Z是一個會把大小寫跟你算的一清二楚的人。他說我的時候，總會豎起大拇指。說德文的時候，碰到名詞也得點頭一次。
坐在咖啡店的時間很長，於是我注意到他除了在意大小寫外，每次說到第十七個字的時候眼睛都會眨一下。不過我猜他自己並不知道這個關係，畢竟我也是因為坐在咖啡店的時間太長才歸納出這道理。如果硬是要有個理論來解釋這件事情，我想應該是因為楊乃文說他喜歡質數的單純。
後來我為他寫了一首三八拍的歌，而且都是切分。教他唱的時候，我才想到這樣事情會便得很複雜，心疼他會神經錯亂。可是他開心的很，大概是開心我答應他的事情做到了。他唱起來非常溫柔，會一邊豎大拇指，一邊點頭，一邊眨眼睛。不過我都有算好，這首歌用他的名字結尾，而且總共有十三萬兩千六百五十一拍。於是他一唱完我馬上可以親他一下。
ps. 剛剛等紅燈的時候，旁邊有媽媽騎摩托車載小男孩。小男孩手上一個紅氣球折成的帽子，頭上一頂綠氣球帽子。路燈亮了，媽媽就吹起油門，然後綠氣球帽子就飛走了。在我旁邊的小女孩看到馬上掙脫媽媽的手去追綠氣球帽子，拿到手就心喜的戴在自己頭上。小男孩似乎沒注意到帽子飛了，不過也有可能是他想說還有一定紅的。我覺得雖然他們以後會破鏡重圓，但是小女孩一定會把綠帽子戴回小男孩頭上。
margin: 0
December 23, 2008
December 21, 2008
那是我的
K在我的牆上說他現在正在用我的名字唱歌。他說他唸了一整天的黑格爾，卻怎麼都想到那天在咖啡店裡我們的討論和圖畫。他問我記得嗎？我說我只記得另一次討論關於沒有內臟的肉體。
我明白我很殘忍阿，因為我是故意的。我當然記得他說的討論，我也知道另一次討論不是跟他。我這樣回答只是要分割我們重疊的記憶。可是後來想想，我這樣做其實是雪上加霜，因為如此一來我反而多送了他兩個關於我的記憶。第一是他會記得我遺忘他的傷痛。第二則是我讓他有線索可以幻想我跟R關於沒有內臟的肉體的討論。
什麼都可以共產，唯獨記憶不行。我討厭我的記憶出現在別人的腦海裡，如果只是像一幅合照那我還可以忍受，但如果是我的獨照就比較糟糕。最糟糕的是某某會說：我從沒去過那家百貨公司，可是每次經過的時候我都會記得那香草的味道，你看我們的記憶重疊了，耶！
2008年的208不能再重頭坐到尾了，我看捷運以後還是到中正紀念堂就下車的好。Rachel還沒懷孕就結婚，Ross恢復單身。Chandler沒有去Omaha倒是去了Ohio。Pheobe 與Monica 的距離比和 Joey 還遠。
唉優，我居然耽溺到今天才發現 K跟Rachel同姓。如果可以選擇，可以等到明年夏天嗎？
margin: -39 w.
我明白我很殘忍阿，因為我是故意的。我當然記得他說的討論，我也知道另一次討論不是跟他。我這樣回答只是要分割我們重疊的記憶。可是後來想想，我這樣做其實是雪上加霜，因為如此一來我反而多送了他兩個關於我的記憶。第一是他會記得我遺忘他的傷痛。第二則是我讓他有線索可以幻想我跟R關於沒有內臟的肉體的討論。
什麼都可以共產，唯獨記憶不行。我討厭我的記憶出現在別人的腦海裡，如果只是像一幅合照那我還可以忍受，但如果是我的獨照就比較糟糕。最糟糕的是某某會說：我從沒去過那家百貨公司，可是每次經過的時候我都會記得那香草的味道，你看我們的記憶重疊了，耶！
2008年的208不能再重頭坐到尾了，我看捷運以後還是到中正紀念堂就下車的好。Rachel還沒懷孕就結婚，Ross恢復單身。Chandler沒有去Omaha倒是去了Ohio。Pheobe 與Monica 的距離比和 Joey 還遠。
唉優，我居然耽溺到今天才發現 K跟Rachel同姓。如果可以選擇，可以等到明年夏天嗎？
margin: -39 w.
