Gossip Zhang ailing

[1] I felt the sadness of this phenomenon when I was a child. Since then, I have a taboo on talking to myself. Until now, I am always happy to talk to people, if they say I listen. If I say people listen, I always feel very uneasy after thinking about it, for fear of being annoyed.

[2] The more impatient you are, the longer you feel. Childhood is warm and slow day by day, just like the sun shining on the pink velvet lining inside the old cotton shoes.

[3] The leaves of palm trees half cover the small temples in Myanmar, and it rains successively, and it is reddish-brown tropical; In the pond in early summer, there is a layer of green film on the water surface, floating duckweed and lilac with broken stems, as if to fill the poem "Hurt Jiangnan"; There is another one, the theme is "Flowers in the Rain", with big purple flowers on a white background and dripping water.

[4] The most common colors on the market are all kinds of nameless colors, such as cyan, gray, yellow and yellow, which can only be used as the background. They are all neutral colors, also called protective colors, civilized colors and mixed colors. There are also mysterious and lovely colors in mixed colors, which shine on the body like the sun of another universe.

[5] Youth-laughing, noisy, earnest and distressed; I don't feel it when I sleep; When I feel it, I just feel it tearing.

My own article

[1] I don't like heroes. I like solemn and stirring, and I prefer desolation. Heroes only have strength, no beauty, and seem to lack humanity. Tragedy is like bright red and green colors, with strong contrast. But it is still more exciting than inspiring. The reason why desolation has a deeper and longer aftertaste is because it is like green with powder, which is an uneven contrast.

[2] There are not a few people who are extremely morbid and extremely conscious. The times are so heavy that it is not easy to realize them. For so many years, human beings have lived like this, which shows that madness is madness, or the doctrine of the mean. Therefore, in my novels, except Cao in The Golden Lock, all are careless characters. They are not heroes, but the vast load of this era. Because they are not thorough, but they are thorough. It turned out to be serious. They are not tragic, only sad. Tragedy is a completion, while desolation is a revelation.

[3] People live in an era, but this era sinks like a shadow, making people feel abandoned. In order to prove our existence and grasp some real and basic things, we have to turn to ancient memories, memories of human life in various times, which is clearer and more cordial than looking forward to the future.

[4] I don't approve of aestheticism either. But I think the disadvantage of aestheticism lies not in its beauty, but in its lack of foundation. The waves in the stream are light, but if it is seawater, it seems like ordinary microwaves, and it is still full of the weather of Hong Tao waves. Good things are not necessarily great, and great things are always beautiful.

[5] Writing a novel should be a story, and it is better to let the story explain itself than to make up the story by setting the theme.

[6] The difference between modern literary works and the past seems to be that at this point, the theme is no longer emphasized, but the story itself is endowed with what it can give, and the reader can get what he can get.

[7] As for cohabiting women, their original status is always lower than that of men, but most of them have strong vitality. They are attractive to men, but that is the charm of healthy women. Because if it's too morbid, it doesn't meet the needs of those men. They also operate, they are jealous and jealously jealous. They can be savage, but they don't have to rest. They have only one shortcoming: their status is always uncertain. Suspicion and self-danger gradually make them selfish.

Cohabitation: illegal cohabitation, where people who already have spouses live with others.

Interest in apartment life

[1] I often feel that I can't understand it. The noise in the street was clearly heard on the sixth floor, as if it were under my ears. Just like a person getting older and farther away from childhood, the trivial memories of hours gradually become intimate and clear.

[2] The long is bitter, and the short is life.

Ember record

[1] I have no desire to write history, and I am not qualified to comment on what attitude historians should take, but privately I always hope that they will say something irrelevant. Things like reality are not systematic, like seven or eight chatterboxes singing at the same time, each singing its own way, which is a mess. In that inexplicable noise, there are occasionally clear moments that make people sad and shine at the moment, and they can hear the tone of music, but they are immediately embraced by the heavy darkness and drown out that understanding.

[2] Trees in winter are as thin as pale yellow clouds; The water, electric lights and the noise in the street flowing out of the tap water pipe are ours again.

[3] The sunlight illuminates the glass door, and the air defense paper stuck on the glass has been torn off by the wind and rain. The mottled white trace is like a witch's little paper man, especially at night, a grotesque white silhouette appears on the dark blue glass.

[4] Even if you spend your whole life writing annotated biographies for those messy and overlapping heads, it is worthwhile. For example, the cross-eyed of the grumpy second landlord is as prominent as two tap water taps; That housewife, the whole head and neck are hairdressers; Like a lion and a dog, a prostitute with infectious diseases curled up under her clothes, revealing the ends of red stockings and garters.

