Winter is here.
Tuesday, December 12th, 2017 07:43 pmA death and a birth on the same day.
Ah, the circle of life.
Ah, the circle of life.
As Yoda says....
Saturday, June 24th, 2017 07:40 pmFear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering.
でもそれでも 触れていたいよ
Friday, February 3rd, 2017 05:47 pm"I've seen old men cry when they sing it."
"Why? It sounds cheerful."
They were remembering who they were not singing it with.
"Why? It sounds cheerful."
They were remembering who they were not singing it with.
Norwegian Wood and Cape Sounion
Thursday, March 24th, 2016 08:18 pmBy living our lives, we nurture death. True as this might be, it was only one of the truths we had to learn. ... No truth can cure the sadness we feel from losing a loved one. No truth, no sincerity, no strength, no kindness, can cure that sorrow. All we can do is see that sadness through to the end and learn something from it, but what we learn will be no help in facing the next sadness that comes to us without warning.
I was not in shock. Not exactly. And for some reason there was no denial. He is (was) loved by so many, in Europe and far, far beyond. Somehow I feel like I have no right to mourn, because all I have done was admiring him from afar. For atheists such as myself, there is a very blunt finality afforded by death—that thin but irrevocable line between is and is not. Johan has, as they say in America, left the building.
And what can I say about that? Nothing really. I did not live in his time. Like a lazy tourist arriving late at the Cape of Sounion, I had only managed to witness the very last glimpses of the magnificent sunset that was his later life. Tomorrow the sun rises anew, and there will be a thousand more sunsets. They will mesmerize and seduce the world with their exhilarating glories, but none of them will be him, and none of them will be his.
I was not in shock. Not exactly. And for some reason there was no denial. He is (was) loved by so many, in Europe and far, far beyond. Somehow I feel like I have no right to mourn, because all I have done was admiring him from afar. For atheists such as myself, there is a very blunt finality afforded by death—that thin but irrevocable line between is and is not. Johan has, as they say in America, left the building.
And what can I say about that? Nothing really. I did not live in his time. Like a lazy tourist arriving late at the Cape of Sounion, I had only managed to witness the very last glimpses of the magnificent sunset that was his later life. Tomorrow the sun rises anew, and there will be a thousand more sunsets. They will mesmerize and seduce the world with their exhilarating glories, but none of them will be him, and none of them will be his.
The problem with words is that they have meanings, thus it's difficult for me to formulate the syllables—it's almost like bleeding out a slow death.
But silence also kills, and once in a while I come across words that allows me to touch my ghosts.
But silence also kills, and once in a while I come across words that allows me to touch my ghosts.
and suddenly I understand why
Saturday, January 24th, 2015 01:18 amIt is unkind to remind people of the things that they cannot change.
the whisper known as loneliness
Tuesday, September 16th, 2014 03:03 pmA while back ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
iris242x asked me to list ten books which had the biggest influence on my life. Rather surprisingly, it took me very little time to arrive at the answer. The list, to my surprise, had an almost even divide between fiction and non-fiction, with six male and five female authors (although I suppose I really don't know what is the gender of Hong Ling these days...).
This is, of course, a rather eclectic collection, and I don't make the pretension that the works listed have comparable literary or scholarly value. However, the personal impact of each is real—in many sense, each of them have either been a gateway towards self-realization, or a window into some profound, personal truth.
And lately, I keep thinking of Maruyama Masao's words—not his piercing academic treatises, but a single observation (and one that is probably off-the-cuff) that I encountered while reading him in the mountains. I cannot vouch that I have the exact words right, but what he said was roughly this: "The loneliest feeling in the world is when everyone around you believe in something that you don't."
Maybe that's why the anger in me never dies.
iris242x asked me to list ten books which had the biggest influence on my life. Rather surprisingly, it took me very little time to arrive at the answer. The list, to my surprise, had an almost even divide between fiction and non-fiction, with six male and five female authors (although I suppose I really don't know what is the gender of Hong Ling these days...).- Norwegian Wood by MURAKAMI Haruki
- Night Watch by Terry Pratchett
- Biographies of Deviant Vampires by HONG Ling
- One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez
- Eileen Chang's collection of prose
- The Woman Warrior by Maxine Hong Kingston
- The Age of Umi Ikaba (海行兮的年代 : 日本殖民統治末期臺灣史論集) by ZHOU Wanyao
- Censoring History by Laura Hein and Mark Selden
- Imagined Communities by Benedict Anderson
- Thought and Behaviour in Japanese Politics by MARUYAMA Masao
This is, of course, a rather eclectic collection, and I don't make the pretension that the works listed have comparable literary or scholarly value. However, the personal impact of each is real—in many sense, each of them have either been a gateway towards self-realization, or a window into some profound, personal truth.