December 14, 2008
There it went
Whenever I put on Everywhere and His Nasty Parlour Tricks, I think of R. She was my age when I met her, when her favorite band was Modest Mouse. One summer day in the yard, I put on Everywhere as an attempt to smooth out the atmosphere. D walked in and immediately commented: I thought you were over them! R didn't say a word, but I knew D understood what was happening. D understood that I was at the beginning of what R went through.
Anyways, now that I am as old as R was when I met her, I resented that I used to blame her for the mess in her life. At the age of 28, my life is a bigger mess than hers. I know there shouldn't be the comparison, but I couldn't help it, I identify with her so much. But there is still one major difference: I actually didn't love him, it was only a matter of juxtaposition.
If I am a spinster for the rest of my life, my yarns will keep me warm on cold winter nights.
margin: 0
Anyways, now that I am as old as R was when I met her, I resented that I used to blame her for the mess in her life. At the age of 28, my life is a bigger mess than hers. I know there shouldn't be the comparison, but I couldn't help it, I identify with her so much. But there is still one major difference: I actually didn't love him, it was only a matter of juxtaposition.
If I am a spinster for the rest of my life, my yarns will keep me warm on cold winter nights.
margin: 0
圖像
午餐的時候，藝評家告訴我，他是因為喜歡看圖所以才念藝術史研究所。結果當然出人意料阿，他被文本圍繞，每天都在分析歷史脈絡，社會背景。有的時候更麻煩，因為要探討藝術家的內心世界，逼不得以得要依賴心理分析。圖呢圖呢？他常常抬頭問自己。
當那些圖出現在銀幕上的時候，我很後悔我不是藝評家，我缺乏理論背景讓我從抽象的線條中讀出意義。導覽員似乎看出我的窘境，默默的走到我的身邊，跟我解釋其實這五張圖是從不同角度表達一個膝蓋的狀態。在我在腦中翻轉圖片以拼湊成立體的膝蓋時，導覽員低聲且肯定的說：慢慢來不要心煩，你只要知道這世界上還有很多你不知道的就好。
我的膝蓋，很高興認識你，希望你一切安好。
margin: 1
當那些圖出現在銀幕上的時候，我很後悔我不是藝評家，我缺乏理論背景讓我從抽象的線條中讀出意義。導覽員似乎看出我的窘境，默默的走到我的身邊，跟我解釋其實這五張圖是從不同角度表達一個膝蓋的狀態。在我在腦中翻轉圖片以拼湊成立體的膝蓋時，導覽員低聲且肯定的說：慢慢來不要心煩，你只要知道這世界上還有很多你不知道的就好。
我的膝蓋，很高興認識你，希望你一切安好。
margin: 1
December 8, 2008
retro
Staphanies keeps talking about Santa Ververa. She goes on and on about what went on when she was there. Beheaded Gloria by the seashore and how being bored would be too aristocratic for the town.
All that's in my mind are just memories of Santa Cruz. The pictures we took there, the dance around the fire. Heart of Darkness. Where the hell is Santa Ververa? No clue. France, probably. But to me right now it could be on Mars for all I know.
To the extent that I care about Santa Ververa, actually, to the extent I care to waste my Monday afternoon here with Staphanies, it's all because she is my book to K. Not the K in Kafka's Castle, not K in Pamuk's Snow. My K.
