这篇日志纯属浪费。我最近博客更得太勤，按照mia的话来说就是“内心太过空虚”。

  我只希望有个活着的证据，最好每天都有更新。大病一场之后我只求健康。

  你爱跟谁跟谁。我沉沦我的。

  你去度你的蜜月，我跋涉我的红楼。

  这样最好。

  《卡门》里卡门的这句话让我萌得够呛。

   我不再爱你了。我只爱我自己。

  i didn't meet anyone new (or may i do, quizas). but i don't miss you that much as before.

  最早我以为我是个勇士，至少也是一枚加农炮弹，多么奋不顾身地向你冲锋而去。后来退居其次，好歹也是向你行军的小卒。总不愿意承认是早就被轰成炮灰了。最近倒还好，精神很好，反而身体不大好。生活终于有点节奏，就像我的吉他奏出的long long ago，断断续续，但总有节奏。

  我还是热心八卦，打仙剑三，萌红雪和紫萱。你不会感兴趣的。你正在感情漩涡里挣扎呢。

  我一捧炮灰有什么所谓？我终于肯正视这个问题，关于炮灰与你的问题。

  我也许还是很爱你。但我不确定这代表什么——越来越不确定。

  你给我的短信我还是不肯删，回复你的短信花的时间减少了起码一半（文法总要有么），收到你信息是竟没有心脏加速。

  可喜可贺。

  今天是09年8月18日，值得纪念的一天。一为我终于肯承认我是炮灰，二为我发现i might not be that into you.

  但是炮灰还是想将你夺回来。

  i'm reading shakespeare's sonnets.

  it doesn't conduce to anything at all.

  anxiety is still anxiety. luckily nothing hurts.

  i do slowly read, and not nod by the window, where i sit reading, and murmur, with ecstasy, how lovs is fleeding while it never came.

  life is being wasted.

i was talking to you.

one year ago face to face and one hour ago thru net.

you were there opposite the computer saying you had just watched paris' complete tape.

i stopped my website scanning and answered you right away.

i wanted you.

i want you.

i'll want you.

but i know i can't have you.

i can't even shout your name loudly.

mia.

  昨天回成都。在机场的时候印象最深刻的是小团圆。没有看到书，却铺天盖地的广告。

  我懷疑我得了疑病症。這幾日總睡不踏實，更甚者是懼怕睡眠，生怕一睡不醒。另一方面卻對睡眠之於身體的重要功效深信不疑。今晨噩夢醒來，頭暈眼花，竟是懷疑自己H1N1發作。就如那幾日在深圳。先是H1N1恐慌，而後是壞死性筋膜炎。沒救。

  一見鍾情的事故再次發生。然後我在尷尬中將其掐斷。只知她叫劉**，別的一概不愿了解。越知道得多便越想多知道。自討苦吃。

  今天上午把good will hunting看完。genius.

  i thought about it for a while.

  it was said everybody had some kind of gift. and i speculated. what gift do i have? i'm not good at math or physics unless i work hard; i'm not gifted in biology tho i am interested in; i'm not born to be a businessperson; i can't sing even a simple song in right tune; i'm not able to read others' minds as i expect to so maybe i should stop wasting time on psychology.

  well. the god is unfair but i am still to live on and on and on till the Death hook me away. it's not important for me why i'm here. i don't study philosophy. no wonder the people i love don't love back as i do - cos i'm not a genius. 

  人切記自憐，一旦自憐便不再有任何可值得稱道之處。so i was just being self ironic.

  至於其他，諸如海風很溫暖，而我卻只顧擔心自己是否感染海洋弧菌發展為壞死性筋膜炎而無暇顧及，或者蝦蟹美味我卻胃痛沒有半點食慾，再無可述。

  我当真是怕极了死亡。

 

  earlier this week i was told by mum we 'd have a trip to shenzhen. un predictable.

  i made an appointment with a junior in the afternoon and she promised she'd come to library with me, but she didn't come.

  i'm single and alone. and i kinda commiserate myself. i am isolated. i am solitary. i'd smile and laugh and talk and send messages. but i'm more and more afraid of not getting replies. i have too little to lose. guitar, book, instant coffee will not guarantee me a better life. baby i wanna talk to you even just for a little while.

  i wrote all the words for myself and i know nobody else cares my crap.

  although i care for her.

  although i am physically alive.

