Children talk without restraint
[1] I probably felt the sadness of this phenomenon when I was a child, and since then I have had a taboo against talking to myself. To this day, when talking to people, I am always happy if they listen to what they say. If I say something and people listen, then when I think about it later, I always feel very uneasy, fearing that people will find it annoying.
［2］The more impatient you are, the more you feel that the days are too long. The days of childhood are warm and slow, just like the sunshine on the pink velvet lining of old cotton shoes.
[3] The leaves of palm trees half-cover the small temple in Myanmar, and it rains heavily, in the red-brown tropics; in the early summer, the water of the pond has a green film on it, with duckweed and broken leaves floating on it. The purple and white lilac stems seem to be included in the poem "Sorrow for Jiangnan"; there is another piece, the theme is "Flowers in the Rain", with large purple flowers on a white background, dripping with water.
[4] The most common colors on the market are various colors that cannot be named, whether blue or green, gray or gray, yellow or yellow. They can only be used as backgrounds, and they are all neutral colors. Also called protective color, also called civilized color, also called mixed color. There are also secretly cute colors in the mixed colors, which look like the sun in another universe when it shines on your body.
［5］Youth——laughing, noisy, serious, distressed; when you are there, you don’t feel it; when you feel it, you just feel it is torn and flowed away.
My own article
[1] I don’t like heroics. I like tragedy and desolation even more. Heroism only has strength, no beauty, and seems to lack humanity. The tragic color is like the bright red and green colors, which is a strong contrast. But it's still more stimulating than enlightening. The reason why desolation has a deeper aftertaste is because it is like green and pink, a contrast.
[2] There are not many people who are extremely sick and extremely enlightened. The times are so heavy that it is not easy to have a thorough understanding. Over the years, human beings have actually lived like this, which shows that even if madness is madness, it still has a measure. Therefore, in my novels, except for Cao Qiqiao in "The Story of the Golden Lock", they are all shady characters. They are not heroes, they are the bearers of this era. Because although they don't know everything, they still know it. Actually serious. They are not tragic, only desolate. Tragedy is a kind of completion, while desolation is a kind of revelation.
[3] People live in an era, but this era is sinking like a shadow, and people feel that they have been abandoned. In order to prove one's own existence and grasp something real and basic, one has to turn to ancient memories, memories of human beings living in all eras, which are clearer and more intimate than looking to the future.
[4] I don’t agree with the aesthetic school either. But I think the shortcoming of the aesthetic school is not its beauty, but that its beauty has no foundation. The waves of the stream water are light, but if it is sea water, although it looks like ordinary microwave sparkling waves, it still has the atmosphere of huge waves. Beautiful things are not necessarily great, but great things are always beautiful.
[5] Writing a novel should be a story. It is better to let the story explain itself than to make up a story after formulating a theme.
[6] The difference between modern literary works and the past seems to be at this point. They no longer emphasize the theme so much, but let the story itself give what it can give, and let the reader get what he wants. Achievable.
[7] As for the women who live together, their original status is always lower than that of men, but most of them have fierce vitality. They have a kind of charm to men, but that is the charm of healthy women. Because if it is too morbid, it will not meet the needs of those men. They also operate, and they are also jealous and fight over each other. They can be very savage, but not hysterical. They have only one shortcoming: their status is always uncertain. Doubt and self-danger make them gradually become selfish.
Cohabitation: Illegal cohabitation, when a person who already has a spouse lives with another person.
Notes on apartment life
[1] I often find it incomprehensible. The noise on the street can be heard very clearly on the sixth floor, as if it is right under my ears, just like a person of his age. The higher you get, the farther away you are from your childhood, and the trivial memories of your childhood gradually become more intimate and clear.
[2] What is long is suffering, but what is short is life.
The Record of Ember
[1] I have no desire to write history, and I am not qualified to comment on the attitude that historians should have, but privately I always hope that they will say more irrelevant things. . Things like reality are not systematic, like seven or eight chatterboxes singing at the same time, each singing his or her own thing, creating chaos. In the incomprehensible noise, there is occasionally a moment of clarity and sadness, in which one can hear the tune of the music, but then is immediately surrounded by darkness, drowning out that little bit of understanding.
