介于傻A和傻C之间

继续漂泊，下一站大连。

 

在KTV里面唱了阿桑的歌，吊着嗓子，有些伤心。那个沙哑着嗓子的女歌手已经不在了。留下两张专辑，一个多小时的声音。

 

我曾经把阿桑的《叶子》与筠子的《春分立秋冬至》混为一谈，它们曾经在一起，安静的躺在我的128M的ANN mp3里面，陪伴我渡过了两个星期的齿轮箱课程设计，在船院B30二楼的绘图教室里面。

 

而筠子这个女人，与高晓松，与汪峰都有过故事，具体不详。这个女人死于2000年，自杀时一袭红衣。我在多年之后想起的时候去查，才知道。

 

我想起来早一些时候念叨过的句子，“随风入梦，或长留心中”，后来发现来自这张专辑里面《立秋》这一首歌。我想起来有个朋友曾经拿着几个版本的《青春》做对比，忽然悟出来，从筠子的“继续走，继续忘记”，到汪峰的“继续走，继续失去”，这两个版本之间的距离是阴阳，是生死，是永恒。

 

原来汪峰的，《美丽世界的孤儿》以及《回忆之前忘记之后》都是写给这个叫做筠子的女人。

 

今天得知她死于九年前以及喜欢过的一些歌曲的来龙去脉，顺便再来听，“让我唱，让我忘。让我在白发还未苍苍时流浪”；听“我打算在黄昏时候出发 搭一辆车去远方 ”；听“你举着一支花等着有人带你去流浪”。歌曲本身并不像Fans们推崇的那么出色，她的嗓音并不讨好，编曲比不上阿桑的歌耐听，在《青春》里面也镇不住这首歌的气魄——但是，旋律里面有些说不清的情绪，心情和往日纠缠，它会让我们想起一些过去的日子，比如说我在绘图教室里面的那两个星期。

 

继续走，但是不忘记，也不失去。我可以么？

很多年以后我才知道,更圆的月亮,并不在更远的地方.
陈升在<朋友>里面唱,有些已经离开,有些永远不再来.昨天我曾犯错,永远无法弥补,我的朋友,请你埋葬,我的风度.
在青春的最末尾,多么希望能够有那么一个悠长的夏天,用漫长的百无聊赖的时间去梳理那些支离破碎的美好和忧伤.
转眼十年,我听到海风中的声音,它告诉我,雨季不会再来.
过了这个夏天,我就要老去了.来不及回头，就这么匆忙的，糊里糊涂的，埋葬了这些年少的荒唐。
等到什么时候呢,才可以像My Way里面的低沉的声音唱的那样,Regrets, I had a few, but then again, too few to mention...

 

 

 

 

这个老头很可爱。可爱到恐怖的地步。

 

08年奥运会开幕式上面壮观的击缶场面，庞大而不入流。我想之所以会有如此的安排，大概源自一片节选于《史记 廉颇蔺相如列传》的中学课文。

所有的人说的所有的话，做的所有的事，不管是否出自本意，都是受到各方的综合影响的结果——换言之，都是被教出来的。所有认识平庸如艺谋兄的人，都是谁教出来的呢？

假大空的机关报，婆妈的小报，YY的参考消息。CCAV。各种场合的弱智讲话和白痴会议。

头些日子看CCAV，里头有若干人用民乐器如痴如醉的演奏《菊花台》。中国不能算小，搞音乐的人也不能算少。但是流行也好，民乐也罢，甚至算上戏曲，一年到头总很少有几首曲子能听得入耳。当CCAV传出《菊花台》的民乐演奏版的时候，搞民乐的人们是不是应该脸红呢？

影片《非诚勿扰》的开篇，葛优拿出来的“分歧终端机”恰恰就来自我很喜欢的一部港产片，彭浩翔导演的《青春梦工厂》。道具的名称和模样，夸张的台词全是抄的，不同的是这个东西在《青春梦工厂》里面并不曾换到一分钱。这是为什么呢？因为香港的投资方不那么傻？还是因为大陆的编剧太白痴？