[5] The cars of the times are moving forward with great vigour. We sat in the car and passed several familiar streets, but we were also thrilling in the flames all over the sky. Unfortunately, we are too busy looking for our own shadow in the fleeting shop window-we only see our own face, pale and small; Our selfishness and emptiness, our shameless stupidity-everyone is like us, but each of us is lonely.

Be completely silent with fear, but communicate their hatred with their eyes.

[1] You might as well take Wan Li Road to study in thousands of books. From home to the office, school and small food market, we walk a mile every day, for a decade or two, and it is also thousands of miles. If every time we walk that street, it seems that we know the road for the first time, and everything looks fresh and rare, we will not "turn a blind eye", but it will be similar to "taking Wan Li Road". Why are we crossing the ocean?

[2] In the window at night, the branches of the iron fence cross each other, and the air defense paper below is yellow and white and transparent. It is pasted on the glass into a square grid, an oblique grid, and then overlapped, as deep as ancient purlins and curtains.

[3] This is generally the case in the world-the cake made is far less than the cake being made, and the essence of the cake is all in the burnt smell during baking.

[4] There is a military camp nearby. I have worked hard to learn to play the trumpet day and night, and I have made little progress so far. It should be annoying and grinding, but I don't think it's annoying. Great music is independent of the world, and all perfect things belong to superman's field. Only in the perfect technique can the tired "human component" who sucks all day get a break. In the unskilled craft, there are struggles, anxieties, fears and risks, so the "human component" is particularly strong. I like it because "someone inside is ready to come out."

change clothes

[1] If memory has a smell, it is the smell of camphor, which is sweet and safe, like remembering happiness clearly, being sweet and melancholy, and forgetting beautiful sadness.

[2] The rapid development of fashion does not necessarily show lively spirit and novel ideas. On the contrary. It can represent slowness; Due to the failure of other activities, all the ideas flowed into the clothing field. In the period of political chaos, people can't improve their living conditions. They can only create their own personal environment-clothes. We all live in clothes.

[3] In the cool dusk of autumn, the stalls in the vegetable market are full of fishy smell, as well as the skin and slag of bluish-white reed millet. A child rushed over on a bicycle, showing off his skills, let out a cry, relaxed the handrail, staggered and passed lightly. At this moment, people all over the street are full of unreasonable admiration. The cutest moment in life is there, right?

love

[1] Meet the person you want to meet among thousands of people. In thousands of years, in the boundless wilderness of time, neither earlier nor later, you happened to catch up. There is nothing to say except to ask softly, "Oh, are you there?"

About women

[1] Women tie the spiritual wisdom of human beings flying over space to a solid root pile.

[2] The "Mother Earth" marked by O 'Neill with impressionist brushwork is a prostitute. "A strong, quiet, emotional woman, yellow hair, about twenty years old, fresh and clean skin, plump breasts and wide hip bones. She moves slowly, steadily and lazily like a wild animal. Her big eyes reflect a deep natural disturbance like a dream. She chews gum like a sacred cow, forgets time and has her own eternal purpose.

[3] Pleasing healthy people is the oldest occupation in the world, and it is also a very common female occupation. Women who marry for a living all fall into this category. It goes without saying that you have a beautiful body and please people with your body; There is not much difference between having beautiful thoughts and pleasing people with them.

Borrowing silver lamp

[1] From the perspective of pure logical ethics, two blacks are not equal to one white, and the addition of two evils cannot be a good.

Foreigners watch Beijing opera, etc.

[1] Most young people love China, but they don't know what they love. Unconditional love is admirable-the only danger is that sooner or later, the ideal will hit reality, and every time I breathe, my heart will gradually cool down.

[2] The most touching sentence in "Begonia" is the lyrics of Beijing Opera, which is also a quoted drum word: "Friends drink less, lovers speak more." The familiar mantra, however, adds infinite desolation and emotion out of thin air after the aftertaste of begonia. People in China always like to quote classics. Beautiful and accurate sentences and old jokes from two thousand years ago are freely used in daily conversations. These invisible fibers constitute our living past.

[3] This small, very different kind of bondage of groveling, which people didn't feel cute in the past, will be lost now, and they can only feel sad.

Yan ying's quotations

[1] Yan Ying said: "The joy of crying in the moon; A little star is the echo of its shyness. "

[2] My friend Yan Ying said, "Every butterfly is the soul of a flower. Come back and find itself. "

Save the manuscript

[1] She feels that everything she can love in life has wings and flies away in the cool evening breeze.

[2] Lu Xing gently put his hand on the worn fence and stroked the rough wood. A wisp of bitterness on the nose slowly climbed up, blocked the throat and filled the eyes with tears.

