网上流传的《名侦探柯南》大结局十二种

（一）柯南终于打败黑暗组织并找到恢复身体的方法，与小兰共结连理。后来两人有了爱情的结晶——一个男孩，取名为工藤柯南……

（二）柯南终于打败黑暗组织并找到恢复身体的方法，但小哀在与黑暗组织的决战中为掩护新一不幸被琴酒枪杀。新一与小兰共结连理，后来两人有了爱情的结晶——一个女孩，取名为工藤志保……

（三）柯南终于打败黑暗组织并找到恢复身体的方法，但毛利小五郎在与黑暗组织的决战中壮烈牺牲。新一继承了毛利侦探事务所，与小兰共结连理并改名为毛利新一，后来与小兰有了爱情的结晶——一个女孩，取名为毛利洋子……

（四）小兰知道了柯南的真实身份后恼羞成怒，用空手道修理柯南，结果用力过猛酿成无法挽回的悲剧……

（五）柯南终于打败黑暗组织并找到恢复身体的方法，但在新一向小兰告白前夕，小兰遭遇车祸……

（六）在与黑暗组织的决战中，小兰不幸……，志保和新一远走高飞……

（七）全体被黑暗组织抓住后乱枪扫射……

（八）全体被黑暗组织抓住后捆住手脚丢到海里喂鲨鱼……

（九）柯南在与黑暗组织的决战中和琴酒同归于尽……

（十）打败黑暗组织后，柯南没能变回来，向小兰表白身份后，两人移居美国治疗柯南的侏儒症……

（十一）柯南终于打败黑暗组织并找到恢复身体的方法，但小哀因嫉妒用APTX4869给小兰投毒，并毁掉了解药逃走，新一只好服下最后一颗APTX4869，又变回了柯南……

（十二）柯南终于打败黑暗组织，但却无法再恢复成工藤新一，向小兰说明一切后，两人洒泪分手……几天之后柯南的班上转来一个很可爱的小女孩，柯南看到她时一下子惊呆了（你知道是谁了吧）。女孩微笑着对柯南说：“我会永远和你在一起，你再也赖不掉了！”若干年之后在夏威夷的海滩上出现了一对年轻的情侣……

Downpour

for Stick, also for me, for our forever young childhood memory
(starts to sound as if i wrote it, i'm so sorry Master Zamora)

Downpour

-Daisy Zamora

From an airtight office window
I gaze out at the downpour
Yellow flowers
From an acacia shaken by the wind
roll along a rusty tin roof

A fish in a fishbowl
I recall with envy the young girl who was
Drenched and happy, jumping
Mud puddles and ignoring calls
Because later
My go-between great aunt
Hidden from grandfather
Would dry my hair,
Change my clothes,
Clean the mud off my shoes.
And wrapped up in a bedspread
Warm as love
I slept

An old downpour that succeed in soaking me
Only within
Is now beating the tin roof,
Flooding the canals and levies
And the riverbed of memory

POTD:神女峰 by 舒婷

　在向你挥舞的各色花帕中
　　是谁的手突然收回
　　紧紧捂住了自己的眼睛
　　当人们四散离去，
谁
　　还站在船尾
　　衣裙漫飞， 如翻涌不息的云
　　江涛
　　高一声
　　低一声

　　美丽的梦留下美丽的忧伤
　　人间天上， 代代相传
　　但是， 心
　　真能变成石头吗
　　为了眺望天上来鸿
　　而错过无数人间月明

　　沿着江峰
　　金光菊和女贞子的洪流
　　正煽动着新的背叛
　　与其在悬崖上展览千年
　　不如在爱人肩头痛哭一晚

PS: you probably have read this piece long ago, most famous among her great many other poems. but i love this one too much to refrain from putting it up here once more. enjoy.

Novel discussion post

I thought we'd better create a post specially dedicated to our discussion of the novel, ideas of characters, flow and plot and all that. String our ideas here. Hopefully this is an easier way to keep track and reference too.
So now I am thinking this: there are 22 cards in the major tarot set, but we couldn't possibly get 22 characters in the novel! Maybe we can mention some of them in passing, still it would be very hard to keep track of all of them, and the sheer number would hamper the novel's focused-ness, considering that most Agatha novels contain less than ten main characters, (the masterly And then there were none has ten of course), and skilled as the queen of crime novels was, sometimes we readers just can't help get baffled and irritated...i think I have belaboured the point. So now what shall we do? Assigning the cards to a full set of 22 characters and choose to concentrate on some of them, or rolling some cards into one character, like The High Priestess and the Empress into one? Or do both? Or something else? Thoughts thoughts~~~~~

Also, if you have read what I just wrote, my idea goes like this: faithful to your original plot line I am gonna introduce a girl character, embodying the Fool. She's going to be presented through her diary entries and letters to someone(s), who can take up roles from the cards, say, her mother as the High Priestess or the Empress, or a much respected teacher as a the Hierophant etc, who may or may not be part of the novel-within-novel writing group. So I am going to write her letter or diary now, briefly saying why she's going for this novel-writing thing, (exactly why I myself haven't figured out a remotely plausible explanation. I'm just gonna make up an easily replaceable one that hopefully doesn't impact on the novel plot much at this early point.), and perhaps shed a little light on her character and personal life in the short entry. Then I'll pass on the pen (keyboard haha) to you dear Slap. Do edit my writings, add and delete and alter as you deem fit, and develop new characters and lines~~~~~~exciting exciting exciting!! It's like groping in the dark with just ever so little light, enough to see where your foot is next going to be and not a single step beyond, and all the time knowing the ending!

The Major Arcana
The Fool Upright: New beginnings, new adventures, new opportunities, unlimited possibilities, pleasure, passion, thoughtlessness, rashness
Reverse: A bad decision, indecision, apathy, hesitation, a faulty choice
The Magician Upright: Originality, creativity, skill, will-power, self confidence, dexterity, sleight of hand
Reverse: Weakness in will, insecurity, delay, no imagination
The High Priestess Upright: Wisdom, knowledge, learning, intuition, purity, virtue, a lack of patience, a teacher
Reverse: Ignorance, lack of understanding, selfishness, shallowness
The Empress Upright: Action, development, accomplishment, mother/sister/wife, evolution
Reverse: Vacillation, inaction, lack on concentration, indecision, anxiety, infidelity
The Emperor Upright: Accomplishment, confidence, wealth, stability, leadership, father/brother/husband, achievement, a capable person
Reverse: Immaturity, indecision, feebleness, petty emotions, lack of strength
The Hierophant Upright: A need to conform, social approval, bonded to the conventions of society
Reverse: Unconventionality, unorthodoxy, an inventor
or
Upright: Mercy, kindness, forgiveness, compassion, conformity, a sense of historical importance, inspiration
Reverse: Foolish generosity, errors are repeated, impotence, vulnerability, frailty, unorthodoxy
The Lovers Upright: Love, harmony, trust, honor, the beginning of a romance, optimism, a meaningful relationship/affair
Reverse: Unreliability, separation, frustration in love, fickleness, untrustworthy
The Chariot Upright: Perseverance, a journey, a rushed decision, adversity, turmoil, vengeance
Reverse: Unsuccessful, defeat, failure, last minute loss, vanquishment
Strength Upright: Strength, courage, conviction, energy, determination, action, heroism, virility
Reverse: Weakness, pettiness, sickness, tyranny, lack of faith, abuse of power
The Hermit Upright: Counsel, inner strength, prudence, caution, vigilance, patience, withdrawal, annulment, a loner
Reverse: Imprudence, hastiness, rashness, foolish acts, immaturity
The Wheel of Fortune Upright: Destiny, fortune, a special gain, an unusual loss, end of a problem, unexpected events, advancement, progress
Reverse: Failure, bad luck, interruption, outside influences, bad fate, unexpected events
Justice Upright: Harmony, balance, equality, righteousness, virtue, honor, advice, a considerate person
Reverse: Bias, false accusations, intolerance, unfairness, abuse
The Hanged Man Upright: Suspension, change, reversal, boredom, abandonment, sacrifice, readjustment, improvement, rebirth
Reverse: Unwillingness to make an effort, false prophecy, useless sacrifice
Death Upright: Transformation, making way for the new, unexpected change, loss, failure, illness or death, bad luck
Reverse: Stagnation, immobility, slow changes, a narrow escape, cheating death
Temperance Upright: Moderation, temperance, patience, harmony, fusion, good influence, confidence
Reverse: Discord, conflict, disunion, hostility, frustration, impatience
The Devil Upright: Ravage, weird or strange experience, downfall, unexpected failure, controversy, violence, disaster, an ill-tempered person
Reverse: Divorce, release, handicaps are overcome, enlightenment
The Tower Upright: A sudden change, abandonment of past, ending a friendship, unexpected events, disruption, bankruptcy, downfall, loss of money or security
Reverse: Following old ways, a rut, entrapment, caught in a bad situation, imprisonment
The Star Upright: Hope, faith, inspiration, optimism, insight, spiritual love, pleasure, balance
Reverse: Unfulfilled hopes, disappointment, dreams are crushed, bad luck, imbalance
The Moon Upright: Deception, trickery, disillusionment, error, danger, disgrace, double-dealing
Reverse: Deception is discovered before damage can be done, trifling mistakes, taking advantage of someone
The Sun Upright: Satisfaction, accomplishment, success, love, joy, engagement or a happy marriage
Reverse: Unhappiness, loneliness, canceled plans, broken engagement or marriage, a clouded future, a lack of friends
Judgment
or
Rejuvenation Upright: Awakening, renewal, a well lived life, better health, a quickened mind
Reverse: Fear of death, failure, possible loss, ill health
or
Upright: Atonement, judgment, the need to forgive, rejuvenation, rebirth, improvement, development, promotion, efforts are rewarded
Reverse: Delay, disappointment, indecision, procrastination, theft, worry
The World Upright: Completion, perfection, recognition, honors, the end result, success, fulfillment, triumph, eternal life
Reverse: Imperfection, lack of vision, disappointment

American Indian Myth

American Indian Myth

White Buffalo Woman

The people saw her walking off the sam direction from which she had come, outlined against the red ball of the setting sun. As she went, she stopped and rolled over four times. The first time, she turned into a black buffalo; the second into a brown one; the thrid into a red one; the fourth time she rolled over, she turned into a white buffalo calf. A whilt bufalo is the most sacred living thing you culd ever encounter.

'Winchinchala' meaning the girl you are in love with
There is no place in the village where you could be left alone. The only chance to show her that you are interested is to wait for her at daybreak when the women go to the river or brook with skin bags to get water. When the girl you had your eyes on finally came down th ewater trail, you popped up from behind some bush and stood so that she could see you.
-from 'The Legend of the Flute'

How the Sioux came to be
The Great Spirit, Wakan Tanka, became angry with the earlier people on earth and sent a water monster to cause a great flood. People climbed to the highest land they could reach but even that was to no avail. All killed except one girl who was carried off by a big spotted eagle, Wanblee Galeshka, who took her to his nest on the tallest pinnacle of the Black Hills. The woman and the eagle had children together, and when the water finaly subsided, Wanblee helped the children and their mother down from his rock and put them on earth, telling them: 'Be a nation, become a great Nation- the Lakota Oyate.'
So we descended from an eagle nation...


