May 15th, 2008
不記得在何時寫下這個標題,也不記得當初是為了寫些什麼故事。總之,總有許多空標題在草稿欄裡擱置、被忘記。
從圖書館借來的書,偶爾翻著翻著便掉下來前任閱者遺漏下的紙片。現在出借只需掃描條碼由電腦在發票上打印還書日誌,無需再用手工給扉頁的卡片蓋章,教人少了個閱讀以外的小小樂趣:從扉頁的卡片上讀這本書被借閱的歷史,就如去舊書攤翻淘舊書,於紙張、文字之外,得窺這一冊書有別於他者而存在的個體性,所謂 personality. 有時看到一本書上次被打卯已經是數十年前,那時刻,總有一種被人遺忘過又被人重新想起的感慨。
The two moments, instead of being separated by decades, belong to the same hour of the same season.
前次從書頁裡翻到一張購物清單:『一斤蝦,通心粉,番茄,兩只燈籠椒,運動飲料……』。看到別人私生活的一個片刻,隱約有點偷窺後的自責。有時候在超市排隊等待付款,會忍不住打量別人購物車裡面的細節:這個人家裏有嬰兒,那個人是懶怠做飯嗎所以只吃罐頭和冷凍餐,左邊這個大概快要開派對,右邊那個在瘦身……然後再反觀自己的購物車,看看從中能推算出自家的幾分真貌。
這次從書頁裡掉落下來的是一張書簽,印著本市一個書店/咖啡館的地址。怎麼沒見過?到網絡黃頁上查,才知道這間店至少七年前就已經關張。惋惜之餘,也想到在本市經營獨立書店的舉步維艱,關門的境遇其實並不出意料之外。書簽印得恭儉溫良,還書的時候忍不住收留下。
在這裡,一個獨立書店的前生——

EARTHLING BOOKSHOP & CAFE
1137 State Street
Santa Barbara, CA 93101
(805) 965-0926
BOOKSTORE HOURS
9:00 A.M. - 11:00 P.M. SUN. TO THURS.
9:00 A.M. - MIDNIGHT FRI. & SAT.
CAFE HOURS
OPENS 7:30 A.M. WEEKDAYS
EVENTS
• AUTHOR APPEARANCES:
Sundays at 3 p.m.
• WRITERS UNLIMITED:
With open readings.
Mondays at 7:30 p.m.
• FILM CLUB:
Tuesdays at 7 p.m.
• TRAVEL SLIDES:
Wednesdays at 7:15 p.m.
• OPERA NIGHT & MORE
Thursdays at 7 p.m.
• CHILDREN’S STORY HOUR
Saturdays at 11 a.m.
SALES
• New York Times Bestsellers at 30% off.
• Selected Hardcovers and Art Books up to 80% off.
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April 11th, 2008
近一個月各類事件頻頻發生,加之前一通與母親的電話中討論時政引發的爭端,陡然拓展(或說,扭轉)我目前的閱讀空間和興趣取向。人到了一定年紀,心思漸次由對自身的關注轉向對世界的關注。世界是什麼?世界包括我周圍的人(我認識的、我知道的、我將要認識的、以及我將要忘記的人);我生存的環境(自然,文化,藝術,語言,理念,信仰,科學,未來);我所處的社會與國家機制,我關心的人所處的社會與國家機制……還有更多。
最近只寫了幾段有頭無尾的短章,漸漸自己都覺得無聊,就沒強行結上個尾貼出來。
從前寫過的話,雖然有許多以現下的心智看了只會訕笑,但當時有曾這樣想過、這樣寫過,就有於此存在的權利,是所謂尊重歷史。也不能保證日後不會重又突如其來的發些瑣碎的感言,人,大概總免不了一時血氣上涌情感取勝於理智。
思緒紛繁蕪雜,寫作實為極好的爬梳。書寫中形成認識、鋪展認識、質疑與反思,慢慢成為當下內心的側重。
偶然查成語時,看到【想入非非】條。非非,原為『非想非非想處天』的省略。
復次阿難當知。識所住處有其七種。非識住處有其二種。七識住處者。所謂若有色有眾生。種種身種種想。是為第一識所住處。若有色有眾生。種種身一想。所謂初禪天。此為第二識所住處。若有色有眾生。一身種種想。所謂二禪天。是為第三識所住處。若有色有眾生。一身一想。所謂三禪天。是為第四識所住處。若無色無眾生。彼一切處離諸色想。都一虛空。所謂空無邊處天。是為第五識所住處。若無色無眾生。彼一切處離於空想。都惟一識。所謂識無邊處天。是為第六識所住處。若無色無眾生。彼一切處離識無邊。都無所有。所謂無所有處天。是為第七識所住處。阿難。二種非識住處者。所謂若有色有眾生。即無想天。是為第一非識住處。若無色無眾生。於彼一切離無所有處。非有想非無想。即非想非非想處天。是為第二非識住處
- 大藏經 ∙ 阿含部上 ∙ 大生義經
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February 2nd, 2008
……
The present is filled by echoes of past…
“Be brave”, I hear such voices, “Valiente”.