一个省十几个副主席一个正主席，全国好几百个作协主席。这些人写出来多少作品？厌倦了官腔的孩子们于是开始“四十五度角仰望天空”。

为什么就没有大师？多少年了，日韩抄欧美，港台抄日韩，大陆抄港台。“参差多态乃幸福之本源”，多少年的审查，多少年的潜移默化耳濡目染，周围尽是傻X的宣传这么多傻X的人，别说创作，就连说话的能力都快丧失了。还有没有人可以标新立异，有没有谁能够接触到，提炼出精彩的东西来？也许有吧，但是多数人看不到。

有一段时间，每个月都上交很多的个人所得税，想想养了这么一群废物，心下不爽，故牢骚一阵，顺便诅咒一下CCAV，诅咒一下广 电 总 局，以及对伟大的GFW发自大肠的敬仰。

顺便提一下，若有九十年代坚持看《南方周末》的，握个手。那时候，那份报纸还是很有良心的。

南通-烟台-蓬莱-烟台-南通-苏州-上海-南通-徐州-南京-徐州-烟台-蓬莱。

 

过去的二十天里面，坐了7次大巴，5次火车；面试两次，玩了两个地方，回了两次家。

 

离开南通的时候，居然忘记像《海角七号》里面的范逸臣那样，甩一句，“X 你 妈 的 南 通”来告别这个让我很恶心的城市了。

 

现在到了一个小县城的开发区，不知道的人听说这里是仙境来的。

 

住到了每天查卫生的宿舍里。

 

还想着马上去宁波折腾一圈……

 

生命是不是一场或波澜不惊或轰轰烈烈的折腾呢。

3月11日，国外知名网站《纽约时报》（《The New York Times》）用英文大篇幅的报道当今中国的网络第一神兽 —— 草泥马。《纽约时报》报道，自1月份首次露面以来，草泥马已经不再只是一种现象。 YouTube上的儿歌吸引了约140万人点击；草泥马卡通记录到了25万次浏览；关于它习性的记录片有18万以上人观看；商店正在出售草泥马玩偶。知识分子书写草泥马的社会意义，草泥马反抗邪恶河蟹的故事正在网络上广为流传。草泥马在中文谐音中的意思特别的下流和污秽，这也正是它想要表达的。

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/12/world/asia/12beast.html?_r=2&ref=world