And therefore the sacred pipe is also something that binds men and women together in a circle of love. It is the one holy object in the makin gof which both men and women have a hand. The men carve the bowl and make the stem; the women decorate it with bands of coloured porcupine quills. When a man takes a wife, they both hold the pipe at the same time and red trade cloth is wound around their hands, thus tying them together for life.
'White Buffalo Women', as told by Lane Deer


All the above excerpts from the movie script 'Dances with Wolves', starring Costner

random quotes of the day

It is with the heart that one sees rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
-Antoine de Saint-Exupery
The Little Prince

Life is a comedy for those who think and a tragedy for those who feel.
-Horace Walpole

The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved-loved for ouselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
-Victor Hugo

Nothing has really happened until it has been recorded.
-Virginia Woolf

Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.
-George Orwell
(how do you interpret it? i sense something political in it.)

In the city, a road with no exit is marked Dead End. In the country, we call these roads lanes. I always think tha tit is sad to label anthing a dead end. No one wants to explore it then. But walking down a lane is romantic and exciting. I hesitate to venture down a dead-end road, but I look for lanes to explore with a favourite friend. An unexpected building, a rare flower, a quiet peace all wait for me on country lanes.
Katherine S. Abrams

pieces of love(from jewel)

pieces of love (from jewel)

the painters
Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go

'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Oil streaked daisies covered the living room wall
He put water colored roses in her hair
He said, "Love, I love you, I want to give you the mountains, the sunshine,
the sunset too
I want to give you everything as beautiful as you are to me

'Cause they were painters and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

So they sat down and made a drawing of their love, an art to live by
They painted every, passion every home, created every beautiful child
in the winter they were weavers of warmth,
in the summer they were carpenters of love
They thought blue prints were too sad so they made them yellow

'Cause they were painters, and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Until one day the rain fell as thick as black oil
And in her heart she knew something was wrong
She went running
through the orchard screaming,
'No God, don't take him from me!'
But by the time she got there, she feared he already had gone
She got to where he lay, water colored roses in his hands for her
She threw them down screaming, 'Damn you man, don't leave me
with nothing left behind but these cold paintings, these cold portraits
to remind me!'

He said, 'Love I leave, but only a little, try to understand
I put my soul in this life we created with these four hands
Love, I leave, but only a little, this world holds me still
My body may die now, but these paintings are real'
So many seasons came and so many seasons went
and many times she saw he love's face watering the flowers,
talking to the trees and singing to his children,
And when the wind blew, she knew he was listening,
and how he seemed to laugh along, an how he seemed to hold her
when she was crying

'Cause they were painters, and they were painting themselves
A lovely world

Eighty years, an old lady now, sitting on the front porch
Watching the clouds roll by
They remind her of her lover, how he left her, and of times long ago,
When she used color carelessly, painted his portrait
A thousand times - or maybe just his smile -
And she and her canvas would follow him wherever he would go
Yes, she and her canvas still follow

Because they are painters and they are painting themselves
A lovely world



Foolish Game
You took your coat off and stood in the rain,
You were always crazy like that
I watched from my window,
Always felt I was outside looking in on you
You were always the mysterious one
With dark eyes and careless hair,
You were fashionably sensitive, but too cool to care
You stood in my doorway, with nothing to say
Besides some comment on the weather
Well in case you failed to notice,
In case you failed to see,
This is my heart bleeding before you,
This is me down on my knees

these foolish games are tearing me apart
Your thoughtless words are breaking my heart
You’re breaking my heart

You were always brilliant in the morning
Smoking your cigarettes, and talking over coffee
You philosophies on art, baroque moved you,
You loved mozart and you’d speak of your loved ones
As I clumsily strummed my guitar
Excuse me, guess I’ve mistaken you for somebody else
Somebody who gave a damn,
Somebody more like myself

You took your coat off and stood in the rain
You were always crazy like that



Adrian
Adrian came home again last summer
Things just haven't been the same around here
People talk
People stare
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

An unfortunate accident in a canoe
Dr. said, 'I'm sorry, not much I can do'
The air was so still
His eyes did not blink
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

Little Mary Epperson liked him
She vowed always to watch after him
Still he did not move
Dr. said it's no use
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

She sat by his side, watched the years fly by
He looked so fragile, he looked so small
She wondered why he was still alive at all



Everyone in town had that 'I'm so sorry look'
They talked in a whispered hush, said
'I'd turn the machines off'
But still she sat by his side
Said, 'life he won't be denied'
Oh Adrian, come out and play

Yellow flowers decorate his bedroom
Sign above his door says Welcome Home
But he just sits and stares
He's awake but still not there
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

She sat by his side, watched the years fly by
He looked so fragile, he looked so small
She wondered why he was still alive at all

And little Mary Apperson grew up lovely
She still comes to visitAdrian came home again last summer
Things just haven't been the same around here
People talk
People stare
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

An unfortunate accident in a canoe
Dr. said, 'I'm sorry, not much I can do'
The air was so still
His eyes did not blink
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

Little Mary Epperson liked him
She vowed always to watch after him
Still he did not move
Dr. said it's no use
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

She sat by his side, watched the years fly by
He looked so fragile, he looked so small
She wondered why he was still alive at all



Everyone in town had that 'I'm so sorry look'
They talked in a whispered hush, said
'I'd turn the machines off'
But still she sat by his side
Said, 'life he won't be denied'
Oh Adrian, come out and play

Yellow flowers decorate his bedroom
Sign above his door says Welcome Home
But he just sits and stares
He's awake but still not there
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

She sat by his side, watched the years fly by
He looked so fragile, he looked so small
She wondered why he was still alive at all

And little Mary Apperson grew up lovely
She still comes to visit him on Sundays
He's like an unused toy
He's got big hands but the mind of a little boy
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

Adrian came home again last summer
Things just haven't been the same around here him on Sundays
He's like an unused toy
He's got big hands but the mind of a little boy
Oh, Adrian, come out and play

Adrian came home again last summer
Things just haven't been the same around here


Jady sticked at:
2004-11-29 2:01:07

have always loved ''adrian''...it''s sad and helpless to the point of being almost morbid, unbearable if not for the cold, calm, almost imperceptibly flowing music..and jewel''s voice conveys such strong emotions it''s like a quiet earthquake..her songs in the first album are so so so beautiful it''s painful to think about that lastest, neon colored slutty release..can''t even recall its number-name...jewel jewel please come back...

introducing Jane Hirshfield

Lying

He puts his brush to the canvas
with one quick stroke
unfolds a bird from the sky
Steps back, considers
Takes pity.
Unfolds another.


Arja

She spoke almost no English
was there as a spouse
'You talk, but I don't understand nothing,'
she said

But on the good-bye card
she painted,
the words I most remember from that time--

'Only the clouds are faithful to the mountain.'


Abundant Heart

Because the pelicans circle and dive, the fish
Because the cows are fat, the rains
Because the tree is heavy with pears, the earth
Because the woman grows thin, the heart


Secretive Heart
(What's this? This is an old toolshed.
No, this is a great past love.)
Yehuda Amichai

Heart faulters, stops
before a Chinese cauldron
Still good for boiling water

It is one of a dozen or more,
It is merely iron,
It is merely old,
there is much else to see.

The few raised marks
on its belly
are useful to almost no one

Heart looks at it a long time
What do you see? I ask again,
but it does not answer.


Clappered Heart

As always
the day flares up
in the shape
of a small brown
bird. She is
inconsequential
and lovely;
as you were,
one night's beloved,
now long ago.
Two decades
appear and vanish
while I ponder
why you are suddenly here,
standing between her singing
and the red pine
In the distance,
a truck gears down,
the bells
of morning begin.
But because I can,
I silence them.
I stay
a little longer
behind these
ink-stilled clappers,
to watch you shift
in puzzlement and wonder


Manners/Rwanda

They took the woman
and tied to one arm a child
to the other arm a child
to one leg a child--
you also read this in the paper--
and threw them all in.
No marks of damage, not one
on the five bodies,
which means of course
that they drowned,
which means of course
that she knew.
The river made its way
from higher ground toward lower
and carried them with decorum,
the way a river does
it carries what it is given
and because in the night
a border was crossed,
what was given then was
taken out with a pole.
It may have been united
before before added
to the tally sheet with others
and given next
to the quicklime and earth,
but probably not.
There it will likely stay,
where it was carried,
the last contact with anything living
a hand's continuing rising,
almost a waving,
almost a plea
letting go after rolling it in.
The two beats of its fall
almost gentle,
a door being carefully opened,
quietly closed.
And through you too
are sickened, as even the river
is sickened, undrinkable now
with the human heart,
you also carry
what you were given with decorum.
Perhaps reminded later
by something mentioned
only in passing--
a large family,
a cat's toy of string--
you stop smiling a moment soon.
Across the table
someone notices,
but does not speak.
You watch his quesitn rise
and seem to waver like a hand
about to act,
a hand about to change its mind,
and drop politely away.


About Jane Hirshfield
Jane Hirshfield was born in New York City in 1953. After receiving her B.A. from Princeton University in their first graduating class to include women, she went on to study at the San Francisco Zen Center. Her books of poetry include Given Sugar, Given Salt (HarperCollins, 2001) which was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, The Lives of the Heart (1997), The October Palace (1994), Of Gravity & Angels (1988), and Alaya (1982). She is the author of Nine Gates: Entering the Mind of Poetry (1997) and has also edited and translated The Ink Dark Moon: Poems by Ono no Komachi and Izumi Shikibu, Women of the Ancient Court of Japan (1990) with Mariko Aratani and Women in Praise of the Sacred: Forty-Three Centuries of Spiritual Poetry by Women (1994).Her honors include The Poetry Center Book Award, fellowships from the Guggenheim and Rockefeller Foundations, Columbia University's Translation Center Award, the Commonwealth Club of California Poetry Medal, and the Bay Area Book Reviewers Award. In addition to her work as a freelance writer and translator, Hirshfield has taught at UC Berkeley, University of San Francisco, and been Elliston Visiting Poet at the University of Cincinnati. She is currently on the faculty of the Bennington MFA Writing Seminars.



all the above poems from her collection 'The Lives of the Heart'


How I came across her work- random pick from library
any further read beside 'lives of heart'?-no
thoughts- very feminine and subtle, free verses, can be used as lyrics.

Jady's Comments:
hmm seems randomly picking up stuff from the stale shelves of libraries really has some merits . i have yet to run out of clear ideas of what i wish and have yet to read, but i''ll adopt your spontaneity when that day finally comes when i finally have read all i wish to read and dunno what next, hehehe..
i like ''Manners/Rwanda'', almost a mesmerizing silent film, in fragmentary, slow motion..keep loading~~

POTD:天梯上的夜歌 by 海子

　　天梯上的夜歌

天堂的夜歌

　　夜歌歌唱了我

　　弓箭放下

　　我画出山坡

　　太阳放下弓箭

　　夜晚画出山坡

　　一群群哑巴

　　头戴牢房

　　身穿铁条和火

　　坐在黑夜山坡

　　一群群哑巴

　　高唱黑夜之歌

　　这是我的夜歌

　　这是我的夜歌

　　歌唱那些人

　　那些黑夜

　　那些秘密火柴

　　投入天堂之火

　　黑夜 年轻而秘密

　　像苦难之火

　　像苦难的黑色之火

　　看不见自己的火焰

　　这是我的夜歌

　　黑夜抱着谁

　　坐在底部

　　烧得漆黑

　　黑夜抱着谁

　　坐在热情中

　　坐在灰烬和深渊

　　他茫然地望着我

　　这是我的夜歌


评论/留言

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

作者：Slappuju　　时间：2004-11-29 3:05:32

stick this''s deep n sounds morbid to me. and i think it''s beyond my comprehension. despair as dark as the night?