[2] The trees in winter are as desolate and thin as yellowish clouds; the water flowing out of the tap pipes, the electric lights, and the bustle of the streets are ours again.
[3] The sun illuminated the glass door. The air-raid paper strips on the glass had been torn off by the wind and rain, and the mottled white marks looked like little paper figures of witches. , especially at night, the silhouettes of strange little white monsters appear on the dark blue glass.
[4] Even if it takes a lifetime to write annotated biographies for those messy and overlapping heads, it is still worthwhile.
For example, the irritable second landlady’s cross-eyes protruded like two taps; the young mistress’s entire head and neck were the hair dryer in the barber shop; the squatting figure who looked like a lion and a dog had an infectious disease. A prostitute, with the ends of her red stockings and garter exposed under her clothes.
[5] The car of the times drives forward with a roar. As we sat in the car, we may have passed only a few familiar streets, but we were also frightened by the firelight that filled the sky. It's a pity that we are only busy looking for our own shadows in the fleeting shop windows - we only see our own faces, pale and small; our selfishness and emptiness, our shameless stupidity - everyone is just like us. , yet each of us is alone.
The road is based on eyes
[1] Reading thousands of books is not as good as traveling thousands of miles. We go from home to the office, to school, to the small market, walking one mile every day, for ten or twenty years, or thousands of miles: every time we walk through that street, it seems like we are seeing each other for the first time. It's like a road. Everything you look at feels new and strange, so you won't "turn a blind eye". It's almost like "traveling thousands of miles". Why do you have to cross the ocean?
[2] On the display window at night, the branches of the iron fence intersect with each other, and underneath there are yellow, white, and transparent anti-aircraft paper pastes on the glass to form square grids and diagonal grids. Overlapping, it is as deep as the ancient windows and curtains.
[3] This is generally the case in the world - the finished cake is far inferior to the cake in production, and the essence of the cake lies in the caramel aroma during the baking period.
[4] There is a military camp nearby. I have been working hard to learn to play the trumpet day and night, but I have made little progress so far. It is said that it is a distressing and annoying sound, but I don't find it annoying at all. Great music is independent from the world, and all perfect things belong to the realm of superman. Only in perfect skills can the tired "human element" that is sucking all day long get a moment of rest. In unskilled crafts, there are struggles, worries, panics, and risks, so the "human element" is particularly strong. I like it because "there is someone in it, ready to come out."
Changing Clothes Notes
[1] I recall that if this thing had a smell, it would be the scent of camphor, sweet and Safe, like clearly remembered happiness, sweet and melancholy, like forgotten sorrow.
[2] The rapid changes in fashion do not necessarily reflect lively spirit and novel ideas. Quite the opposite. It can represent sluggishness; all creativity flows into the area of ??clothing due to failure in other areas of activity. During political chaos, people are unable to improve their living conditions. They can only create their immediate surroundings—that is, clothes. Each of us lives in his own clothing.
[3] In the cool evening of autumn, the stalls were closed in the small vegetable market, and the ground was covered with fishy smell and green-white reed millet skin and residue. A child rushed over on a bicycle, showed off his skills, yelled, relaxed the handrails, swayed, and passed lightly. At this moment, people all over the street were filled with unreasonable admiration. The cutest moment in life is when you give up?
Love
[1] Meeting the person you want to meet among millions of people, in the endless wilderness of time in millions of years, there is no one step earlier, Not a step too late, I just happened to catch up, so there was nothing else to say, except to ask softly: "Oh, are you here too?"
Talking about women
[1] Women tie the wisdom of human beings flying through space to solid roots.
[2] The "Mother of the Earth" sketched by O'Neill with impressionistic brushwork is a prostitute, "a strong, quiet, sensual, yellow-haired woman, about twenty years old, with fresh and healthy skin, Her breasts are plump and her hips are wide. Her movements are slow, steady, and lazy like a beast. Her big eyes reflect the deep inner turmoil like a dream. She chews gum like a sacred cow and loses track of time. , has its own eternal purpose.
