续

那年K到新加坡, L, 我, 以及另一个也在那儿的高中好友四个人聚了两次. 几年不见, 乍一看, K 竟不是记忆里的样子了, 琢磨了半天, 我才明白, 是他胖了. 说话说到高兴处神采飞扬, 倒还是少年时的模样. 问他, 还画画么, 好象, 他也没答, 只拿着新款的数码相机四处按, 和我们每个人合影. 看到我们, 当然是极高兴的, 一瓶接一瓶的啤酒喝不醉, 天文地理世界科技谈笑风生，临走那天, 离飞机起飞时间所剩无几才作别.

后来我和L到美国念博士, 过起单调辛苦的研究生活, 很长一段时间, 我在网上看K的日志, 觉得离他丰富多彩的世界越来越远. 他花了些时间在欧洲游走, 拍照片无数, 记下长长的游记, 随性读多种历史哲学书, 写深奥的读后感.

和我的另一个去法国学电影的朋友一样, K的生活片段总让我看到自己的乏味和普通. 我们在美国小城按部就班的日子, 和他们的游历相比, 好象, 毫无诗意.

是这些生活环境和方式的差异么－－我们无可逃避地为柴米油盐和小宝宝的成长忙碌, "学术兴趣变成纯粹的谋生手段"(dear water, this is from you?:)，我看到很多以前以为很终级的问题不过是特定情况的产物，开始仅仅失望或高兴于身边具体的事情．而K，越来越清晰的,　仍然保留着少年时的精神.　也只有他,　现在还会半夜发来网上新闻共享吧．去年，他已经不玩blog了, 转战facebook．

我,　很老套地,　在这里记点感想，以作留念．其实,　这是关于什么的留念呢? 青春，　朋友，　还是,　仅仅，流水一样的每一天.　　

Trapped

Trapped in snow since Thursday. The snow hasn't been that heavy actually (if seen from the Michigan perspective), but the problem is there doesn't seem to be any snow-removing cars here at all. Most of the towns in the area have become big ice-rinks, and driving in our old t-w-d cedan proved to be extremely risky.

For Eugene, the first excitement with the snow faded quickly, and all that's left about this weather is an endless boredom. Indeed, white can be such a monotonous color, isn't it; plus the trail we usually took to the ducks by the river has been completely snow-blocked--who else can we visit? On the top of all that, he caught a cold yesterday. Ugh, the stay at home is such a funless thing!

没想到, 号称evergreen 的 Pacific Northwest也会有这样铺天盖地的大雪. Eugene的学校关了门, 我们在大雪地里玩了一早上, 就听见他兴奋的尖叫.

白茫茫的世界, 我翻出在Ann Arbor时穿的羽绒衫, 好象回到了几年前. 但这里的空气远没有Michigan那么冷, 人在雪地里半天, 也不觉得寒意. 雪也湿润, 很容易握成团. 那年在Ann Arbor堆雪人, 沙子似的雪根本团不成球, 后来浇了点热水, 才能弄成形.

今天

早上大雨, 开车的时候, Eugene懂事地说, "下雨走local". 我笑, 只好告诉他, 今天起晚了, 宝宝快迟到了, 还是走高速吧, 他乖乖表示同意. 到了教室, 照例陪他去了洗手间, 看他坐下吃老师拿来的点心. 安安静静, 并不和我说再见. 他是这样的, 很少愿意和我们说再见, 大概, 以此表示一点点不情愿?

大雨里, 开到Sears看窗帘. 天气预报说明天下雪降温. Eugene床头的窗户漏风, 想装厚窗帘想了很久, 今天终于要行动. 好心的台湾人店员帮我选东西, 跟我说他女儿去大陆的故事, 告诉我他自己十几岁来美国, 已经不太会写中文, 但还能说, 以及繁体字简体字的问题. 我研究的文化身份认同课题简直无所不在啊.

又跑到Town center的童装店找夹层裤子, 终于都买好, 拐到starbucks要了杯咖啡才回家, 已经是午饭时间了. 一个上午, 以进家门之前小半杯咖啡泼在了自己包上告终.

还停留在乱七八糟提纲阶段的第三章啊, 我实在不知怎么开始, 研究的范围已经远到马拉美的诗和实验电影. 枯坐思考时, 却爱上吃东西. 以前在Ann Arbor时, 越要写东西越吃不下, 就越瘦, 很被人羡慕, 如今, 也终于开始长胖了. 原来, gelato是这样好吃的冰淇淋, cereal真的可以当零嘴, 我--也可以这样爱甜食的.

最近陪Eugene看的动画歌曲又增加了法文曲目, 英文的nursury rhymes好象没什么新鲜的了, 法国人画的小兔子小老鼠, 连我们都觉得好玩. Mimi la Souris系列法文动画片好可爱, 我们在youtube上看到, 很能吸引两岁半的Eugene, 有些教小小朋友感冒要好好休息, 不能贪玩拒绝上厕所之类的日常生活话题, 居然做得别致俏皮. 不过, 我们也真是的, 怎么总把他的语言环境弄复杂呢?

a slow reader

The book I slept on, literally,
talks about late modernist poetics.
Jung, Olson, and the problematics of reading
Olson with a deconstructive point of view
put me into sleep quickly,
my face on my hands on the pages
of long sentences, ever turning
in their pretentious philosophical tone.
What drove me to this corner of the library,
exploring, in vain, the canonical names
as boring and dark as the sky of this rainy Seattle day?
The endless struggle with Chapter 2
is paralyzing indeed, "a nightmare from which
I'm trying to awake."
That's "history" in the words of Stephen Daedalus,
and I, I'm only a slow depressive reader
in a black coat, forever distracted
by the already gone fall colors outside.

