.
KAREN (to Sharon): Carpool... have you gone green?
JAYE: I think she's a closet environmentalist.
He's much more Jewish than I am— mostly because he was born that way— I'm sort of a Christmas and Easter Jew.
Gretchen Speck about her husband
My father's in the hospital. It wouldn't feel right having so much. . . fun.
Jaye declining invitation to help with the reunion.
Eric can't talk right now, because he's servicing me sexually.
Jaye on the phone to Eric's unfaithful wife Heidi
Get the hint. Get off your ass.
Gretchen Speck is the antichrist— and your helping her throw a reunion.
Mahandra
I don't have a choice. I'm a puppet. The universe sticks its hand up my butt, and if I don't dance people get hurt.
Jaye
You may be the universe's butt puppet, but I'm its right hand fist of fate— and tonight accounts are coming due.
Mahandra
I've changed religions for God's sakes. I'm not going to heaven now.
Destroy Gretchen. Destroy her.
Oh Lord. Is that really what I sound like? Okay, You can put the mirror away, I get it. That is not the Janet I want to be.
Mahandra
Screw the chicken. I'm going to save that bitch's marriage.
Jaye
I'm done fighting. From now on I'm Fate's bitch.
Jaye
I'm so far from tense... I'm past tense.
Sharon
His toes weren't blue were they?
Your looking for the back door aren't you?
Jaye to her mother Karen
Oh, wow!— That's so creepy.
Gretchen to her secret admirer
So flattering! Yet somehow not less creepy.
No connection. There's mace, but there's no connection.
"Janet" was just venting— but you've been channeling Tonya Harding.
Mahandra
You made me feel sorry for Gretchen Speck— and I'm not sure I can forgive you for that.
What a bitch! Is it wrong that I like her now?
Say— did you know our basic cable comes with lesbian porn?

Present tense

你一手抓着包子，另一只手捡起随便置放在桌角的报纸。
你跳过头条新闻，世界时事，娱乐八卦，直奔杂文专栏。
你看到一个小标题，然后你说：妈，报纸上又征文了。

你问你自己，这条消息对你有多重要？
老实说，你根本不知道。
你手中的包子被你咬了第一口。
你迅速的铺开你心中层层叠起的问号，想理出一个起承展转。
表面上虽然装得不在乎，你其实是巴不得肚子里的墨水味能够香飘十里的。
你没有导师，没有同学，也没有仰慕者。
你只有书，在你眼睛到后脑勺之间被排列成四角迷宫，记忆里的书，图书馆里的书，别人的书，你自己还没成形的书。
你的写作过程有着半地下的性质。
你的父母近亲好友没一个知道你独自一人在电脑键盘上敲打的成果是什么。
你想把你短暂的生命体验吐出来，纺成字，织成黑压压的豆腐块。
你活在你自己的茧里，那里光线很暗，访客很少。
你在一片看不见边际的桑叶上游走，你大口大口地消化着一些句子，分解之后用来做你自己的词网。
你最喜欢的消遣往往让你不能理解，那些逻辑性的，学术性的，让你在小窝里迷乱眩晕的高难度动作。
你本就没有受过专门的训练，怎么可能把那些复杂的过程精确完美地展现出来？
偶尔会来一些声音洪亮的评论家们，站在你的窗台边，侧头看看，摸摸鼻梁，双肩一耸，说你这劣质的模仿不能拿出来献丑，你也没有办法发牢骚，因为这是你先把自己暴露的。
你也只有摸摸鼻梁，然后把你失败的试验品收到衣橱的角落里去，让它们收集灰尘，在有太阳的下午拿到外面晒晒，以防发霉。
你是很普通的，可是你有向外界声张的欲望：在你这小小的心里，有麒麟凤凰，有过去现在，有世事沉浮也有很茂密的高粱。


你现在吃完了包子，洗了手，如古代高手在决战之前净斋焚香，沉坐在一些凌乱的字符之中，做好了一鸣惊人的姿态。

你象征性地把你的所有思维积蓄当成一袋米。
你拿出报纸媒体评委他人的心态这么一个筛子，细细地挑选可以煮成饭的米粒。
你忍痛地把杂质都舍弃，把剩下的米按形态分成两三堆。