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November 17th, 2007
一
希從東半球飛返,我去接機,失之交臂。趕到家,計程車正停在門口。行李反倒比走時候重了,原來是帶回食物兩箱。
親愛的T:
食物滋味如回憶的血肉,就像時間影像是記憶的筋骨,不斷反復描摹某些悅人的體驗,勾起一大串過去種種。
英倫的印度菜真是無可匹敵的美味,可我那吃遍天下的澳洲朋友說布里斯班的遠東風味才是空前絕後。大概他犯了思鄉病吧。
Oregano 也是萬能的香料之一。每回阿希的爸爸來訪,都帶一大把曬干的 Oregano 枝葉。這東西在西西里沒人種的,路邊野地裡隨處拔的才最好。南加州的百貨店也有賣,可是沒味道。陶爐烤的麵包片兒烤到邦邦脆,放上一塊紅番茄,撒一小把 Oregano,幾星鹽,淋上新榨的橄欖油——我能變成饕餮漢。
頭一回吃到兩天前才榨好的橄欖油,之奇香我驚為天物。其實說橄欖油,莫如說橄欖汁,那顔色還是濁的。他說,再放幾天經過沉淀,油色要清澈得多,可那時味道就不同了。掃盡盤中餐,我還貪婪的用手指沾食剩下的油跡。Fare la scarpetta! 南加州的義大利餐廳,好像中餐館必備醬油瓶一樣,桌上必擺醋瓶、橄欖油瓶,餐前上的麵包片常見人放在碟裡淋上橄欖油吃,我試過一次,只覺得膩而無味。希嘲笑說,不是所有橄欖油都可以這麼用來淋的。米國人民又斷章取義了。
二
父母與老友同游雲南而歸。在週末例行的電話中問及,母親的語氣很失落。原來旅途中友人的情緒跌蕩不定,對路線食宿與風土人物時有不滿,母親疲于補救,終仍落得個冷淡而草率的收場。我從側勸解:這一雙友人年事已高,對跋涉難免力不從心,口味不調、休息不好,自然難掩沮喪……他們或許已過了熱愛新鮮與歷險的年紀,不適合如此奔波,抑或許,此番最後一次中國之旅,期許的是印證懷念中『溫婉而清貧簡樸的東方』,卻處處失望……二十多年的朋友了,數年不見,雙方均對重逢寄望頗多,最終卻在彬彬有禮中飲憾而歸,大概彼此都有創傷……人老了,有時變得就像任性的小孩……一定不能心存芥蒂,一定要保持書信……
其實,我還想說,互相經歷過對方的臭脾氣的朋友,才最貼心。友誼不僅是在尋常心下如何禮敬有加,更是在齟齬時怎生化解。就像居住一個城市,總是要經歷過四季晴雨之後才心生歸屬。不過,這種話又何須我講?
