h: you’re a duke alum!

DUKE ALUM!!

me: yes i am

h: yay congrats YAY

:D

 ^.^

  happyhappyhappy!

me: im glad you are enjoying it :)

h: well

i’m not

but i’m saying.

you should be right?

and i’d be happy if you were happy to graduate?

i hate graduations

i just feel like it’s supposed to be happy but i never know why

me: its not that great

its boring

you see everyone you love cry

and then you leave them

its kind of like dying

调料： 

(1) disappointment 

(2) self-pity 

(3) regret

Stir endlessly. 越苦越好。

不 constructive.

没有道理

也不, contrary to popular belief, 特别

多愁善感

Poise，听说过吗？

In the end, 真的不算什么！

Then why do I feel, 真的，this is 太残忍了？ 

爱　too late is also 爱

I really wish I could 自私的给她所有.

要诚恳, 所谓的 etiquitte. 我需要游过他们的　fake 微笑 .

这一切，　its hard to swallow.

独自一个人, I know I’ll be ok. 放弃吧．．．

But,　maybe 在给我五分钟

我　still 舍不得

陳綺貞 – 魚

Cheer Chen – Fish

我坐在椅子上  看日出复活 

我坐在夕阳里  看   城市的衰弱 

我摘下一片叶子  让它代替我 

观察离开后的变化 

I sit in my chair,

Watching as sunrise brings the world back to life.

I sit within the fading sunset,

Watching as the city falls into ruin.

Plucking a leaf, 

I let it take my place.

I leave—what’s changed?

曾经  狂奔  舞蹈  贪婪的说话 

随著冷的湿的心 腐化

Back then, 

Dancing wildly, 

Speaking of having it all.

Now along with my cold wet heart, 

I’m wasting away.

带不走的 丢不掉的  让大雨侵蚀吧 

让他推向我在边界   奋不顾身挣扎 

如果有一个怀抱      勇敢不计代价 

别让我飞  将我温柔豢养

What you can’t take with you,

What you can’t throw away,

Just let the heavy rain wash away.

I let him push me to the brink—even with my life on the line, I fought for us.

If there’s one embrace brave enough to be without a price,

Don’t let me fly—please handle with care.

带不走的留不下的我全都交付他 

让他捧著我在手掌 自由自在挥撒

如果有一个世界浑浊的不像话 

原谅我飞 曾经眷恋太阳

What I couldn’t take with me, 

What I couldn’t leave behind,

I entrusted it all to him.

I let him hold me in the palm of his hand, rolling back and forth as he wished.

If there’s a world polluted beyond reason, 

Forgive me for flying, for once longing for the sun.

如果有一个世界浑浊的不像话 

我会疯狂的爱上

If there’s a world polluted beyond reason,

I will fall madly in love.

translation: bohyoung@shinwa.biz/forums

남자를믿지마 Don’t Trust Men – M

Casually I started feeling affection for you
At one point, you became family
But as I kept on staring at you, I started to get sick of you
The conscience of my heart kept pricking me

*So I let you go
Because I didn’t think I loved you that much
I sent you away, I..

**If you try leave, I’ll hold on to you
But if you come back, I’ll feel burdened
This is how men are, I’m a bad man
Don’t trust such a cowardly man

You’re too good to give to someone else
But you’re not someone I want to keep
I don’t want to marry you, but I do want to date you
This is how men are, I’m a bad man
Don’t trust such a cowardly man

I really love you, but I always make you sad
I really am a bad man
Don’t forgive me

*
**
I don’t know me, but I can’t stop
I don’t know me, but I can’t stop
I don’t know me, but I can’t stop
I don’t know me, but you know

Don’t come any closer, I’ll just feel more apologetic
Leave me alone now, don’t love a guy like me

too fair to err,

to wilt,

or to whet–

behind the ears.

A simple request.

Lay down your arms,

your charms.

Pray, lay down.

Between dark tresses,

bless’ed.

The captured and the captivated. 

Manipulated, we capitulated.

For alarm or applause,

let us pause.

Loosed not lucid,

come undone.

“No matter how dramatic a person’s direct experience is, it is always exceeded by the experience of an instrument.”

-Joseph Brodsky, A Poet and Prose

In muscles tensed; in strings left quivering; in brush-strokes sketched with regret; in lens-clicks quicker than a skipped heartbeat; in the blood-letting of pen upon paper: Poetry and Prose—tragic beauty, so elusive to reality, is finally, finally, found.

Unaware yet eager, born believing art imitates life (of all things!), you, I, we lived such crude and clumsy outlines of artistic lyricism, lives drawn with the unused hand–disconnected from the cerebral, brain-dead. And on rare days, illuminated, pass the shadows of Muses. And? And we—we looked away.

Choose to look—within the awkward glance, within the painful memory, within the unconscious speech and conscious action, I delve within.  Performing, privately, the craftsman consumed by craft.

Art, look how alive you are, breathing newborn vapors vivid and inspired. And reality, you, once pregnant with promise, what are these trite remains of dreams stillborn? I stand, holding our miscarriages in tired arms; there is no room to embrace another.