[3] He is one of the young people forever; Although there are a few gray hairs on his forehead, and the sword of time has scratched several deep wrinkles on his hard forehead, his sleeping face still contains the confession and stubbornness of the baby.

Write what?

[1] In my opinion, the freedom of literati to discuss the future writing path is unimaginable, as if they have sufficient choices. Of course, Wen Yuan Garden is very big. Tourists bought tickets, took photos on the zigzag bridge, and then flocked to visit the zoo, saying they would leave, which was really enviable. However, I think the scholar should be a tree in the garden, born there and deeply rooted. The higher he goes, the wider his vision and the farther he sees. If he wants to develop elsewhere, he can. The wind blows the seeds away, spreads them far away, and gives birth to another tree, but that is a very difficult thing.

Poetry and nonsense

[1] On midsummer days, strings burn down, and thin threads are burned off and connected by thin cicadas. "Cheep, cheep, cheep ..."

[2] There is a famous Japanese poem translated by Zhou Zuoren: "Summer nights are like bitter bamboo. Bamboo details are dense, and in a flash, the sky is bright. "

whisper

[1] She sleeps there like the sea reflected on the cabin glass, with small green slices, but endless sadness of the ocean.

[2] The blue chair cover with the old rose-red carpet is actually not harmonious. However, I like it, and I also like Britain, because the word Britain reminds me of the little red house under the blue sky, while France is slightly rainy cyan, like a bathroom tile, stained with the fragrance of hair tonic. My mother told me that it often rains in England and it is sunny in France, but I can't correct my initial impression.

[3] My brother and I rode a tricycle quietly on the balcony, and both of them were silent. In late spring, green bamboo curtains are hung on the balcony, and sunshine is everywhere.

[4] When she left school, I looked at the closed red iron gate through the tall pine trees on campus, still indifferent, but gradually realized the necessity of tears in this case, so tears came, sobbing loudly in the cold wind and crying to myself.

[5] Read tabloids and talk to my father about the jokes between relatives-I know he is lonely, and he likes me when he is lonely. It's always afternoon in my father's room. Sitting there for a long time, I feel heavy.

[6] There are too many memories of our family in the room, such as overlapping and copied photos, and the whole air is a little fuzzy. Where the sun makes people sleepy, the dark places have the coolness of ancient tombs. Black heart of the house is sober and has his own strange world.

[7] The house where I was born suddenly became strange, like in the moonlight, with a blue and white powder wall in the shadow, which was one-sided and crazy.

[8] There are big white geese in the garden. The only tree is the tall magnolia with huge flowers, like dirty white handkerchiefs and waste paper. It was left there and forgotten. Large white flowers bloom in the first year. Never have there been such messy flowers.

[9] Really standing on the sidewalk! There is no wind, only the loneliness and coldness around the lunar calendar, and only a piece of cold ash is seen under the street lamp, but what an amiable world this is! I hurried along the street, every step on the ground was a loud kiss.

[10] Now I'm living in an old dream and dreaming a new one.

An unforgettable painting

[1] In the rosy sunset outside the door, in spring, the fog is generally sprayed upwards, which has the feeling of sublimation.

[2] Although these people are eating, drinking, talking and laughing, their feet seem to be wearing shoes and socks wet by rain, which are cold and sticky. There is a sour iron smell in the lively beer running, which reminds people of the back of a fast-moving tram on rainy days. It was painted black and wet, and turned into a very light steel blue.

[3] "Autumn Mountain" is terrible. The light blue sky, low yellow sunset glow, two tall white trees, soft and long branches, swim in the air like fish, twisting each other, and two women are running tightly with their necks constricted. It is already winter.

[4] A layer of sand, a layer of sky, people under the weight of nature, deep and clean sleep, not dreaming at all, but the lion howled and sniffed.

[5] What surprised me most was a magnolia, with silvery white flowers in an earthen vase, long round petals, translucent, but meaty. Look around, depending on how long it is. Greedy flowers, what they want, must be decided. However, there is laughter in greed, so they can be forgiven, just like youth. Among the magnolia flowers, there is a vine of Jasminum nudiflorum, which produces small golden flowers all the way, like fireworks. Even the coffee table is painted with feelings, and the docile little rectangle carries all the excitement on it.

