TARS, chart a course for life, for loss, and love.

.Afire Love (2014)
And my father told me, son
It’s not his fault he doesn’t know your face
And you’re not the only one
Although my grandma used to say, he used to say:

Darling hold me in your arms the way you did last night
And we’ll lie inside, a little while he wrote
I could look into your eyes until the sun comes up
And we’re wrapped in light, in life, in love
Put your open lips on mine and slowly let them shut
For they’re designed to be together oh
With your body next to mine our hearts will beat as one
And we’re set alight, we’re afire love, love, love oh

And things were all good yesterday
Then the devil took your breath away
And now we’re left here in the pain
Black suit, black tie standin’ in the rain

.In sickness and loss, love.
One of those Saturday mornings when I’m led off-track (kinda) by a song, a Wikipedia article, and memories still.

The devil takes new breaths away each day. (Did I mention that I’m reading Revelation right now?)

And yet, love.

“Darling, hold me in your arms, the way you did … “

Hold me, look at me, be with me
Touch me, talk to me, for we’re designed to be

Some days, we draw comfort in numbers and coincidences. We draw spurious correlations, and conclusions, about a great many things in life. Why not then, today?

.Interstellar (2014)
Brand : Maybe we’ve spent too long trying to figure all this out with theory.
Cooper : You’re a scientist, Brand.

Brand : So listen to me, when I say that love is not something we invented. It’s observable, powerful. It has to mean something.
Cooper : Love has meaning, yes. Social utility, social bonding, child rearing…

Brand : We love people who have died. Where’s the social utility in that?
Cooper : None.

Brand : Maybe it means something more, something we can’t… yet, understand. Maybe it’s some evidence, some… artefact of a higher dimension that we can’t consciously perceive. I’m drawn across the universe to someone I haven’t seen in a decade… who I know is probably dead. Love is the one thing we’re capable of perceiving… that transcends dimensions of time and space. Maybe we should trust that, even if we can’t understand it yet. All right, Cooper… yes… the tiniest possibility of seeing Wolf again excites me. That doesn’t mean I’m wrong.

Cooper : Honestly, Amelia… it might. TARS, chart a course for Dr. Mann’s.

.TARS, chart a course for life,
For loss, and love.

Darling hold me in your arms the way you did last night
And we’ll lie inside, a little while he wrote
I could look into your eyes until the sun comes up
And we’re wrapped in light, in life, in love

Put your open lips on mine and slowly let them shut
For they’re designed to be together oh
With your body next to mine our hearts will beat as one
And we’re set alight, we’re afire love, love, love oh

.Supermarket Flowers (2017)
I fluffed the pillows, made the beds, stacked the chairs up
Folded your nightgowns neatly in a case
John said he’d drive, then put his hand on my cheek
And wiped a tear from the side of my face

I hope that I see the world as you did cause I know
A life with love is a life that’s been lived
So I’ll sing Hallelujah, you were an angel in the shape of my mum
When I fell down you’d be there holding me up
Spread your wings as you go, when God takes you back
He’ll say Hallelujah, you’re home

Source: https://www.capitalfm.com/artists/ed-sheeran/news/supermarket-flowers-mum-divide

In an interview with Zane Lowe, Ed explained, “That’s the most special song on the record for me. My grandmother was very ill during the time I was making the record and passed away at the end of me making the record, so we wrote this song as a tribute and just left it on.”

Ed revealed that he wasn’t initially going to include the song on ‘Divide’, but his grandfather encouraged him to do so. “My grandfather just turned to me [at the funeral], he was like you have to put that out, that has to go on the record. It’s such a good memory, that’s why it’s ended up on there.”

悸动


迷蒙的翻身 醒了
枕边人熟睡得甜美 动人

昨夜的梦 不断
头很重 思绪来自某个夏天

那一年
我们还年轻

是谁 将年轮推磨
是谁 让回忆缥缈 使人似重又轻

指尖随着思絮 飘曳
舞动 寻觅荒野中
悸动

平复

Oh, what a wonderful world

清晨,苏醒
在一团被窝里
微风,带着细雨
亲临寒舍

宝宝,起床了,宝宝
轻声地我把你从睡梦中呼醒
你转身,对我笑了笑
你可知道,这是我此生最美的风景

啪嗒
我将房里的灯打开
暖色白光听说更容易入眠
开始了忙碌的一天
你摇着鼠标,我看着书

Koel!Koel!
高尔鸟取代公鸡
在这邻里啼鸣,mai hiam ma buay pai la
而晨露?晨露由尘埃取代
城市人家的窗,白天是一定要关的

晨光,穿透
我们家IKEA的窗纱
你转头,可爱的脸蛋问我在想些什么
我微微笑,说没什么
Oh, what a wonderful world

What a Wonderful World
Louis Daniel Armstrong

I see trees of green, red roses too
I see them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself what a wonderful world

I see skies of blue and clouds of white
The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night
And I think to myself what a wonderful world

The colors of the rainbow so pretty in the sky
Are also on the faces of people going by
I see friends shaking hands saying how do you do
They’re really saying I love you
I hear babies crying, I watch them grow
They’ll learn much more than I’ll never know

And I think to myself what a wonderful world
Yes I think to myself what a wonderful world

每天都是一種練習

今晚听着陈绮贞的歌
让一首接一首牵着思绪想起了一切的一切

选择这张照片时也刚好听到了
《每天都是一種練習》(繁体,因为。)
要多少年,得到的才不比失去的多?
要多少夜,无眠的不再是阿公阿嬷?
多少泪,孩子们才懂得争气,夫妻又懂得珍惜?