CELLOPHANEs

Cellophane (From SWEET NOVEMBER, by Amamda Ghost)
--------------------
Nobody moves me
I've been through this life with no place that I can call my own
Thinking above me
I never seem to find anybody that can feel like home
And I try and I try and I try.
Funny how it feels when there's nothing to say.
Trapped with my ideals I can't contain
I'm wrapped in cellophane.
Nobody told me obsessive needs were always following me around
And you can't ignore me.
Look at my face and then tell me my place in town
And he's in and she's in and he's in and she's in
And I try and I try and he's in and she's in and he's in and she's in.
============================================

Mister Cellophane (from CHICAGO, by John Reilly) someone loved this song VERY much..was it you or gang..?
-------------------------------
If someone stood up in a crowd
And raised his voice up way out loud
And waved his arm
And shook his leg
You'd notice him

If someone in a movie show
Yelled "fired in the second row,
This whole place is a powder keg!"
You'd notice him

And even without clucking like a hen
Everyone gets noticed, now and then,
Unless, of course, that personage should be
Invisible, inconsequential me!

Cellophane
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name !!!!
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there!

I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me walk right by me
And never know I'm there. . .

Suppose you was a little cat
Residin' in a person's flat
Who fed you fish and scratched your ears?
You'd notice him

Suppose you was a woman wed
And sleepin' in a double bed beside one man for seven years
You'd notice him

A human being's made of more than air
With all that bulk, you're bound to see him there

Unless that human bein' next to you
Is unimpressive, undistinguished
You know who. . .

Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
I tell ya
Cellophane
Mister cellophane
Should have been my name
Mister cellophane
'cause you can look right through me
Walk right by me
And never know I'm there
Never even know I'm there


评论/留言

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作者：Slappujudu　　时间：2004-11-30 9:15:10

it''s gang who''s so fascinated n obsessed with cellophane!! haha, i love it too though! i love that guy''s voice!!he''s a damn brilliant performer!

Sweet November Soundtracks

years from now i probably wouldn't be able to recall much of sweet november the movie, probably only comfy blurry impressions of theron's walking away from reeves, over that autumn bridge, gathering her coat around her against the morning chill and walking, walking, on those stunning legs . and maybe also her running and rolling around on that white beach with six incredibly identical and white doggies (species=..?) and that emotional medicine cabinet/bathroom scene, and driving license exam and the big brown paper bag..alright alright, already a lot...funny that i don't remember reeves at all..perhaps except that silly wig present. how sad.

BUT, years and years from now i'd still remember that the soundtrack is fantastic, i am quite certain of that, and almost certain it's quite the same for you, slap. it's something that can be put on infinite repeat and not get me bored or irritated with the constancy for quite a long time. how we crazed about Heart Door (熨衣服~~) and Touched by an Angel (all the time wondering whether the singer was male or female...)and You Deserve to be Loved..which is opium for moments of low self-worth..enjoy!

Heart Door

There is a diamond inside of me that lights up the sky of my soul
Where fell the diamond when I believed that all of the hurt was my fault

I'm opening the heart door, letting in the light
Opening the heart door and giving life to me that died

You ended up so with that person who comes home too late from the bar
I ended up so when my courage could finally walk on its own
When I finally opened the door

I'm opening the heart door, letting in the light
Opening the heart door and giving life to me that died

You ended up so with that person who comes home too late from the bar
I ended up so when my courage could finally walk on its own
When I finally opened the heart door

Touched by an Angel

And when she walked in the room
After so many years
He looked up and saw her
He was standing at the crossroads
She was moving in slow motion
Everything was the same
Except that everything was different

In that very moment, everyone was silent
And everyone was friendly
For the first time in years
Everyone was smiling
Though their pain was apparent
And the floor was wet and slippery
With the tracks of their tears

And when I see someone standing
At the side of the stage
Not standing in the shadows
I see her face
Glowing in the darkness
In her own angel way
"I have come to make you better
I have come to take you away."

No one slipped and fell
This time, everyone was steady
Someone held my arm so that
I would not fall
For the fist time, in a long time
Everyone was ready
No one said a word
And that simply said it all

And then I see someone standing
At the side of the stage
Not standing in the shadows
I see her face
Glowing in the darkness
In her own angel way
"I have come to make you better
I have come... to take you away."
I'll make you better

Walking through the room together
In suspended animation
No one saw us go, no one said goodbye
But in my heart I leave
Great expectations
That you will find the answers
To your questions
And that life will once more
Be a celebration
And that you will be touched by an angel
And that you will be touched by an angel
And that you will be touched by an angel

Celebration
Someday
Someday, someday
Celebration

The Consequences of Falling

are you breathing
what i'm breathing
are your wishes
the same as mine

fire you needing
what i'm needing
i'm waiting for a sign

my hands tremble
my heart aches
is it you calling
if i'm alone in this
i don't think i can face

the consequences of falling
are you thinking
what i'm thinking
does your pulse
quicken like mine

are you dreaming
what i'm dreaming
i can't read your mind
one step towards you
two steps back
feels like i'm crawling

if i'm alone in this
i don't think i can face
the consequences of falling

My Number

Showers pounding out a new beat
I trade my old shoes for new feet
I grab a new seat
I don't like the one I got
The fabric's wearing through
And it's wearing me out
You're wearing me down

Watching old baseball games
And low budget telethons
Ain't like watching you yourself
When you yourself is on
Got time to wander to waste and to whine
But when it comes to you,
It seems like I just can't find the time

So watch your head and then watch the ground
It's a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown
It's a silly time to learn to swim on the way down

If I gave you my number
Would it still be the same
If I saved you from drowning?
Promise me you'll never go away
Promise me you'll always stay

Closed down the last local zoo
I'm gonna win the endless war
Over who kills the last koala bear
And who in death will love him more and I
He grabs me by the hand
Drags me to the shore and says
Maybe you don't love me
But you'll grow to love me even more

And I well I'm not surprised

If I gave you my number
Would it still be the same
If I saved you from drowning?
Promise me you'll never go away
Promise me you'll always stay

Showers pounding out a new beat
I trade my old shoes for new feet
I grab a new seat
I don't like the one I got
The fabric's wearing through
And it's wearing me out
You're wearing me down

So watch your head and then watch the ground
It's a silly time to learn to swim when you start to drown
It's a silly time to learn to swim on the way down

If I gave you my number
Would it still be the same
If I saved you from drowning?
Promise me you'll never go away
Promise me you'll always stay

Only Time

Who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows?
Only time...

And who can say if your love grows,
As your heart chose?
Only time...

[chants]

Who can say why your heart sighs,
As your love flies?
Only time...

And who can say why your heart cries,
When your love dies?
Only time...

[chants]

Who can say when the roads meet,
That love might be,
In your heart.

And who can say when the day sleeps,
If the night keeps all your heart?
Night keeps all your heart...

[extended chants]

Who can say if your love grows,
As your heart chose?
Only time...

And who can say where the road goes,
Where the day flows?
Only time...

Who knows?
Only time...

Who knows?
Only time...

You Deserve to be Loved

Mind your manners, watch your ways
Be a good boy, just behave
What's wrong with you?
Settle down keep your two feet on the ground
Sit up straight, stand up tall
Never falter, never fall

I stay in school
Make the grade
Never fail and never fade
Be a hero, be a star
Anything but what you are

Find a girl to possess
Always pay, pursue, protect
Be a master, be a slave
Work your way into an early grave

But you deserve to be loved
You deserve something real
It's time to heal, time to feel...love

Daddy's favourite little girl
Dress up in your mommy's pearls
Serve his breakfast in his bed
Earn a little kiss on the forehead
You are sugar, you are spice
You are growing up so nice
Paint your nails, paint your face
Paint around the empty space
Find a man who can provide
Try to fill the how inside
With a family and a home
Tell yourself you're not alone
Keep the memories of yourself
In a shoebox on the closet shelf

But you deserve to be loved
You deserve something real
It's time to heal, time to feel...love

I know somebody loves you
Somebody, somebody love you


评论/留言

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作者：Slappujudu　　时间：2004-11-30 9:10:19

I DO LOVE THAT SOUNDTRACKKKKKKKK!!!! the pictures i remember from sweety nov, slow dance at the old house, 6 o''clock shadow cast by the slanting faded rays, the dust slowly rising in gentle whirls, circling them as they danced, as charlize clumsily stepped on reeve''s shoes (and she was wearing bulky earth shoes!! how i love them, and her scarves too!!! so many colourful scarves!!!! and most of the clothes she wears in that movie!!! great wardrobe!), they walking side by side on the beach, reeves singing in the end(how hilarious, hahahahahha, wearing a white tuxedo and black waistband hahaha), charlize smiling, charlize talking, stunning legs, stnning figures, radiant smiles, lovely hair, lovely dress hahaha, charlize here, charlize there, keanu where hahaha. yeah, my fav scene is they dancing in that house, with the story told by reeves about ''his father'', how he shut himself in that small room and listening to the 80s, and reeves desperately wanted to be a singer coz that''s everything his father''s not, and that house became a heart''s scar, haunted. but i have to say that the general plot is really crap though. oh, how can we forget those transvestites downstairs????!!! although their cooking''s great.