一是散文，天南地北一通胡扯只要不忘幽默一般不难入围。
二是小说，主旋律别跑调，思想性要强，情节不能太曲折但不可以不曲折。
三是诗歌，要么把散文里的词次序全部打乱，要么把小说的人物全部改成无生命物品，重新分行起段。

你写了这么三个开头：

1
今天你拔草了吗？

当我头一次得知拔草这个秘密营生的存在的时候，
我正在去草莓地的路上，那是在一辆黄黑相间狗头造型的退役校车上。


2
书虫卓娅的幸福生活。

卓娅的父母经常为了争论谁是她的阅读启蒙老师这一问题吵得面红耳赤。
只不过早些年的时候，这可是个光荣的职位，
到了这些日子，他们却是在互相推卸责任了。

3
拔草真幸福

我幻想着去存在主义的荒地拔草，
他们，最初的拓荒者们，忙活着别的营生，
在安逸的草莓地中，把秘密推卸了。
只剩我，一个人，和那光荣的退役校车。

你有些犹豫地看着那一闪一闪的光标前进，
你猜测着人们的反应。。。
也许这次可以了吧？

五分钟后，你失神地一格格删除那些从你的指尖下冒出来的字，
你说，这些都不是真的我。

你有些愤怒地发泄似的打出下一行字：
我，写：现在进行式。

一直到这一行：
你说，这些都不是真的我。

在你选择“另存为”的时候，
你的母亲探过头来，看看你制造了半天噼里啪啦的声响到底是在干嘛。
她很平静得说，你写的东西让人看着不亲切，和年龄也不符合。
你想让大家接受你的作品你就得平易近人。
你这种写法其实是在赶时髦，是禁不住时光的考验的。

你带着哭腔地说：
我如果就图一个在报纸上发表的话，我早就不写了。
写作固然是要完成它最初的使命，传达信息。
可是在说清楚东西的同时我要追求一种形式，一种格调。
像美术有印象派野兽派写实派，
我这就算是实验派好了。
我不想沦落为世界上诸多会写字的人中的一个，
在我还没有深奥的思想的时候，
你就让我把我的思想用貌似深奥的方法写出来吧。

我脚下生风地奔向邮箱。

我放弃了你，我选择了我。
请自行把前文的你替换成我。

Ambiguousness

I've never been me to me.

Lotus Eater

我在画面的角落看到童年的中国。

Hear~hear~!

What do they say about this generaion?
　　1.崇尚自由，快樂，平等(有選擇地接受西方文化)
　　2.講究情調，品位，審美水平較高(有城市特征)
　　3.自我中心，行為果敢(獨生子女特性)
　　4.藐視權威和領導
　　5.愛好交友，不以外表判斷人
　　6.不關心歷史和政治
　　7.情緒化
　　8.追逐時尚，理智消費(重視風格)
　　9.以興趣愛好選擇職業(喜歡就好)
　　10.掙的錢與花的錢有較大差距
　　11.獨立性差，依賴家庭和朋友(獨生子女通病)
　　12.說話直爽，無禁忌(但說到不一定做到啊!)
　　13.無憂患意識，自我保護能力弱
　　14.厭惡一切形式上的東西(開會，典禮，作業，匯報……)
　　15.追究自然樸素的生活狀態(自己卻被現代化電器包圍著)
　　16.樂于嘗試，挑戰自我(極限運動的先鋒)
　　17.關注一切媒體輿論(報刊，雜志，電視，網絡……)
　　18.饞(對所有美味美麗美妙的……)
　　19.通吃物質和精神快餐(漫畫，雜志，網絡;肯德基，麥當勞……)
　　20.心理壓力過重(拒絕長大)
　　21.愛動物甚于愛人，愛電腦甚于愛書
　　22.對異性的崇拜無動于衷(只要我愛的!)
　　23.一度迷戀某種事物(因此多才多藝的不少)
　　24.收藏喜愛的物品(有成就感嘛!)
　　25.飲食，睡眠無規律(習慣了呀……)
　　26.樂于欠債(貸款自己還)
　　27.總覺得缺錢(你滿足了嗎?!)

