今日喜获一称号:果冻妹

这段时间脑子里总是常常闪过过去某些时间段中的片段或场景.

我评选出它们中间让我最感慨的是...大家都叫我Chichi时的感觉.

我很想念做Chichi时的日子.

这是一本小说的读后感.这份作业做得过头了...因为我误解了老师的意思.老师是想带动学院论坛气氛,我却忘了论坛这事,完全按平时作业感觉写了.

结果小题大做.

但是,这本书比较特别.书写得一般.主要是他的种类有些特别.当代北美印地安人作家不多.这位作者的书算是productive的了.自己以前对印地安人了解甚少,现在对他们兴趣多了很多.我想到种族.他们的没落让我想到传统文化的丢失.我想到中国.传统文化丢失这件事越想越觉得很可怕,却又似乎无法避免.这是人类的悲剧.

这篇作业我一开始没敢直接发到论坛,怕它的长度吓到大家.于是就发给老师说了我的担忧.果然老师说"you're right".听老师的话,我等了一周, 今天我很得意地把它发到论坛上了.最近看很多人好象都在用"雷"这个词,我也不知道这词具体用法是怎样的,不知道是不是我这也算"雷"一下论坛.可是我怎么一听到"雷"就想到雷世贵老师呢.我最近好象老师想到他.可能是政治学得有点多.索性,在这里也轰炸一下自己的地盘.

The novel that I’ve read is called Reservation Blues. The author Sherman Alexie who was born in Spokane, Washington has written many literary works, and most of these works recount the stories of Native Indians. Reservation Blues was written with his habitual humor, but I find it difficult to laugh because it seems that each joke in the story hides a certain bitter sentiment behind it.

 

The story begins with a black man Robert Johnson who flees from his master and gets lost on the Spokane reservation. With the guitar he brings there, the protagonist Thomas Builds-the-Fire and two local bullies Victor and Junior establish a music band Coyote Spring which soon gets popular. Later, the Indian Warm Water sisters Chess and Check from Flathead reservation join them. The members of the band then experience a lot of things together and finally receive an invitation of a big record company in New York City when they are in the poorest condition. I won’t tell you the end, but it is not a rags to riches story.

 

By pure coincidence, I’ve just read an article called “The Sound of Change—Poor and isolated, Cuba is crumbling. Can music save it?” from the magazine Time (Vol. 172, No23/2008), written by Nathan Thornburgh. I suddenly find a kind of similarity between what has been described of today’s Cuba and what I’ve read in Reservation Blues. In the article, a Cuban singer named Oscar Munoz, sees his band’s mission as “defending the Cuban sound”. Both authors suppose a way of the people’s self-salvation by traditional culture—music, just like one comment from the-man-who-was-probably-Lakota who plays a role a little bit like a prophet in Reservation Blues: “Music is a dangerous thing” (page 12). Now I would like to talk about two questions in the book which interest me: firstly, how to explain the phenomenon of reiteration in the story? Secondly, what is happening between Indians and white people?

    

Reiterations and repetitions are everywhere in the book, continuously from resemblance of general situations to resemblance of specific scenes, from identical sentences to same single words. Firstly, reiterations reveal people’s fear. They prefer to stay in their routine but safe life and are afraid of change. At the beginning of the book, Johnson arrives at the reservation and tries to communicate with local people, but nobody would talk to the stranger. According to me, it is this fear of change that urges the destruction of the band at last for they believe that the band has changed and they must desert it. Unfortunately, people are indeed changing in spite of their fear. In the story, the author makes every member of the band have astonishingly similar families. Nearly all their parents drink because they have all suffered changes in the life, which leads to different family tragedies. The typical one is the story of Thomas’s father Samuel. Drinking allows these “lost souls” to avoid pains in life, but delivers their sufferance to their younger generation, and the younger generation once again sheds tears for similar sufferance.

