fledged bird

Friends, I am flying away for now.

you stay well here, someday i will be back again.

Roger Ridley-Tears on my pillow

not dark yet

Shadows are falling
and i've been here all day
It's too hot to sleep time is running away
Feel like my soul has turned into steel
I've still got the scars that the sun did't heal
There's not even room enough to be anywhere
It's not dark yet,
but it's getting there

Well, my sense of humanity has gone down the drain
Behind eevry beautiful thing there's been some kind of pain
She wrote me a letter and she wrote it so kind
She put down in writing what was in her mind
I just don't see why i should even care
It's not dark yet but it's getting there.

Well, I've been to London and I been to gay Paris
I've followed the river and i got to the sea
I've been down on the bottom of the world full of lies
I ain't looking for nothing in anyone's eyes
Sometimes my burden is more than i can bear
It's not dark yet but it's getting there.

I was born here and I will die here against my will
I know it looks like i'm moving byt i'm standing still
Every nerve in my body is so naked and numb
I can't even remember what it was i camer her to get away from
Don't even hear the murmur of a prayer
It's not dark yet but it's getting there.

---Bob Dylan

到头了

日子快到头了， 果子也熟透了，我们最后一次收割对方从此仇深似海。

从此你去你的未来， 我去我的未来

从此在彼此的梦境里虚幻的徘徊。

today's sentense

Taste of Cherry

"Life is like a train that keeps on moving forward, and then reaches he end of the line, the death waits at the terminus.

Of course, death is a solution.

But not at first, at your youth.

Forgive me for dragging you off this rocky road

... ...

You think something is good, then realize you are wrong, the main thing is to think hard.

You believe what you do is right, but then you realize that you are wrong.

Talk, say something to give me a breather,

I've talked to much, i've said everything.

I've give the whole speech, just say something...

If you don't talk, I will talk more...

Have you lost all hopes?

Have you ever looked at sky when you walk in the morning? At down, don't you want to see the sun rise?

The red and yellow of the sun at sunset, don't you seen the moon?

Don't you want to see the stars?

The night of the full moon, don't you want to see it again?

You want to close your eyes?

... ...

Don't you ever want to drink water from a spring again?

or, wash your face over the water?

If you look at the four seasons, each season brings fruit. In summer, there is fruit, in autumn too. Winter bring different fruit, and spring too. No mother can fill her fridge, with such a variety of fruit for her children. No mother can do as much for her children as God does for his creatures.

You want to refuse all that?

you want to give it all up?

you want to give up the taste of cherries?

Don't, I'm your friend,

I'm begging you."

--------Abbas Kiarostami " Taste of Cherry"

dark comedy (i hope not)

I hear the sound of train wheel conflicting on the rail,

I feel the breeze blowing over my face,

I see the night cloud swiping over the dark sky,

The light, that far light from the other side of river.

The world is spinning...

what if, i am the only one, laughing and crying, in this play directed by me

what if, this play turns out to be a dark comedy

what if, actor leaves the play

what if, i fall, fall and fall

and hardly fall off the stage

will you be there

holding me?

26th street

I walked to 26th street during my lunch break, the sun was bright, i sit by the stairs, facing the sun, calling her in Ohio.

Far away, John was riding a bike, passing by, waving his hand, with his bright smile.

This fading blue, the the shade of pale.

I was feeling kinda of dizzy.

San Diego Serenade

I never saw the morning 'til I stayed up all night

I never saw the sunshine 'til you turned out the light

I never saw my hometown until I stayed away too long

I never heard the melody, until I needed a song.

I never saw the white line, 'til I was leaving you behind

I never knew I needed you 'til I was caught up in a bind

I never spoke 'I love you' 'til I cursed you in vain

I never felt my heartstrings until I nearly went insane.

I never saw the east coast 'til I move to the west

I never saw the moonlight until it shone off your breast

I never saw your heart 'til someone tried to steal, Tried to steal it away

I never saw your tears until they rolled down your face.

----Tom Waits

age

I
Don't
Want to
Grow old

I
Don't
Want to
Grow old

I
Don't
Want to
Grow old

I JUST DON'T WANT TO GROW OLD.

shape of tree

Shape of trees, and its branches, in the conflicting of the gray tone of sky, this tree, standing there alone, pass through winter, summer, spring and autumn, generations of people passing by.

Today with the bright sunshine, those branches are already filled with light green new leaves, the flowers, is blossom, but the only branches, in the cold winter day, are writing the poetry.

winter

pure, white

and fresh

how can you not love the winter?!

The Wind Will Take Us

The Wind Will Take Us

In my small night, ah

the wind has a date with the leaves of the trees

in my small night there is agony of destruction

listen

do you hear the darkness blowing?