Robert Walser 一九二〇年寫道:
I imagine China to be a country of love and peace, where the laws are as soft as the breeze that wafts across regions where gracious behavior is everything. Cities and countrysides are like songs being sung by poets, and heaven is closer to earth than anywhere else. Why do I picture it so?
… …
A Chinese woman looks alike a flowering plant. To think of China in springtime makes one happy. The language is like a delicious drink; to speak it is bliss, the words are sweet as kisses.
… …
On the mountains stand temples which are consecrated to the gods. Innumerable lamps shimmer at night. Behind the house there is a garden where birds twitter in the moonlight or in the sunshine.
The human traffic is like an ocean. All people have only good intentions. Evils and sorrows have long been overcome.
那只是一個想像的中國……
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November 11th, 2007
Following a sinuous and intriguing route, I arrived at your site. There was a book. An open book. Two chapters -
A chapter of randomly put together photos, uncommented, mostly black & white, all in the smallest scale: a scene from a polo game, close-up of an eye of a horse, glittering street lamps in the dusk, a plane taking off, an apple, clouds, shadows, an empty corridor with two empty chairs and a table…
Followed by a chapter of a soundless video clip: the clouds were forming up on the mountain, and slowly, the sky of blue engulfed by the fog of rain.
It was there, then, I could hear the sound of silence.
P.S. I’m sorry - the sound was too strong, and I had to write it down.
——
那是一處極靜的居所,開一個窗口任由雲跡的影像一遍遍反覆播放,時間仿若停止。就在這一刻,我看到了寂靜的聲響。
文字(text)是有聲的,圖像(image)則無。眼目見到字跡,心中的耳自然聽到默誦的聲音。無題注的照片完全以形色說話,那些成功的表達,促生超然文字之上的默示。移動的影像(moving image)如果恰與某一份記憶重合,喚醒那時的心境,更觸發強烈的震顫與回響。我就是每當看到雲的時候會聽到寂靜吧?看著你那些圖影,我聽到一顆無聲的心。
——
Random thoughts 11/12:
How words betray us! In review of this writing I was almost astonished to discover what’s intended to be said was turned into verses of morbid melancholy, by my unintentional, personal touch. Is that my style, really? I am afraid of my own words now. Every letter of it seemed to have been soaked in this dreary gloom, which I just cannot rid of. My Chinese writings, especially. Why, am I trapped in using such words and forming such phrases that’ll dim the light a shade or two?
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October 18th, 2007
Thank you for bearing with me and my silly mumblings.
It’s been like one of those moments you ask yourself a question abruptly, only seconds later to find it rather foolish. I never believed my images have the power I want them to have, if they have anything at all. The sense of things is so often unclear when you are overwhelmed by their trivialities.
Now I see it’s the same meaningfulness and meaninglessness as in the strange everyday itself. What I want to show in my images is most likely not what they actually show, nor is it what you see.
But there’s no need to stop.
You live wherever you live.
You do whatever work you do.
You talk however you talk.
You eat whatever you eat.
You wear whatever clothes you wear.
You look at whatever images you see.
YOU’RE LIVING HOWEVER YOU CAN.
YOU ARE WHOEVER YOU ARE.
“Identity”…
of a person,
of a thing,
of a place.
“Identity”…
the word itself gives me shivers
It rings of calm, comfort, contentedness.
What is it, identity?
To know where you belong?
To know your self worth?
To know who you are?
How do you recognize identity?
We are creating an image of ourselves.
We are attempting to resemble this image…
Is that what we call identity?
The accord
between the images we have created
of ourselves
and … ourselves?
Just who is that, “ourselves”?
We live in the cities.
The cities live in us…
time passes.
We move from one city to another,
from one country to another.
We change languages.
We change habits.
We change opinions.
We change clothes.
We change everything.
Everything changes. And fast.
Images above all,
have changed faster and faster.
And they have been multiplying at a hellish rate, ever since
the explosion that unleashed the electronic images,
the very images that I’m now replacing photography.
We have learned to trust the photographic image.
Can we trust the electronic image?
With painting everything was simple.