 

Secondly, ceaseless repetition is a way of remembering. Thomas, the only one in the band having an Indian family name, “Builds-the-Fire”, is no doubt an important figure who feels it is his duty to defend Indian traditions. That’s why he is made the lead singer—which is emphasized many times in the novel, though he doesn’t have the best voice. He always repeats his stories. On page15, “Thomas repeated stories constantly. All other Indians on the reservation heard those stories so often that the words crept into dreams”. Repeating these stories is a way to remember and hand down Indian traditional culture. Music is the same. Constant rehearsals of traditional Indian songs have the power of penetrate people’s insensible souls and help them to remember their traditions. People used to dance with the band and it became a semi-religious ceremony which annoyed the Catholics because it presaged the renewing and recovery of the people. Just like what is commented in the article concerning Cuban music: “during the economic crisis following the Soviet collapse, music was the one thing that held the island together, a common passion for both revolutionaries and reactionaries”. More precisely, in the novel, the most important type of music they play is “blues”. Blues originated from African-American communities in the U.S and are sung for self-expression and in the story. It is precisely the black man, Robert Johnson, who brings the guitar to the Indians. On page 22, the guitar announces:  “The blues always make us remember” and on page 174, blues are described as “ancient, aboriginal, indigenous”—“created memories for the Spokanes”, “lit up a new road”, “churned up generations of anger and pain”.

 

A part from the phenomenon of constant repetitions, similarities and reproductions, I’m also interested in how the author deals with the relationship in life between Indians and white people. What do they look like in each other’s eyes?

 

The main Indian figures’ attitudes are influenced by similar reasons, while white figures all have different visions and motivations in the book— they embody different groups of whites who have different ideas. Chess is somewhat radical and thinks that “she hated Indian men who chased after white women; she hated white women who chased after Indian men” (page 81); Junior likes to hang out with white women because “Junior knew that white women were trophies for Indian boys. He always figured getting a white woman was like counting coup or stealing horses, like the best kind of revenge against white men” (page 233). However, I have to note that there is a common explanation for their idea: they have been hurt once. Chess’s grandmother was a little white and she hated to be Indian and finally hurt the family by leaving her grandfather; Junior’s attitude towards white women is changed because he was hurt by his first white girlfriend Lynn. The white figures in the book are different, but also typical: the two white cops and Sheridan are typical white plunderers towards Indians. For them, Indians are just a kind of tool for making their own benefits because they are an inferior race. Lynn and Wright both feel guilty towards Indians because Lynn hurt Junior by refusing a half-breed baby and Wright is tortured by his guilt of having killed so many Indians in the war. They are indeed guilty, but they seem to be powerless because the former must obey her family and the society and the latter must listen to his boss and can only cry before his wife’s grave. Father Alnold and Father James are both kind white men who really want to help the Indians, but both are fooled by their white fellow people (by leaders with political intentions and for Father James, by his own nieces). Betty and Veronica are two white women of the young generation. They don’t reject the Indians and even worship them and appreciate their features and culture. However, they cannot integrate neither because hate and fear is deeply planted in the mind of Indians.

 

Concerning cultural invasions, three kinds are mentioned in the novel. The first is an invasion by religion through the sermons of the priest: “as a lead singer, as a priest, he could change the shape of the world just by changing the shape of a phrase” (page 36). The band is supposed to take over as the “lead singer” and protect Native culture. The destruction of the band in the end is no surprise since everything which may sustain or revive their traditional culture is always destroyed without mercy. Destruction as a habitual method is the second means of cultural invasion. On page 146, Thomas recounts what he has seen when he was nine: “I went to church one day and found everybody burning records and books”; “These are the devil’s tools! the white Catholic priest bellowed as his Indian flock threw books and records into the fire”. The third means is more direct: threats. When people do not want to listen to the priest, missionaries threaten the audience with black boxes. People then become quiet and full of fear because they are told that the boxes contain smallpox which may kill them quickly. Faced with such forms of cultural invasion, some Indian reactions are depicted by the writer in a satirical way. People who do not believe in Christianity challenge the church more directly. For instance, when the music band is at the top of their career, Thomas says in the interview that “I think we’d all be better off if we put more rock music into our churches…we need to be loud so God can hear us. What’s louder than rock ’n’ roll?” (page 159). In another conversation with Chess, he argues about the Wounded Knee slaughter: “All those soldiers killed us in the name of God, enit? They shouted ‘Jesus Christ’ as they ran swords through our bellies” (page 167). Lester, who doesn’t have so many stories as Thomas does, simply expresses his attitude by calling his three dogs “the Father”, “the Son” and “the Holy ghost”. People who do believe in Christianity are embodied by the Warm Water sisters. They are also confused, just as Checker is confused, which is quite ironical: “But did God want me to fall in love with his priest?” (page 149). Finally, even Father Alnold has shown his uncertainty: “You do know that Jesus was Jewish? He probably had dark skin and hair”(page 141).