［3］Pleasing people with a beautiful body is the oldest profession in the world, and it is also a very common profession for women. Women who marry for a living can do it. It goes under this heading. It goes without saying that if you have a beautiful body, you can please others with your body; if you have a beautiful mind, you can please others with your thoughts.
Borrowing the Silver Lamp
[1] From a purely logical ethical point of view, two blacks together do not equal a white, and the sum of two evils cannot make a good.
Foreigners watch Peking Opera. and others
[1] Most young people love China without knowing what they love. Unconditional love is admirable - the only danger is that sooner or later, ideals will collide with reality. , every time they took a breath, their hearts gradually became cold.
[2] The most touching sentence in "Qiu Begonia" is a libretto from Beijing Opera, and Beijing Opera quotes Gu'er lyrics: “A thousand cups of wine is too little to drink with a close friend, and half a sentence is too much to talk without speculation. "It's a familiar catchphrase, but after the down-and-out Qiu Begonia thought about it, it added infinite desolation out of thin air. The Chinese have always liked to quote scriptures. Beautiful, vigilant sentences, and old jokes from two thousand years ago are freely used in daily conversations. . These invisible fibers make up our living past.
[3] People in the past probably didn’t find small, innocuous restraints like kowtowing in ceremony to be cute. Now that they are about to be lost, they feel sad about them now.
Yanying Quotations
[1] Yanying said: "The moon screams out the joy of life; a small star is its shy echo."
[2] My friend Yan Ying said: "Every butterfly is the soul of a flower in the past, coming back to find itself."
Save manuscript
[1] She felt that all the cute things she encountered in her life had wings and flew away in the cool evening breeze.
[2] Lu Xing gently put his hand on the worn fence and stroked the rough wood. A bitter smell slowly climbed up the bridge of his nose, blocking his throat and filling him with tears. Eye.
[3] He is one of the people who will always be young; although his messy hair hanging in front of his forehead has a few gray hairs, and the sharp blade of time has scratched his solid forehead. There were a few deep wrinkles, but his sleeping face still held the frankness and stubbornness of a baby.
What to write
[1] When literati discuss future writing paths, it seems to me that there is unimaginable freedom, as if there is ample room for choice. Of course, the Wenyuan Garden is vast. Tourists bought tickets to enter, took photos on the Jiuqu Bridge, and then swarmed to visit the zoo. They could leave as soon as they wanted. It was indeed enviable. But I think a literati should be like a tree in the garden. It is born there and has deep roots. The higher it grows, the wider its horizons and its ability to see further. It is not impossible to develop elsewhere. The wind blows the seeds and spreads them. Go far away and grow another tree, but that is very difficult.
Poetry and Nonsense
[1] The summer days are burning one after another, the snow is bright, and a very thin thread is burning to the point of breaking, and is interrupted by the thin sound of cicadas. It started to squeak, "squeak, squeak, squeak..."
[2] There is a famous Japanese poem translated by Zhou Zuoren: "On a summer night, it is like a bitter bamboo. The details of the bamboo are dense, and in an instant ""
Whispers
[1] She slept there like the sea reflected on the cabin glass, a small green flake, but there was the endless sorrow of the ocean. .
[2] The blue chair cover and the old rose red carpet are actually not very harmonious. However, I like it, and I also like England, because the word England reminds me of blue. There are little red houses in the world, but France is the color of light rain, like the tiles in the bathroom, stained with the fragrance of hair tonic. My mother told me that it often rains in England and sunny in France, but I couldn't correct my initial impression.
[3] My brother and I were riding a three-wheeled bicycle quietly on the terrace, neither of us saying a word. In late spring, there were green bamboo curtains hanging on the balcony, and dense strips all over the floor. sunshine.
[4] Waiting for her to leave the school gate, I looked at the closed red iron gate from a distance through the tall pines on the campus. I was still indifferent, but gradually I became aware of this situation. The need for tears came, so the tears came, sobbing loudly in the cold wind, crying to myself.