英文原文
草泥马 的翻译 grass-mud horse ······
强大的河蟹的翻译 river crab······

　　BEIJING — Since its first unheralded appearance in January on a Chinese Web page, the grass-mud horse has become nothing less than a phenomenon.
　　A YouTube children’s song about the beast has drawn nearly 1.4 million viewers. A grass-mud horse cartoon has logged a quarter million more views. A nature documentary on its habits attracted 180,000 more. Stores are selling grass-mud horse dolls. Chinese intellectuals are writing treatises on the grass-mud horse’s social importance. The story of the grass-mud horse’s struggle against the evil river crab has spread far and wide across the Chinese online community
　　Not bad for a mythical creature whose name, in Chinese, sounds very much like an especially vile obscenity. Which is precisely the point.
　　
　　The grass-mud horse is an example of something that, in China’s authoritarian system, passes as subversive behavior. Conceived as an impish protest against censorship, the foul-named little horse has not merely made government censors look ridiculous, although it has surely done that.
　　
　　It has also raised real questions about China’s ability to stanch the flow of information over the Internet — a project on which the Chinese government already has expended untold riches, and written countless software algorithms to weed deviant thought from the world’s largest cyber-community.
　　
　　Government computers scan Chinese cyberspace constantly, hunting for words and phrases that censors have dubbed inflammatory or seditious. When they find one, the offending blog or chat can be blocked within minutes.
　　
　　Xiao Qiang, an adjunct professor of journalism at the University of California, Berkeley, who oversees a project that monitors Chinese Web sites, said in an e-mail message that the grass-mud horse “has become an icon of resistance to censorship.”
　　
　　“The expression and cartoon videos may seem like a juvenile response to an unreasonable rule,” he wrote. “But the fact that the vast online population has joined the chorus, from serious scholars to usually politically apathetic urban white-collar workers, shows how strongly this expression resonates.”
　　
　　Wang Xiaofeng, a journalist and blogger based in Beijing, said in an interview that the little animal neatly illustrates the futility of censorship. “When people have emotions or feelings they want to express, they need a space or channel,” he said. “It is like a water flow — if you block one direction, it flows to other directions, or overflows. There’s got to be an outlet.”
　　
　　China’s online population has always endured censorship, but the oversight increased markedly in December, after a pro-democracy movement led by highly regarded intellectuals, Charter 08, released an online petition calling for an end to the Communist Party’s monopoly on power.
　　
　　Shortly afterward, government censors began a campaign, ostensibly against Internet pornography and other forms of deviance. By mid-February, the government effort had shut down more than 1,900 Web sites and 250 blogs — not only overtly pornographic sites, but also online discussion forums, instant-message groups and even cellphone text messages in which political and other sensitive issues were broached.
　　
　　Among the most prominent Web sites that were closed down was bullog.com, a widely read forum whose liberal-minded bloggers had written in detail about Charter 08. China Digital Times, Mr. Xiao’s monitoring project at the University of California, called it “the most vicious crackdown in years.”
　　
　　It was against this background that the grass-mud horse and several mythical companions appeared in early January on the Chinese Internet portal Baidu. The creatures’ names, as written in Chinese, were innocent enough. But much as “bear” and “bare” have different meanings in English, their spoken names were double entendres with inarguably dirty second meanings.
　　
　　So while “grass-mud horse” sounds like a nasty curse in Chinese, its written Chinese characters are completely different, and its meaning —taken literally — is benign. Thus the beast not only has dodged censors’ computers, but has also eluded the government’s own ban on so-called offensive behavior.
　　
　　As depicted online, the grass-mud horse seems innocent enough at the start.
　　
　　An alpaca-like animal — in fact, the videos show alpacas — it lives in a desert whose name resembles yet another foul word. The horses are “courageous, tenacious and overcome the difficult environment,” a YouTube song about them says.
　　
　　But they face a problem: invading “river crabs” that are devouring their grassland. In spoken Chinese, “river crab” sounds very much like “harmony,” which in China’s cyberspace has become a synonym for censorship. Censored bloggers often say their posts have been “harmonized” — a term directly derived from President Hu Jintao’s regular exhortations for Chinese citizens to create a harmonious society.
　　
　　In the end, one song says, the horses are victorious: “They defeated the river crabs in order to protect their grassland; river crabs forever disappeared from the Ma Le Ge Bi,” the desert.
　　
　　The online videos’ scenes of alpacas happily romping to the Disney-style sounds of a children’s chorus quickly turn shocking — then, to many Chinese, hilarious — as it becomes clear that the songs fairly burst with disgusting language.
　　
　　To Chinese intellectuals, the songs’ message is clearly subversive, a lesson that citizens can flout authority even as they appear to follow the rules. “Its underlying tone is: I know you do not allow me to say certain things. See, I am completely cooperative, right?” the Beijing Film Academy professor and social critic Cui Weiping wrote in her own blog. “I am singing a cute children’s song — I am a grass-mud horse! Even though it is heard by the entire world, you can’t say I’ve broken the law.”
　　
　　In an essay titled “I am a grass-mud horse,” Ms. Cui compared the anti-smut campaign to China’s 1983 “anti-spiritual pollution campaign,” another crusade against pornography whose broader aim was to crush Western-influenced critics of the ruling party.
　　
　　Another noted blogger, the Tsinghua University sociologist Guo Yuhua, called the grass-mud horse allusions “weapons of the weak” — the title of a book by the Yale political scientist James Scott describing how powerless peasants resisted dictatorial regimes.
　　
　　Of course, the government could decide to delete all Internet references to the phrase “grass-mud horse,” an easy task for its censorship software. But while China’s cybercitizens may be weak, they are also ingenious.
　　
　　The Shanghai blogger Uln already has an idea. Blogging tongue in cheek — or perhaps not — he recently suggested that online democracy advocates stop referring to Charter 08 by its name, and instead choose a different moniker. “Wang,” perhaps. Wang is a ubiquitous surname, and weeding out the subversive Wangs from the harmless ones might melt circuits in even the censors’ most powerful computer.
　　
　　Zhang Jing contributed research.