A few days ago, a Shenyang writer asked in Today's Headline: Why was Yuanyuan Diary scolded? Chi Li, who is also a female writer, is also fighting the epidemic, including "Fengcheng" and writing online, but no one says anything about her. Why is this?
At the right moment, I read the round diary intermittently, and the overall feeling was listless ... which did not attract me to continue reading. Chen Chong, who doesn't often write and lives as an actor, wrote an article on fighting epidemic, which impressed him deeply. I didn't know there was a Chili restaurant.
I responded to the writer's cross-examination, which roughly means that under the catastrophe and epidemic, ordinary people are subject to the disorder and asymmetry of information sources, and they always put themselves under the torture of life and death, and their inner fear and depression are indescribable. At this time, there is a kind of mother-in-law's nagging, which can relieve anxiety and anxiety. It is easy to * * * love * *, just like an inch of knee, and we meet each other briefly. As for scolding, it is most likely caused by the tone of her "well-known" spokesperson. In recent years, where there is a well-known cavity, there is no shortage of "heat".
I'm not accusing the high temperature circle. As a writer, she has achieved great success and retired from "sitting at home". Why is this old-fashioned writing so "distorted"? Just like pulling a rusty saw: the left foot is bent, the right leg is straight, the neck is twisted, and the eyes are sore, but the wood is not broken. The whole article is chattering, tears are in bud, and the feelings of resentment and compassion are unobstructed, and nothing grows.
A word, please. There are two kinds of compassion in Confucian culture, namely "benevolence": the benevolence of a gentleman and the benevolence of a woman. The former cares about weighing the pros and cons and making a choice under the existing conditions, and choosing the lesser of the two evils; The latter fantasized about an unrealistic solution, crying and crying, even if there were enough tears to take a bath, he was so sad that he couldn't put it down and committed suicide. I can't find a way to be lenient anyway.
The hateful thing is that they only provide tears and snot, but they are not responsible for providing solutions and options.
Therefore, it is impossible for the world to develop and evolve according to the logic of literati novelists. So, there is nothing you can do! There are more people who are keen on strange tricks, leaving their homes and having a history of lush tofu.
Li Bai's poems are well written, but he doesn't care about his wife and children. For decades, the crops were poor and the work was not abundant. He only cared about drinking and whoring, and his long hair stood at the bow of the boat, unable to stop "not receiving talents". Finally, relying on powerful people to enter the palace, he wrote a few chapters of floating words and colorful sentences, but because of his arrogance, he became accustomed to being a slut and got a boring "writing poems according to his purpose", which turned out to be capital. After drinking, he even named his derailed son Li Boli (the homonym of the word "glass" said by the conference semifinals in the western regions, and Li was a human being), feeling groggy and losing the bottom line. Don't believe you, give it to a township head and let him try? Go to work at nine and arrive at ten. He doesn't make tea until eleven o'clock and pours wine at twelve o'clock. ...
King Chuang broke through the outer city of Beijing, and the craftsman Chongzhen killed his loving parents. At the last moment, he personally ran to ring the bell, fantasizing about calling ministers for a crash and burn resistance. Unfortunately, he was wrong: the clean people had already hurried home, ready to get dressed and kneel down to meet the new Lord.
Tell the truth: unhealthy!
Coincidentally, at night, I saw another nosy person, who looked quite round, and deliberately forwarded an earlier article: a female writer wrote an impression of interacting with the circle, which was full of praise. At the end of the article, the author wrote that Yuanyuan had a beautiful room ... but Yuanyuan claimed to live in a "writers association" in her diary. Presumably, this beautiful house hidden in the unit must be a nice room with a garden, rattan chairs, sunset and tea. I don't think it is possible to build a villa in Qingshui yamen like the Writers Association. So this so-called "garden" is seriously suspected to be the result of illegal construction of public green space?
If so, she might as well swap places with migrant workers. Simply go to the countryside and replace a house with several beds, plant chrysanthemums every day and watch Nanshan every night. Let migrant workers squeeze into cities, beg for a place to stay and get citizen treatment. Houses in the city are tight and expensive, but tight and depressing. Rural areas are vast and sparsely populated, and they can be cultivated, studied and handed down from family to family. Hermits wish to become landlords, farmers willing to be house slaves, you can kill two birds with one stone.