“每天都是一種練習 用今天換走過去
每天都是新的練習 用明天換走失去的“

每天确实都是一种练习
可我不换走过去,也不打算用明天换走失去的
昨日再不完美,它仍是以自己的方式将自己完美地展现于世。而今日、明日也将效其绚丽地登场。

每天确实都是一种练习
但练习的意义又为何?

葬送的不应是过去而应是自大与狂妄。
练习的除了爱与忠坚还有什么?

刚好下一首,李宗盛 ·《山丘》

📷: BCBA photographers~


苏打绿《无眠》

陈奕迅《多少》

還在 (020316)

還在
那一年夏天拍的照
妳讓我 緊握的信
衣櫃裡的毛毛絨絨
吊兒郎當的性子
三兩張入場券 還有
那麼一首 未完成
不是遺憾
寫得再多 什麼
也不是
--
迴盪耳邊那麼一句
我好想你 好想你 卻欺騙自己
不重要
縱有千種風情 虛實不重要
於日常
儲存文藝點滴 靜觀生命 如何
隨年月流去 隨白髮老去
而心 又如何
随往事淡去 随梦境睡去
遺留的 竟是什麼

徐佳莹《我好想你》

向日欣 (260415)

老树根盘踞着,那美丽的盛夏花园。

“传说绕着树干走上三圈诚心地许下……”

这棵树在我们家已百年了,是阿公阿嬷一起种的。

“曾经就有那么一对情侣,他们……”

史上以守墓为豪的家族不少,但不不,我们家不是什么守墓、守树族。

“那么,我们十五分钟后在院子外集合,到时……”

我也不是什么痴情汉。

“爷爷,这棵树叫什么名字……?爷爷!”
“哦?这棵树呀……她的名字……是向日欣。”
“向日欣?”
“嗯。”

小女孩拾起了随风飘落的花,欣喜地闻了闻。

“向日欣的花好美好香啊……可以让我带回家吗?”
“当然可以呀,去跟小朋友们说,只要喜欢,这草地上的花都可以带回家哦。”

小女孩睁大了眼,匆忙地多拾了几朵,这才往娃娃那儿奔去。风配合地将树上的花朵撒落。孩子们在花雨中嬉闹。

“好啦,孩子们,我们该出发了。”

小女孩抱着满怀的花,突然想起了树下的老爷爷,回头向他喊道:“爷爷!谢谢你的花,我一定会再回来看向日欣的!”

只见老爷爷拱着手,在树荫下与芬花漫舞,眼角闪烁着绵绵的快乐。

小女孩让母亲牵起了小手,却不断地回头望,似乎明白些什么,却又不明白些什么。

盛夏的花,开满了镇上的每个庄园。盛夏的风,轻盈地舞过,呼唤着每一厢沉寂的心。而盛夏的承诺,则许于吴侬软语,等待着“永远”兑给的那一天。

-完-

3rd August 2014

1. 

Dear Diary,

Last evening, I found a glass slipper on the way home. It lay half exposed in the soil, oh how cliché. Cracks, meandering cracks. And a strange foul-smelling liquid dripping from its stem. Hmm…I’ve always wondered if it were a matter of fit, or one of strength. Balls and banquets, mazes and masquerades, oh what difference does it make, which limelight we forgot to date, which slipper we chose to break?

Yours,

Me.

2. 

Once, the princess invited the poorest pauper in the kingdom to don a mask and come along. He came without one, having spent his last dime on a cut and shave. “I’ve got to at least be presentable,” the pauper thought.

He spent the night explaining where he bought his mask from.

3. 

“We choose to accept only the love we think we deserve. The rest, we discard, reject, and if need be, we destroy.”

4. 

Rain comes late in the night, and water collects on the tin sheet roof, before flowing off the edges of it. Twilight comes knocking, draught in hand, pleased at the work of Night. A magic circle of rain-turned-water, with each droplet dedicating its body and soul to the earth that sits beneath. 

5. 

The boy has been coming to the same spot every afternoon since he was five – that bald patch by the banks of the countryside stream. This day, though, he was late. Instead of standing at that same bald batch, skipping stones, he sat by the tree a little further up the bank, digging his bare heels into the soil. At dusk, he hummed a little tune, the same tune he’s hummed for the past five years. The stars soon appeared, sharing their secrets in constellations of Man, in myths that float along rivers of time.

Under the incandescence of a nearby star, he got to his feet and scoured for a stone of his liking.