 

To conclude, important themes constantly reappear in the novel, they represent the Native people’s fear of change and also a call to preserve traditions and tribal culture. The confrontation of Indians and whites are carefully handled by the author without radical expressions but showing how the two peoples see each other and illustrating the cultural invasion. According to the Time’s article, Oscar’s band also split up and most of its members have moved from Cuba. As fear is useless, both Cubans and Indians had better change. Music is just a weapon; the fundamental changes need to begin with the mind, just like Big Mom’s advice in Reservation Blues: “You can change your mind”. I think that is what Sherman Alexie would say after the whole story so that the dancer of the Cuban band doesn’t need to say “To be Cuban is to be tired” and Checkers doesn’t need to say “Sometimes, I hate being Indian”. If music is a weapon, so is literature.

今天早上是被电话叫醒的.

我觉得我好象从小到大都很少接别人找我的电话.除了初中时代的陈子豪,高中时代的刘然和大学时代的妈妈,以及现在的AURELIEN.

好象从来都是我打给别人.

而生活中我也偶尔会接到一些让我意外的人打来的电话.大多数这种电话都是求助电话.例如今天早上.

 

之后浏览邮箱,震惊地发现了Marie的邮件.苦笑,她又需要我为她服务什么?果然,是关于意大利语课.我很高兴地告诉她,我不上这个课了.

放下电话看过邮件我叹气,我真的只有在人家遇到困难时才能被想起么?

我觉得我从一生下来就不是个高尚的人.我不是真正意义上的助人为乐.但是我的确非常喜欢帮别人做我力所能及的事.原因简单说有两个,最重要的一个是我想交朋友,朋友是一种属于我的心灵的寄托,是一种精神财富,多付出些也值得.另一个原因是我会有满足感,会觉得自己有用.

 

最近找我帮忙的人很多,本应充满成就感,可我却很伤心.我觉得自己的热情被滥用了.AURELIEN说我象"pigeon"一样被人喝来唤去.使唤完了就被扔一边不理了.我辩驳了半天最后还是发现也许真是这样.

 

我猛地想到一件事.其实我又何尝不是常常这样?有几个人我一直觉得亏欠很多.他们才是真正对我最好最关心我的人,我却为他们做得太少.我总是不小心把他们忘了，却在需要他们帮助时才想到．

 

于是我明白了，其实这就是某种平衡．我帮助那些不会把我当回事的人的时候，其实就可以从另一个角度去解除一些对那些我欠了债的人的负罪感．

生活是这样帮我平衡的．在我忘记我不该忘记的事的时候．

我想我该记起了．还是珍惜那些对我最好的人．

 

另外今天这里谢谢亲爱的鲍慧，今天看到你关切的邮件（虽然只有三个字加一个问号），我突然觉得很温暖很温暖，我觉得想到你，很幸福．

一直叨念着要试试高翻,从没来法国时就这样了.可是说心里话,压根自己没仔细考虑过这个问题.不是不想,总觉得还有时间.