And lately, I keep thinking of Maruyama Masao's words—not his piercing academic treatises, but a single observation (and one that is probably off-the-cuff) that I encountered while reading him in the mountains. I cannot vouch that I have the exact words right, but what he said was roughly this: "The loneliest feeling in the world is when everyone around you believe in something that you don't."
Maybe that's why the anger in me never dies.
As online fandoms lower their entry-barriers and become increasingly anonymous (depersonalized) / democratic (decentralized), their participants also become less likely to cultivate interpersonal relationships and socially/emotionally invest in the greater circles. Instead of using fandom as a place to express creativity (however juvenile) and find fulfillment (emotional or otherwise), what I have seen in these days in the Chinese fandom circles is that people are increasingly using it as a place to vent negativity.
I'm not saying people have been "corrupted" and turned nasty by the new platforms of social media. I'm saying that due to the new social media platforms on which fandoms operate, it's so much easier to be nasty to other people. And Lord knows, we are only human. When we don't have to care about the consequences of our actions because everything is replaceable, it's that much more tempting to just let go of the internal controls and let the claws come out.
I'm not saying people have been "corrupted" and turned nasty by the new platforms of social media. I'm saying that due to the new social media platforms on which fandoms operate, it's so much easier to be nasty to other people. And Lord knows, we are only human. When we don't have to care about the consequences of our actions because everything is replaceable, it's that much more tempting to just let go of the internal controls and let the claws come out.
Only An Ocean Away
Friday, August 22nd, 2014 05:07 am几番磕磕碰碰，终于把Only An Ocean Away（AKA：环太马克AU）的时间线全写出来了……时间线都有快三千字，这还能不能好了……orz
荔枝同学还有几个小时就要上飞机啦，一路平安~~这几天拉着我去了两个作为土著这么多年都没去的地方——Neue Gallery里克里姆特的金闪闪，还有布鲁克林大桥的夜景……都是好美好美的呀。^_^ 还一起吃了好多甜食（……）以及Carmine's家的神兽意大利面。（说起意大利面，我脸上的过敏已经好了ehehehe。）喔还有布鲁克林的Coney Island以及Williamsburg....
好吧，既然回去了，就请加油写文啦！我也会努力的！（我目前可已经写了两段快三千字了……）
荔枝同学还有几个小时就要上飞机啦，一路平安~~这几天拉着我去了两个作为土著这么多年都没去的地方——Neue Gallery里克里姆特的金闪闪，还有布鲁克林大桥的夜景……都是好美好美的呀。^_^ 还一起吃了好多甜食（……）以及Carmine's家的神兽意大利面。（说起意大利面，我脸上的过敏已经好了ehehehe。）喔还有布鲁克林的Coney Island以及Williamsburg....