To the Barren Lands

I fashioned my own exit.

Le coin de la poesie

Blackberry-picking



Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.

-- Seamus Heaney


Nothing Gold Can Stay

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-- Robert Frost

The Road Not Taken

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

-- Robert Frost


Ah......
poems, how they bring back the memories.
a strange sour-sweet aftertaste.

句子，我要的是句子！

“我深知愚蠢是人类与生俱来的共性，但你也蠢得太没特色了，我受不了。”

———上进青年彭希曦


1
M:我出生的时候半边身体通红，像是母亲肚子里的葡萄酒瓶打翻了。

2
物理课上小组讨论结果：所有男性的头部至少为了不可思议的理由受过两次伤。

3
小孩子们是怪物，我是怪物，我是小孩子。

4
一件衣服上如果印着
混乱的数字字母组合，那么这是made in China，
半句不通的英文，那么这是made in Japan,
中文，那么这是made in Usa,
法语，那么这是made in Quebec，
看不懂，那是我写的。

5
高个子，我知道你不是我的同学，但你可不可以告诉我今天下午我们有什么课？

6
嘴里嚼着点什么东西使我不会乱说话，舌头除外。

7
还记得早些天我和你们说她死了吗？好消息，她没死，其实她现在就在门外，大家装的惊喜点。

8
把我的饼干还给我~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~！！！！！！！！

9
一小时又六分二十三秒之后，他终于念完了；老师：你为‘列举’这个修辞手法举的例子很详尽。

10
城门城门鸡蛋糕，三十六把刀，骑白马，买把刀，钻进城门。。。。

The Autumn Nightly Chill

早上起床
我说我想裹着被子去上学。
我妈没让。

Down to the Ground

by:李翰如

如果生活是个罐子，我就要破罐子破摔

网络显然不同，这里缺少正常的评论，根本就不用提裤子，谁也不想负什么责任，再说都是光腚来的。
　　
　　网上有中国最广大的青年亚文化群，这是一个众声喧哗的广场，我们寄身其中，为光纤、同轴电缆和电话线所索引，每人脑海前方都有一面镜子，名利，一张挥之不去的巨网，它带来幻想与临时感，它演出的是“环境戏剧”，它已经出生，并迅速长大成人，痛感也是隐痛，而快乐被安排的有条不紊，它呲着牙，敞开了胸怀，随时欢迎你的光临。
　　
　　对主流文化与边缘文化的划分是徒劳的，它们可以互相转换、狼狈为奸。我想宽容应该成为必须，因为你必须面对不同的话语方式、心理欲望、处世方式，还有无法回避的自私自恋的一代又一代人，比如我，一个敬业的读者、垃圾消费狂和生产车间。
　　
　　真正的批评并非寄生，它是创造。为文之道如蜀道，而批评一向就是畏途。诗人在二十五岁之后当有历史感，潜水潜到胸闷就要开贴，机机长到足够长度就渴望结婚，那么，逼逼爱死是否意味着沧桑？网络是否就是整个世界？批评是炒作的手段，还是泄愤的工具？酷评是媒体的合谋，还是吃不着葡萄说葡萄酸？我不能说，说出来就是谬误。
　　
　　在延续又创新的路上，新世界得以确立。可是依靠幻觉与热情，作品不会走远。你的视界停留在网上，那你永远不会超出网络文学的水平。
　　
　　毕加索说“我不创造，我只是发现”，上帝创世，顺便创造了美，我们一生所做的，无非就是发现。我发现了，我搅屎了，可我不掌握时代的主题，更不知道社会的内分泌。
　　
　　敲打出来的字，永远只是第二义，每个人的内心，本来就有一个世界，对此，彼此无法深知，更不能贴于彩显。我不是代言人和传声筒，我只是一个合格的父亲、可疑的职员，我从未打算建设祖国，我的理想就是——等我有了足够的安家费（约需五万），我就搬回农村，谁也不用哄谁，我自己哄我自己——喝酒弹琴，一唱就是一天，如果生活是个罐子，我就要破罐子破摔。
　　
　　这世界我没有见证什么，我的生活自然而然，它不属于历史，它烟酒过度，没有方向，起点较低，混水一潭，我以专业的精神和民间的态度，去发现，去掺和，我以为，生活还没有开始，我本来可以活的更为二百五一些，而网络把我从屎窝挪进了尿窝，我还将一把屎一把尿的吃下去，直到暮年。
　　
　　马尔克斯说，“小说是用密码写就的现实”，那我的贴子就是汉字码出来的垃圾。我不负责输送玫瑰和红酒，因为手里只有棍棒跟石头。就算欲望填满了社会的每个角落，我也给心脏留个小小的抽屉，而它，专门用于扯淡。如果生活是个罐子，我就要破罐子破摔。