家里七舅爷去世（因是妈妈的舅舅，其实该是"七舅公"?），　妈说,　可怜最后病得人事不清,　瘦得剩下一把骨头．　我在电话这头,　不知怎么安慰．　想了一会外婆,　自己发愣．　很久以前，　想写写外婆的故事，现在又常想,　算了,　为什么不散在风里,　水里,　天空里.　也会想,　我连奶奶都没见过,　妈说,　爸爸爱干净一定是象奶奶．　说是个瘦小妇人,　总在屋里四处擦洗.　我们的身体里,　都有她们的精神血液．．．外婆姓徐,　奶奶姓朱．．．

Eugene一天天长大，　昨晚和L说,　小人好象能懂很多道理了.　会说话以后，哭闹得少了．　大家都说他长得象L，我却总能在他脸上笑里看到我哥哥，甚至外婆.

家,　家,　家,　多么奇妙的概念,　是人,　是地理,　也是抽象的感觉啊．　

感触

终于在网上看了秦, 林1990年代初的滚滚红尘. 三毛的剧本以前就读过, 电影却一直没看过.
其实要说三毛的小说散文幼稚水平低, 估计是找得到理由, 但这剧写得实在不错. 也就她, 想得出把张爱玲的故事编一下, 弄出个紧凑完美的架构, 那样传奇动人. 尽管, 颇有些台词似乎欠自然.

和色戒比一下, 又不得不感叹, 张对她自己人物之冷是无人能及. 三毛的整个剧都洋溢作者对女主角的认同, 吸引读者/观众也跟着爱她; 李安也喜欢这样, 能硬给佳芝一个痛苦的童年来拉同情. 他们都是很好很好的艺术家. 但, 只有张爱玲是最最特别的. 只有她, 能冷静残忍地对自己的主角毫不留情, 揭开他们最隐密的欲望和罪恶, 让我们看人性怎样明暗交织, 善恶难辨. 而她自己和胡兰成的故事亦充满进退维谷的困境, 让人无法说是说非.

I don't know if it's the problem of my firefox or this long-loved blogspot has started disappointing me-- whenever I typed Chinese, the browser would just go down and everything went lost. C-r-a-p, I almost shouted! It'll be stupid to stop blogging altogether just because of this, right, especially when now I'm kind of determined to blog more in Chinese?

Or, perhaps, I'll just give up and keep blogging in English?

Anyways, it's been raining for two weeks, perhaps more, and I started wondering, together with Eugene, when we'll ever be able to go to the zoo. Elephant, Bear, Lion, Tiger, Giraffe, Hyena, Kangaroo, Gorilla, and his favorite--Oranguta. Why does a child love animals? I don't even know how to explain the very concept of "zoo" to him. I never realized it could be so hard. Why these cages? Where are they from? Why don't we just let them be in the jungle? Why do we have to "know" them?

dissertation的日程永远落后, 我每天都在想放弃整个PHD.
离ann arbor太远, 是不是个理由, 可当初三年费尽心血过了考试吃的苦, 就这么算了?
一晃这么些年, 最近, 连失败的感觉都淡了, 只是无味.

Another sketch

前天半夜, L忽然说, K在MSN找他. 我也一惊. 几年不联络, 此兄有事要说? 果然, 寒暄之后说结婚了. 我们当然说恭贺, 但想想, 也非什么惊人消息, 莫非还有更大的新闻在后面讲? 又天马行空半天, K才发来一网址, 说想分享一下刚读到的文章, 一时找不到人, 遂在网上抓住L。点开一看, 无非一小愤青说国内某些地方某些事。我和L大笑不止，并又一次感叹，我们老了，K却永远还是K。

仔细一算, 很惊人的, 我和K十二三岁起就认识了. 一直佩服他的才华. 他的画有清新又浓烈的美, 而且有种effortless的魅力，再热烈的色彩布局都仿佛信手拈来, 真实自然. 他小时候写的散文也很好, 看东西有非一般的视角， 总是新奇可爱的. 我最初看过的科幻小说都是他介绍的. 记忆里, 他成天为些非正统的东西兴高采烈, 一直让老师头疼, 在那样死板的体制里, 他代表不听话，行为举止不着边际。高中时候，我很快去念文科, 不太知道他的事, L有一段和他接近，后来告诉我他那时对纯科学的向往。大学以后，就断了联系, 听说他莫名其妙念了地质系, 拿个敲石头的小锤子四处晃，我倒是很能想象他穿着破牛仔裤拎个锤子的样子。

零零年左右流行网上同学录的时候，很多人一下找回联系. 那时我们在新加坡, L 有天说K在网上露面了, 我们才知道他在香港。好象是零二年的上半年，K要到新加坡开会, 兴奋地通知了我们。（to be continued）

Am I outgrowing my passion for poetry? Otherwise how could I feel so tired of the texts I'm studying and going to study for the dissertation and the research afterward?

The email interview with the Canadian poet started in a way worse than I expected, and the ongoing q-and-a bores me to the degree that I wanted to shout: give me something new and fresh and painful and profound and exhilarating and shiningly red and golden as the maple leaves! To him or to myself, I don't know, though. Must be my fault--stupid questions make boring interviews, don't they?