Maybe, just maybe, somewhere buried in her indulgent monolgogue about Santa Ververa, there are leads that would take me to K. I am just saying maybe, I know it's a long shot, but that's the best I've got.
margin:49
All that's in my mind are just memories of Santa Cruz. The pictures we took there, the dance around the fire. Heart of Darkness. Where the hell is Santa Ververa? No clue. France, probably. But to me right now it could be on Mars for all I know.
To the extent that I care about Santa Ververa, actually, to the extent I care to waste my Monday afternoon here with Staphanies, it's all because she is my book to K. Not the K in Kafka's Castle, not K in Pamuk's Snow. My K.
Maybe, just maybe, somewhere buried in her indulgent monolgogue about Santa Ververa, there are leads that would take me to K. I am just saying maybe, I know it's a long shot, but that's the best I've got.
margin:49
December 5, 2008
affluent margin
我知道你知道。你總是會把毛亂的細節揣測成一篇細膩的故事。
我知道人生有很多面向，而你常苦惱於時間到了，得去另一個地方面對令一些人和另一個自己，但是心情還沒到。你不知道該怎麼辦，但我希望你能明白，時間飛快，機遇到了，我們就該離開。
那這樣好了，你慢慢梳理你的故事，等我回來，再將真實的故事說給你聽。而我要你答應我，在我們辯論故事真假之前，安靜下來。
我知道你都裝作不知道。
margin: 0
我知道人生有很多面向，而你常苦惱於時間到了，得去另一個地方面對令一些人和另一個自己，但是心情還沒到。你不知道該怎麼辦，但我希望你能明白，時間飛快，機遇到了，我們就該離開。
那這樣好了，你慢慢梳理你的故事，等我回來，再將真實的故事說給你聽。而我要你答應我，在我們辯論故事真假之前，安靜下來。
我知道你都裝作不知道。
margin: 0
October 13, 2008
post-it
If you've seen 'My Name is Earl', then you know what I'm talking about.
You are just an ordinary person. You drink coffee in the morning. You love your mom but you can't stand her. You have ups and downs. Occasionally, you have a night out with friends. But for the most part, you are alone.
You screw up a fair amount. You secretly wish you could set things right with you sister with regards to that particular incident when she was a baby. Sure, it would be great if you could be more hard-working, responsible, and considerate. Yeah, yeah....nah.
Until one day that something happens.
See that guy over there? Yes, the guy in orange pants, corny eighties hair, and gold-fish eyes. That was my ticket to ride.
What happened was, yes, I lost the ticket.
Shit happens.
Shit happens and you learn to use post-it. Post-it would remind you to do (or not do) the things shielding shit from happening.
You have quite a collection of post-it's. Different function, different size, different color. You have post-it's around your screen, you have it on the wall, you have it in books, you have it in your wallet, you even have it in someone else's wallet.
Is post-it all that it takes? Dunno, but that's all I've got.
Margin: 17.
You are just an ordinary person. You drink coffee in the morning. You love your mom but you can't stand her. You have ups and downs. Occasionally, you have a night out with friends. But for the most part, you are alone.
You screw up a fair amount. You secretly wish you could set things right with you sister with regards to that particular incident when she was a baby. Sure, it would be great if you could be more hard-working, responsible, and considerate. Yeah, yeah....nah.
Until one day that something happens.
See that guy over there? Yes, the guy in orange pants, corny eighties hair, and gold-fish eyes. That was my ticket to ride.
What happened was, yes, I lost the ticket.
Shit happens.
Shit happens and you learn to use post-it. Post-it would remind you to do (or not do) the things shielding shit from happening.
You have quite a collection of post-it's. Different function, different size, different color. You have post-it's around your screen, you have it on the wall, you have it in books, you have it in your wallet, you even have it in someone else's wallet.
Is post-it all that it takes? Dunno, but that's all I've got.
Margin: 17.