More on 海子

【明天醒来我会在哪一只鞋子里】


我想我已经够小心翼翼的
我的脚趾正好十个
我的手指正好十个
我生下来时哭几声
我死去时别人又哭
我不声不响的
带来自己这个包袱
尽管我不喜爱自己
但我还是悄悄打开

我在黄昏时坐在地球上
我这样说并不表明晚上
我就不在地球上 早上同样
地球在你屁股下
结结实实
老不死的地球你好

或者我干脆就是树枝
我以前睡在黑暗的壳里
我的脑袋就是我的边疆
就是一颗梨
在我成型之前
我是知冷知热的白花

或者我的脑袋是一只猫
安放在肩膀上
造我的女主人荷月远去
成群的阳光照着大猫小猫
我的呼吸
一直在证明
树叶飘飘

我不能放弃幸福
或相反
我以痛苦为生
埋葬半截
来到村口或山上
我盯住人们死看
呀, 生硬的黄土 人丁兴旺

死亡之诗(之一)】



漆黑的夜里有一种笑声笑断我坟墓的木板
你可知道。这是一片埋葬老虎的土地

正当水面上渡过一只火红的老虎
你的笑声使河流漂浮
的老虎
断了两根骨头
正当这条河流开始在存有笑声的黑夜里结冰
断腿的老虎顺流而下, 来到我的
窗前。

一块埋葬老虎的木板
被一种笑声笑断两截

【死亡之诗(之二)】


我所能看见的少女
水中的少女
请在麦地之中
清理好我的骨头
如一束芦花的骨头
把他装在箱子里带回

我所能看见的
洁净的少女, 河流上的少女
请把手伸到麦地之中

当我没有希望坐在一束
麦子上回家
请整理好我那凌乱的骨头
放入一个小木柜。带回它
象带回你们富裕的嫁妆

但是, 不要告诉我
扶着木头, 正在干草上晾衣的
母亲。

【死亡之诗(之三:采摘葵花)】


雨夜偷牛的人
爬进了我的窗户
在我做梦的身子上
采摘葵花

我仍在沉睡
在我睡梦的身子上
开放了彩色的葵花
那双采摘的手
仍象葵花田中
美丽笨拙的鸭子

雨夜偷牛的人
把我从人类
身体中偷走。
我仍在沉睡。
我被带到身体之外
葵花之外。我是世界上
第一头母牛(死的皇后)
我觉的自己很美
我仍在沉睡。

雨夜偷牛的人
于是非常高兴
自己变成了另外的彩色母牛
在我的身体中
兴高彩烈地奔跑

扶着木头, 正在干草上晾衣的
母亲。

亚洲铜】


亚洲铜, 亚洲铜
祖父死在这里, 父亲死在这里, 我也会死在这里
你是唯一的一块埋人的地方

亚洲铜, 亚洲铜
爱怀疑和飞翔的是鸟, 淹没一切的是海水
你的主人却是青草, 住在自己细小的腰上,
守住野花的手掌和秘密

亚洲铜, 亚洲铜
看见了吗? 那两只白鸽子, 它是屈原遗落在沙滩上的白
鞋子
让我们----我们和河流一起, 穿上它吧

亚洲铜, 亚洲铜
击鼓之后, 我们把在黑暗中跳舞的心脏叫做月亮
这月亮主要由你构成


评论/留言
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

作者：moviegoer (SlapStick)　　时间：2004-11-29 18:14:37

应该听过海子吧。在山海关卧轨结束生命的诗人。还是童年时代的事了，那时听到，什么都没意识到。等真正接触的时候，尸骨已寒多年。就像beyond和家驹，就像三毛，翁美玲，（这么列举的话可以一直到女娲和神农氏...），没等我出生就逝去了。生不逢时。

喜欢海子的诗。从没读过解析他的学术文章，不喜欢他们神经地把人和诗分门别类而后把诗一个词一个词肢解掉的野蛮。喜欢只是个人喜好，喜欢那种不着边际漫游的疯狂脑子，流浪，不羁，荒野，草原，女人，生命，死亡。多么希望他还活着，这样还会有更多诗，但明亮燃烧的蜡烛烧完得也快，终结生命未尝不是人力能所为最强烈的诗。所谓大象无形，大音希声，大概就是如此。

先读这个

title's self-explantory, as not to scare you with dazzling lenghty post that follows. i should be off to mug bio, chm, biochm. before i go, just add another bag of rubbish to our bin.

我在听
灌篮高手， 直到世界的尽头，
'我一个人独自徘徊，就好像空罐头， 被丢弃在街头。'
guess it's one of slapstick fav song that we would set to repeat mode. It's actually a sad love song about couples breaking up, leaving sad memories behind.

and the cat returns, i remember you said you liked her voice, so clean and sweet. it's not sung by the seiyu though.
and the lyrics,
我会独自一人仰望着这宁静的夜晚的星空，
直到天明仅存的这最后一颗星
不要过于悲伤
我把你的叹息化作春风
阳光照耀的山坡上，
我骑着自行车直上
车筐里满载的
是我们失去的回忆
lalala
低声吟唱
让春风环绕着我们
默默的祈祷着
与你再次相遇的幸福


sweet dreams!! back to my books.

---------------------
comments
作者：Stickyjady

我还真不知道《直到世界的尽头》的歌词是这样的啊~~“我一个人独自徘徊，就好像空罐头， 被丢弃在街头。”是开头樱木独自拍着篮球独行的背影那一段么？5555555555好想念..想念小学暑假天天起早床等候每天4集灌篮的日子，吃看奶粉或是蜂蜜或是冰棒，笑到在地上打滚（真的某一集我滚了好长时间...）我的寿寿阿！！！！
在听my heart will go on,突然很想再看一遍titanic..当年那么喜欢的帅气的leo，现在。。现在都成什么样子了嘛！！！！！！！！！！55555不过还是好喜欢...写marvin''s room review算了..没救的花痴...

Sartre & La Nausea

The NAUSEA
I live alone, entirely alone. I never speak to anyone, never; I receive nothing, I give nothing?When you live alone you no longer know what it is to tell something: the plausible disappears at the same time as the fiends. You let events flow past; suddenly you see people pop up who speak and who go away, you plunge into stories without beginning or end: you make a terrible witness. But in compensation, one misses nothing, no improbability or, story too tall to be believed in cafes. [14-5]

Objects should not touch because they are not alive. You use them, put them back in place, you live among them. They are useful nothing more. But they touch me, it is unbearable. I am afraid of being in contact with them as though they were living beasts. [19]

People who live in society have learned to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. Is that why my flesh is naked? You might say - yes you might say, nature without humanity?Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea. [29]

The Nausea is not inside me: I feel it out there in the wall, in the suspenders, everywhere around me. It makes itself one with the caf? I am the one who is within it. [31]

I grow warm, I begin to feel happy. There is nothing extraordinary in this, it is a small happiness of Nausea: it spreads at the bottom of the viscous puddle, at the bottom of out time - the time of purple suspenders, and broken chair seats; it is made of white, soft instants, spreading at the edge, like an oil stain. No sooner than born, it is already old, it seems as though I have known it for twenty years. [33]

I tear myself from the window and stumble across the room; I glue myself against the looking glass. I stare at myself, I disgust myself: one more eternity. Finally, I flee form my image and fall on the bed. I watch the ceiling I'd like to sleep. [46]

I am all alone, but I march like a regiment descending on a city?I am full of anguish: the slightest movement irks me. I can't imagine what they want with me. Yet I must choose: I surrender to the Passage Gillet, I shall never know what has been reserved for me. [77]

Nothing seemed true; I felt surrounded by cardboard scenery which could quickly be removed? [106-7]

I can't say I feel relieved or satisfied, just the opposite, I am crushed. Only my goal is reached: I know what I have to know; I have understood all that has happened to me since January. The Nausea has not left me and I don't believe it will leave me so soon; but I no longer have to bear it, it is no longer an illness or a passing fit: it is I. [170]


On EXISTENCE

The thing which was waiting was on alert, it pounced on me, it flows through me. I'm filled with it. It's nothing: I am the Thing. Existence, liberated, detached, floods over me. I exist. [134]

I hadn't the right to exist. I appeared by chance, I exited like a stone, a plant or a microbe. My life put out feelers towards small pleasures in every direction. Sometimes it sent out vague signals; at other times, I felt nothing more than a harmless buzzing?he (Jean Pacome) had used his right to live?He has always done his duty, is duty as son, husband, father, leader匜or a right is nothing more than the other aspect of duty. [115-6]

I exist. It's sweet, so sweet, so slow. And light: you'd think it floated all by itself. It stirs. It brushes by me, melts and vanishes. Gently, gently. There is bubbling water in my throat, it caresses me- and now it comes up again into my mouth. For ever I shall have a little pool of whitish water in my mouth - lying low - grazing my tongue. And this pool is still me. And the tongue. And the throat is me. [134]

My thought is me: that's why I can't stop. I exist because I think?and I can't stop myself from thinking. At this very moment - it's frightful - if I exist, it is because I am horrified at existing. I am the one who pulls myself from the nothingness to which I aspire. [135-6]

I am. I am. I exist, I think, therefore I am; I am because I think that I don't want to be, I think that I ?because ?ugh! I flee. [137] I exist, that's all. And that trouble is so vague, so metaphysical that I am ashamed of it. [143]

I was just thinking ?that here we sit, all of us, eating and drinking to preserve our precious existence and really there is nothing, nothing absolutely no reason for existing. [157]

I realized that there was no halfway house between non-existence and this flaunting abundance. If you existed, you had to exist all the way, as far as mouldness, bloatedness, obscenity were concerned. [172]

The world of explanations and reasons is not the world of existence. [174]

The essential thing is contingency. I mean that one cannot define existence as a necessity. To exist is simply to be there; those who exist let themselves be encountered, but you can never deduce anything from them. I believe that there are people who have understood this. Only they tried to overcome this contingency by inventing a necessary, causal being. But no necessary being can explain existence: contingency is not a delusion, a probability, which can be dissipated; it is the absolute, consequently, the perfect free gift. All is free, this park, this city, and myself. [176]

Existence is not something which lets itself be thought of form a distance; it must invade you suddenly, master you, weigh heavily on your heart like a great motionless beast - or else there is nothing at all. [177]

They did not want to exist; only they could not help it. [179] It was impossible for them not to exist. [181]

Every existing thing is born without reason, prolongs itself out of weakness, and dies by chance, [180]

Existence is a fulness which man can never abandon. [180]

Existence is what I am afraid of. [214]

To do something is to create existence - and there is quite enough existence a sit is. [228]

An existant can never justify the existence of another existant. [237]

Now when I say "I," it seems hollow to me. I can't manage to feel myself very well, I am so forgotten. The only real thing left in me is existence which feels it exists... Consciousness forgotten, forsaken between these walls, under this grey sky. And here is the sense o fits existence: it is conscious of being superfluous. [227]

There is knowledge of the consciousness. It sees through itself, peaceful and empty between the walls, freed from the man who inhabited it; monstrous because empty. [228]

And I too wanted to be. That is all I wanted; and this is the last word. At the bottom of all these attempts which seemed without bounds, I find the same desire again: to drive existence out of me, to rid the passing moments of their fat, to twist them, dry them, purify myself, harden myself, to give back at last the sharp, precise sound of a saxophone note. That could even make an apologue: there was a poor man who got in the wrong world. [234]

Behind the existence which falls from one present to the other, without a past, without a future, behind these sounds which decompose from day to day, peel off and slip towards death, the melody stays the same, young and firm, like a pitiless witness.


