Yang Xianping
1, depression
in the desert, loaded with sacks of sand, and I think that certainly some people will work in vain to do, but not necessarily implemented. I understand that depression seems to be - large tracts of desert, gravel and sand, and then a big wind blowing not the bare gold is not wealth, is depression. I am a person living in the desert, a person, a vast desert, which is kind of a percentage? Goes back a long time, especially in winter, the day does not go out, I felt that I was walking corpses had.
when nothing, silence, smoking, looking at the scenery and their full of images and sound siege of the room, cobwebs and dust on the desktop thickening day by day, but also constantly under water and cotton scrub gone, the next morning, they get up earlier than I, piled on the window sill. I think the process smooth and dirt between the dream is just a short dreamless night - I'm sure the depression is such and such, complex and heavy to quietly away,UGG shoes, such a change can always make me feel that way a little pain.
I am very quiet, perhaps people are so depressed. Often think of some people, and old things and the sight of, and those faded, damaged and lifeless things, they are too far away (in essence, I am too far away from them), I just sit or lie down when the thought of them, that feeling seems to Miankuo across a large gauze bandage to close the wound beyond - the wound is large, there are many, how I like to be futile. Out of hand has not come out far, the dust on the swarm, it would be besieged by the breath of stale blood or bone marrow, the heart submerged.
often read, wonder, or calm, agree or disagree - at best, only one person to another person's objection and agreed with it. Not met the author of life, how much can be some impressions, but I do not expect that one day, the carriage or aircraft in hotels, restaurants and Colloquium on the face, even if that opportunity, I certainly would not take the initiative to speak out. I am a depressed person, depression, which limited my in many places to stop and even criticism to me. In addition, I believe paranoia, depression, people who had to be free from blame.
This is 2004, have so much time, depression continues. Suddenly depressed like a poison Antiaris Lesch. Again 12 years later, that time, I was a teenager, just out of the large village of children, Gobi, desert, collective action and individual depression, often in the nosebleed and inexplicable attack of pain is like a beast at any time - that when my depression is short, optional, in addition to the physical thirst and occasional collision, the not so melancholy as it is now. In 2004, my most painful year and, after a long walk and move around in situ, around the inner turmoil and pain, dream and reality of cold pain, such as cotton, silk, such as depression go hand in hand, the rare pleasure of total is seconds.
This year, I cried the most tears twice the sum of the previous years. Physical injury but also to do with the old farm in the country when in direct proportion. I sigh, frequently, like breathing, along with I oppress. I know the other side of depression is Yes, sad man, always very sensitive, very aloof very tender. And my personal Certain night, noon or early morning, in the silence, wind or no wind, the heart keeps repeating this sentence: >
2, writing
rider always Gaotai ass, leaned forward and, of course, Lema course, can sit down when stopped. I think this position is the position of writing. Writing: noble, nada, nothing but real. In the northwest, it is difficult to see the rider, except for nomadic herders and horse sense of the poetic and heroic disappear. I am a loving horse who had wanted to, a person riding a black or red horse, and take sand, walk grasslands, the snow away, but also take the mud - like the wind, like warm in the snow grass sleep.
The idea is just an idea, and now still in the hearts of suspension. It is undoubtedly in the form of this regret I had the idea of writing like a horse. Writing to act in terms of my own words, not to mention writing, at best, only a person holding a whip riding the bench pretending to cruel arrows, full of daring Bale. I recall that the poet is back in the cliff, or Back to Basics (and possibly breast) on writing poetry, ascends the building climbing, setting sun, sun, pay tribute sites, festival gatherings - this poem before they spread. Blood stained the earth their writing, and will be returned to the land of the blood of a specific object, and thus have a strong and rich as the earth's life force.
and I do, most of the time of year in the desert, along the narrow road, shuttling back and forth looking at the black desert, 75 km, but the farthest distance. Occasional travel is short, heels can be reached. Back, I sat in the room, the summer wind from the open window, like deep-sea fish poured into the winter heating to the side of the trunk, in the face of cruising with a lot of text on the screen and color, the shuttle like another world in which people couples and friends, good and not good intentions are not related.