两年了,这个念想一直没断.虽然期间一次一次被吓得准备退缩.

今年暑假回家,总不断的有人问,你还要再读几年?

我的回答一直是"没准儿".然后又晃晃荡荡真真假假地说要考高翻.其实我每和别人说一次想考高翻,我就在心里自己骂自己一句"真俗,闭嘴".

这几天心里不安宁.

我知道这一年对我太重要了.我必须首先顺利毕业,然后为我学生生涯做一次正确的抉择.我知道我没有几次可以选择的机会了,怠慢了就会一辈子后悔了.

这个选择对我来讲有两个意义,第一是圆一个梦,第二是为职业生涯铺一条路.

我从来没有真正地在一所自己仰慕的学校中读过书(除了25中这可爱而特别的学校),所以我向往巴黎高翻这样世界顶尖级的翻译学校,也向往索邦大学那震撼人心的建筑与学术气息.

我也知道,学翻译学语言是我的正路.我不想偏离它.尽管它留给我的选择太狭隘了.如果真的有一天我不得已而妥协了,我一定是会回到高三那种感觉.

 

可是可是,这几天,我开始真正地留意高翻,真正地去搜集关于它的信息.我才又要感叹,它高高在上是有它高高在上的原因的.

考进去的都不是来法国一年两年的.

考进去了耗费了一两年青春又被逐出来从此一无所有的也大有人在.

进去的人要学会"不要脸",因为老师总会在骂你.

我突然想到了军营.

可是有那么多人做梦都想进去被骂.

有个高翻毕业女生在论坛上说话很狂.她所有的话几乎都是在打击人.

粗略算算,她进高翻之前学法语大概至少有7年了.

那个吴姐姐不也是学了5年法语后才考得高翻么...

 

我不希望自己惧怕ESIT,我相信如果能扛过LLCE,我就会对ESIT有信心.

但是人各有命,命中有是福,命中没有或许也是福.

这十平米其实看起来还是挺顺眼的.它自己本身是干枯而冷冰冰的,但是虽着时间的推移,它承载的记忆越来越多,我开始觉得它温暖.

我现在才知道原来十平米也可以千变万化.

昨天为了这十平米,去了警察局.警察果然很潇洒.他很绅士地跟我们聊天,跟我们说笑话,就是对案子没什么兴趣.拼命地盯着他看,也没看到他脸上有一丝同情或者关心.

录口供他好象一共问了五六个问题,除了"门哪坏了"和"丢什么东西了",其余都是关于姓名地址什么的了...

他真的无所谓.我去之前也知道他会是无所谓.但是亲眼见到他那笑呵呵一副吃饱了不愁吃穿的样子,还是觉得心里不是滋味.

我看不下去,索性换我问他.

--这楼里是不是最近被盗现象很严重?

--是的,今年很多.不过都是同一个人干的,我想我们很快就要把他抓捕了.

哎,不知道是警察没有大脑还是他觉得我没有大脑.

丢不丢脸,警察局的大楼就被这几栋楼包围着,可这每栋楼里不停地出现类似的案件,警察们却像傻子一样无动于衷,最要命的是,还说胡话.

 

今天这十平米要迎客了.刘然同学的girlfriend李娃鹂要登陆巴黎了.晚上要去机场接她...据说行李有65公斤...原来我当初一点都不过分...

拖拖拉拉终于可以再开始写字了.

又一次重新开始法国生活.

第一个星期过得很舒服.

我发现离别这个东西常常会让人痛苦,但它也有好的一面,它教会人去珍惜.

这次回来一切都很温暖.其实原来没什么感情的邻居也亲切了很多.

回来的第一个周六,去VINCENNES放纵了一天.我只是想对自己说,法国的生活也很美好.当然...至少9月份...

这个房子依然让我没有什么安全感,但是屋里的灯光还是让我觉得温暖.

有的时候害怕,有的时候觉得很幸福.最惆怅的时候莫过于想家.