Jealousy, despair, acceptance.

In living, let us do away with such things. I, at least, must do away with such things.

To be born believing art imitates life, and to die believing life can imitate art. This is optimism. 

“…and from thence he went into Italy, where he found such stately Danes and lovely Ladies, whom nature had adorned with all perfection of outward beauty, whose sight put him again in rememberance of his fair Love, which, like fresh fuel newly augmented to the flame of his burning desire, O (said he) how unhappy am I to be haunted by these heart tormenting fiends, bewitching the eyes of simple men with Angel-like faces, and, like enchanting Circes, bringing them to a labyrinth of continual woes.”

===

Trust
Wang Leehom

For a long time I’ve been thinking of how I should put this
There’s a puzzle in my heart
Although we’ve been busily exchanging our feelings
Why can’t I say that I really understand you?

Because of your smile, I am happy
Because of your silence, I am devastated
All of my thoughts, I confide in you
Yet still, in your eyes, I see all that you’ve withheld

Even if fate would have us meet, only for us to choose to remain guarded
Even if our worlds have their differences
I wish to give you my everything
Why do you still silence the words in your heart?

Now tell me, what else it is that you want?
Now tell me, what else can I do for you?
If two people who wish to love each other lack trust…
Why bother?

Now tell me, what else it is that you want?
Now tell me, what else can I do for you?
If two people who wish to love each other lack trust…
Why should we bother?

If two people who wish to love each other lack trust
Love loses all its color

信任
王力宏

我想了很久该如何说
有一些困惑在心里头
我们都努力交换了感受
但始终还觉得了解的不够
因为你的笑所以快乐
因为你沉默所以失落
所有的想法都跟你说
我还是从你眼中看到了保留
是缘份让我们相遇又选择相守
虽然你我的世界有些不同
我想给你我所有
为什么还有心事不肯说
快告诉我你还想要什么
快告诉我还能为你做些什么
如果相爱的两个人
没有信任(我们)该如何(爱情就失去了颜色)

Up in the sky is where kites fly
Yet upon the earth is where people chase
If you worry you cannot fly
You have my butterfly

Up in the sky is where kites fly
Yet upon the earth is where people chase
If I worry I cannot fly
I have your meadow

You describe me as this world’s incomparable beauty
In this world, I know it’s really you

You know that when you need a summer’s day
I’ll die trying

I know that you’ll be my blanket
when I become a runaway

无与伦比的美丽
苏打绿

天上风筝在天上飞
地上人儿在地上追
你若担心你不能飞
你有我的蝴蝶

天上风筝在天上飞
地上人儿在地上追
我若担心我不能飞
我有你的草原

你形容我是这个世界上
无与伦比的美丽

我知道你才是这世界上
无与伦比的美丽
天上风筝在天上飞
地上人儿在地上追
你若担心你不能飞
你有我的蝴蝶

你形容我是这个世界上
无与伦比的美丽

我知道你才是这世界上
无与伦比的美丽

你知道当你需要个夏天
我会拼了命努力

我知道你会做我的掩护
当我是个逃兵

你形容我是这个世界上
无与伦比的美丽

我知道你才是这世界上
无与伦比的美丽

天上风筝在天上飞
地上人儿在地上追
你若担心你不能飞
你有我的蝴蝶

我若担心我不能飞

我有你的草原

Tyranny of the majority notwithstanding–since when was the majority a sign of good taste? In anything? And in satire–devouring babies anyone?

Anyway, here’s the cover:

The following is lil’ old me’s letter of support to the New Yorker:

I find it the height of ironic, hypocritical lunacy that America still perks its ears at the mention of the First Amendment, and, frothing at the mouth, fancies itself as the international rottweiler protecting freedoms of thought and speech. That notion is, quite simply, rabid. “Freedom” and “Values” are buzzwords since replaced with the ethos of 21st century America: Political Correctness.

Political Correctness is a cultural opiate so efficacious in its intellectual deprivation it stifles not only the fruit of thought–intelligent and reasoned debate–but the very seed if it–wit and humor.

Iron Curtains and Great Walls of heavy-handed government censorship will in time be broken by the hammer of reform and chisel of sedition; far more dangerous is the choking mist with which we enshroud ourselves, supported, in final ironic hallucination, by a savior mouthing “Change” and “Hope”.

A visionary American once had a dream, more or less, that our national consciousness would shed its racial prejudice. We seem to have achieved it through circuitous means–rather than confronting our fears, we have learned not to voice them. I modestly suggest another dream, one I hope Americans will recognize as their own. A new dream of a nation, when confronted with its own fears in satire, able to laugh–and a candidate who, through intelligence aided by humor, conquers these fears and brings true Hope of Change.

What makes it more pathetic/funny/American is the fact that most of the “outraged” are ACLU backing, Olympics boycotting, Free press (except in America) Liberals.

They can all, quite figuratively of course, fellate me.