On GOOD and BAD FAITH

The doctor would like to believe, he would like to hide out the stark reality: that he is alone, without gain, without a past, with an intelligence which is clouded, a body which is disintegrating. For this reason, he has carefully built up, furnished, and peddled his nightmare compensation: he says he is making progress. [96-97]

He (M. de Rollebon) needed me in order to exist and I needed him so as not to feel my existence. [133]

People who live in society have learned to see themselves in mirrors as they appear to their friends. Is that why my flesh is naked? You might say - yes you might say, nature without humanity?Things are bad! Things are very bad: I have it, the filth, the Nausea. [29]

I am. I am. I exist, I think, therefore I am; I am because I think that I don't want to be, I think that I ?because ?ugh! I flee. they will have to find something else to veil the enormous absurdity of their existence. Still?is it absolutely necessary to lie? [150]

It would be better if I could only stop thinking. Thoughts are the dullest things. Duller than flesh. [135]

What held me back was the thought that no one, absolutely no one, would be moved by my death, that I would be more alone in death than in life. [157]

In your most insignificant actions, there is an enormous amount of heroism. [161]

And I might succeed - in the past, nothing but the past - in accepting myself. [238]


On HUMANISM

Without mental reservation, I admired the reign of man. [123]

I do not believe in God?But in the internment camp, I learned to believe in men. [154]

The misanthrope is a man: therefore the humanist must be misanthropic to a certain extent. But he must be a scientist as well to have learned how to water down his hatred, and hate men only to love them better afterwards匢 believe that one cannot hate a man more than one can love him. [160]

It is difficult, Monsieur, very difficult to be a man. [161]

In your most insignificant actions, there is an enormous amount of heroism. [161]

I am alone in this white, garden-rimmed street. Alone and free. But this freedom is rather like death. [209]

I am going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. Exist slowly, softly, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red bench in the streetcar. [210]


On ADVENTURES

"What sort of adventures?" I asked him, astonished. "All sorts, Monsieur. Getting on the wrong train. Stopping in an unknown city. Losing your briefcase, being arrested by mistake, spending the night in prison. Monsieur, I believe the word adventure could be defined: an event out of ordinary without being necessarily extraordinary. [52]

Adventure - it was an event which happened to me?I never had adventures. Things have happened to me, events, incidents, anything you like. But no adventures. [53]

I have suddenly learned without apparent reason, that I have been lying to myself for ten years. And naturally, everything they tell about in books can happen in real life, but not in the same way. It is to this way of happening that I clung so tightly. [54]

But an adventure never returns nor is prolonged. [55]

This is what I thought: for the most banal event to become an adventure, you must (and this is enough) begin to recount it. This is what fools people: a man is always a teller of tales, he lives surrounded by his stories and the stories of others, he sees everything that happens to him through them; and he tries to live his own life as if he were telling a story. But you have to choose: live or tell. [56]

But for me there is neither Monday nor Sunday: there are days which pass in disorder, and then, sudden lightning like this one. Nothing has changed and yet everything is different. I can't describe it, it's like the Nausea and yet it's just the opposite: at last an adventure happens to me and when I question myself I see that it happens that I am myself and that I am here; I am the one who splits in the night, I am as happy as the hero of a novel. [76]

We forget that the future was not yet there; the man was walking in the night without forethought, a night which offered him a choice of dull rich prizes, and he did not make his choice.

Perhaps there is nothing in the world I cling to as much as this feeling of adventure; but it comes when it pleases; it is gone so quickly and how empty I am once it has left. [78]

This feeling of adventure definitely does not come form events: I have proved it. It's rather the way in which the moments are linked together. [79]

The privileged situation, slowly, majestically, comes into other people's lives. Then the question on whether you want to make a great moment out of it. [198]


On PHENOMENOLOGY (Past, Present, Future)

Things are entirely what they appear to be- and behind them ?there is nothing. [13]

Nothing happens while you live. The scenery changes, people come in and go out, that's all. There are no beginnings. Days are tacked on to days without rhyme or reason, an interminable, monotonous addition. [57]

My memories are like coins in the devil's purse: when you open it you find only dead leaves. [47]

I build memories with my present self. I am cast out, forsaken in the present; I vainly try to rejoin the past: I cannot escape. [49]

The past is a landlord's luxury. Where shall I keep mine? You don't put your past in your pocket; you have to have a house. I have only my body: a man entirely aloen, with his lonely body, cannot indulge in memories; they pass through him. I should not complain: all I wanted was to be free. [91]

How can I, who have not the strength to hold to my own past, hope to save the past of someone else? [130]

The true nature of the present revealed itself: it was what exists, and all that was not present did not exist. The past did not exist. Not at all. Not in things, not even in my thought. [130]

the EP - quotes c'td

For echo is the soul of the voice exciting itself in hollow places. A man thought to be sullen and mad had written that sentence, down in an English hospital.

There are betryals in war that are childlike compared with our human betrayals during peace. The new lover enters the habits of the other. Things are smashed, revealed in new light. This is done with nervous or tender sentences, although the heart is an organ of fire.

A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when it is stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing-not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.

(Hana)
'Did you hear what i said?'
'No, what was that?'
'I thought. I was going to die. I wanted to die. And I thought if I was going to die I would die with you. Someone liek you, young as I am, I saw so many dying near me in the last year. I didn't feel scared. I certainly wasn't brave just now. I thought to myself, we have this villa this grass, we should have lain down together...'


Hana's father
‘Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog’s paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in the house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumours of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog’s paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It’s a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so’s garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen—a concentration of hints of all paths the animal had taken during the day.’


A novel is a mirror walking down the road.


The december ice over the fish pond, the creak of rose trelises. She'll take my wrist at the confluence of veins and guide it onto the hollow indentation at her neck.

'Madox, what is the name of that hollow at the base of a woman's neck? At the front. Here. What is it, does it have an official name? That hollow about the size of an impress of your thumb?'

--------------------------------
comments
作者：Slappujude

hey stick!!!! i remember this paragraph, so vividly!! you ARE INDEED CRAZY, if not as crazy as me. we're doomed to slap our fate and stick with shocking exam scores. yesterday on msn i was asking if you have the EP movie script coz i just downloaded it. if not, i can email.

作者：Stickyjady

I took down The English Patient from my dusty shelf and started reading. I must be crazy. It's 22:39 and the philosophy test is coming in 12 hours time; I have barely read 1 page of notes. I AM crazy these days. Happily, devil-may-care-ly so.

So I traveled towards the desert and wandered in from the edge. Gold everywhere I don't know what to pick. And I picked this one—

‘Her father had taught her about hands. About a dog's paws. Whenever her father was alone with a dog in the house he would lean over and smell the skin at the base of its paw. This, he would say, as if coming away from a brandy snifter, is the greatest smell in the world! A bouquet! Great rumours of travel! She would pretend disgust, but the dog's paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It's a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so's garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen—a concentration of hints of all paths the animal had taken during the day.'

I'll go back to notes reading and rescue myself from total disaster. Going to write and edit with full power from tomorrow night onwards. Ta!

Munch's Colours

'Go to the billiard room. After you have looked on that intense green table- cover for awhile, look up. How strangley red everything is! Those men you know were dressed in black now dressed in crimson red, and the room-the walls and the ceilings-are red.'

'After some time, the clothing is black again. But if you want to paint an emotional mood like that, with a billiard table, then you must paint it crimson red.'

'I paint not what i see, but what i saw'- 40 years later he summed up his practice : 'I do not finish a work until I'm a bit removed from the vision of it so that my memory can clarify its emotional impressions. Nature confuses me when I have it directly in front of me.'

The Kiss
Munch Notebook

It rained a warm rain
I took her around
the waist-she walks
slowly after
Two big eyes against
mine-a wet
cheek against mine
My lips sank into hers
the trees and the air and
All the earth anished
And I looked into a new
world-I never
Before had known

People at Night

PoTd-Nov 28th

People at night
Denise Levertove

A night that cuts between you and you
and you and you and you
and me : jostles us apart, a man elbowing
through a crowd. We don't
look for each other, eight---
wander off, each alone, not looking
in the slow crowd. Amond sideshows
under movie signs
pictures made if a million lights
giants that move and again move
again, above a cloud of thick smells,
franks, roasted, nutmeats---

or going up to some apartment, yours or yours,
finding
someone sitting in the dark:
who is it, really? so you switch the
light on to see : you know the name but
who is it?
But you won't see.

The fluorescent light flickers sullenly, a
pause. But you command. It grabs
each face and holds it up
by the hair for you, mask after mask.

you and you and you and I repeat
guestures that make do when speech
has failed and talk
and talk, laughing, saying
'I', and 'I',
meaning 'Anybody'.
No one.

POTD: Eternity & Abstinence, two poems by William Blake

Eternity

He who bends to himself a Joy
Doth the wingèd life destroy;
But he who kisses the Joy as it flies
Lives in Eternity's sunrise.

The look of love alarms,
Because it's fill'd with fire;
But the look of soft deceit
Shall win the lover's hire.

Soft deceit and idleness,
These are Beauty's sweetest dress.
----------------------------------
Abstinence Sows Sand

Abstinence sows sand all over
The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,
But Desire gratified
Plants fruits of life and beauty there.


评论/留言

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作者：Slappujudu　时间：2004-11-30 8:51:28

stick! i''m with you on this one! those shitheads, shut them up!! wish i could hear the song too. i do miss legends of the fall!! tristan n susanna!!!! Tristan he personally killed himself after samuel was gone. indians they do appeal to you if i remember correctly you wanna join their tribe haha! alrite, i''ll post some indian legends up.


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作者：Stickyjady　时间：2004-11-30 2:16:39

Abstinence is actually a poem selected for the literature curriculum this term. The adorable lecturer Dr Turner played us a folk song version of the poem, artist named Williamson (terrific musician, check him out. I still can''t find any free download though..). Very different from what we pop music addicts are usually exposed to. Had a very mysterious, melancholic, Oriental feel to it, slow, and deeply moving. The poem only has four lines and the song was a long one, repeating the lines with varying rhythms and emotional input. (I couldn't help get a bit irritated when patches of shitheads all over the lecture theatre started laughing at it) And in those moments I hallucinated, entering the opening scene of Legends of the Fall, the old Indian hunter murmuring intimate family stories, fragrant dry embers burning, cackling, the tent a weathered fiery brown, and the music seemed strangely apt there, in the background and foreground at once, soaking everything in a grainy, croaky solemnity that''s private possession to wanders and hunters only. "Abstinence sows sand all over/The ruddy limbs and flaming hair,/But Desire gratified/Plants fruits of life and beauty there."Somehow I think this wouldn''t be out of place at all if the song turns up somewhere in the film itself. Tristan and Susanna. The Ludlows, father and sons...

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作者：Slappujudu 时间：2004-11-28 10:50:13

absolutely great poems!!
abstinence sows sands, what a succinct and pictoral title.

the first lighting

my first time hearing this phrase 'the first lighting', for them it must be custom.

it's still a month away from christmas but all decorations are up, and today eight at night those trees at the square hundred metres away from our window were lighted up in all shades. their first lighting, first taste of holiday joy. reds, greens, even purples(don't argue with me gang jianan, it's not blue. stick you'll have to trust me.) gigantic and towering and 'delocalised all around', (sounds like?) and cuddled in the centre the open rind. i've been expecting crowds to be mass skating together while the neon lights shine on the ice and flash on the hundred of ice blades gliding past and it happens. and it's aboslutely christmasy and joyful. stick,did you watch this movie called 'love actually'? now i understand why xmas is the getting-together-and-make-up time for everyone. girls will curl up smiles and beam 'so romantic', guys will hold them and say 'you're so beautiful'(whether true or not), and we, fingerful of girls, stood there and mumbled 'so lengmatic'. we were simply beaten by the cold. i missed the fireworks though. i was walking outside against a current of people coming back in and i knew i missed the fireworks. so have to wait till real xmas to enjoy it.

the purple tree, the biggest one of them all- it's so tall! don't you want to be the little princess(female version), climb up there and pick the star. i had the urge to. you can virtually gaze, gaze, keep on gazing till your vision is a blob of watery purple and then you'll shake yourself back to conscious, realizing you're to be in quite a frightening number of unidentified photos totally unrelated to you, and people holding cameras suppressing a scowl and patiently waiting for you to walk away. just don't stone for too long.

steamboat, octopus balls, noodle soup, fried chicken wings, better be steamy, misty, hot, spicy! draw a gigantic mind bubble above my head and stuff all these in, and you might just see steamy vapour coming out of it. I WANT HOT FOOOOOOOOOOOOD! esp. on cold days like this.

so now i'm back here again typing.
finished typing.

random quotes from the English Patient

random quotes from the english patient

Don't pinch me please. Let me go on dreaming. ...I know you will come and carry me out into
the palace of winds. That's all I've wanted - to walk in such a place with you, with friends,
an earth without maps. The lamp's gone out...I'm writing in the darkness.