好吧，既然回去了，就请加油写文啦！我也会努力的！（我目前可已经写了两段快三千字了……）
我只是想要永垂不朽的爱
Thursday, July 24th, 2014 05:04 pm忘记是谁说的了：要写东西很容易，你只需要划破一根动脉让血流出来。对此我曾深以为然。
应该说，现在也仍深以为然。不过我开始发现，让它成立的前提也并不是那么容易做到。我想，我近年来觉得写东西越发困难，就是因为不再希望把情感割裂出来给人看，哪怕是藏在别人的故事里面也不行。曾经打算写一个白蛇与法海的长篇故事，但也还是不行。一想到别人可能看出的蛛丝马迹，我就害怕起来。
也许是回过神来了，发现我的情感不是艺术大师的绝世之作，做不到无论粗制滥造拷贝出多少周边版本都总有真迹在高堂之内流光溢彩。这种心态有点像上个世纪初人民群众对于照相机的普遍误解，觉得被咔嚓照一次灵魂也就被偷走那么一点。我怕把真实藏在虚假里太久了，它会不复是真实。
这几天被一个无比时泪且无比纠结且就没有几篇文的真人CP击中，读了得以存留的几篇故事。其实从“同人”的角度来说它们都不能算太“好”，因为作者明显太偏心把一方多少塑造成了堕入凡尘的精灵，简单来说就是OO了那个C。然而我仍然如同着了魔似地一页又一页看了下去——因为有一篇文的开头几行字让我差点没泪如雨下，因为另一个系列其中的细节让我能感到心脏在绞动。
不论如何，它们让我想起了那些柔软而没有防备的东西，那种村上春树笔下的“心灵震颤”——“它类似一种少年时代的憧憬，一种从来不曾实现而且永远不可能实现的憧憬。这种直欲燃烧般的天真烂漫的憧憬，我在很早以前就已遗忘在什么地方了，甚至在很长时间里我连它曾在我心中存在过都未曾记起。”
It finally hit me some dozen or so years later. I had come to Santa Fe to interview a painter and was sitting in a local pizza parlor, drinking beer and eating pizza and watching a miraculously beautiful sunset. Everything was soaked in brilliant red—my hand, the plate, the table, the world—as if some special kind of fruit juice had splashed down on everything. In the midst of this overwhelming sunset, the image of Hatsumi flashed into my mind, and in that moment I understood what that tremor of the heart had been. It was a kind of childhood longing that had always remained—and would forever remain—unfulfilled. I had forgotten the existence of such innocent, all-but-seared-in longing: forgotten for years to remember what such feelings had ever existed inside of me. What Hatsumi had stirred in me was a part of my very self that had long lain dormant. And when the realization struck me, it aroused such sorrow I almost burst into tears.
前一阵在林肯中心和某阿姨聊天的时候说起《挪威的森林》，说它是一本我差不多每年都会读一次，而且几乎每次都会发现新的共鸣之处的书。上面这一段，却是让我从第一眼起便念念不忘的。Tremor of the heart, all that is true within, and all that which never can be true without. Yet God still causes rain to fall on everyone, the true an the untrue alike.
应该说，现在也仍深以为然。不过我开始发现，让它成立的前提也并不是那么容易做到。我想，我近年来觉得写东西越发困难，就是因为不再希望把情感割裂出来给人看，哪怕是藏在别人的故事里面也不行。曾经打算写一个白蛇与法海的长篇故事，但也还是不行。一想到别人可能看出的蛛丝马迹，我就害怕起来。
也许是回过神来了，发现我的情感不是艺术大师的绝世之作，做不到无论粗制滥造拷贝出多少周边版本都总有真迹在高堂之内流光溢彩。这种心态有点像上个世纪初人民群众对于照相机的普遍误解，觉得被咔嚓照一次灵魂也就被偷走那么一点。我怕把真实藏在虚假里太久了，它会不复是真实。
这几天被一个无比时泪且无比纠结且就没有几篇文的真人CP击中，读了得以存留的几篇故事。其实从“同人”的角度来说它们都不能算太“好”，因为作者明显太偏心把一方多少塑造成了堕入凡尘的精灵，简单来说就是OO了那个C。然而我仍然如同着了魔似地一页又一页看了下去——因为有一篇文的开头几行字让我差点没泪如雨下，因为另一个系列其中的细节让我能感到心脏在绞动。
不论如何，它们让我想起了那些柔软而没有防备的东西，那种村上春树笔下的“心灵震颤”——“它类似一种少年时代的憧憬，一种从来不曾实现而且永远不可能实现的憧憬。这种直欲燃烧般的天真烂漫的憧憬，我在很早以前就已遗忘在什么地方了，甚至在很长时间里我连它曾在我心中存在过都未曾记起。”
It finally hit me some dozen or so years later. I had come to Santa Fe to interview a painter and was sitting in a local pizza parlor, drinking beer and eating pizza and watching a miraculously beautiful sunset. Everything was soaked in brilliant red—my hand, the plate, the table, the world—as if some special kind of fruit juice had splashed down on everything. In the midst of this overwhelming sunset, the image of Hatsumi flashed into my mind, and in that moment I understood what that tremor of the heart had been. It was a kind of childhood longing that had always remained—and would forever remain—unfulfilled. I had forgotten the existence of such innocent, all-but-seared-in longing: forgotten for years to remember what such feelings had ever existed inside of me. What Hatsumi had stirred in me was a part of my very self that had long lain dormant. And when the realization struck me, it aroused such sorrow I almost burst into tears.