[5] Reading the tabloids, talking to my father about the jokes among relatives - I know he is lonely, and he likes me when he is lonely. It's always afternoon in my father's room. After sitting there for a long time, I feel like I'm sinking, sinking.
[6] There are too many memories of our family in the house, like overlapping photocopied photos, and the whole air is a bit blurry. Places with sunshine make people sleepy, while dark places have the coolness of ancient tombs. The blue-black heart of the house is awake and has a strange world of its own.
[7] The house I was born in suddenly became unfamiliar, like under the moonlight, the blue and white walls appeared in the black shadow, one-sided and crazy.
[8] In the garden, there are big white geese that chase and peck people. The only trees are tall white magnolias with huge flowers, like dirty white handkerchiefs and waste paper. Left there, forgotten, the big white flowers bloom all year long. There have never been such slovenly flowers.
[9] Really standing on the sidewalk! There is no wind, just the lonely coldness around the lunar year. Under the street lights, I can only see a piece of cold gray, but what a amiable world! I walked hurriedly along the street, and every step on the ground was a loud kiss.
[10] Now I live in the old dream and dream new dreams in the old dream.
An unforgettable painting
[1] The rose-red sunset outside the door in spring sprays upward like mist, giving a feeling of sublimation.
[2] Although these people were eating, drinking and laughing, their feet seemed to be wearing shoes and socks that were wet in the rain, which were cold and sticky. There is a sour iron smell in the lively movements, which reminds people of the backbone of a fast-moving tram on a rainy day. It is dark, wet, and turns into a very light steel blue.
[3] "Autumn Mountain" is scary again, with a light blue sky, a low yellow sunset, two slender white trees, soft and long branches, swimming in the air like fish, touching each other. Wrapped up, the two women hunched their necks and hurried away close to each other. It was already feeling like winter.
[4] There is a layer of sand and a layer of sky. The weight of nature is pressing on the human body. He sleeps heavily and peacefully without dreaming at all, and the lion comes to sniff.
［5］What surprised me the most was a piece of white magnolia, with silver-white flowers in an earthen vase. Its long round petals were translucent, yet fleshy, stretching out in this way and that. They look like greedy flowers, and they have to decide what they want. However, there is laughter in the greed, so they can be forgiven, just like youth. There is a sprig of ivy sandwiched in the magnolia bush, and small golden flowers burst out like fireworks. Even the brown coffee table is painted with emotion, a gentle rectangle that bears all the excitement on it.
[6] "Autumn in the Mountains of Nanjing", a small road flows like a silver stream: two small white trees have many yellow branches, each trembling as if it was dawn. There are two trees a little further away, one blue and one brown, scrawled like Chinese paintings, but without format. The people looking at the scenery seem to have come from afar, panting unsteadily, and the blue mountains in the distance are also wavering. Because that sudden feeling is like a distant dream when the rooster crows for the first time and the mat feels too cold.
Under the umbrella
[1] It was raining heavily, some people were holding umbrellas, and some were not. Those without umbrellas sat next to those with umbrellas, and got under the umbrellas to hide from the rain. It was somewhat sheltered, but water was pouring from the edges of the umbrellas, making it even worse than the rain outside. People crowded under the edge of the umbrella had their heads wet.
Of course, this is a didactic fable, and the meaning is obvious: poor people often lose money when they make friends with rich people. I thought of this section one time on the street on a rainy day, but I never wrote it down because it was too similar to Mr. Nachang’s tea talk style.
(Nanchang: Yan Esheng, a well-known tabloid writer in Shanghai in the 1930s)
Talking about dancing
[1] Her emptiness is like a closed room It's a small room with whitewashed walls that is infested with mold, and it's a small hotel with cloudy weather - overseas Chinese are mentally homeless, simple-minded people live in a world that is not simple, without background, without Traditional, so there was no dancing either.
[2] I like anti-climax - the creation of a strange atmosphere and the sudden fall, I can feel the humanity in the legend croaking.