今天在VINCENNES时终于去了那个动物园.动物园不大,但是环境还不错,也有几个让我感叹不已的画面.美丽温驯的动物用它们的沉静带给人们安宁,生性凶残的动物用它们发出的各种声音让人心颤.

按照巴黎时间,现在仍旧是中秋.

写完上面这句话,就想起来还没有好好看看月亮.于是跑到阳台张望.

一两个小时前,月亮还躲在云间,隐隐约约.现在已经干干净净地爬了出来,真的皎洁.

其实比中秋更重要的

今天是妈妈的生日.

也不是一般的生日

是12年一次的本命年生日.

周日的时候想给家里打电话,可是不知道怎么回事,neuf的网络好象出了问题,电话怎么也打不通.当时想,算了,那就周二打吧.

今天竟然还是不通.手机也已被bloquer,无法发短信.

我心里急啊.

我那么着急.

这个日子很重要,我一定得打通这个电话.我想尽一切办法,连同学住处也跑了一通,终究还是不行.

时间一点一点流逝.我终于心寒了.

我疯狂地上网找认识的人,终于看到了最最亲爱的朱.

完美的人选.

我要朱替我发了短信,把祝福带回去.

短信发出后,善解人意的朱还说要不要她给我家里打电话过去.

这个时刻,在我已经绝望地握着电话的时候,家里的电话竟然拨通了.听到了爸爸亲切的声音.我都不知道该说什么了.

随即我意识到,这个电话随时可能断掉.

在我刚刚将这一点提醒给他们后不到1分钟的时间,电话就被切断了.妈妈听上去很疲乏.

我还什么都没说呢...

再打,又断了.

谢谢朱.帮我传递祝福的angel.

 

之后,我一直在想一件事.

为什么我对这种"时间"概念特别强呢.

对每一个特别的日子的一分一秒我都很在乎,不能接受让它们出错.否则我就很伤心,甚至委屈.

总是很精心地为这种特别的日子准备着.

而这种特别的日子至少有一半是在为别人而记着准备着.

那么,究竟,这些被我这样钻牛角尖计算时间和流程的日子,对这些人来说,他们也那么在乎吗?

一定没有我这么较真儿吧.时常想如果我把我的较真儿讲给别人听,或许都会让听者都会觉得我不正常了.

每当想到别人可能根本没想那么多我所谓的"意义"时,会觉得心里酸酸的.觉得渴望知音.

然而法则依然.

 

用简单的 主语 谓语 宾语 讲一个 只有 骨头 的故事.

 

Manu和Mickean是同性恋.

Mickean快三十岁了,但是思想却像个孩子,很不成熟,是传说中同性恋偏"女"的一方.他见到男性的朋友是要行贴面礼的.Manu二十四五的样子.

他们在一起两年了.他们住在一起,彼此照顾,一直很幸福,幸福得让很多人嫉妒.

一周前,Mickean突然决定要离开Manu了.

一周了,Manu伤心极了.

在Manu眼里,Mickean选择了David.

David看上去很成熟,戴着墨镜像坏人.他并不能接受Mickean.

Mickean的姐姐和妈妈不赞同他与Manu分手.Mickean却很决然.

Manu从很小的时候就被寄养在别人家里慢慢长大.他一定更惧怕失去.

他绝望的眼神.

 

睡美人沉睡了一百年,也等到了修成正果,终于醒来的那一天.

年轻,几年的时光,为了脑子和眼睛,让心受伤.太多的离别与重聚.漫长与短暂.眼泪不可以再流.即使心开始滴血,脑子和眼睛告诉自己长大了.

以前,总想离开,走出去.而今却恋了北京.

take care

 

appels

de demps en demps

pour dire que

je suis là

 

没有想到两个月竟然可以这样闪电过去.

第二次来巴黎.

少了些畏惧,多了些恍惚.各个场景熟悉又陌生,几个瞬间让我闪晃在记忆与现实之中,所以恍惚.

中国人,法国人.长得太不一样了.生活环境太不一样了.