The original was the original,
and each copy was a copy - a forgery.
With photography
and then film
that began to get complicated.
The original was a negative.
Without a print, it did not exist.
Just the opposite,
each copy was the original.
But now with the electronic,
and soon the digital,
there is no more negative and no more positive.
The very notion of the original is obsolete.
Everything is a copy.
All distinctions have become arbitrary.
No wonder the idea of identity
finds itself in such a feeble state.
Identity is out of fashion.
- Wim Wenders, Notebook on Cities and Clothes
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October 5th, 2007
American Beauty ——
生之流螢 小人物淡彩 詩 年青而純明的愛
電視裡重播這部電影,人歪倒在沙發上,忍不住又看了一遍。
想起 ——
As cool as the pale wet leaves
of lily-of-the-valley
She lay beside me in the dawn
泠然如青潤的君影草葉一般 / 躺在我身旁黎明中的她
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September 28th, 2007
外套上還有篝火的煙味,其實折好收起以前都已經洗過兩回。埋頭在上衣綿軟的纖維裡,山上的日子,河岸的日子,落磯的森林。
北國——每個晚上 John 回帳篷前都會和我說,如果夜裡看到極光,我會叫醒你。我在某個夜裡頻頻驚醒,一點鐘,兩點鐘,三點鐘,天從未黑透,總有隱約的天光。是緯度太高,還是正當仲夏?我想起,白夜。
三個 Sven——撒克遜人 Sven 回到營地總是一言不發就開始劈柴,他的地方口音時時受到下撒克遜人 Sven 及其夥伴的嘲笑,而布蘭登堡人 Sven 則永遠沉默不語。
奇妙的火——潮濕的雨天它很不情願燃起來。落雨不停的夜,圍坐在篝火前握一杯熱茶暖手,人與人間的距離在黯淡的光線裡逐漸模糊。原來世界上還有許多比我更羞澀的人。用頂頭削尖的長樹枝串棉花糖在火裡烤,直到外表燒黑,用手指捻起塞入口中,又粘又甜,潮濕的風裡流溢著乾暖的香氣。輪番講故事。玩紙牌游戲,我竟是『說謊』的最大贏家。
像蘋果一樣年青的 Esther 有做牧農的純樸理想,這令知識分子兼楷模主婦的 Katrina 大為不解,問了個問題天真得令我發笑:『你從德國移民加拿大就是為了當農民?』 這位三個孩子的母親仍然保持少女般的容貌與身材,『是,我隔天跑五英里』,可為了在山野裡露營,他們夫婦竟然帶了電動充氣床。像許多傳統的東部人那樣他們每週上教堂、他們沒有聽說過自己國家有一部電影叫 The Inconvenient Truth。
在嘉柏我們提議斷一次火進城吃館子。小鎮中心找到一家屋頂上的餐廳,黃昏仍高掛的太陽以及四面冰雪覆蓋崚峭的群山油然一種異國情調,想起電影中的瑞士,(把加拿大當作米國的行省,這一點我已經很像目中無人的揚基佬)。想起一個日本名字,『山又昂』。矚目長桌上的眼睛,我說,你們所有的人,眼睛不是綠色就是藍色。Katrina 笑著反抗,她說她的是榛果色。看仔細些,果然暗綠的邊緣有淺棕的光線。性格內斂的瑞士人 Carolyn 沒有說話,可我知道在她淺綠的左眼旁右眼是栗色的。
奇妙的火——熱情一旦燃起就久久不肯熄滅,總以為灰飛煙滅時,風過處火焰又頑皮的亮起來。無燈無電鄉野的夏,火光似乎有催眠術士的魔力,在眾人都去睡了以後,我和 Daniel 總是呆呆的盯住篝火一聲不響的坐過午夜。人與人的紐帶似乎就在這些細微而無言的片刻悄然扭緊。
某一次步行歇腳時,講起名字的短稱,蘇格蘭人 Ally 說他的名字是蓋爾語 Alexander 的另一種變式。一週之後的溫城美術館,我再次撞見了他。世界有時候很小,而我喜歡它這樣讓我們接踵比肩。