shuttle - alas, the word makes me feel smooth but tired.
side of milk and coffee, I always wanted to replace the wine, high concentrations of white wine (the best highland barley wine), but did not dare to, I like to drink, just like writing the same, but a habit there is not much content there is no deeper inquiry. Write it, I often urge their (in addition to writing, and I basically have no more leisure), write it, write your own life, see, think, run into their own, not encountered, as long as I'm associated with I certainly want to capture. Writing, I feel holy, they feel heavy, more it was their own frustration and disappointment.
arrival of frustration is not the inner emotions, disappointment is its own negation. I'm basically there for those hard words, I often feel that things are just a bunch of forming the ashes, one by one, the text is to be every now and then the particles. Elliott said: The. I have some text like this, you see, read, think of some things in mind, a word, it was enough.
writing, late at night, all have their own voice, keyboard, micro-machine sound, the occasional voices from the street outside the building and over again and again again and again. I am more quiet (it actually is the agitation and pain), quiet, for me, is the most important, quiet, I do not want too much, as long as three meters. Small space, wrapped inside a quiet person, more than a good state of ah. I continually look at their own those They are rooted in the distance, or in the body, in others are their own. Woolf said: I just want to be a horseman, leaning forward, buttocks stilts, Rush in the wind.
3, the body
like a pile of good food, in fact it is worse. Surface, appearance and coat, which is something that looks terrible words. My body in the distance, too near, and debris left along the way, more like a butterfly wings ah dusty, toxic butterflies, we know that it is temporary. The body, subjectivity, it is a truth.
beautiful body, many years ago, in rural, cold spring water, surrounded by mountains and walnut trees, a large number of thatched have seen, of course, birds and insects. At that time, it is the real health of the United States, in addition to the long scar on his left ankle, head stone marks, it no longer anything to make me shy. What a body Yeah, white, clean, inexperienced, many years later, I thought again and again, given their own sigh of surprise. I remember the day the sun is transparent, blue sky without a trace of clouds obscured, and even the shadow of the ground have shrunk to the extreme.
And now, my body, throughout the summer are black, face black, direct sunlight reflecting accumulated in the desert, head and foot, came down the middle, the sun, they told me to skin black, or even redness and peeling. Good for a long time until the autumn, it was restored to its original white - which surely loss and change, I know, black, folds, scars Huanyou natural relaxation, they are, I do not know when Wei up, the start so hard, the way is so sublime.
I was a bit thin, 66 kg, 1.73 tall, than just to the northwest when the much better, and those years, my body has been at 55 kg and 48 kg between the two. Which individuals, now in an album, like a stranger, his eyes deep in the eyes, protruding cheekbones seem to uplift the mountain - once in the face of it, I cry, I'm sure that I, that is, my body.
2004 years, my body is like this: chronic superficial gastritis, mild cholecystitis, decreased visual acuity, mild rheumatoid arthritis (wind and rain, overcast and cold virus When will faint for pain); left ankle scar 5 cm long, red, like earthworms, high uplift. I remember it was a pond edges of the slide in the home, a stone's sharp Tau Kok scratched; head and left in the head with a stone to hit the mark each seems to be a neighbor Takefu rather abruptly in that year I threw my old head; the back has two large moles, have a bath every time they touch. Mother of superstition that the mole is back to life the meaning of weight or to scapegoat. Right middle finger middle of a less obvious scar, is a carpenter cousin planer four sub-cut, the flow of a lot of blood, dripping with women in the name Wei School yard.
I think this is my body, a person, live evidence, indulgence and quiet nest, Montesquieu wrote: not a word has more meaning than freedom. While the body is not it? I would also like to repeat that, in the earth, nor a word which is more specific and precise than the body.
4, Gobi
the best place is not the most desolate places? Want to be a good person to live here. Another dimension is bleak desolate - desolate, ancient imagery, the quality of depth and soul of the bone marrow, I often think it great and deep beauty. In the Gobi, I went up to the place is desert, and not far from the desert. Gobi is the start and close, but also exile and salvation. Early on when I dream: One day, I start from here, here will disappear. Who does not know my specific direction, my feet buried in the wind track, my body is dust, which gradually changed in appearance.
in the Gobi, the camel grass green body a short crisp, shaky, constantly broken and constantly renewable. I see the most beautiful sand dunes is the world's largest breasts, beautiful sand were quiet at night and early morning rustling.