"That night I fell in love with a voice. Only a voice. I wanted to hear nothing more."

We die containing a richness of lovers and tribes; tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have plunged into and swum up as if rivers, characters we have hidden if as if caves, fears we have climbed up as if caves. I wish for all this to be marked on my body when i am dead. I believe in such cartography, to be marked by nature. Not just to label ourselves like the names of rich men and women on buildings. We are communial books, communial histories. All that I wished was to walk upon an earth that had no maps.



Memorable Quotes from
English Patient, The (1996)
Caravaggio: In Italy, there's always chickens, but no eggs. In Africa there's eggs, but never chickens. Who separated them?


Almásy: I fear Madox knows about us, he keeps mentioning Anna Karenina


Madox: I have to teach myself not to read too much into everything. It comes from too long having to read so much into hardly anything at all.


Almásy: Swoon. They'll catch you.


Almásy: This... this, the hollow at the base of a woman's throat, does it have an official name?
Madox: Good God, man, pull yourself together.


Almásy: There is no God... but I hope someone looks after you.
Madox: Just in case you're interested, it's called the suprasternal notch. Come and visit us in Dorset when all this nonsense is over.
[Heads away but turns back]
Madox: You'll never come to Dorset.


Almásy: What do you love most?
Katharine Clifton: Water. Fish in it. Hedgehogs, I love hedgehogs. Marmite. Baths, but not with other people! Islands. I could go on all day.
Almásy: Go on all day.
Katharine Clifton: Your handwriting. My husband.
Almásy: And what do you hate most?
Katharine Clifton: A lie. And you?
Almásy: Ownership. When you leave, forget me.


Almásy: It is a very plum plum.


Almásy: I just wanted you to know: I'm not missing you yet.
Katharine Clifton: You will.

Caravaggio: Ask your saint who he is. Ask him who he's killed.


Almásy: When were you most happy?
Katharine Clifton: Now.
Almásy: When were you least happy?
Katharine Clifton: Now.


[Asked what he hates most]
Almásy: Ownership. I hate being owned.


Almásy: I once traveled with a guide who was taking me to Faya. He didn't speak for nine hours. At the end of it he pointed to the horizon and said, "Faya!" That was a good day.


Katharine Clifton: I'm impressed you can sew.
Almásy: Good.
Katharine Clifton: You sew very badly.
Almásy: Well, you don't sew at all.
Katharine Clifton: A woman should never learn to sew, and if she can she shouldn't admit to it.


Katharine Clifton: Do you think you are the only one who feels anything?

Almásy: How can you ever smile, as if your life hadn't capsized?


Almásy: I once heard of a captain who wore a patch over a good eye. The men fought harder for him.


Katharine Clifton: Promise me you'll come back for me.
Almásy: I promise, I'll come back for you. I promise, I'll never leave you.


Katharine Clifton: Am I K in your book? I think I must be.


Almásy: I am a just a bit of toast, my friend.


Katharine Clifton: You speak so many bloody languages, and you never want to talk.


Katharine Clifton: I wanted to meet the man who could write such a long paper with so few adjectives.


Hana: There's a man downstairs. He brought us eggs. He might stay.
Almásy: Why? Can he lay eggs?
Hana: He's Canadian.
Almásy: Why are people so happy when they collide with someone from the same place? What happened in Montreal when you passed a man in the street? Did you invite him to live with you?


Almásy: There is no God, but I hope someone watches over you.


Katharine Clifton: Will we be alright?
Almásy: Yes. Yes, absolutly.
Katharine Clifton: "Yes" is a comfort. "Absolutely" is not.


Katharine Clifton: This - what is this?
Almásy: It's a folk song.
Katharine Clifton: Arabic.
Almásy: No, no. It's Hungarian. My daijka sang it to me when I was a child growing up in Budapest.
Katharine Clifton: It's beautiful. What's it about?
Almásy: Szerelam means love. And the story, well, there's this Hungarian count. He's a wanderer. He's a fool. And for years he's on some kind of a quest for... who knows what. And then one day, he falls under the spell of a mysterious English woman. A harpy, who beats him, and hits him, he he becomes her slave, and he sews her clothes, and worships...
[Katharine starts hitting him]
Almásy: Stop it! Stop it! You're always beating me!
Katharine Clifton: Bastard! You bastard, I believed you! You should be my slave.


Almásy: New lovers are nervous and tender, but smash everything. For the heart is an organ of fire.


Almásy: Every night I cut out my heart. But in the morning it was full again.


Hana: I'm not in love with him. I'm in love with ghosts... And so is he, he's in love with ghosts.


Muller: You are a Canadian spy working for the Allies. Code-name Moose.


Katharine Clifton: My darling. I'm waiting for you. How long is the day in the dark? Or a week? The fire is gone. And I'm cold, horribly cold. I really want to drag myself outside but then there'd be the sun. I'm afraid I'll waste the light on the paintings, not writing these words. We die. We die, we die rich with lovers and tribes, tastes we have swallowed, bodies we have... entered and swum up like rivers. Fears we have hidden in - like this wretched cave. I want all this marked on my body. Where the real country is. Not boundaries drawn on maps, names of powerful men. I know you'll come carry me out to the Palace of Winds. That's what I've wanted: to walk in such a place with you. With friends and an earth without maps. The lamp has gone out and I'm writing in the darkness.


Almasy: You're wearing the thimble.
Katharine Clifton: Of course, you idiot. I always wear it; I've always worn it; I've always loved you.


Katharine Clifton: You're not coming inside?
Almásy: No.
Katharine Clifton: Will you please come inside?
Almásy: Mrs. Clifton...
Katharine Clifton: [scowls] Don't.
Almásy: I believe you still have my book.

this burden called time

stick, have you ever thought about your future, seriously?
btw, this site is strange. dunno how they configured english text,
isn't there automatic line configuaration instead of this long string of senteces with no breaks? i have to remind myself to enter sentence breaks manually, this's getting stupid
enter(strike of key)

i shouldn't dump any more depressing thoughts into this newly built very alive slapstick fun-devoting blog but the mood swings, well, they'll pass soon i guess, if not,i will manually 'bin' them by brutal force, like madly tearing out a crossed-out piece of rubbish paper from my notebook and start new again.i'm not questioning you really, coz i have bravely glanced at what my future's going to be like and premonition tells me it's not rosy looking. should i try the tarot telling link at the sidebar? anyway there's my roommate who claims to be a great tarot magician,
once she claimed i would have a what she called 'apocalypse' quarrel with my neighbour- btw, throw in some words for my neighbour, name Didem, parents turkish, spent her childhood
(8 years) in the northern part of Japan, speaks perfect non-yankee-accented Japanese, whose half social cycle is japanese, who works part-time in a great Jap restaurant, who is small built, dirty brown curly hair, lovely looking. and how did we come to notice she actually speaks Jap- a 'random fact' is what she calls her japanese speaking. well, one day we heard some familiar but strange sounds, for eg. gumbade, benkio(study), sabishi(lonely), someone speaking outside our room. we peeped, not asian. blurry, was it our neighbour?? so we pretended to go outside and dump our luggage to take a closer look, and we were shocked at our new
discovery, that our foreign looking neighbour speaks perfect japanese. that's more than enough words to dscribe Didem, excessive.

where am i, so my bad mood and my gloomy perspective about my own future, sometimes when i look at those websites where people claim how glad , how grateful, how excited(string of adjectives) that they are following their dreams and doing what they enjoy every single secondand minute. that it's their dream come true. where is mine? what am i doing here? do i want to be a mad scientist? (i've come to the conclusion that what it takes to be a great scientist-madness), no and no and no. sometimes i even fear it. stick why can't you go on and be an independent novelist or script writer, and i , maybe, try my luck in graphics.

and i only live one life. time's a burden.
enter, key, tap!

that's just part of my daydreaming. maybe i can only find contentment when i do put in enough efforts, which aren't there obviously or else i'll be happier. those success stories,
how i wanna snigger sometimes. and listening to 胡彦斌的‘我的未来不是梦，我在认真的过每一分钟' he sounds so happy n convincing. wish i can steal part of it n carry it around with me. forget about the depressing talks, the crux of the problem, the more i look at it, is, i'm lazy. i just wanna be entertained. i don't want to be responsible for my future,and for my 'precious' (precious being those closely related to me)that's a sign of not really growing up i guess. fabrics so thin it breaks so easy. well, stick, wat r u thinking.share a piece with me. (sounds like pizza,or should i say
'lemme have a bite', in my case one bite=one whole piece)i must make it to the finals(i mean the exams). that's the target for now, dun care how morbid it sounds.

and we once said we're gonna meet somewhere in the States right?tell u, if i don't work anyharder, i won't make it there.

mmm, ok, feeling better, dump your black biles in if you wanna shout.
black bile= melancholy, melan=black, bile=choly
that's abt one of the positive things of learning word dissection,
but it irritates pple prof says we're losing friends

songs now on my playlist
我的未来不是梦
超时空爱情
do as infinity-yesterday n today
haru no kaze-the cat returns theme song
norah jones-shoot the moon

mentantei conan's ending

it won't sound nice, but again it might be rumour

conan-returned to shiniji, and went to school again with ran

haibara- lost her memory in the final battle with the dark force, didn't return to her true self, continued to go to primary school with the other 3 kids.

there isn't enough potion for the 'transformation', in the final battle, there's a explosion and all the data n chemicals are lost, only one small ampule remained-just enough for conan to reutrn to shinji

the hook- although haibara lost her memory, when she looked at conan's photo, she cried. maybe deep in her memory, she still remembered.

the secret- ayumi saw conan turning into shinji, but she promised she'd keep the secret. she kissed shinji, as if saying goodbye to conan.

what jude thought- this sux. my haibara...

--------------------
comments

2004-11-27 10:45:08
作者：Slappujudu
really sux sux sux, our haibara
i'm gonna personally throw knives, rotten vege(downstairs from canteen), dynamites to that aoiyama if he ends it like that.
TMD
if he's going to make haibara lose her memory, let it be completely clean so she can start as if born, not with traces of conan!!!!!!!!!!!!! not acceptable

2004-11-27 10:26:38
作者：Stickyjady

what jady thought—this ending really sux. As a pervert I do so often tend to sympathize with the eccentric, outcast, less fortunate figures, and you bet I love haibara more than ran…but then again, the script writer(s) got themselves into this impossible mess of relationships and circumstances it’s impossible to pull themselves out without writing some heart wrenching ending that's bound to compromise one character or another……and of course, it's usually the social outcast that got ditched….I AM HEARTBROKEN WUWAWAWAWAWAAAAAAAAAAAA………

poems of the day - dorothy parker

Dorothy Parker (1893-1967)

Song in a Minor Key

There's a place I know where the birds swing low,
And wayward vines go roaming,
Where the lilacs nod, and a marble god
Is pale, in scented gloaming.
And at sunset there comes a lady fair
Whose eyes are deep with yearning.
By an old, old gate does the lady wait
Her own true love's returning.