Athabasca 河上行舟流水,縱槳174公里順水而下,風雨兼程。雙人獨木舟各自執楫,負飲食住具衣被,日逾八十里水路,遭遇落雨、風暴、冰雹、彩虹和烈日。尋河心地形平坦的島嶼紮營,逢山泉處補足水備,拾木柴取火,荒地掘洞以為恭處。四日內不見絲毫人蹤,偶遇年輕的麋鹿游水橫渡。大雨滂沱的第二天,一邊奮力劃槳,一邊不斷把船裡的水舀出去。透濕冰凍的四肢幾乎失去知覺,每一次用力,默誦心經的一句。手在多日沙土的撫摸中被磨平了指紋,回到文明世界,所有東西碰上去都是光滑而不真實的。
想起來那個夏天彷彿很遠。在北方的六月,我天天見到雪,冷過此地的冬天。那之後在太平洋上的島嶼,又經歷了一年中最燠熱的天氣。
In those bright summer evenings I would read a chapter or two—
Came the yellow days of winter, filled with boredom. The rust-colored earth was covered with a threadbare, meager tablecloth of snow full of holes. There was not enough of it for some of the roofs and so they stood there, black and brown, shingle and thatch, arks containing the sooty expanses of attics—coal-black cathedrals, bristling with ribs of rafters, beams, and spars—the dark lungs of winter winds.
- Bruno Schulz, The Street of Crocodiles, Trans. Celina Wieniewska
I wish I had a thousand years on earth to learn every single language to the teeth. 七月間來的信裡,他這樣寫。
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August 31st, 2007
一首很久沒有聽的曲,音符漸亮的瞬間從腦海飛過舊年的某幅圖影。好像……
『擦了火柴 / 從二尺來寬的光裡 / 橫飛過去的白色的蛾』——石川啄木·《如夢記》
記憶就是這麼奇妙的東西,教人似乎永遠不曉得自己還記得什麼,直到偶然的片斷牽連出早以為忘記的絲絲縷縷。坐擁腦海裡這麼寬宏的消息,一旦丟掉了索引就像丟失了破解的鎖匙,奈何記憶與軀體一同爛掉。
有時候,為了記住一段事,要拼命找多些索引。所以,旅行的時候拍照,寫下慌張的隻言片語,保存票根、收據、零碎的沒有用的東西。
另有些與生俱來根深蒂固的索引能力。比如,很難忘記一張臉,或一段旋律,更忘不掉一種氣息。常常會夢到陌生人。清醒時閉上眼也會有一張一張不相識的臉孔浮呈,頭髮衣著神情動作各自清楚,像是些寄生在頭腦裡的人,與我無關,我也不知道他們從何處、如何走進來。或許是在街上看到的路人甲乙,而我忘記留下那些能攥住記憶的索引,便淪落為流離的臉,在意識的角落裏一浮一浮。
這世界卻還有『顔盲癥』的人……想像親人對面不相識……
做顏面記憶的測試,只認錯了兩個。還好,我一定不是顔盲癥啦。
晚間切菜的時候,想起臨走前父親用海邊撿的石塊給我磨利了菜刀。從此做飯時都會想起家裏人吧。禮物就要,踏實樸素的才貼心。火車出站時,忽然意識到這一生從此只能這樣,一年一年遠遠的看對方老下去。有些關係近距會看不清,遠一點方才親密。小時候父親總說我像兔子一樣不喝水,我心裏小聲說我只是像螃蟹一樣不講話。Some kinds of frankness are only hurtful and boring.
『像雪白的洋燈罩的 / 瑕疵一樣 / 流離的記憶總難消滅』——石川啄木
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May 31st, 2007
泉源在左
淇水在右
女子有行
遠父母兄弟
泉源在右
淇水在左
巧笑之瑳
佩玉之儺
淇水滺滺
檜楫松舟
駕言出游
以寫我憂
詩經 · 國風 · 竹竿
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