I often walk back and forth in the Gobi, the pace of change, I can not go too far, a huge desert, as I like a sand. I'm afraid I confused with them. There are some unseen life in the camp swept their sand - where what? I covet what is not in there collection, I love that man is not suddenly appear one day? Black Hawk flying in the air the evening, the sunset, such as blood, a bloody sea of desert. I heard some people missing from this story, but also some time to see the lamb will not rot the bones of the body and is still hard.
This is the best. Wetting of the soul is hurt, not the cleaning of the body is desecrated. I do not want to see disappear, I prefer to seek the eternal world to the desert to people - I know they are more greedy than me. Them in the distance, even chipped a ladder, put up, stand in the desert where the connection with heaven, I do not see details of their appearance - people in this world is far far far.
spring and fall, the wind sweeping, gathering dust in the wind, flying in the air, like beasts of prey. I stood on the edge of the Gobi, the wind washing, dust poured. I want to be a statue - in fact, any hard things were in the desert is fragile. Once I had a person walking in the Gobi, the direction towards another familiar, no one, surrounded by the silence was terrible, no sound, feel the Department is breathing, it seems that there are countless whispers, as enemies close tightly surrounded me. Occasionally flush the sand seems to suddenly attack the chicken, rabbit silent alert to flee in the opposite direction. The night wind is coerce and plunder, bare skin is always due to rough and pain.
Many a time I in the Gobi, between the houses, green areas and roads, at best, but people in the desolation of a tent. I have always felt adrift, body and soul restless cruising, a person's life and more collective - One day, I suddenly found that I contact with these things after all the material interests at work. But one thing is certain, I really love the desert, this one area, it is my own, I was it. From the older children to the big man. By 2008, this piece of desert to the village in northern China can become the uniform of my life two and a half. I said more than once: each time the walk is full of significance, but we do not want thoughts and memories.
5, Oasis
I always dreamed of an oasis - a beautiful woman, but also a melancholy child, in the water and green leaves, flowers and grass in next, waiting for my arrival. I see bright light, comfort and colorful, and I will move over warm beloved woman cheeks crimson, black hair, a thin layer of grease leaking - I just quickly approaching, do not cheer, but to cradle her, as carefully as Juyi Peng Olympus water.
In fact, I have an oasis around the specific oasis oasis with very different dreams. 20 km south - ASDC oasis, ancient villages and towns, large numbers of immigrants (I suspect they are the descendants of ancestors Rong side) fields in the poplar shade of labor, horses and donkeys freely in a nearby grassy meadow on the loose eat grass, lie between the village and the village was not in the Gobi Desert, a lake in a thick, glowing white around the base. Little sheep swam fast mouth Zhanxia stem. The swallows fly low over the summer, the mouth of the mud fell off, hit the loess on the road or dry hay.
this oasis, next to the river (the famous Ruoshui River) is a carriage, a nurturing, all the water come from there spread - from the Qilian water, muddy water, how can I Unexpectedly, after entering the soil, will become a very clear, even if the summer sun as an oven, the water is cool. Many of the birds in the air, sounds simple but they are special, every sound is not identical. Some black or white swans do not know where it comes from several nearby reservoirs, cruise and flight. One year, I often go to a nearby reservoir to play, to see an expanded surface of the central swimming duck, fish and the water reflected the Qin and Han Dynasty beacon towers.
it is green, oasis, water, nourishment and a strong, including people and livestock. Summer, I like the shuttle in which a person riding a bicycle or on foot. I do not like to go asphalt road, special walking path between the fields on both sides of the cotton, wheat and sorghum grow up seems to thousands of palm leaves, one by one, sticking out one after another, like children, like women without calculating children. Small trees, sand jujube, hybrid poplar and tamarisk shrubs along with some birds nest in which to hide, some rabbits and pheasants rather abruptly run and fly - the most beautiful things are quiet, or the quiet atmosphere in which long-term. I always think: Beauty is a quiet, focused, quiet, they constitute the essential factor in quality.