在自己的国土上,怎样都是主人,带着天生的优越感与自豪感.但是走出自己的天空,迈入另一片天地,就要自己把自己当主人了.

开始工作了.

两个孩子都很可爱却都不爱说话.我还知道会有很多的问题,很多冲突在等着我,妈妈的命令,孩子的违抗.孩子说话,我听不懂.但是我喜欢小家伙抓一把花儿或是一把草放在我手里时满足的样子.一手的土,却觉得很享受,虽然那一刻太短了.

两个小时的时间,只要一种责任感.

留学是洋插队,呵呵.

这个电影一直知道,但是一直都没看.

只是一直挺喜欢佟大为,昨天无意发现他前段时间出了张专辑.下载了.还没来得及听,只听了一首歌,够难听的.不过下载专辑时相关下载信息里看到了这个电影.就也顺便下下来看了看.

看了以后不知道说什么好.

在网上看影评,几乎全是好评.

其实的确有它的好.开头和结尾我都很喜欢.只是发展和高潮我不喜欢.呵呵我也不知道哪个更重要.突然觉得这个电影很象一篇我写所习惯写的作文.你从远处去看它去想它,它可以.可当你贴近它,你觉得那么难受.整个发展和高潮部分我都觉得自己一直在受折磨,怎么看都觉得它让自己很énerver,一种很神经质的表现.我想之所以它会这样,是表现得有点过火了,由于过火而失真.不细腻了,粗糙了.也就不好看了.象是讲给孩子的教育故事,再粗糙一点就变成寓言了.

我真希望我是个全能.

我希望我能把微波炉打开.

我想看看里面的磁控管.

我想把它换掉.

或者希望今天我什么也没有发现.

Amy Lee是长胖了么?

5月26日,考试前倒数第三个晚上就这样"遇到"她和她的乐队.

比起Tété的确是场面气派多了.

灯光,舞台.真的象场梦.

什么时候我弹琴时能被那样一束绚丽缓慢旋转给人宁静的粉红光束笼罩,儿时猛烈地追求的钢琴可以带来的虚荣与想象也就可以被满足很多了.

写上面这个大长句子语法改了半天,真是,连说话都不会说了.只是实在不知道怎么表示那种感觉.真的灯光意境太好了.唯一让我郁闷的是,观众太次了.年轻人的天下啊.这次的年轻人是真的要更年轻一些.

相当有"疯狂"的气势.

站在我左前面的是两个黑人哥哥,巨人一样.我于是就变得十分可怜,从头到尾大部分时间都踮着脚尖看的.更郁闷的是大哥哥的味道,让我在人群中几次感觉窒息.不过我还是不后悔站到前面而没坐到后面的位子上去的.看台的确很舒服,但是太远了,气氛不够浓烈,会感觉象在看马戏团表演或者看电影.

Amy Lee出场后感觉和平时在网上杂志上看到的真的不一样.

完全没有神秘的感觉.就是个小孩儿.

出乎意料地胖嘟嘟.

她不停地甩着她的头发疯狂地唱,惟有在她弹钢琴时才安静下来.

或许是音响太好了,总觉得乐队的声音过大了,压过了她的声音,少了些钻骨的穿透力.

看着我前面那些傻孩子挥着他们的爪子,摆出一副流里流气的样子,我心里充满了厌恶.恨不得砍掉他们一直伸着的食指与小拇指.就那么点缝隙可供我瞅瞅舞台,那些挥舞的爪子还不时挡住我的视线.

看她的乐队,真的很敬业.

一切都很华丽,只是感觉少了点人情味.

或许从入场就感觉到了这一点,在相机被没收的那一刻.

自从第一次去参拜巴黎圣母院,就一直觉得不对.

第一次见到圣母院,却总想向外走.

以有风为借口,逃一样的闪了.那还是个挺重要的日子呐.宗教节日.都这么令人漠然.