My interest in film as an art form seems completely gone. The other day I was in the public library, returning Eugene's books and trying to find something new for him. I suddenly came across a whole collection of Ingmar Bergman. Three or four years ago I would have definitely checked them out. The dvd's looked quite new, tempting indeed. But the current me! -- I picked some from the collection, read a bit of the blurbs and then just put them back, saying to myself: well, I don't have time to see them; probably won't forever.

久不写了, 实在没什么好记. 高兴的不高兴的, 无非一觉睡了, 都接着忙, 这是不是
终级的安静?

随便记

在家里已经喝过咖啡了,　所以，我在柜台里只拿了一罐牛奶，收银机后面一如既往开开心心的老头儿惊问――就这个?　我点头，　他惊呼―― A complex woman with a simple taste!　只是为了让我,　也让他自己笑一笑吧．　 　

――其实在安娜堡的时候, 我几乎从不在咖啡店读书写作, 只有课间匆匆去买东西或者见老师见朋友. 但这些年在加州和现在的华盛顿, 远离安娜堡的时候, 却总喜欢在咖啡店里写东西了. 在热闹的人群里, 在陌生人谈生意谈保险谈工作谈情说爱的声音里, 我写诗写散文写我永远写不完的小说, 还有不知什么时候能写完的论文. 我喜欢看好脾气的店员和顾客玩笑, 也喜欢看当班的警察或UPS送货人疲惫的笑脸, 和他们拿了咖啡甜饼狼吞虎咽的样子, 或者打扮土土的小本科生看报纸看试卷认真的神情, 那个年纪是反叛的时候, 但他们自己并不知道他们对世间一切有多认真.

奇怪的, 从小爱在安静的地方读书的我, 会喜欢坐在这样吵闹的地方工作. 现在大多数时间都独处, 这是我接触人群的唯一方式了？

----

昨晚又抱着Eugene一起跳舞, 我们咯咯笑成一团.我们的"跳舞", 其实就是跟着音乐旋转摆动身体.对于舞台表演的舞蹈, 我小时候有种向往, 觉得神奇美妙, 后来慢慢丢开了. 近来因为Eugene, 又想起. 也想起爸爸, 去年夏天回家还和他一块看了一晚上电视里的芭蕾舞剧灰姑娘. 妈妈也说好看, 但好象没有爸爸那么喜欢. 真有意思, 爸爸没正经学过什么艺术, 但能画画, 也爱听音乐, 那种喜好浑然天成. 我自己已经好象被学院训练的文学欣赏弄得找不到最初纯自然的爱好了, Eugene倒让我重新看到, 爸爸的, 我的, 兴趣.

Cool 就一个字

http://poetrydaily.net/poem.php?date=14150

Kevin Young是我近两年开始喜欢的诗人. Poetry Daily上的这一首短诗, 我一下读完, 感觉好象闷热天里吃了碗冰, 从里到外清爽冰凉. Cool的原意不就是凉快么! 还有比这更干净简洁又情感生动的字句么!

费加罗婚礼序曲

我们听古典音乐是这几年的事. L比我更着迷一些, CD都是他做了research以后买的, 他爱贝多芬更爱马勒, 我好象不太受得了强有力或极深沉至创伤感的听觉感受, 比较能接受巴赫, 第一次认真听就觉得忽然明白了什么叫"如沐春风", 那些古老的弦乐协奏曲让我全身心舒坦, 有要跟随旋转舞蹈的冲动.

可是可是, 要说爱一样东西, 在我们家, 没人能比Eugene更全心投入爱到极致了. 他最最最喜欢的音乐是莫扎特费加罗婚礼的序曲. 第一次听到, 只有一岁半的胖Eugene就跟着欢快的节奏动膝盖起舞了. 此后常常听, 发展到拒绝任何其他CD, 只要这一张的这一支曲子! 我陪着听到做梦都是这旋律在响的地步, 感叹竟弄出审美疲劳来.

九个月过去了, Eugene两岁多了, 会说很多中文的英文的词了, 有了很多老的新的朋友, 听了很多东方的西方的故事儿歌, 长了很多爬高上低的本事, 对曾经白天黑夜都要的牛奶没了胃口, 对几个月前爱不释手的小鸭子的书也早没了最初的耐心和热情. 但是对费加罗婚礼序曲, 他依然乐此不疲! 任何时候见到那张CD都眼睛一亮, 听的时候要拉着我们一起跳舞. 我们拿了一份去幼儿园, 让他和小朋友分享音乐, 连老师都吃惊于他对这曲子的热爱.

就象天上下着的细雨, 山里流淌的瀑布, 草丛里冒出的野花, 路上忽然出现的野兔小鹿, Eugene象爱它们一样爱着莫扎特的这支曲子. 一定是莫扎特的魔力吧, 让没有什么后天审美经验的小孩子如此, 如此喜欢.

When we finally settled down in the area where the sky was always full of clouds,
the political news coverage became increasingly colorful
and fun to read just like an intricately-woven fiction piece. I sat,
exhausted yet highly intrigued, reading the New York Times, lost in a world as alien,
seeing myself dressed in bright orange paint and flying in an ever dark sphere.