But the days go by, and the lilacs die,
And trembling birds seek cover;
Yet the lady stands, with her long white hands
Held out to greet her lover.
And it's there she'll stay till the shadowy day
A monument they grave her.
She will always wait by the same old gate, --
The gate her true love gave her.


Epitaph for a Darling Lady

All her hours were yellow sands,
Blown in foolish whorls and tassels;
Slipping warmly through her hands;
Patted into little castles.

Shiny day on shiny day
Tumble in a rainbow clutter,
As she flipped them all away,
Sent them spinning down the gutter.

Leave for her a red young rose,
Go your way, and save your pity;
She is happy, for she knows
That her dust is very pretty.

slapstick years

we define year 2002-2003 as slapstick years

Timeline

in slapstick years, we were in raffles j-walker college. we had potato head as our civis tutor and a bunch of nerds and jerks as our classmates who will be singapore's future life saviours. these future docs include, our bio rep jasper who finished every lab faster than any other (why? we let the reader figure out) n once bought a bag of potatoes for a bio expt.

dickson chau who acted cool and for a specific period in slapstick year, pretended to be eminem chau. and who still owed jude some considerable bucks ( how much? forgot)

yee yucai whom jady particularly despised, who was aka oily yee, who likes to sing oldie chinese songs only JJ's parents know of

dehan and kianleong, ruggers r gonna rock the medical world!

raffles player lady madonnas, xingning and amanda, why they suddenly want to be doctors are the second biggest mystery after the UFO or the egyptian pyramid.

i shouldn't be mean but i wish they grow to be good docs.why won't xingning be actress and amanda be singer. maybe we're all dreamers.

esther sama, good luck there! full support.

xinhui, it must b family tradition. debate lady going med(mad).



early orientation phase
jady had a crush on wu.
jady stayed all night for orientation night just to see wu again.
jady shut us up whenever we wu-ed.
NB: jude hadn't found any crush yet.


we had leong *** has our chem tutor. he later went on further pursuit of chem Ph.D in NUS. he's actually nice but he's constantly mad at our poor performance. once he set a quiz and one question reads 'state your tutor's full name _______' later we had ms tang linlin, who beamed wide smiles at leong ** when she was still in apprenticeship (or is it jude's illusion, or maybe it's just her mouth'), who also set a quize and one question reads ' state the lady's name in the photocopying shop ______'. Jianyang put 'madame 复印'.

we had the most lethal weapon in RJ as our maths tutor- Mrs Kwan, an iron lady who can be summarised as follows, 'volunteers to the board', 'radio off', 'tutorials out', big build, steely eyes, still, our favourite, esp. Jady's

potato head had always been around, say no more ' let's take a 5min break', i love her home-made jellies, and malaysia produced cookies. once she bought a bowl of colourful jellies to the class, red/green/yellow/blue/green(did jady pick green?), after everything was emptied into our bowels, wat was left in the container was BLACK fluid, guys in our class said 'yaks'

who taught us physics, xiaocui's heartthrob, geez, stick, i can't even remember his name. his lessons soporific, his words monotonous, his face too blurry. 'his eyes so 温柔像大黄狗'- last comment by xiaocui. later we had that chubby 李达良, who went from RV-Hwa Chong-London Univ-RJ. who looked smart, whom the locals joked about, spreading rumours that we liked him. who was track and field's teacher in charge- a too sensitive fact luo chan just can't get over.

in the middle of slapstick yearI.
Jady was in charge of library catalogue?.
Jude was slave of P&P, working under esther sama.

end of slapstick yearI,
Jady was in chem O training.
Jude was in bio O, coz she was kicked out from chem O.
Jady later got a silver, Jude got a merit. everyone happy and crappy as ever.


Slapstick Year II
J&J lived in 懒人之家. starting a great year
Wu hao was our neighbour, she called us 南蛮子。
Gang was our next next door neighbour. we went for dinners together.


Tang linlin was now in full charge of SO3K.
She was great at recognizing faces- 'yuxuan, could you answer this question please' Tang beamed megawatts smile at poor gang jiana, who, despite enormous humiliation, answered the question in obedience. While listening to 'yuxuan's answers, Tang was writing on the borad and after 'yuxuan' was done, Tang turned around, smiled and said 'thank you!', to jady.(this's the version i heard, stick,
if it's wrong , correct me all you wish) but this much is true. Tang came into class, excited, announcing 'class, don't you think jianan, yingyue, cuiwei they look alike?'



Jady's b-day-Feb
we had a hamster pet called 朵朵 who looked like a hyperactive cockroach (except the colour) hamster later died, hopefully peacefully.

Jude's b-day-April
Jady n esther plotted a scheme unbenoticed, Jude was given 8 tropical fishes, colourful. died very soonish due to horrible lack of care n experience


to be continued...

portrait of stick

some idiosyncratic words to portray this mad lady:

backwood hermit who enjoys reading tons of books and don't want to bother with social activities such as hanging out or joining girl discussions. Infected by lunacy, she likes to scratch, bite, drag, kiss(although nobody likes it), pinch (and the list goes on n on...)people, people whom she deems chubby/childlike or total strangers. And luckily I'm spared out of the above listed category but that didn't stop her from going out of her way on some rare occasions and strangling/pinching me nonetheless just on pure impulse... And her greatest dream of all time is to plant and nurture her own vege/fruit/flower garden, supposedly set in a nice and quiet country side where virtually nobody lives and thus forgotten and listed out of our definition of 'civilisation'. While such place might indeed exist, one out of a thousand chances, there's one peculiar requirement which's close to impossible: She wants a neighbour who's also a backwood hermit/ who must read, and read broadly and with thirst/ must not plant vege/ must rear cows and chickens alike so as to enable a mini-scale neighbourhood daily trading I'm not done yet, oops sorry, she's not done yet- let's go back to her unlikely neighbour, who must also be quite funny but not noisy/ better be equipped with internet access namely chat/music downloads/games etc. And now you start to wonder whether this never
land hermit life's indeed as what it seems, wouldn't it be a modern paradise on earth?

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comments--
作者：Stickyjady

hahaha pal i read it in your carpediem diary and now when i read it again i still can't help laughing out aloud~~i believe in the end the biggest share of my loving pinches went to es sama, and my kisses to all soft toys available, esp those newly bought (mostly as Bday presents) ones..*still dunno* why you guys (i mean gals) kicked up such big fusses about losing new huggies (hopefully not new hubbies')' first kisses to jady sama! hahaha..jokes aside, i must add that it's more accurate to say my "greatest dreamS of all
time" for i have a great many, all in parallel, on top of my dream list .like, becoming a Buddhist nun, or an American Indian, or an Eskimo, or a farmer in some obscure fold of the Alps, or the Himalayas (Shangri-La would be perfect, if it's still around. if it's ever around.), or live anywhere in Italy, or Argentina...shall pause here, or it's gonna be longer than the portrait itself . i am bad at drawing portraits, so please expect a disfigured, distorted, dismembered, badly colored Slap if i ever come up with one.. heeheehee.. or maybe you wanna put up a self-portrait and i'll faithfullly doodle on it..? good idea?

3:45am & 13:45pm

Dear Stick,
It's 15min to 4pm, your clock. must be sleeping? or insomnia attack again?
heh heh, yes, last night i slept at 3pm, well, last min mugging doesn't help actually and i feel so sleepy when i was reading and no words ever entered my memory space, which isn't much left. nevertheless this course has great impact. if ever there's such thing as 'perspective-morphism', like what this course dose on me. whatever word you see breaks into small little parts (partsswitch to chinese
哈哈，爽啊， 很可爱的blog， 想象你昨天一早上咬chocolate bars一边编辑网页。 我现在在喝茶， 打算喝茶，水还没开。

今天开始飘小雪了，很小的雪， 但是patholes已经冰了。昨天顶着寒风，怀念着热带的阳光， 在9：45时出门去学校教作业。 还记得我说过的wintergreen oil?最后一个organic chem lab实验， 像炼丹似的炼了一个小时得来的‘香水‘，闻上去像是peppermint， 虽然yield只有12。4% 还是很高兴。应该装一瓶寄给你的，可惜全都上交做化验了， 剩下的只有一张抹过瓶嘴的滤纸， 原有的薄荷味也散得差不多了。

那个，我走题了， 所以么， 我顶着寒风去交作业，太没天理了， 原本早上都没有课，就为了交作业还要特意去一次学校， 因为截止时间是十点整。 好冷~~~~~ 风大得帽子都被吹掉了，原本好不容易积存与发间的一点点热气也被毫不留情的吹散。‘这里的天气怎么样， beautiful?' 'my foot' ' you head' 想到singabloodypore的太阳真是围城的最好活标本。 这里没有swenson, kinokuniya, soul garden, shaw house, kopitian, takashimaya 我钟爱的猪猪活动地！！！

是不是有点像回到纯朴年代， 远离城嚣，亲密接触大自然。

唯一不变的是不停做着的白日梦，不时在给自己合身定做的童话世界中沉溺迷惘， 当然也mentally relive our unspoken fun time。 昨晚乌梦， 因为太累了，比如说the night before, 我梦到自己变成了救世主，我面前有7 道关要过， 选错就死（每关两个选择而已）。 不知不觉就到了最后一关（梦里的我怎么也死不了，remember?)， 最后一关， 我很紧张， 事实上为什么为了那种nonsensical, 稀奇古怪的事情紧张？？！ 我的面前有三盘果冻， 我要选择正确的那个（什么叫正确的那个？？）， 我却很聪明的‘领悟‘了‘正确‘的正确含义(which is, 最好吃的？），可是我太紧张了，所以我决定凭运气， 闭起了眼睛就用叉子（不知哪儿飞出来的）去叉，bingo!!!! i got my life back again, for the 7th time. 周围的人who look suspiciously like super-powerful aliens都在为我狂欢。

还有就是昨天biochem lecture， 我又开始‘怀念‘以前的那个biochm lecturer (给你看过照片的那个，james rini）, 结果现在的这个lecturer在讲什么， 我一句也没听进去。‘如果说summer term 我能找到一份工作就好了，比如说在RINI 的办公室帮他做filing, 或者是research assistant).
'TPP, citric cycle, blah blah'回过神时早已不分天南地北， professor moran在讲什么。。。

白
日
梦
真
幸
福

回
到
现实

Let's start a novel!

Jaded @ 2004-11-27 13:37:13
Haven’t any idea or beginning in mind yet. Just wanna shout this suggestion across and get into some kind of motion when the time is ripe.
Let’s be spontaneous, and crazy, and stream-of-consciousness-ish, and eclectic, and free in thoughts and forms and structures and languages, let there be prose, poetry, lyrics, aphorisms, what-have-you, let there be romance and existential angst, le there be watercolors and oil paintings, songs and choreography…
Let there be Light.