 

之后的每一次,我也都精神空灵.我刚来时一直说见到真实的巴黎有些失望,因为它和我想象中的一样.

终于终于,上周六的晚上.我明白了.之所以和想象中的一样,是因为看到的是最肤浅的东西,看到的是一个旅游的城市,或者更确切地说,是一个城市的旅游.

终于终于,上周六的晚上,无意的决定,看到了巴黎圣母院这个在我心目中分量比较重的一个地方,一个真实的场景,一个真正的教堂.

它和平时完全不再一样,半个教堂被封锁起来,不再灯火辉煌,不再四处拥挤.

大屏幕垂下.我不知道被放映的电影究竟是什么,只是听了一会儿,而后觉得心很静.我觉得我不是教徒.我只是有点感慨,又觉得新奇.挺开心地站了起来,去看左边走廊闪烁的蜡烛.蜡烛却把我卡住了.15分钟?20分钟?半个小时?我第一次在教堂里连续地听到抽泣声,看到红红的眼眶,亲自体会到火焰滚烫的感觉.

终于,结局.一家欢喜一家愁.

这个夜晚是法国人的.

Nicolas Sarkozy真的有点丑.这个结局让我几次想到了美国的上次选举,布什的微弱优势.

为Royal惋惜一下,真的很不容易.虽然我对她的政治思想与提议不怎么苟同,但是对她还是有一定好感的.她要不总是那样微笑就好了.

这段时间也算开了一点眼界.我也挺辛苦地一路陪两位候选人走过来的.

突然很想把藏在巴黎土地里的东西都扒出来.

 

终于第一次在法国看了演唱会.这也是人生中第一次真正的演唱会.

自己不是一个追星的人,有偏爱的歌手有偏爱的音乐,却及少因什么而疯狂.

对Tété,最初的感觉就是很可爱.黑黑的,方方的,音乐很让人宽心.现在的感觉还是很可爱.真的很象小猩猩,很可爱的小猩猩.很真诚很努力的小猩猩.他伸起手臂的样子.

呵呵其实人家不小了.

看完他的演唱会,想起那次在成都"小酒馆"里看到的"重塑雕像的权利".他们才是真正做音乐的人.没有花哨的个人秀,一把吉他,一脸汗水,一件湿透的T-shirt,甚至不在乎你是否可以看清他的脸.

我想到国内的演唱会,常常听到"万人演唱会".我突然有点恐惧.万人.

我离Tété真的很近了.

我喜欢这个演唱会的气氛.舞台上一片漆黑中突然出现的4个熟悉音符的循环弹跳让底下的人们一下癫狂了.欢呼而不杂乱,热情而不粗野.来听Tété的人年龄都相仿,20多岁的样子,甚至让我觉得性格都相仿.有种清新的感觉.所有的人都随音乐而动.

non châpeau,呵呵尾声阶段人们重复着这个要求.我很期盼录下他摘下帽子的瞬间,但最终他还是没有给我机会.直到最后,他也没有摘下他的小白帽子.

在我仅听懂的一点法语里面,我知道他说了Nicolas Sarkozy.当他很直白地表明Sarkozy是个很危险的家伙的时候,台下轰鸣般的叫好声.他并不激进,看起来很简单,就象在点评一个电视节目一样平静而面带微笑.

 

放在这里一个连接吧,à la faveur de l'automne是比较好听的一首歌,也是比较受女孩子们欢迎的一首歌http://www.dailymotion.com/related/3118894/video/xrydr_tete-a-la-faveur-de-lautomne/1

 

或许,下一次是Evanescence?

我的邻居是个黑人.非洲加蓬.人算是很gentil了,彼此相处还好.

她一直很感叹中国人很厉害.她每次这样说时我心里都很自豪.她说中国人很会学,很会学以致用.她说她怎么也想不通,中国年轻人面对电脑时怎么几乎全部可以做到盲打.也不明白一根普通的笔在中国学生的手里怎么就能被那么娴熟而幽雅地转起圈来.她总是在说中国发展太快了,马上就是发达国家了.