March 3, 2008
spasm
閱讀實在暴力。
身體除了跟隨捷運搖擺外基本上是不動的。眼睛也只是跟隨紙面上文字微調。心思卻把看到的具相符號放大。光影越來越模糊，那張臉越來越清楚。聲音的頻率調對了，毛細孔原本所感到的輕微震動變成欺凌叫聲。
開始抽蓄後，捷運經過你身上。
醫生宣判你腦死的時候，你聽到的是:"他自由了"。
身體除了跟隨捷運搖擺外基本上是不動的。眼睛也只是跟隨紙面上文字微調。心思卻把看到的具相符號放大。光影越來越模糊，那張臉越來越清楚。聲音的頻率調對了，毛細孔原本所感到的輕微震動變成欺凌叫聲。
開始抽蓄後，捷運經過你身上。
醫生宣判你腦死的時候，你聽到的是:"他自由了"。
January 5, 2008
[Bracket]ing
Bracketing has the power to decipher by putting things on hold. Bracketing the rotten parts shall deliver a more continuous and merry narrative. What Husserl has to say about bracketing is long lost, but what I will begin to do is to degenerate certain beloved tendencies and reconcile with a less progressive romanticism.
Walking with a rotten left arm is unbearable. Chopping it off is a constant desire. That’s where bracketing comes in. All I have to do is to [the left arm.]
As for the past that was at times rocky but at times tender, Bracketing shall also stretch and smooth it out. It would be like picking stones to pave roads. [The letter, the grope, the utter disclosure of affection, and the inability to classify the status of the relationship.]
Outcast of my own life, I glare at myself not through a mirror image, but with the back of my head in the foreground. Bracketing the distance between the I and the self allows me to take refuge in the intimacy. Nothingness is infinitely closer than being. Always. [Nothingness.]
I secretly wish I can also bracket the elapse between the present and my destined future, shy of a lifespan but exceeds the hour. Happy thoughts suspended and optimistic hope confiscated, the harshness of my language forbids impulse. By this I do not mean free-float impulse, but well-intended images that gesture toward a completion of the desire. If my language can adopt a finer tone but maintain the same endurance, [negativity.]
To be plain: the aim is not to neglect responsibility, but realize that within the limitations of my present status, to release myself from the self-imposed immobility is to first affirm myself by bracketing traumas. The whole should not take blame for the awkwardness of parts. To re-posses comfort is to re-establish a reality on rigid positivity. Baby steps to the door, baby steps to the end, baby steps, still, to exteriority.
To bracket is neither to avoid nor detour, on the contrary, to connect. Brackets are the spaces between the baby steps.
Walking with a rotten left arm is unbearable. Chopping it off is a constant desire. That’s where bracketing comes in. All I have to do is to [the left arm.]
As for the past that was at times rocky but at times tender, Bracketing shall also stretch and smooth it out. It would be like picking stones to pave roads. [The letter, the grope, the utter disclosure of affection, and the inability to classify the status of the relationship.]
Outcast of my own life, I glare at myself not through a mirror image, but with the back of my head in the foreground. Bracketing the distance between the I and the self allows me to take refuge in the intimacy. Nothingness is infinitely closer than being. Always. [Nothingness.]
I secretly wish I can also bracket the elapse between the present and my destined future, shy of a lifespan but exceeds the hour. Happy thoughts suspended and optimistic hope confiscated, the harshness of my language forbids impulse. By this I do not mean free-float impulse, but well-intended images that gesture toward a completion of the desire. If my language can adopt a finer tone but maintain the same endurance, [negativity.]
To be plain: the aim is not to neglect responsibility, but realize that within the limitations of my present status, to release myself from the self-imposed immobility is to first affirm myself by bracketing traumas. The whole should not take blame for the awkwardness of parts. To re-posses comfort is to re-establish a reality on rigid positivity. Baby steps to the door, baby steps to the end, baby steps, still, to exteriority.
To bracket is neither to avoid nor detour, on the contrary, to connect. Brackets are the spaces between the baby steps.
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