I look upon this bliss as a stranger

I am addicted to my despair.

listen do you hear the darkness blowing?

something is passing in the night

the moon is restless and redand over this rooftop

where crumbling is a constant fear

clouds, like a procession of mourners

seem to be waiting for the moment of rain.

a moment

and then nothing

night shudders beyond this window

and the earth winds to a halt

beyond this window

something unknown is watching you and me.

O green from head to foot

place your hands like a burning memory

in my loving hands

give your lips to the caresses

of my loving lips

like the warm perception of being

the wind will take us

the wind will take us.

-----Forugh Farrokhzad

words and image

The Phone Booth

She slumps in the booth, weeping
into the phone. Asking a question
or two, and weeping some more.
Her companion, an old fellow in jeans
and denim shirt, stands waiting
his turn to talk, and weep.
She hands him the phone.
For a minute they are together
in a tiny booth, his tears
dropping alongside hers. Then
she goes to lean against the fender
of their sedan and listens
to him talk about arrangements.

I watch all this from my car.
I don’t have a phone at home, either.
I sit behind the wheel,
smoking, wanting to make
my own arrangements. Pretty soon
he hangs up. Comes out and wipes his face.
They get in the car and sit
with the windows rolled up.
The glass grows steamy as she
leans into him, as he puts
his arm around her shoulders.
The workings of comfort in that cramped, public space.

I take my small change over
to the booth, and step inside.
But leaving the door open, it’s
so close in there. The phone still warm to the touch.

I hate to use a phone
that’s just brought news of death.
But I have to, it being the only phone
for miles, and one that might
listen without taking sides.

I put in coins and wait.
Those people in the car wait too.
He starts the engine then kills it.
Where to? None of us able
to figure it out. Not knowing
where the next blow might fall,
or why. The ringing at the other end

stops when she picks it up.
Before I can say two words, the phone
begins to shout, “I told you it’s over!
Finished! You can go
to hell as far as I’m concerned!”

I drop the phone and pass my hand
across my face. I close and open the door.
The couple in the sedan roll
their windows down and
watch, their tears stilled
for a moment in the face of this distraction.
Then they roll their windows up
and sit behind the glass.

We don’t go anywhere for a while.
And then we go.

------ Raymond Carver

Reading Raymond Carver's poem and novel, Edward Hopper's works aways came to mind, that sense of lonesome, quite anger, and compromise to the reality lies under those words and images, timeless, spaceless.

Carver use of simple words, has shaped those ordinary characters that surrounded us each day, underneath of the story, are those hopeless, helpless individuals facing mediocre everyday life.

Hopper's famous vanishing point of the street, and each character always sit the center of that point, drawn a distance, both visually and psychologically.

那样的一个年末

那天下着小雨，夜里我坐在朋友的车里，对面车辆反射的灯光，模模糊糊，星星点点，折射在雨点打过的车窗，我喜欢这样隔着看外面的世界，有一种距离感和时间感。
Astoria Blvd在雨中显现的如此杂乱，架在天上的地铁，仓促行走的人们，没有树没有草，只是淋湿的水泥街道映着路灯五彩六色的影子，和一栋栋老旧的楼房伫立在高速公路旁，这样一种工业社区的感觉，没有人情味。车里的我们，好像一个个都劳累了一天的样子，也没有太多的交谈，只是想快些到达菜市场，买好了东西回家吃饭。
看着窗外高速公路恍惚的灯光，我才发现对于这个城市的街道是如此陌生，车中的景像和地铁中看的完全不同，这甩在身后的楼房街道，都是我所熟悉的吗？也许黑，地下的黑才是属于我的风景。
这一年仿佛是转眼间的，我还记得一月那刺骨的冷风，三月那一夜开满的梨花，七月炎热的青藏高原，还有十月，那个属于我自己的十月。回忆，又是那些容易迷惑人的记忆，因为，记忆中的人们和场景总是那么凄美。

这是2009年的最后一天啊，可是好像也没有什么大的不同，自然界还是一如往日的面对着我们，只是平庸生活的人们为自己找快乐的方式而已。

字里行间

一只眼睛是红色的，我想，这两天，有点忙的过头了。

整个假期写下的文章，在修改中，只是，当我一遍遍的读这些文字时，我变的很心虚。

这两天读到 John Berger写的文章，其中提到他对艺术的定义：

“判断一件艺术作品，我是看它是否有助于人类的现代世界要求他们的社会权利。”

他的文字永远是点到要害，写到看似日常但却是生命精髓的事件。一个一生专注于写作的英国人，最后选择生活在法国的农村，躲避城市的喧闹，异国它乡，对生活对艺术的感悟，“时间的问题是选择的问题。”

不是吗？

由于部展，身体变的劳累

由于写稿，大脑变的劳累

当这两种劳累符合在一起

我发现

我是那么香甜的睡着

2010年的第一个星期，没有留意已经流过，

在沾满黑色油漆的手指间，

在word document删除与加入的字里行间，

等待我的将是选择的一年，

选择，

多么可怕又兴奋的字眼。