Dear Eugene, your first days in this new day care were traumatizing to mommy.
I was even more nervous than I had felt in those early days
at the UM English department. For your smooth transition and all your happiness
in these past few days, mommy wants to thank everyone and—life itself.

I was driving around the shopping area near the town center, when it occurred
to me that I shouldn’t blame all those friends. It was me.
I simply drifted away from them, like a leaf, a melody heard
only vaguely in distance, or a small piece of joke that lost its flavor in time.
One of them once wrote, “you’re in such contrast with me—you’ve been going
farther and farther, while I remain here, almost forever.”

搬家之后, 几句

过去的一个月好象有几年那么长
我几乎不记得自己blog的地址
其实, 就是累
转家具店, 买各种日用杂货, 仿佛永远做不完的unpacking
还有一个跑过来跳过去破坏力无穷的小子需要注意力
论文呢? 我不知道那是关于什么
美国, 美国,
我连这都开始怀疑起来
疲惫不是积极思考的时候
维生素能不能让我振作, 一如少年时见到喜欢的笑脸
还有钙片
吞咽是这样被动的行为吧, 因为总和哭泣关联

Read this little prose poem from today's poetrydaily, http://poetrydaily.net/poem.php?date=14085

Theodore Worozbyt's "Portrait"

Since when have I become so interested in prose poems, especially those in a deceptively bland style? The quiet narrative voice somehow reminds me of myself-- an ideal voice I wish I could write in one day.

Saving Face

Today's lunch, I saw Alice Wu's 2004 prize-winning film _Saving Face_, starring Joan Chen, Michelle Krusiec, and Lynn Chen. Fabulous performances from the leading roles and a story nicely told-- a really nice work to watch!

有劲两岁补记

有劲两岁, 至今仍只用单字，不太会自己把两个词连起来造句，而且说话也基本只限于在家，　外人面前不出声. 　着急他不说话也不是一天两天了, 就开始在自己身上找原因, 可能, 真的是因为我是个话少的人? 刺激他不够? 而且, 我自己社交能力也不怎么样, 他的确从我这儿学不到太多啊.

说起来, 大概, 一切有关人的事, 对有劲来说, 都没有自然万物更有意思. 他爱所有见过的动物. 鸡鸭常常去喂, 自不必说了, 小猫小狗必是要摸摸看看的, 松鼠野兔鸟儿要跟着跑, 动物园里的羚羊猩猩长颈鹿都要拍了照片回来在电脑上反复回味. 除了动物, 绿草野花树枝也仿佛有无穷的吸引力, 在草坪上打滚是最惬意的事了,　偶尔看到的蒲公英简直就是有劲最爱的最爱. 最可笑是有一天跟爸爸看到了正下山的太阳, 鲜红欲滴, 美不胜收, 有劲竟低下头作若有所思状, 就差当下赋诗一首了, 从此记得要在傍晚去那个特定的地点看夕阳.

想想也是, 天地间可看可听的东西这么多, 人们忙忙碌碌的营生在有劲眼里一定奇怪而无味吧. 比如, 为什么要为了吃饭坐在那里那么久, 窗外的风吹着树, 鸟儿在树上叫, 都等着我们去看去听!　为什么大人们走来走去见了面必要对着说许多莫名其妙的话, 对周遭的景物却又都不管不顾?

因为有劲,　我真实地爱上了Orchard Park－－学校租给研究生的廉价公寓，房子老旧,　小区环境保养马虎，被很多美国人觉得破败不堪而不屑一顾．但难得这里有两个大playground, 设施齐全．　而且树多,　又临着大片没开发的荒草地,　附近还有人种菜,　种果树，养鸡和火鸡，有点原始的自然感觉，加上戴维斯最不缺的阳光,　小孩子的户外活动可以丰富多彩．又因为居住环境拥挤,　邻居间距离近,　很容易邻里交往，是个热闹所在,　孩子们不愁没有玩伴．等有劲长大了,　还能记得这里天天看见所以一点都不希奇的兔兔，小鸡,　blue jay, 和松鼠,　集市上见的用奶瓶喝奶的小羊羔，以及邻居这群跟他一样或者比他还要皮的小朋友吗？

在空调忽然停止运转的安静间歇
我看着房里太多要packing的东西长叹一声继续网络上
无聊的游荡, 用亦舒的口气, "不是不愧疚的. "
这些年没有一个夏天不疲惫地旅行或搬家
packing-unpacking是永远的主题
高中大学时的想象里这该何等多姿多彩
是我幸运吧, 心想事成倒底难得
而事成之后的幻灭又是个不同故事

离开, 离开总是难,
戴维斯灼烧般的阳光, 即便此刻让人哭笑不得无处躲藏, 大概也会成为日后怀想吧.
倒是没有太多人要说再见,

以上这些有没点通俗言情味道?

sizzling hot

Another week of high temperatures-- today it'll get to 112 degrees Fahrenheit/44 Celsius

recent readings:

God of Small Things
Madam Bovary
Mad Science in Imperial City

读后感乱涂

窗外的梧桐, 初夏的风, 我奢侈地享受
铁观音香潤如一句诗里的隐喻, 看定购多时周末终于到货的书
前卫实在不应该只是fancy节奏另类词藻以及科学符号当意象
我想掩卷大笑,
关于混乱的青春同性的情意和政治
政治无疾而终的理想, 有没有身体以外的探索可能
关于故国神游
除了俄底浦斯式的伤痛, 还有没有更新鲜的话题
是我已经成了这么一个jaded reader
早厌倦了不加解释的后现代拼贴?
还是, 关于这些跨文化作者,
我的疑问终于成形----有多种语言选择的时候,
撇开市场问题不谈, 我们为什么/如何选择一种语言写作而放弃其他?