 

终于今天,她说她有中文课了.说有一些不懂的地方想向我讨教.我有些惊讶.她都已经博士了,怎么又开了中文.她又念叨说因为中国就要是发达国家了,所以法国也意识到要开中文课了.暗暗又骄傲一下.

马上就迎来二月的最后一天了.

Rita,焦丽,色色,大家新年快乐.l'anné du cochon.

春天就要来了.

前面的一段时间总在迷茫,现在该清晰起来了.这是我的生活.都是我的.

TCF的练兵已经于今天上午结束了.

空空的,说明没考好.其实就是实力不济.

有一阵子没有写日志,是因为觉得自己唠唠叨叨说些生活小事实在无趣.写给自己看就罢了,被别人看到多罗嗦.但是今天还是过来罗嗦了.

 

今天一天经历的感情波动很大.从早上起床,电话,短信,考试...几乎每一个事件都扭变着我的心情.心情不停地变变变.现在是一天的末尾.结局是感觉很惆怅.

想到从前.在北京的日子.2006年的暑假.2004年的暑假.

 

最近发现自己头发明显长了.

都已经两个月了,上次剪还是10月12日下午OR傍晚,在青年路的审美...

呵呵剪头发的师傅,我把你的作品带到巴黎来炫耀一下.

让我暂且庆幸的是,我的头发乖乖的,没有象在国内一样疯长,两个月就很厚了,即便不剪短也要去薄了.现在由于掉头发不少,所以基本保持收支平衡,还不错.我掉头发不厉害,因为我不喝水管里的水.

 

说到这个,我又想到那个我十分十分喜欢的Emmanuelle(不过我觉得她不太适合教我们语法课...教教口语什么的还可以).她的表情总是那么夸张,神叨叨的.我上课看着她老能很幸福地傻笑.上节课和她争论了半天...关于水龙头里的水的问题.我当时巨惊讶.她说法国人就直接喝水龙头里接出来的水.她不明白我们干吗还要先烧开了水再喝.我说我喝水管里的水会肚子疼,她说我们应该信任法国...我偷偷地想,刚来没两天时,我就早上走时喝了一口凉白开,就那么一丢丢点儿,还是烧过的水呢,还害我肚子疼那么厉害,甚至小晕了一下.我不信任不信任.真的,这边的水烧开了放很久都是浑浊的.最后干了就会在杯子或碗里有重重的一个白色的水印圈.他们竟然直接喝?连烧都不烧.Emmanuelle说从水龙头里接凉水直接喝绝对没问题,但是接热水喝就不是特别好,她说会有点不干净,不过不是水不干净,只是管道不干净而已.她说尽管如此,她还是喝水龙头里的热水的,因为她喝了一点事都没有.唉,这个家伙.我听着还是挺郁闷的,才知道原来这边餐馆里奉上的所谓的carafe d'eau竟然是水龙头里直接接出来的凉水...冷汗...哎,就让我大惊小怪一次吧.

 

这个周末错过了两个热闹.都怪我消息不够灵通.第一个是Muse来巴黎开演唱会,好象是14,15号,我是14号晚上在报纸上看到的,但是那时候也已经不可能弄到票了.第二个是周六下午T3开通大家免费乘坐T3,这个消息是我刚才研究报纸看到的.呵呵早知道拿回报纸就马上看了,周五晚上拿回来,刚才才看.其实我们的地铁票以后也是可以乘坐的,只是遗憾没看到热闹.关于T3,呵呵,这个车有点意思,用报纸上的话说就是时隔70年,我们又见到那种老式的有轨车.法国的其他省也已经有了这种车,欧洲的一些国家也有了,现在巴黎也有了.呵呵.这个车走的路线离我们住的地方还不远,连接起了13区,14区和15区,以后还要向东再扩建一小段路.我们要是再去13区那边中国超市里买东西就又多一种交通选择了.