I couldn't write this point originally, so I threw it aside. There is nothing to rub your feet, nothing to worry about, there are books to flip through, and printed matter is cheap. Most of them are caused by breeding and mating, which is none of my business.
This morning, I read two articles written by Jane's friends, A Glimpse at a Glance, and That Summer, Na Pianhai, That Group of People, written by The Vicious God of War, before I caught up with the gossamer clue and sorted out the needle and thread I continued to write. The life of manufacturing workers is very difficult. The latter records that the oil man "opened up territory" in the Persian Gulf. It's all the rhythm of maw grabbing food. Not that words are so touching. Workers in hot summer are like ants on hot bricks, not frozen at all! In a word, there are more sweat than tears. I like this kind of rise without hiding anything, showing my breasts, leading a hard life and taking the consequences by my own efforts. As the saying goes: neither cold nor hot, the grain will not bear fruit.
In the past six months, there have been no moths in the writing world. There is a fish whose father claims that his son is very talented. He calls 2000 poems every day, and the output in half a month is higher than that of Wang Kangxi, a paralyzed and longevity poem. There is a public security deputy hall, which uses the word "peace" to copy sentences and print them into scriptures. The price is equivalent to 10 kg of first-class "pork belly", which is said to be out of stock. This can be admired by four generations of artists from various associations and platforms. There are not a few people who swear privately to write scriptures. Water under the bridge. Don't learn from Xuanzang. There are too many classics from now on. I'm afraid you can't finish singing. I'm afraid you don't understand the classics-be a craftsman.
To tell the truth, China really doesn't need so many writers and poets. The big-name index finger of misty poetry has lived in an insane asylum so far, and he is in a daze happily. Determined to "face the sea, spring blossoms", Haizi scattered his spiritual body on the rails as cold and straight as gravel. Shy Gu Cheng went to distant New Zealand, turned against him and became a butcher. Looking at the poison alone refreshed the cold light in his throat. Lonely North Island, the temple has already frosted, and romantically "hacked to death" with Polish friends, but it hit a "broken dream sound", which was horribly lonely. Uncle Shuo in Beijing, who is becoming more and more refined, originally wrote articles to mourn his in-laws, but instead cursed and ridiculed domestic novelists for failing to write good works, learning from poets who have no courage, practicing suicide diligently, dragging out an ignoble existence, and being shameless ... Think about this fellow, writing novels and screenwriters, why not show bravery?
Bad things are in a mess, and it hurts to return, so don't say it. Nowadays, "culture sets the stage, economy sings opera", writers are vulgar and coquettish, rich and elegant. Eternal Articles is a dream, a drooling ballad.
The pond is full of quacks and literati are like frogs. Dry in summer, avoid cold water and shallow depressions. Lotus moss, bel canto and supine are all sexy. Masturbation has preference, self-love and self-satisfaction. Holding a group of fucking follicles and raising ink tadpoles freely looks like panicked words. Is that all? That's all.
My classmate and best friend is the chairman of a city Federation of Literary and Art Circles. When he saw me spitting salty acid everywhere, he said that when he was free, he would go to the detention center to play and sell dog skin plasters, free of protection fees. It's a pity that you don't spend more energy on words. I replied to him: If I am cheeky, the world is nothing more than a group of last-rate literati who are not diligent and don't care about food, but there is a citizen who leads migrant workers to shop for their families and pays taxes to the state more or less every month. Who is more valuable than the two? The chairman was silent and noncommittal. How many men and women in the system are pampered and famous, but this season is difficult to become a climate. I've seen it. It's full of pig shit and cat urine spilled in spring. It stinks. Pretend to be a Buddhist, too lazy to pay attention, and have a cleanliness.
Continue to use Paoge's ruffian tail: You will be scolded for writing these words. Rough skin has long been afraid. Learn a northeast dialect: roll your calves! Do whatever you like. Shout in Sichuan dialect: hey, confiscate the gun in grandpa's crotch if you can!
Oscar Wilde said: Some people can bring happiness wherever they go, and some people can only bring happiness when they leave. Two silly and sweet concluding remarks, a little roundabout, read carefully, taste slowly and choose carefully.
March 2020.16 Write a half sentence? August, 2020.17 continuation completed.
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