 

  Now I never leave my zone, we're both alone
I'm going home
I wish I'd never seen your face

   

  我把自己浸泡在电影里面。

  人生毫无希望。

  我将把她夺回来。

  前一阵的中风前兆似乎好很多了。但是疑病症持续。这还是其次，恼人的是我不再感受到欢乐。

  我先记录一下。现在是5月8日下午5点零三分。几个小时之前我刚看完《米尔克》。可是我不屑于写下任何“激动人心”“令人鼓舞”的字句。

  今年是石墙运动40周年纪念。成都仍然不会有人发起骄傲游行。如有发起，在人多得不可能辨认出我的情况下我铁定会带着帽子、帽檐压得低低地去。这很酷。

  没有任何证据表明Elliot Smith是同性恋或者双性恋。但也许他直并非因为他直，而是因为他有女人的大脑——环形的思维，不现实的构思。他不过是个住在男性身体里的女同性恋。又或者这纯粹是因为我想得太多了。我的废话也太多了。

  我实在不愿再而三地重复我是多么地厌恶我的人生了，这听起来十成十的矫情。我很害怕，怕挂科，怕平庸，怕失望。我死了之后不会有人来为我扫墓，因为我是个不起眼的小脚色。让我安安静静地躲在人群里被熏死。

  这是第六自然段。内容还没有和标题产生联系。我不知我为何而悲哀。还是矫情。

  最让我碜得慌的是，高一时语文老师在我作文上批下的评语几将成谶。这是我现在最深的感触。而当时我只是藐视了他的评论：

  愚弄生活的人，必将为生活所愚弄。

you have no idea how i felt when i saw that.

i'm tired.

我不只是忌妒、愤怒，我简直要崩溃。

我还是很喜欢你。

  i don't believe in god so nothing's gonna save me from the darkness.

  i slept well and got no nightmares and i just had insomnia off and on and i gave a shit about it.

  i give a shit abou my life.

 

  why should i take care of things that don't deserve it?

  for example, i mean, like my life.

  you abandoned me. she abandoned me. me abandoned me.

  the world shows no merci to me.

 

she shows no emotions at all

stares into space like a dead china doll

i'm never gonna know you now

but i'm gonna love you anyhow 

 

 

the truth is, however, i'm not into anyone.

i don't need to listen to elliott smith any more cuz i'm listening to him all the time sore.  

so i feel hot and emotionless now.

i was thinking about vampires and the song wake me up when septemper ends all this afternoon and night. no dice.

i couldnot shake them out of my head. however i'm numb now.

i speak too much but i am never satified.

i can't stop my hunger. oh no vampire.

 

i admit your french kisses spoiled my interest in concert.

all i cared was only you.

i woke up in time, fortunately.

 

  At 2.00 p.m. it's gonna rain but i know it would not at last.

  i live through such weather. i had many memories. none of them is relevant to mia.

  i...

  i walked home and it suddenly rained halfway. my black canvas shoes got saoked.

  i stayed home alone reading huckleberry finn and robinson crusoe. i didn't realize that the peace i am looking for now was in me.

  i never imagined the future.

  i was happy. i considered nothing about death.

  i didn't like tv. no computer.

 

it's not raining now. i knew that.

   

我试着看遍全世界/也不看你/却发现/我看不见全世界/只看得见你

然而/我没有全世界/也没有你。

  我希望我长久以来没有进行的中文日志能够以一个漂亮的、圆滑的而富有魅力的长句作为开头，然而近来一直在崩溃，不崩溃的时候便在与无聊作斗争，一直枯竭。（我实在喜欢“枯竭”这个词儿。）

  我几乎向见面的每一个人推荐《一个女人的史诗》，电视剧。

  自从看完《金婚》并毫不吝惜地给了5分之后，我便认识到了我的口味果然趋近中年妇女。或许是老年妇女？

  但这并不能作为生活的全部。我仍然有大量的作业要去操心，有大量的电影要去“我想看”，而后“我看过”，有大量的杂事要处理，就像一个RPG游戏，任务总是不断的，要想继续游戏，就得完成它们。稍微不同的是，这个游戏，是我自己的生活。

  于是我忍不住又想重复那句话，“生很容易，活也很容易，就是生活不易。”

  然而由我写下这句话未免太嫌矫揉。其一我不挣钱，继续当米虫；其二我没有什么特别值得去烦扰的事情。就像普遍社会所认同的那样，我不过是个无病呻吟、矫情做作的脑残90后。

  我翻看去年三月的日志。我果然有变化。一，我不再喝红牛，我喝芝麻糊和华西牛奶。二，我不再整日地伫立窗边等待一个身影的消失和出现。三，我不再追求高品位的快乐。四，我不再快乐。尽管这些并不重要。

  《心是孤独的猎手》我仍然没有看完，就像《红楼梦》一样，也像《白鹿原》，也像《檀香刑》。我再也写不出来现在在我看来是曾经灵气逼人的文章和语句，虽然我一直生活在地面。

  无论如何，夏天的影子正悄然来到。虽然我还没有闻到。

it's already been one year. it is  march again. warmer again. 

everything's again.

  spring and autumn are shortened to the limit.

  after winter comes the summer; by the end of summer waits the winter.

  winter is long and pale and cold and nostalgic.  actually i could not feel anything relevant to summer cuz it's still so very fucking cold here.  but i know it's coming.

  i love summer.

  i'll have many humid nights with the songs from elliott smith and tins of icy coke. maybe i'll add some wine in it, maybe not.

  and i'm drained.

before heading for russian class, i recalled the british accent on the radio long ago.

i was stubborn, but easy to give up now.

i want to tell evryone that i'm gay, but i wouldn't however i kinda did.

well, i'm to have russian class.