who is brecht
laozi dao and benjamin
de-de da-da re-re-me-me
daodejing
bury yourself in the C
you will get a D
and who cares
If you have a poignant p
but sure, dear, give me a ring
and you will find me still
eating, drinking, drooling
with beibei oo aa cooing
Monday, June 4, 2007
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Repetition
"A moment comes when what one has done, what one writes, one's work, one's practices, all of it seems a little like an endlessly repeated substance doomed to repetition....And then suddenly you see the future that remains to you, the future of writing, the future of work, as a kind of foreclosure of everything new..." [Roland Barthes, Speech delivered at the season's James Lecture, New York University, Autumn, 1978--quoted in Blonsky, Marshall. "Introduction: The Agony of Semiotics: Reassessing the Discipline." _On Signs_. Ed. Marshall Blonsky. John Hopkins U Press, 1985. xiii.]
Barthes is indeed Barthes, who can see so clearly into life and expresses his ideas so well. Isn't his vision what used to haunt me in an unspeakable but tangible way? Yes. Used to, that is, before Beibei was born. When I actually read this passage with her in my lap, soundly sleeping, I smiled, feeling Barthes was not all right.
Is she a repetition? Whenever I smile involuntarily at her involuntary smile during sleep, everything around seems to start to life, asking me to rearrange them into Beibei's life. Surely, the other day, sunshine knocked at the pantio door, inviting me to take Beibei out, and for the first time after a long winter, I noted there were so many greens already there..."This is grass, That is tree." I was teaching Beibei: or maybe it was me who should have been--and probably was--the student?
Barthes is indeed Barthes, who can see so clearly into life and expresses his ideas so well. Isn't his vision what used to haunt me in an unspeakable but tangible way? Yes. Used to, that is, before Beibei was born. When I actually read this passage with her in my lap, soundly sleeping, I smiled, feeling Barthes was not all right.
Is she a repetition? Whenever I smile involuntarily at her involuntary smile during sleep, everything around seems to start to life, asking me to rearrange them into Beibei's life. Surely, the other day, sunshine knocked at the pantio door, inviting me to take Beibei out, and for the first time after a long winter, I noted there were so many greens already there..."This is grass, That is tree." I was teaching Beibei: or maybe it was me who should have been--and probably was--the student?
Friday, March 23, 2007
Girl at the Window
Dears:
Thank you all for your responses. The following poem is my note of gratitude. Take it lightly, though.
窗前伫立的姑娘，
收起心绪箩筐！
冰的火热
火的冰凉
三千长的记忆
街头叫卖的小曲
“冰糖葫芦哩”。
不要被我的假象迷惑
哭泣的欢颜
开怀的清泪
我不是你眼中的紫薇。
The girl at the window,
Conceal your thought willow!
The ice is scathing
The fire is freezing
The memory of three thousand meters long
Is mingling into the pedlar's song
"Bing Tang Hu Lu"--Bang!
Sugared berry
Sour sweet
Buy one and
Get two free.
Enjoy!
Thank you all for your responses. The following poem is my note of gratitude. Take it lightly, though.
窗前伫立的姑娘，
收起心绪箩筐！
冰的火热
火的冰凉
三千长的记忆
街头叫卖的小曲
“冰糖葫芦哩”。
不要被我的假象迷惑
哭泣的欢颜
开怀的清泪
我不是你眼中的紫薇。
The girl at the window,
Conceal your thought willow!
The ice is scathing
The fire is freezing
The memory of three thousand meters long
Is mingling into the pedlar's song
"Bing Tang Hu Lu"--Bang!
Sugared berry
Sour sweet
Buy one and
Get two free.
Enjoy!
Friday, March 16, 2007
Lianne
Little girl Lianne joined town on February 18, 2007, and is now a chubby and cheering creature: motherhood is enjoyable OVERALL, AFTER ALL?!
Slightly smiling and seemingly satisfied, her face often touches me, reminding me of something--something long forgotten, something yet to come by. In the sound of night and in the silence of noon, I try in vain to find language for that something.
This morning, as I gazed at the crystal branches outside the window, something jumped into my head: you are my dream--after all these years. After all these years, you are my dream? You, my little girl? You that fills my everyday? You that I put away to make room for everyday? You-my beauty of sadness? You--my coffeeortea? You--that part of me that longs for permanence--Siheng, Siheng? Yes, you, why doubt?
Slightly smiling and seemingly satisfied, her face often touches me, reminding me of something--something long forgotten, something yet to come by. In the sound of night and in the silence of noon, I try in vain to find language for that something.
This morning, as I gazed at the crystal branches outside the window, something jumped into my head: you are my dream--after all these years. After all these years, you are my dream? You, my little girl? You that fills my everyday? You that I put away to make room for everyday? You-my beauty of sadness? You--my coffeeortea? You--that part of me that longs for permanence--Siheng, Siheng? Yes, you, why doubt?
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