Juded @ 2004-11-27 13:54:52
great you have my full support all the way to milkyway. this idea has been hanging there for a long time at the back of my mind, let''s do it! we can start anywhere, any theme. what about we set our players first, just names, suggest some. and about what kind of format, i was thinking of the bram stoker dracula journal style, as if every entry is an independent entity, but you''ll soonish find that they''re all linked in some way. like A and B mentions C in their journals and what happened b/w them, B might not know A, we can paint of web of characters, link them up any way we want. n we can really create lots of characters, let''s even code ourselves into some of them. i might just put you as the tarot card ''the hermit'' or ''the fool'', who meets ''the towers'' or the ''magician''. i''m not suggesting any fantasy-like all surreal story plot, what i mean is, our players have these inherent characters which somehow define them as who they are, then a web of life ensues. getting exciting, just let it flow!!

Juded again @ 2004-11-27 14:11:52
this is what i originally thought, and i told another 2 pple(note: they''re the ENGIN pple), i asked ''who wants to pick up the idea n write a novel?'' they both sort of scorned, wat the heck, guess you''ll do this much better since you read so many detectives, i only have this intangible mess of idea at the back of my mind, but might just be of some interest in case u wanna pick up n integrate it somewhere
It wasn’t exactly a dream. I might be formulating my own ideas inside that so-called dream. I remembered I told my friend a story about this novel, which later involved into a more complex web of betrayal, murder, love etc. Let’s give it a name, I’m bad at titling. Just a title. Just a second. Mmm, I can’t think of a title. Better call it Novel X A small literature class of small size, roughly 20 more or so students who have never met each other before. And it’s their first day of class. Their professor gave them a project, title: not to be decided until the end of the project. Duration: depends, but there’s a due date, 3 months from now, let’s make it end nicely on April Fools’. Plot: there isn’t one. However, there’s a starting paragraph. What is it? I can’t remember. Why not make up one. Which might say, here’s a room, almost empty you say, but there’s one desk which makes you hesitate to say the word ‘empty’, and above all, there’s a man at the desk, biting his pen. You can make out the teeth marks. He’s thinking , musing, deeply entrapped in his own web of imagination, or is it deadlock we’re not sure. But we can see his pages are empty. There’s only a date, 1 April. He needs his players, he needs a protagonist. Probably a girl to start with, then continue to invite in more to make the plot going. He stared hard at the blankness and suddenly start to scrabble with a fury that started us. Here you say there’s nothing special about it, just write a multi paragraph novel. Well, that’s why it’s a dream. Dreams are mad. It’s a dynamic novel. Not to be completed by one person alone. For every 2 weeks’ cycle, writings are to be exchanged at random. To whom the unfinished pieces are passed on is unknown. Scripts are deposited in a black box and redrawn by the next one, but who? Nobody knows. No complaints, no grudge. Write on as if it’s your own work. They don’t know each other. How is that possible? Communication is strictly forbidden. Let’ s just idealize the situation for now. They can’t even tell the handwriting coz it’s typewritten. There’re always ways to know. Loopholes everywhere, or chances, or traps. The same beginning takes on different flows. Life of the writer at the desk takes different turns. … A girl gets to know the secrets of a boy, or she thinks it’s a he. And keeps the secrets well. They’re pen pals in love. One of them becomes a detective story. Horrible crime commited on paper. On the day of submission, murder took place. It was april 1st. Who wrote the plot? Too many. Who did it? No one, everyone. A paper is stolen and returned a day later. Everything’s the same except the ending’s different. Why should it be changed? They’re each independent happening. They’re all linked.

Jaded @ 2004-11-28 2:27:03
great idea! tarot cards and a multiple-character thing set in a small, closed environment sounds very good gothic fun,and a good place to start! reminds me of agatha christie''s ten little niggers, aka and then there were none (sudden shudders and goose pimples)..i''ll think up more stuff to flesh up the skeleton~

Time is an illusion, lunch time doubly so.

Dear Slapujude,
Still lingering here and not going for lunch. I haven't told you about this recent piece of advice half jokingly and half seriously given to me independently from different individuals—‘maybe you want to switch faculty?' Or, ‘come join us in Psychology/sociology/literature/whatever.' It's fun and heart warming to realize how people do recognize the other side (the non-science side) of me, but as an after-thought, it's frightening to register the fact that others see where my heart truly lies more clearly than I do. To look back and stare hard through the blurring mist of the years, I see a child me enthusiastically exploring life, biological life. She catches cicadas, keeps silkworms and bugs, takes care of chickens and ducks all year round, chases dogs and cats and pigs and geese and anything there is to chase. But she was not made to be a scientist even from then. If she was, she would probably have dissected animals when they died, or killed them for that purpose, in cold blood; she'd picked the legs of the bugs to examine them; she'd inject weird stuff into small mammals to test out little theories; or maybe not all the cruel tricks that only heartless boys would do, only gentle probing and inquiring would make a potential scientist. But it's all wrong for me. When the silkworm moths mated and died soon after, when the ducks and chickens died because they couldn't cope with urban life, when the dog was killed and cooked, when the green caterpillar was accidentally crushed on road, I burst out crying. It's Life I am in love with, the Force, the entanglements, the whole mystery of it. I wondered if cicadas are contented hermit-like creatures when they spent their seven dark years in the safety of the soil? I wondered if certain hens felt happiness when they fell asleep in my laps? It would be nice to learn that cicadas and mushrooms are made up of about the same stuff, and the function of the double eyelids of chickens. To get an idea of the interlinkages and the intricate details of the design of the Big Picture. But my life won't be at great loss without such knowledge.
So why did I choose science? Because I wish to know life, biological life, as it is, and probably approach Truth, if there is one, from that angle. Yes, yes, a classic, politically correct answer. But a truer, more well hidden answer (hidden from myself mainly) would be, because science is at best a second hobby of mine. Never make a favorite hobby into a career; never make a lover into a husband. So I am following exactly that, keeping arts as lover and science as husband. And the thrill and agony and anguish and fatigue and whatever comes of living a double life inevitably follows. The conflict of feelings is really tearing my heart apart, and this first term of university had suffered every consequence of that. I guess I am going to score quite well for all my arts courses, and am lucky if I discover I didn't flunk my organic chemistry after all. Life science has become an estranged husband, been neglected, and indifferent to the fact too. All the dusty tomes on the shelf…and the dream to go to the States has grown remote, if not yet out of reach. I planned my life, only to break out of the box and start another one. Why wouldn't I live true to my heart, go to some remote parts of the world, say Ceylon, say Eastern Europe, say Argentina, or Burma, and make a decent living teaching Chinese and middle school subjects, or open a petit restaurant serving genuine Hubei food, or a small bookshop like Kathleen Kelly does in You've got mail, and write, and travel if I am lucky to have money to spare? It's almost impossible at this point in time to visualize myself in a stern white lab coat pouring all my time into some very-probably-commercially-oriented experiment in a sterile lab, pressing buttons and writing reports that are of interest to less than 0.001% of humanity, and which may or may not open a Pandora's box and let hell break loose. I really don't know now. Maybe I should go on with my degree earning and become a science fiction writer later. The only worry is, after going through all the repackaging of the brains I'll never be able to write witty, crazy stuff again, never something like “time is an illusion, lunch time doubly so” from the Hitchhikers' guide to the galaxy by good old Douglas Adams…I'll send you the files some day.
To be continued. Now lunch.
Stickyjady.


评论/留言
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作者：Stickyjady　　时间：2004-11-28 15:11:56
Dear Slap, Feeling much better today. Chance encountered a friend on msn in the morning; had always known each other since primary school days through junior high, but hardly ever talked, which fortunately didn't prevent us from appreciating each other a lot. I appreciate her anyway, her personality, talents, what and how she went through in life (she lost her father to some terminal disease some years back. I only knew of it quite recently. C'est la vie.) She sent me pictures of a gorgeous stone stamp she carved as a birthday present for friend, and a photo of one of her paintings, which I'll show you someday. Munch-ish and beautiful. She's taking some acting and directing course (isn't she a physics major? I gotta confirm that…now you see a trend in the friends I make…all weirdoes! hahaha) and agonizing over a piece of acting assignment due tomorrow. Then I thought of our own individual pains and struggles, and how they are necessarily and importantly part of the human condition, the experience, the existence. For aspiring writers (ahem is that us?) sampling the whole range of emotions is, needless to say, essential. So it might be good that we constantly get rollercoaster rides of emotions right now, and I am grateful. Yesterday I was going to write a short poem-oid thing titled ‘shell-shocked, on the battlefield of Love' then dinner and tennis got in the way…maybe I'll write that tomorrow, maybe not until next shellshock comes. A mirage is beautiful in its own being, albeit a short and intangible one. Though it's impossible to capture it in our hands, it's undeniable that our mind' eye once and forever behold it.

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作者：Slappujudu　　时间：2004-11-28 0:49:43
Dear Stick, I tried to put myself in your shoes, imagining i was sitting in front of your computer, chatting to that very special someone, he not knowing any dissapointment but his own, not knowing a long shadow that bear a heart''s heaviness. i''m really sad knowing he couldn''t make it and of course you''re right saying he''s not to blame. are you that quilt i laid out waiting for a shower iin sunshine and i had to carry it back in realizing it was just a grey gloomy day. maybe there''ll be chance of sunshine some other day when u expect it least. i''m really glad something else like this slapstick blog makes you happy and masks your dissapointment even for a while. i''m really not good at consoling words, but yes! we have this blog.

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作者：Stickyjady　　时间：2004-11-27 17:05:35
Dear Slap, Remember what I told you about my December plans and how much it's a sun I run towards through the bleak months of October and November for the promise and warmth it holds? Now it turns out it's just another cold mirage of oasis in my desert. He can't make it. And I don't blame him, for we are no God of our own lives. We chatted on good humouredly, he said he felt disappointed and I consoled him and told him to think positively, and said nothing about my own disappointment, contained within like a good old stoic fool. I really felt relieved in the first few moments, that all my restlessness concerning the planning and practical aspects of travelling is gone. Maybe like the Faye robot in 2046 I am just way too slow in responding to stimulus. And only moments later did I feel a permeating melancholy/really black bile descending and enclosing me, and tears swore up and streamed down, all the time we are discussing translation, businesslike. I've been uncontrollably sobbing as it is for the past half hour, and thinking about what we talked about this morning, this newly born blog and our zest. Reading your post a smile managed to break through the thick mist of tears. Thanks dude, you unknowingly pulled me through a difficult time, and yes, we have the blog and slap&stick gonna rule.

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作者：Slappujudu　　时间：2004-11-27 14:49:22
dear stick, i hate this server, they lost the long post i just wrote these are the last few sentences i said, regardless of wat i wrote prior don''t worry about sicence, we''ll know when we get there. and i''m somehow so much happier now the blog''s come into being. maybe you''re enjoying it just as much and our life''s definitely gonna be tenfold better than jekyll n hyde, we''re slap n stick.