十年前, 就是六月, 我在毕业离开北京前最后一次去表舅家, 看到他们在美国游大瀑布拍的录像, 心里阴晴不定, 因为挣扎了很久, 决定暂时把出国的念头放一放. 那时很难想象, 十年后的现在, 真的到了太平洋这一边这样的生活. 四月里去Buffalo开会有一晚去了大瀑布, 美东还是天寒地冻的时候, 我在冰冷的水雾里想起当年, 倒也没有什么感慨.

这些天坐火车在Davis和Berkeley之间来来回回, 看窗外北加州大片农田, 想起上大学时每学期的火车, 意识到那时梦想和憧憬太多, 还不太会看风景. 现在眼光比较安静. 在Davis住了这两年多, 从valley到湾区跑了那么多次, 都没有这些天火车上的景致让我更喜欢北加州. 翠绿的田地, 明亮刺眼的阳光, 荒芜海滩上跳跃的鸟儿, 画了一幅和硅谷里匆忙的公路上截然不同的图景, 只显得富足平静.

今天下午, 我从Berkeley美术馆阴暗一角的Pacific Film Archive里钻出来, 拿着一包玉米片(corn chips 怎么翻译?)补错过的午饭, 慢慢走到地铁站去, 有成群的本科生从身边走过, 花枝招展, 忽然就非常self-consciously地想念起曾经小小的语言学院, 和花了好久才喜欢上可是很快又离开的Ann Arbor.

speaking, hearing, and overhearing

So many of your books were written in the year
I was born, and the most beautiful one,
printed on white canvas, with double strings attached
to each page as if anyone could tie the book up
and silence it any way s/he chooses,
was made in December that year, the month I was born.

We were almost in the same story, then,
weren't we--when I first opened my eyes to the dim light
of a winter night, bathed in my mother's water and blood,
you were probably writing the cover lines,
depicting pomegranate seeds with impressionist
"red tears" and "blood pearls."

"Yes, 'idol,' i-d-o-l, as in 'I idolize you.'"
Am I idolizing you by reading, rereading, imagining, and rewriting?

Archival work

Went to Berkeley Art Museum/ PFA twice this week, and will have to go again next week.
browsing Cha's notes and documents for her video work yesterday, i for the very first time in my life realized how mesmerizing archival work could be. it was travelling back to a time through the precious manuscripts and old photos. exploring Cha's ideas through her own handwritten notes seemed to have brought me so unimaginably close to her that a direct conversation almost started in my mind!

又看丰子恺

http://www.zikai.org/

今早在网上闲逛, 连来连去上了这个网站, 重温丰子恺的漫画和散文, 不经意间, 感动到热泪盈眶.
小时候就喜欢看他那些儿童漫画了, 象瞻瞻拿两把扇子作自行车骑的小画, 早已经深深刻在记忆里, 每次看都忍不住微笑.
有了有劲之后, 对一切有关小孩子的东西关切程度自然更不一样. 今天看到那些早已熟悉的小画, 因为对小孩子的种种童稚又超出大人想象的举止有了切身感受, 越发倍感亲切, 更觉得丰子恺对儿童的天真烂漫把握得完美贴切. 而他那些关于自己孩子的散文, 记录他们童年点滴, 伤感他们(又何尝不是我们!)在成长中必然失却的原初性情, 真挚感人, 让我感动也让我惭愧.

有劲还不满两岁, 但美国人说的terrible two已迹象明显, 是家里捣乱大王. 开了冰箱乱翻, 乱拍电脑键盘, 故意往地上身上倒水倒汤, 不爱吃的东西从碗里挑出来扔掉, 任何事情不合心意必大哭不止, 凡此种种, 每每让我多有呼呵. 其实, 我是多么应该更好地珍惜享受他一生中最可宝贵的现在, 他不受纷扰细心观察一切的现在, 他无所顾虑时刻真情流露的现在.

一章又一 章

上一章写得辛苦, 放在那儿实在提不起精神改, 计划中要做的诗人采访还搁置着, 没什么热情.

这些天东看西看, 倒是联系了Berkeley美术馆去作下一章的准备工作. 关于Theresa Cha的那本书大家已说得太多, 我在想不知她的电影和installation art(中文译作什么?)作品里有没可以长篇大论来写的东西, 所以要去Berkeley看一下. Theresa Cha的东西似乎属于那种经典的前卫, 虽然表面看眼花缭乱, 但内涵清楚, 又有很具体的历史思考, 大概因此很受学者的喜爱. 在A2的第一年快结束的时候, 我对Cha简单直白却又充满疼痛的字句及其中表现出的对历史的洞察一见钟情, 这几年始终无法忘怀Dictee最初给我的冲击, 一度想就这一本书来写一章. 可是把已有的研究看了看之后发现这本书好象实在没太多好写了, 我那篇图文并茂的会议论文最多也就能做一章中的一小部分而已, 郁闷. 但愿下星期去Berkeley能有什么美好发现.

我们书房窗外, 几只blue jay好象想在院子里搭窝.