autumn, colorful leaves of poplar Ejin Hu, color transformation, the banks in the distance, it seems that the collective of gold, then the dark nights to be brilliant. Many a time I walked over, passing seepage marsh, dry clay and a few shallow gully channel. In the trees, everywhere cool, head of the leaves rustled and fell, more leaves on the branches in the wind and embraced each other, first joint and open more than repeated. Head leaves fall, some fall along the tip of the nose. This time, it can clearly rotten smell of fresh air.
between the Gobi Desert at the oasis is always thin. I have seen many times in the air: a small oasis Dingxin and landed on top of sand and desert, like a child painting a picture, a small, lightweight, lively green which contains a modicum of frustration and despair, quiet The self-examination, reveals a little inexplicable tragedy. Should be the spring of 2004, in the just off the aircraft. Once again, I found, and confirmed that this oasis is obviously not my dream - in this oasis between the dreams of another oasis, so that I can not for the pain does not always faint.
6, sandstorms
covered Alashan Badain Jaran Desert is one source of dust storms in China. But in 2008, the Badan Jaran Desert dust storms in the spring of 2006, less than a lot. In fact, the beginning of spring, I've been vaguely worried that seems to be afraid of frequent sandstorms. Among them, also do not want to be dirt mixed with some of the boredom of coerced and watering psychology.
many days have passed, but the wind, gray dust of the Gobi only spinner in the distance and shrouded. Near the camp to also clean, cycling or walking to work on the road, did not feel that much dust. I can not help secretly glad the spring has passed half of the dust has not really hit the body, this is my life in the desert, being the largest outside person.
good day or bad weather day, 3 months old, or cold, wearing a sweater. When the weather is cloudy, but cold hands. I always looked up to see the roadside plants, rows of poplar pale skin, blue branches, like a black caterpillar Yang Xu, rather abruptly dropped his head. Elm shrubs with yellow buds, covered with dust covered. Water channels in the slowly flowing in the cement, the roots of the trees, cooing sounds.
midnight, thundering sound of the wind, blowing windows pound chaos ring, choking off-flavor overwhelming, I was very upset. Lay awake, watching the dark, washed out of the ceiling, thoughts. Later, like the ancient inhabitants of the Western Regions and Rong death - their life is not like me now, or worse?
morning, dust storms continue, I feel bad, one way or another all of the curtains, the room just as dusk. Cycling to work on the road, everyone hide their faces, a woman with a large white mask, arrived in his head, wind the line. Ineffectively Palestinian men, squint, Rush in the wind. To the office, I was tired, and did not mind doing things, sitting at the table stared like, do not know what. Occasionally opened the curtains look, dust the world, a greenish yellow, the wind is like crying continuously.
afternoon, the weather was fine, and angry clouds volume, in the distance above the Dunhuang and Xinjiang, as well as the north Ejinaqi Alashan and above the slanting sunlight as the blade, plug in the vastness of Pakistan Dan Jilin desert. I feel magnificent, and I feel suddenly better. The next day, the weather is still sunny, blue sky as the ocean,UGGs, hanging our heads. At noon, I was sitting in front of the computer to write, suddenly several more thunder, horses of the hoof in general, riding in my heart. Followed by a huge storm, from the middle of the desert, like the ancient Huns, a fierce army.
I feel the building shaking, the window of quicksand thousand arrows shot, Rui Xiao voice of pain strike the eardrum. I am shocked, stunned. More waste is encouraged by the wind, jumped off, hovering between buildings, became an instant without a trace between the dark and quiet. This is the largest Badanjilin a dust storm in 2007, and lasted about half an hour, then, lightning, such as anger, heavy rain fell, the dust escape extinction. Bataan and sky are the same as Jilin, thick black lead.
7, suspected
suddenly see Lermontov's poem: he is a full of skeptics. Point here is: from the fall of 2006 to the present, there is one thing I have not been doing well, busy with work and feeling bad, and so of course, is an excuse. Shao Dong Tianjin's brother sent In fact, I believe that his dreams have been working ... ... and even all around.