[6] "Autumn in the Mountains of Nanjing", a path, like Silverstream, flows away: two small white trees give birth to many yellow branches, each of which is trembling, as if just dawn. A little further, there are two trees, one blue and the other brown, scrawled like Chinese painting, but without format. People who look at the scenery come from afar, breathless, and the blue mountains in the distance fluctuate. Because of that sudden feeling, the first time the chicken crowed, the mat was too cold, like a distant dream.

umbrella

It's raining hard. Some people carry umbrellas, others don't. Those who didn't have an umbrella were next to those who did, and they got under the umbrella to hide from the rain, which was somewhat sheltered, but the edge of the umbrella rushed into the water, which was more fierce than the rain outside. People huddled under umbrellas got wet on their heads.

Of course, this is a sermon fable with obvious significance: making friends with the rich and the poor often suffers. I once thought of this passage on a rainy street, but I never wrote it because it was too much like Mr. Neichang's tea style.

(Infield: Yan E, a famous Shanghai tabloid writer in 1930s)

Talking about dancing

[1] Her emptiness is like a moldy little room with white walls and tiles, a small hotel on a cloudy day-overseas Chinese are homeless ideologically, and simple-minded people live in a complicated world with no background and tradition, so they don't dance.

[2] I like the anti-climax-the emergence and sudden fall of colorful air, and I can feel the legendary human nature.

Talking about painting

[1] I want to write a poem when I see a painting. I don't object-good art should stimulate the creativity of the audience and give people a purely passive appreciation-but I hate the explanation of Mona Lisa because it is a limited explanation. After reading the explanation first, I can't help looking for the shadow of the fish in the deep sea in the eyes of women. Such gorgeous side details seem to increase, but in fact they reduce the meaning of the picture.

[2] I don't like the romantic tradition. The mystery that doesn't require much understanding is like turning on the light switch and shining the artificial moon on something, so there is a vague blue beauty and a dark shadow, in which the chirp pavilion calls for insects and frogs with excitement and terror.

[3] A summer day captures the permanent and temporary feeling of the sun shining on the body. The children at the water's edge, standing with their hands spread out and their legs spread apart, look happy and have frogs on their backs. The woman with a small umbrella in the hot sun looks ridiculous. On the other side, there are more tourists. There are Woods like Lv Yun. There are wrinkled clouds in the light blue sky, but it is very hot, and it is extremely hot. The white sail of the boat shone with iron, and the boatman and the workers were burnt black.

[4] There is a man named "Quekai" (translated from Japanese, I'm afraid the pronunciation is not accurate). He must be Cezanne's friend. These are two portraits of him. When we first met him, he was an old fool, grinning, sitting in a chair with his legs crossed, one hand on the back of the chair and his fingers crossed. From the top of his head to his shoes and socks, he showed his timidity, nagging and triviality with trembling and suspicious light and shadow.

[4] She cocked her head and thought deeply about her heart. Memories make her young-of course, there is no such sadness in young people's eyes. Those who suffer for the ideal later find that there is not much left, and it is so slim. But because of suffering, it is better than before, like music floating in the distance, which was originally a simple tone, mixed with the atmosphere of the earth and the season.

[5] The last portrait of Madame Cezanne is vivid. She sits in the garden in the sun. In spring and summer, flowers and white roads raise smoke.

[6] Inconsistency: it is too difficult to go deep; Describe each other's views completely different. From the Book of Rites.

[7] I like the broken house in landscape painting best. It is a white house in the midday sun with a one-eyed dark window. Two big cracks cracked down from the roof, and the house seemed to be laughing, shaking and shaking until it was about to collapse. The path leading to the house is out of sight, and there are high and low grasses everywhere, which are extremely pale and fuzzy in the sun. The choking sun color reminds people of "the ancient road in Chang 'an is full of sound and dust-the west wind and the sunset, the tomb of the Han family." "However, there is no lofty past here, only the desolation and emptiness of the middle class.

Preface to Legend Reprint

[1] Even if individuals can wait, the times are hasty and are already being destroyed, and more destruction is coming. One day, our civilization, whether lofty or flashy, will become a thing of the past. If the word I use most often is "desolation", it is because there is such a threat of desolation in my ideological background.

[2] gag: short and loud voice.

[3] Yan Ying just made a draft. Shocked by the powerful and beautiful patterns, I copied them one by one as willingly as I painted red. Life is like this-it has its patterns and we must copy them. So there is a proverb in the west: "Let life come to you." This kind of submission is not as obscure, obscene, embarrassing and humiliating as the characters in my novels, but it is still very sad.

Talking about music

[1] However, on the one hand, I continue to study at school, and I often walk past concert halls and famous small rooms. Many people play the piano in it, and the sound of the piano is swaying sparsely, as if it is dawn and raining, and the sky will never shine. Empty raindrops hit the tin shed, which made people feel uncomfortable. The piano player occasionally steps on the pedal below, and the piano figures are connected together. It's just that the wind blows the rain into smoke, and it's dripping after the wind.