I've been catching up on the back issues of New Yorker, PMLA, Poetry, and Journal of AAStudies these days. The feeling is like having too much cheese cake-- one piece for an afternoon tea is perfect, but imagine having one after another nonstop for several hours and continuously for several days!

But for moments of ecstasy brought by words like these, I really wouldn't know what's the point of subscribing to all these journals and magazines:

"In the end, we all outlast the object of our adoration, perhaps because passion runs its course more swiftly than other human emotions, perhaps as a result of excessive familiarity with the object of desire." --from a story by Roberto Bolano, New Yorker of Nov 26, 2007

--Isn't the passage simply brilliant?

我的blog好象已经不能免俗地变成了育儿日记, 但最近实在是每天二十四小时对着有劲, 想写点intellectual的东西都不可能.
有劲又生了一个星期的病, 而且把医生弄糊涂了, 搞不清他最近倒底怎么了, 接二连三有事. 今天早上开始有了起色, 虽然还是cranky(从Maria那里学来, 是我最近最常用的词), 但总算是脱离了退烧药. 累了几天, 我终于又觉得生活美好起来.

----胡乱几句, 算是发泄.

Almost surrealistically, I became Dad or Mom in my mind.

"Running a temperature again," I said to L, the third time in the past two weeks. While L tried to feed E some breakfast, I called the pediatrician's office to make an appointment and then to the familycare.
On the way to the hospital, I thought of how years ago Dad would put me on his back and walk to the hospital as fast as he could when I was sick. And how Mom's hand on my burning forehead would bring a cool and comforting feel.

(There seemed to be so much to write, but I become wordless all of a sudden.

Cold? Allergy?

I'm totally confused.

Is it cold or allergy? Will allergy cause sore throat? Why neither cold medicine nor allergy medicine work on me? Whatever it is, it's been on and off for two months, ugh...

recent highlights

--妈妈说他和爸爸在路上看到捐款箱就去捐, 隔天学校有号召捐款的通知, 她大老远专程跑了一趟又去捐了一次.

--发现慈济的工作人员(志工?) 很好, 问题回答清楚, 态度很可爱.

--这几天又是一个人带有劲在家, 还遇状况, 星期天找不到他的医生, 火急火燎赶去"Urgent Care Clinic," 到那儿一看, 全是抱着小孩子的. 拖了几天的症状一大堆, 还是病毒, 被打发回家喝水. 我把汽车冷气开足, 在戴维斯超过40摄氏度的太阳里, 车里怎么都热, 我不停地喊有劲喝水, 从后视镜里看他的脸色, 一边气愤地想如果是有劲自己的医生说不定能给更仔细的判断和更有意义的建议.

--热情的诗人又来了信, 说要给寄我更多作品.

--前阵子参与忙的一个session proposal不行, 今年的MLA没了指望, 这最高级别的会还真是不容易进? 可恨我前几个月太忙, 没办法多投几个abstracts碰运气.

酷暑的开始

我对着天气预报说, 唉呀, 心理准备还没有作足呢, 居然, 夏天已经来了??? 从昨天开始, 103F/39~40 C, 要持续到星期天. 我知道, 这里虽然离SF只有一个多小时车程, 但因为被山挡住了海上的水汽, 陷在山谷里有典型的冬冷夏热的内陆气候, 我知道, 这里六七月的高温可以持续45C好些天, 但是但是但是, 现在才只是五月中啊! 这样的天气, 也太疯狂了!

折腾了一个星期, 终于读完了那本诗集, 给诗人回了信, 斟酌再斟酌, 没有问我觉得很有批评性的那个问题, 只告诉他有哪几首我很喜欢. 职业写诗那么艰难, 评论人家还是应该慎重再慎重的. 面对面接触或直接通信时,　怎么能让人看到自己的不足, 但又不让他/她觉得丝毫不舒服， 批评的艺术该怎么把握?　提问该比直接给意见婉转，但要指向明确又好听好看很难啊．．．

Phrase of the day: "the ugly business of living"

Found this passage by Ted Berrigan quoted by Linh Dinh:

"It seems to me that anybody that writes a few hundred poems ought to be able to write a very good one. Probably should be able to write twenty very good ones. Because the first, if you start writing, the first couple of years you write quite a number of pretty good poems; it's just after that it gets a little hard. And then one wants to see what you do in the next three or four years, and if you're still around after that six or seven years, you're probably going to be around. You're probably going to be a poet. And everybody is rooting for you to do that, but if you don't, it's all right. What the hell. We get ours, you get yours. I mean, it's not quite that brutal, but in a way, it has to be. It's a full-time thing, and particularly the business of becoming a poet."

Everything said here is so true, but in the end I can't help feeling, sadly, what "business" is not "a full-time thing"!

morning reading

--The NYT website again features large disaster photos of China on the opening page, the second or the third times in the past couple of months? What a "good" year 2008 has given us! I'm not religious, but would like to pray with all my heart that the quake-ridden families in Sichuan and the neighboring provinces can get the help they need as soon as possible!