La logique des enfants

by:诸子

致命的逻辑

"自怜是这样一个国度，那里其他所有人都不可理喻，那里显然无辜的你发出不平之鸣。造访这个国度有一种恐怖的愉悦，而要离开它却很难，你一旦进入那里，国界就在你身后被封锁上了。"麦克尔·伍德在《他者的话语》一文开始时向人们描述了这样的一种自怜的状态，他接着说，"我相信一定有人不知自怜为何物，并且连做梦都不曾这样讲过话，他们很幸运"，而对于其他人，自怜则是"偶尔会做出的自我夸饰，记录下了我们感到内疚却想要表演得品行端正时所采取的种种姿态。"如果去掉"偶尔"两字，他的话就非常深刻地揭示了"孩子
"这一符号在独一代群体中所起到的心理暗示作用。

　　"孩子们"首先假定，成人世界中的一切都是肮脏的，充满了阴谋。于是，"成人"与"孩子"的对立，也就被偷换成了"肮脏"与"纯洁"的对立，"阴险"与"真诚"的对立。这种阿Q式的道德优越感以一种奇特的方式在独一代身上流行开来。独一代们几乎不加思考地就迅速接受了这种观点，在一个"当好人还是当坏人"的选择题中立刻确定了自己的"孩子"身份。

　　独一代的孩子们从出生起受到了太多的优待，他们是父母怀里的宝贝，是"早上八九点钟的太阳"，"祖国的花朵"，未来也归根究底是他们的。一本叫做《纸牌的秘密》的哲学普及书里这样说：一个人有一父一母，父母又各有一父一母，如此上溯10代，和这个人有血缘关系的就多达1024人；上溯20代，就会多达100万人。如果这100万人里有一个出了点什么岔子，或者50万对姻缘里有一段不成，20代以后就不会有这么个人了。所以每个人都是十分珍贵的存在，都是一种奇迹。于是，一种过度的自信心也就油然而生，"独一代"的每个孩子也就真的以为自己普天之下惟一的标准了。然而当他们接触现实时，许多得不如意也就接踵而来了：为什么我的成绩没有别人好？为什么张三可以考入重点中学而我不能？乃至为什么李四可以看得懂的文章我就看不懂呢？这怎么可能？于是，显然无辜的"独一代"开始自怜起来，他们得出了结论：这一定是阴谋。

　　"自怜的必然结果就是惊人的自我赦免。"

　　"孩子们"视成人世界为一个充满尔虞我诈的场所，奇怪的是，对于成人世界带给他们的好处，他们接受起来却绝无别扭之感。孩子们认为成人世界是肮脏充满阴谋的，而自己则是必然纯洁的，因此，如果有什么问题出现在自己身上，那必然因为是成人世界首先出了问题，自己不过是在一个巨大阴谋中作出了自然的反应而已。"他还只是个孩子"，他们会互相为彼此开脱。因为是孩子，所以即使做错了任何事也不应该受到批评；因为是孩子，所以你批评一个纯真的孩子，你就是肮脏的。

　　问题在于，成人也是从孩子过来的，要说成人世界是肮脏的，那么这种肮脏难道是从孩童到成人过程中的基因突变么？关于这一点，孩子们似乎从来不打算去想。

All the pretty colours

颜色失去了，什么？你说什么？

The Pianist

音乐是可以看的。
虽免不了，曲终，人散。

They Say It's All About Staying Connected.