In this book, I see, the great Tolstoy Celebrex more than once for their enthusiasm and dreams of writing a Chi suspicious. What exactly constitutes a writing? Of a person, the manipulation of text, if only as a career or simply preference, then, should be more than adhere to the writing of literature is life all be more meaningful.
literature is probably used to convey the dream and the individual will, and I insist on this point or pseudo point of view. In recent days, I take the time to read fear and concern. In such an age, thinking is a burden, it is self-judgment.
I often doubt their own dreams, apply pressure over the great depression - in the spring, this feeling is particularly evident. I do not see a lot of things meaning, can not see into individual lives hidden in the time demands of the real truth. Such as writing, simple and complex of earthly life, every detail, it appears that contains a huge false.
8, the wind drift
writing is a lucky - and I stand here, which in time, like a stone or dry activities of the earth, every day in the fall - written by the wind, is water away, I know I've been lost in the wind, water, is also hell in heaven, in the soil under the soil also. Very often, I review four weeks too late, too late to say a word to you, or him, to himself or to strangers. I see are brown and the black light - those who crowded in there, Tuibeihuanzhan Gouxindoujiao for a glass of wine or an apple, or even a paper for the medals, for a sentimental, for a fight .
This is what I see those people - there is no difference between them and me. The same flesh and blood, the same soul, but ideology has changed, stand together, and there was light, each shining light, their light straight line, only to see up close. Love of the opposite sex that the two have bright, and then distance is of no avail, their hearts light can be extended indefinitely, a person go, another follow-on, even if the other party to do some good in the hidden corners of the things, in the eye can see. A friend of mine fell in love with his girlfriend struck, thousands of miles of road blocking the body, but can not block the inner and physical. At night, the stars or the moon, the light from heaven shining diarrhea two whispers, their faces lively at night, their inner voice, and physiology in each other have become vigorous exception.
many cases,UGG boots, the friend sitting in front of me - Badan Jaran Desert in the vast, lonely people everywhere - just piles of sand and Gurinai sheep is busy , in groups. We live here with - follow the wind, follow the wind, thin water, like a camel or a pebble like to watch their toes and the heart, looking at the sun in the treetops and even the occasional snow in the crow wings - gradually in joy or sorrow. This friend, he and I, is lonely, we often sit together, a glass of wine, a pack of cigarettes, some seeds and fruits. Conversation at the beginning, always very cautious, very shy, after three drinks, will open the heart - my first actually know a person's heart is so vast, all-encompassing, omnipresent, omnipotent, and nothing less. I was surprised, and looked into his eyes, suddenly a lot of strange, but also curiosity up.
I know everyone's heart there is some degree of closure - it is independent. In many cases, it can only open its own. He said he loved a woman. Start very simple clean, do not want anything, just want to talk to her,cheap UGG boots, like brother and sister, as pure friendship. This time, continued until the three years - they did not say love, when it comes to their own sadness, loneliness, joy, and despair. One day, he suddenly began to cry Duizhuohuatong, like a child. He said she had a sort of motherhood, there is a man suddenly Cunduan Rouchang so gentle force. She was surprised, really, like his mother did ask him, care about him, he uttered his own sorrow.
In fact, the so-called grief is elusive, there is no source, no direction, continuing a short or long are erratic. Later, they love, naturally - men and women, in addition to blood relationship, no one can not escape this one tragic and happy ending. A vigorous start to love, like a flower opening, as loudly roar of thunder in the heart, the stone and grass as the friction out of the light ... ... and this earth is not a thing to the perfect position to be ending. The final separated - he said he feels their love is like a passing wind or rain the body, some washing, the final scattered into the mud.