--Last year when Prof G told me he would edit a special "China issue" of MQR for this spring, featuring writings/interviews of Yiyun Li, Ha Jin, Gao Xingjian, etc., I hadn't realized how the 2008 Beijing Olympics would affect culture and media at this side of the Pacific so greatly. Then in the past few months, it became increasingly clear that anything--simply anything-- about China would cause buzz this year. The New Yorker printed Ha Jin's "The House behind a Weeping Cherry" last month and this month gave Yiyun Li's "A Man like Him".
Both these two New Yorker stories are captivating. If Ha Jin's can be predictable in a sense with its description of Chinatown prostitutes' miserable life, Li's is not without surprises in terms of plot, set in contemporary China centering around an old bachelor art teacher. Yet while reading them I can't help wondering if they're translatable, or more specifically if the writing will remain equally good when translated into Chinese. I've always liked Ha Jin and am starting to read more by Yiyun Li after hearing endless praises of her from Americans. But deep inside, I seem to doubt if the stories can appear as interesting in Chinese as in English. Why so? What aspects of the writing make me think so? I've yet to read more closely to put my intuition into reasonable argument. No task for now. or, for ever--what's the point of taking the trouble to prove something is not as good as it appears?

I'm reading this review of a new biography of Richard Rorty at http://insidehighered.com/views/2008/05/07/mclemee

Looks like a fun book to read?

Back to work

it's 1:12pm, and i tell myself to go back to work after such a long vacation (it lasts 19 days already!).

opening poetrydaily.net, i make this pretty interesting poem as a warm-up reading,
and continue i will
on the journey of dissertation

还是书

长周末, 我带有劲去了两次植物园. 因为那几本Tafuri的关系吧, 野鸭子是他现下除了猫以外的最爱. 一大早, 鸭子们都卧在河滩树荫下睡觉, 无奈有劲边在鸭子群里练跑步边大叫"鸭鸭", 还试图去摸它们, 扰了人家好梦, 引来一阵又一阵烦恼的叫声.

还去了趟Borders, 给邻居孩子买生日礼物, 凑巧发现一本很老的书, Make Way for Ducklings, Robert McCloskey 在1941年出的. 图画都没有上色, 只是铅笔素描的样子, 但很生动. 我翻了几页给有劲看, 他立刻对里面 小鸭子们过马路遇到汽车的一幅画有了兴趣, 就不再到处乱跑乱翻, 跟我坐下来等着继续看. 真有意思, 我瞎撞上的书倒都对他胃口, 是不是因为直觉和喜好也是有遗传因素, 他其实是和我一样的兴趣呢?

不过我其实是这样boring的一个妈妈吧, 除了书什么都不会挑.

好些天没正经工作了, 贴一篇几个月前的日记激励自己--

12/14/2007

The huge lights hanging down from the high ceiling doesn't illuminate as much as
the sunshine from the partly blinded windows. why should they--the lights--stay on all day long?
I'm sitting in the main reading room of Davis library, trying to write.
the conversation on MSN just now was going perfectly when i
had to cut it short. time is so limited, and i'm always in a hurry and have to multi-task
these days. While talking on MSN, I got some glimpses of Lucien Freud's portrait paintings
on NYT. They're astonishingly powerful--touching and unsettling at the same time to me.
Looking at them, I feel as if in the middle of reading a novel like A Hundred years of
solitude or Middlesex: the work's power is so tempting that I would wholeheartedly immerse
myself in it for as long as possible.

Stayhome Mom, 港剧, 及爱情的戏剧表现?

这两个星期L不在家, 我放下一切工作, 专心作Stayhome Mom, 每天接送有劲, 打扫卫生做饭, 抽空购物, 还跑了车行询问修车事宜, 周末有劲不去托儿所就带着他到处玩, 务求能让他白天消耗掉体力回家吃饭睡觉能少调皮. 因为前阵子赶论文有点累伤了, 现在就当放个假. 暂时丢开写作的压力, 每天开着车在阳光里, 觉得生活真是轻松啊. 还是懒吧, 不用思考就开心.

不工作, 又看腻了那几个文学网站, 简直不知道怎么消遣. 就忽然想起港剧来. 常想, 我应该好好分析写写自己对某些通俗作品的热爱, 说不定是个好话题. 港剧实在是我的一个最爱. 我们长大的时候, 还没有日剧韩剧, 最初的那些台湾剧也比较土, TVB的现代剧仿佛是个新世界的窗口 (那些武侠剧又是另一个故事了), 其实无非香港人爱拍的警匪啊, 律师啊, 再不就经商啊, 中间当然要有爱情戏作主线. 总共那么几个套路, 常常看了上句就知道下句说什么. 可是那些俊男靓女实在养眼, 把香港都涂成玫瑰色, 在我的想象里.

印象深的一个戏是个小制作,难忘还是因为我自己当时的心境. 大学毕业回到爸妈身边, 进一家翻译社工作, 百无聊赖, 不知该出国呢还是在国内读研或者干脆换工作, 周末常常闷闷不乐地在家发呆, 书是读不进去, 开了电视乱按, 就看到<监证实录>, 林保怡和陈慧珊的一个短剧. 和那些明星云集的大制作不同, 我几乎认不出什么名角来, 而且TVB刚开始拍这种医学科技帮助破案的电视剧(如果trace港剧跟风美国电视秀, 也应该是个好课题?), 很多地方还粗糙. 但这个短剧对爱情的表现有趣, 两个主角猜来猜去, 又总是不凑巧时空错位, 观众对有情人终成眷属的期盼一次次落空. 因为男女主角两个演员都很特别, 都不太漂亮但又都有独特且讨人喜欢的魅力, 那个 forever delayed good ending就能发挥作用到极致. 当时断续看了一阵, 打发了很多本来不快的时光, 几乎要对男主角有个crush :-)

后来很快离开了家, 一直忙着, 谁知这两天就又想起来, 在网上找来看, 对这个小电视剧(限于~1, 续集编得牵强, 没有最初13集精致) 表现爱情的手法又有了新体会. 和美式电视秀或者好莱坞的爱情drama多么不同: 我爱看的这种爱情戏把重点放在恋爱的最最初, 几乎还没开始却又缘分已定的阶段, 相比之下, sex and the city 之类实在就太直白没悬念了. 和那个说烂了的笑话又有关联了----说外国人实在搞不懂贾宝玉和林黛玉怎么会在谈恋爱, 看来看去他们不过是在吵架啊.