前一阵在林肯中心和某阿姨聊天的时候说起《挪威的森林》，说它是一本我差不多每年都会读一次，而且几乎每次都会发现新的共鸣之处的书。上面这一段，却是让我从第一眼起便念念不忘的。Tremor of the heart, all that is true within, and all that which never can be true without. Yet God still causes rain to fall on everyone, the true an the untrue alike.
For the beautiful game.
Sunday, July 13th, 2014 07:08 pm如Rin所言，时也命也运也。
很为德国队高兴（喜欢被我叫成少侠的穆勒，喜欢外星来客的厄齐尔），很为K神高兴，但还是忍不住羡慕德迷们啊。
有生之年能看到美国队捧杯吗？有生之年能看到亚洲队伍捧杯吗？或者好吧，换个现实点的：荷兰什么时候能捧杯？（英格兰我就…………不说了……）
So much joy and even more heartbreak, time and time again.
For the beautiful game.
很为德国队高兴（喜欢被我叫成少侠的穆勒，喜欢外星来客的厄齐尔），很为K神高兴，但还是忍不住羡慕德迷们啊。
有生之年能看到美国队捧杯吗？有生之年能看到亚洲队伍捧杯吗？或者好吧，换个现实点的：荷兰什么时候能捧杯？（英格兰我就…………不说了……）
So much joy and even more heartbreak, time and time again.
For the beautiful game.
memories of a different Olympics
Monday, February 17th, 2014 06:01 pmThere are two things I'll always remember about Nagano 1998: The men's singles figure skating, and Team Ski Jump. (As for the ladies' singles figure skating, all these years later I'm still trying to forget.) Watching that linked video just brings tears to my eyes.
( Sochi Update, of sorts? )
( Sochi Update, of sorts? )
诚不我欺。
当然，其实我最近几年来真的都没混啥圈就是了。因为……大概还是没有抱团的欲望吧。我喜欢和我谈得来的人，但对于谈不来的我是几乎本能性地无视掉—所以扯不上什么对家，什么粉黑恩怨。我不是一个特别平和的人（事实上应该有不少朋友对我的印象是“难搞”），然而也许正因如此，我不愿意动用我的感情去恨人。（不要说什么“恨”这个词太大，什么仇视敌视黑，归根结底都是一个意思。）
说文艺一点就是，恨这种事情，会给人的灵魂上锈的。虽然我不敢说自己的灵魂有多干净，甚至不敢说自己有灵魂，但……怎么看都是对自己没好处。有鸡血我宁愿发泄在写小黄文上或者脑洞变态设定上。最多不就是硬盘党嘛。何况从火影到山口山都有人陪我一起硬盘，已经是很幸福了。
世界这么大，怎么可能和碰到的人都做朋友。
世界这么大，怎么可能别人干的都是我喜欢的事儿。
世界这么大，路总是有很多条。所以，走自己的路，让别人掐去吧~
当然，其实我最近几年来真的都没混啥圈就是了。因为……大概还是没有抱团的欲望吧。我喜欢和我谈得来的人，但对于谈不来的我是几乎本能性地无视掉—所以扯不上什么对家，什么粉黑恩怨。我不是一个特别平和的人（事实上应该有不少朋友对我的印象是“难搞”），然而也许正因如此，我不愿意动用我的感情去恨人。（不要说什么“恨”这个词太大，什么仇视敌视黑，归根结底都是一个意思。）
说文艺一点就是，恨这种事情，会给人的灵魂上锈的。虽然我不敢说自己的灵魂有多干净，甚至不敢说自己有灵魂，但……怎么看都是对自己没好处。有鸡血我宁愿发泄在写小黄文上或者脑洞变态设定上。最多不就是硬盘党嘛。何况从火影到山口山都有人陪我一起硬盘，已经是很幸福了。
世界这么大，怎么可能和碰到的人都做朋友。
世界这么大，怎么可能别人干的都是我喜欢的事儿。
世界这么大，路总是有很多条。所以，走自己的路，让别人掐去吧~
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