Talking about paintings
[1] I have no objection to wanting to write poetry after seeing paintings - good art should arouse the creativity of each individual in the audience, and should not give people It is purely passive appreciation - but I hate the description of "Mona Lisa" because it is a limited description. After reading the description first and then looking at the picture, I can't help but look for the deep sea through the eyes of a woman. fish shadow. Such gorgeous attachments seem to increase the number, but in fact they reduce the meaning of the picture.
[2] I don’t like the tradition of romanticism, that kind of mystery that doesn’t ask for a deep explanation, like turning a light switch and shining an artificial moonlight on everything, so there is a vague sense of mystery. The beauty is blue, with dark shadows, and insects and frogs chirping with excitement and terror inside.
[3] "Summer Day" captures the permanent yet temporary feeling of sunlight shining on the body. The child by the water stood with his hands open and his legs spread out, looking very happy, with his back like a toad. The woman holding a small umbrella looked ridiculous in the bright sun. There are more tourists on the other side, the woods look like green clouds, and the light blue sky is nestled with ruffled clouds. However, it is hot, extremely hot. The white sail of the boat glowed with iron, and the boatman and workers were all burnt black.
[4] There is a man named "Que Kai" (translated from Japanese, the pronunciation may not be accurate), he must be a friend of Cézanne. There are two portraits of him here. When we first saw him, he was already looking like an old fool. He was trembling and sitting on a chair with his legs crossed. He put one hand on the back of the chair and crossed his fingers. From the top of his head to his shoes and socks, he was trembling and suspicious. Light and shadow express his timidity, nagging, and triviality.
[4] She tilted her head, thinking deeply about her thoughts, and the memories made her young - of course, there was no such sadness in the eyes of young people. Those who endure hardships for their ideals later discover that very little of that ideal is left, and that bit is so slim. However, because of the hardship, the bit that remains is better than before, like music floating in the distance. The original very simple tone is mixed with the breath of the earth and seasons.
[5] The last portrait of Madame Cézanne is lively and vivid. She sat in the garden under the sunlight, with flowers and grass and the white smoke of spring and summer rising from the road.
[6] Incompatible: too hard and difficult to penetrate deeply; describing completely different opinions. From "Book of Rites·Xue Ji".
[7] Among the landscape paintings, my favorite is "Broken House". It is a white house under the noon sun, with a black hole like a one-eye window; two cracks are broken down from the roof. There was a big gap, and the house seemed to be laughing there, shaking and shaking, until it collapsed with laughter. The path leading to the house was no longer visible. There were high and low grass growing all around, which was very faint and blurry in the sunlight. The choking daylight reminds people of "the ancient road of Chang'an, the sound of which is endless, the sound of which is endless - the west wind is shining, the tombs of the Han family." However, there is no majestic past here, only the desolation of the middle class, and even more emptiness. .
Preface to the legendary reprint
[1] Even if an individual can wait, times are in a hurry, destruction is already occurring, and greater destruction is coming. One day our civilization, whether sublimated or flashy, will become a thing of the past. If the word I use most often is "desolate," it's because there is this bewildering threat in the ideological background.
[2] Rattling: a short and loud sound.
[3] Yanying only made a rough draft. Shocked by the powerful and beautiful pattern, I was willing to copy it one stroke at a time like tracing red lines. Life is like this too - it has its pattern, and we can only copy it. That’s why there is a saying in the West: “Let life come to you.” This kind of surrender is not like the unclear, insignificant, embarrassing, and humiliating surrender of the characters in my novels, but it is still sad in the end. .
Talking about music
[1] But on the one hand, I continued to live in school, and I often walked past the music hall, with many small rooms, and many people tinking in it. When I play the piano, the sounds of the piano are shaking and sparse, as if it is dawn. It is raining and the sky will never get bright again. The empty raindrops hit the iron shed, which makes people feel uncomfortable. The piano player occasionally steps on the pedal below, and the characters on the piano are connected together and become one piece. It is just that the strong wind has blown the rain into smoke. Wherever the wind passes, the drops and drops are scattered and clear again.