Someday, he might return with that girl again. Or he might not. 

The stone flew across the stream, skipping once, twice, thrice, before disappearing in the currents of old.

Or he might, with another. And then, with a little boy of his own. 

No matter, the stars keep signing, the stones keep skipping, and the streams keep flowing. In time this stream would, too, join the Euphrates, taking these stones to the Gulf, where they bask in the moonlight and make up the Spirit of the World.

Ugh. Didn’t seem to work out.

Maybe this works better than story-telling: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RBumgq5yVrA

10th July 2014

1. Stepped out of the plane and walked right into a wall of vapour, a wall that divides the two, separates the past from the future, an in-between commonly called “the present”. The wall named “the present” made it difficult for one to breathe. Silence, with isolation, in the death strip. The watch towers, every half-mile, full of vultures perched, armed with sub-machine guns and informants alike.

2. In this void, or wall, named “the present”, there exists no growth. Why, there cannot be growth in the absence of topsoil, the Sun and the stars. No anchor, no aspiration, no rest (for the wicked).

3. I’m suddenly reminded of Dr. Conroe’s introductory talk on “Rites of Passage”. Some anthropologists consider rites of passage to consist of generally three stages – Separation (from everyday life), State of liminality (being in between), Reincorporation into society (as a new type/person).

4. Some exist in liminality for a rather long while – priests, nuns, monks, Navajos’ nádleehí, etc. – sometimes, for as long as they’re alive.

5. Back, back to the future, for nothing really stays the same from one instant to the next. There is, then, no turning back, no returning of any sort. The rivers flow towards the seas and the waters never truly return to the mountaintops. 

6. These days, I feel 16 all over again. Maybe someday, I would feel 23 all over again. Numbers, merely numbers. I am at once 5, 11, 16, 23, 42, 67, 81, what do numbers mean anyway?

7. Savannahs. And gathering clouds. The pride’s long gone, on pace for the next waterhole. The beast totters to a crouch, stifling a weary yawn. Slumber on, slumber on.

8. An empty throne, glistening in the Summer glow. “Follow the dandelions,” whispers Tree, “Wind would show you the way, to the world of Path.”

9. “No you better shock yourself back into nus state, I suggest some philo books.”

“Philo’s the answer to everything right, forces you to recognise the existentialist struggle in every soul.”

“Well, before you can ponder over the thoughts of philosophers you first must understand what they are saying; but in trying to understand what they are saying, your mind is already being sharpened.” 

10. “When shall I return?” 

“When the gates are wide open.”

“Aren’t they wide open as I leave?”

She smiles.

“When the gates are wide open.”

Pull the plug (220713)

“The justifications we make, the fallacies we create.
The tales we paint, the myths we perpetuate.”

In those tinted days
of yesteryears, those things we said.

Those words, they cut
through red flesh, yellow gums and their pearly whites

“Those words, they cut,”
she said, “they hurt, they burn.”

Blame, pain and
pangs deep in the gut

The truth, you say?
We’re all destined to be free
Condemned to tread these whirlpools weaved
together by half-truths and raw, raw emotions, kept
intact by hidden agendas, manipulated goodwill

Pull the plug, I say
Flush it all out, dig a grave deep enough
Enough to hide them heaps of the faceless

But no,
nameless they were
and nameless they shall remain.

For the last tiger won’t mourn its own passing,
and the last tiger this endless madness ought to be.

“Pull the plug.”
So I said.

火 (180713)

花火,閃爍的
那一朵朵

隨著風,迎著秋

匆忙繫上,那一絲絲牽掛
讓縷縷思念

升空

層層雲朵
屬於他和她的,花火。

==

去吧
走得不留痕跡

即使纏著捆著
扣著銬著鎖著
為那顆顆赤熱的紅

帶上兒時的夢,去吧
攜上昔日的雲彩,去吧

屬於他
和她的火紅

披上掉門牙那年爸爸送的斗篷,
甭回首,去吧!

逃離這不見底的黑
絢麗如妳
本不應由妳來承受
妖魔鬼怪

及這夜幕的黑。
有我頂著   

就夠了。

==

火石。
電光火石,燦爛了誰的一生?

三更的回家路上
曾幾何時,路燈也學會鞠躬
一道道昏黃的光,刺穿凝重的後半夜

腳步加快,幾乎疾奔
只為了閃避,這污濁的黃。

仿佛多打在身上一秒半刻,
整顆心都給玷污了,如染缸一般

不留半點清白。

“火褶!快打火褶!”
一把聲音在深夜裡吶喊著

嗤!打亮了臉龐
還有那一坨坨在路燈下蠕動的
盡往上攀爬的,行如藤蔓的
一張張面孔猙獰

又有低頭群圍者
偶爾抬頭,一顆顆眸子空洞
細看几眼,似乎仍能隱約瞧見

來自千億光年外
浩宇深處那第一道曙光

是吧?
“每顆隕石的血液裡,都淌著流星的曾經。”

嗤。