我在每一个心情高潮之后都会有个回潮，低落的不得了。
我想我还是不要拿自己当yoyo，太多个回合后，绳子会断掉。
而且两者持续的时间完全不成比例。什么？你问我那段长些？这还用说吗？
为什么我们总是不能毫无畏惧的说出我们想说的话。
再怎么想好的话说出来总是变了味。
也许心灵内部是一个很大的烤炉，放久了会烧焦的，要掌握好火候。
太了解别人是痛苦的。
别人就变得和你自己一样。
那还找别人干嘛？
所以永远永远不要丧失新鲜感，
除非那是一个可以随时随地自我重新改造发明的人。
可是如果一点也不了解别人，那就更糟糕。
连选择权都丧失了，只有和自己耗着。
我原来想做八爪章鱼。
所有有关周围的人的所有事我都想清楚，
巴不得和他们一起从小长大。
现在我烦的是对所有人的认识不均匀。
无关紧要的事知道一箩筐，
而我真正关心的话题从来没有人肯讲。
我对别人也是一样的吧？
很可笑，
我是一个真诚的阴谋家。
我可以为我的所有行动提供理由，
也就是说我从不无来由地做某件事。
听起来很可怕，我妈说我太有心机，这可能么？
可是我的出发点全都是光明正大的。
可是如果他们偏偏从外面看过来，
像望进一面镜子，把我看反了，
颠倒过来了，怎么办？
那可真就糟糕了。
我可不可以不在乎别人对我的想法，
不在乎别人不在乎我对他们的想法？
不可以。
完全是自己生事。
不要再尝试从正常的举止行为中看出暗示，
这是完全合乎礼节的社交行为。
再歪想，用脑袋去撞墙！
如果缺乏人生目标的话，我起码还可以去研究时间机器的原理，
逃离。
我趁我头脑还清醒的时候嘱咐一下后事，
如果我要跳楼投水，请你们务必抓住我。
我肯定会后悔的。
我总是在不该的时候说不该的话，
然后用不该的方式作不该的挽回，
导致最后完全不该的后悔。

The depth of all disappointment is directly proportional to the hight of expectation which has

preceded it.

It's one of the remarkable qualities of life: it's never too late to turn worse.

Each morning is the dawn of a new mistake.

If you happen to have a problem, whatever may it be, you can always be sure that during the

entire duration of this problem, you will not meet anyone with the same problem.

You can not win.
You can not have a tie.
You can't even quit the game.
You can play but you always lose.

Mother nature is a b*tch.

The universe is not indifferent towards intellegence,
but actively hostile.

There isn't a rule who says that the world shoud have a sense.

The confusion (the entropy) always raises in the society. This confusion can only be reduced to a

limited zone if someone or something works extremely hard. Regardless of this person or thing,

this effort will turn out to be an augmentation of the total confusion in the whole of the

society.

知道上面引用的玩意儿是什么吗？
我的science project!
鼓励鼓励！

the second law of thermodynamics:
“the entropy of the universe increases during any spontaneous process”
qrev/T or free energy = ΔH and ΔS

从法语翻过来的。难免有些怪。


Don't you dare call me desperately pessimistic.

D...D

一只蚊子平伏地贴在我的屏幕上
拥抱的姿势 很陶醉

如果有人不知道在subway干活是怎么回事的话
今天算给你长知识了

快餐连锁店 里是没有厨房的
在前台后面那间有人四处奔走的房间
那叫做 食品处理室
总部发送来的全套冷冻原料
在储藏室放一天解冻后
装入一个个塑料容器
最后的程序就是进微波炉 乃至到顾客们可爱的胃里

我第一天去的时候 老实说 蛮惊异的
看着老板娘如蜻蜓点水般的动作
东抓一把 西捞一撮
滚打揉掐
。。。。。。
好 你高明 看出来了
我其实以前更本没有去过subway
自己没有去过 也没陪人去排队过
理由显然很充分
价格定的太高了
不是和我平时的膳食水平一个档次的
就是在今天 在subway的后堂摸爬滚打了近一个月之后
每次站在收银机前报价时 除了提心吊胆地规范手部动作
不要被头顶的监视系统捕捉到错误
眉头还是习惯性地皱一下
要不然怎么说饮食业是暴利行当

店要关门了
明天续