this, I thought the wind away and away with the water, think of the good things in the time of the open channel in the litter and defeat. At that time, sitting across from friends cried, tears close to midnight the lights like a lot a lot of soybeans, puff puff skirts fell open. I was deeply infected, but do not know how to say to him - is superfluous comfort, pain and sadness is the best memory of the good and regret. I could not help think of that Think of the songs Zheng Jun, the desolation and sigh that conceal injuries, despair and pain, I share their feelings. - ... ... . The next morning, I think of the scene last night, two people laugh, a tacit understanding with each other, in addition, there is little embarrassment. When alone, I think of Myth of the Cowherd and Weaver Girl, White Snake Xu Xian, etc., then the loving couple, a better human companion, but also shrouded in No one escaped - but the wind was still writing, with the water away. Attached to the real human world is it not so? A lot of happy couples, ultimately, and always have an early leave this world, will be another person to stay in this world - he alone can also be busy, you can renew, you can also Lingjia. In fact, in line with human nature sometimes not necessarily conform to good standards. Such as Xu Xian and Ling Jia, appears to be human, but it not a betrayal of it?
no sense a lot of good in fact - the so-called vision and desire is just a mood, a brief moment it seems. This is a bad thing, human can not change. I repeatedly think of a place in the side of the true story. An old man, life does not like his wife, but his wife abnormal virtuous, he was beaten by the following still greeted with a smile, his hands Duanfan, good serve - many people on this man's brutality and suppression of acts of protest, but the effect is not large. Time soon, instant, two people are old, suddenly one day, his wife died - domineering elderly suddenly darkened, dusty look after the eggplant seems to frost, full of haggard anxiety. Always stay in one room with his wife during his lifetime, hard smoking, hard drinking, looking at another one pillow daze all day - not the number of days, he also died, quietly, lying in his wife before death pillow, curled up like a child.
which contains what I know - but some other, a couple, in fact, is very fragile, if not two of the crystallization of body and soul, then it is vulnerable to a vulnerability. One time watching TV and saw a couple very Kulie and cruel circumstances. His wife to get rid of her husband with a Valentine's day to go home and face her husband made all kinds of intimate actions, Over time, liver disease attacks the husband, wife and lover got his wish - a way of killing people scalp tingling, the most dangerous man unreservedly exposed side. After reading, I feel terrible, unfathomable from the terrible human themselves. I have to thank modern media means, it makes me and intuitive image of a novelty to see this event - I think, in the surging sea of humanity, yet there are so many bizarre.
the incident, could not help but remind me a lot of things, and people, couples and parents - brothers and sisters, especially those who harm each other, really frustrating. Court, angry King Kong can be done though the legal system, but who said it was not a massacre of the family do? Jean-Jacques Rousseau said that the first human care is the care of their own interests - individual and personal interests, almost all the desire to rule the world. However, I have always stubbornly think: a man with life support or stroke, leaving all traces of life can not be eliminated, it is imprinted, is genetic, is also a birthmark. Once two strangers who become husband and wife, to accept the body and into the body, its traces and eternal life can not be deleted - and they always have to be written in the wind, drifting with the water, time is our most powerful enemy of assassins, a little bit to attack, and cut in our life what it wants - but, as a person, I feel lucky, will certainly have a body at the time and ability to walk, addition of , we have a love, kindness, tolerance, freedom, thought and ubiquitous material desire - when we last opened his eyes, I think I would say: I am a human, and thus life, so too will extinction.
9, dark
clothes dirty, I wash them again and again (jackets, lingerie and underwear, socks and hats), I was me, but clothes will not be the same piece of clothing. Continuous water among the condensation of dust, more power to be repulsed. The clothes are drying out, was hoisted up, like a sentence. Continued falling water drops (it seems a different color blood), almost hear the sound of their collision with the ground. Before long, they rise, but also turned into rain, I can not see the sky from falling. But they are also able to place it fall?
this question to my surprise, a drop of water is a drop of rain. Me and my clothes, but the way they land. After this time, lifetime, and that drop of water I will meet it? I look at the sky, deep breadth of the land as well, the operation of light, is not it also contains a surprising dark?
10,
love flowers, water is essential, sex is, and there is food, songs and wood beds, embroidered bedding and clean the floor ... ... I guess in the morning: I'm sure she was the first wake up in front of flowing water, green grass surrounded by housing - best flowers are open towards the wooden windows, aromatic from the dark night through the dawn, from noon to Ono star-filled night out.
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