其实那天写完, 就笑自己了. 怎么能笑话有劲呢----我自己几年前就写过一篇日志说读书不过是读来读去那几本最爱罢了. 过山过海跑这么远, 书架上的书多了几百本, 还是最爱红楼梦啊.

最初的书

星期六又带有劲去图书馆打发时间, 小子让人哭笑不得, 还是坚持要Nancy Tafuri, 这图书馆实在是去得毫无意义----借来借去这几本看过的书!

说起来, Nancy Tafuri的书的确很适合做启蒙读物. 通篇大幅图画, 简单几个字说个小故事, 天真有趣. 当初是我歪打正着吧, 什么免费拿东西的场合, 捡到Tafuri 最经典的成名作Have You Seen My Duckling, 回来翻了翻, 没看出什么高明之处, 就扔在了有劲的玩具堆里. 他一岁半时,我给他胡乱翻书讲故事, 没想到他自己在一堆东西里发现了这本书, 一见钟情, 最迷恋时每天要求听三四遍以上这调皮小鸭鸭贪玩结果妈妈到处找他的故事, 薄薄一册书翻得屡屡脱页, 一层层粘回去. 后来我就到图书馆去找Tafuri的其他书, 她画的其他小动物也很温和可爱, 极其适合小小孩子看. 不过, 看来看去, 有劲还是最最喜欢调皮的小鸭鸭. 这次在图书馆, 硬是又拿了两本一模一样的回来!

我也在找其他的幼儿读物给有劲换换胃口, so far好象只有风格迥异的Antoinette Portis 的 Not a Box可以媲美. 唉, 图书馆在他, 实在还不是拓展视野的地方, 倒是个提供机会让他不断加深已有概念和情感的所在!

很仰慕那些艺术家, 能创作出图画和故事让连话都不会说的小孩子热爱. 所谓的童心未泯其实是多么高深的境界!
不知道我们每个人最初看过的书都是怎样的, 对那些书的热爱都持续多久?

回来后专心家务, 几日没看书写东西, 芝加哥那天找到的关于研究的感觉很快变成隔夜的梦, 抓不住了. 几个邮件要写, 答应要把文章寄给一个教授, 都拖着没做. 昨天东奔西跑买菜和宝宝要吃的东西, 今天坐在书桌前不想动, 不想管脏衣服, 脏地板, 脏床单, 只想看跟论文一点关系没有的小说, 或者跟人闲话. L不在家, 连说话的人都没有.

上个星期在AA的关键词是找工作. 我还得再等一年, 但朋友们都在忙, 研究生院倒底不是永远的避难所. 大学毕业时找工作的挫败感始终是痛苦的回忆, 后来扔了那份不喜欢的工作后继续读书, 这么些年其实我一直都在逃避吧. 明年终于还是要上啊, 教书会是我喜欢的工作吗?跟在哪个国家,　哪个地方教书有关么?

copy of a journal entry

4/18/08

The Chicago conference was not as scary and cold as I had expected (two people had told me their bad feeling about the conference). The roundtable discussion on AA poetry, actually the only reason I came one day earlier, was pretty interesting, and I even joined the conversation in the q and a section. One of the professors on the roundtable is one of the few AA poetry critics I cited in my diss. and was really nice to talk to. Today I was pleasantly surprised to find two poetry reading sessions in the morning, where I met people I got to know in yesterday’s discussion and even got signed books of poetry (for free!)!

My presentation went ok, although at first my voice was kind of shaky. One of the other panelists mentioned something Advisors have mentioned earlier this week and reminded me again of something important I needed to add into the chapter. The people I met yesterday gave me great questions and we had a nice chat afterwards…

By the time I got to the airport, ready for the final trip home, I was so exhausted that every move brought sore on my back and legs.

Travel

从来没有这么累地旅行过, 经历航班延误, 行李丢失, 同时生病, 还要改文章, 见老师若干, 每天说话说到喉咙冒烟, 还要思考一大堆不着边际的抽象问题, 比如先锋形式的政治性, 比如只注意"意思"不追究语言本身倒底有什么不对. 耽在MN那天, 我在机场候机厅朗读自己的发言稿, 因为时间实在太紧, 只好疯狂地不理会周围人怪异的眼神, 旁若无人.

英语系的门面装修了, 有人找到工作欢天喜地, 有人碰到大挫折灰头土脸. 老师们实在还是老样子, 写写文章说说话, 每个人用自己的方式定义文学研究, 好象无一例外地不断添白头发, 显老.
但安娜堡好象没有去年回来时那么让人兴奋那么可爱. 也可能, 只是我太累了. 下次再来时, 几个好朋友都该走了. 小时候会为来来去去伤心哭泣, 现在, 就叹气.