旅人行腳
  
  
 • 網站導覽
 • 旅人群像
 • 旅人行腳   首頁
 • 旅人的台北印象
 • 旅行行程規劃幫手
 • 行李檢查清單
拉森火山 (Lassen Volcanic National Park)

奧林匹克 (Olympic National Park)

 • 留言討論區
 - 吃吃喝喝的討論
 - 網站技術討論
總計 來訪人次
瓦哈拉的塗鴉簿  La sérénade interrompue  (Apr 12, 12)

We lived in a tower overlooking the Washington Square on the West Third Street of lower Manhattan, where children laughed and roamed free. It was a year before we grew up, when happiness was produced by a perpetual machine. We were vigorous, naïve, like Beethoven in his younger days.

She was a musician and me a chameleon. The girl loved music, classical and the like, and this city had abundant supply. We hopped from Kissin’s Rachmaninoff Third to Slatkin’s Carmina Burana, Pollini to Abbado, and then some.

“Richter will eventually come back to New York City,” said the girl.

“Then it must be so,” I said, with confidence, like believing the spring would last forever.

“What are you doing?” asked the girl.

“Listening to La bohème,” I said.

“I know what the music is, but what are you doing?” asked the girl again.

“Tell me something I know not,” I challenged.

“Mental masturbation,” said the girl with an evil smile, and caught me by surprise.

“Do you know when a robot had a wet dream, it leaked oil?” I improvised a bad joke.

She laughed, without really getting the idea. Her smile dazzled me like the sun, and wrinkled her nose like a baby.

I wished the moment eternal, and that the music were the only language spoken ever.

“We all live in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars,” I said.

“You speak like a poet,” said the girl.

“Not me, Oscar,” I said.

“Did he win the best screenplay?” asked the girl.

“Maybe so, if he lived long enough,” I paused a while. “I felt like Temba, you see, with my arms wide. And you, like Kiteo, with eyes closed.”

“Is that also from the same movie?” asked the girl.

“Never mind,” I said. “You know, the gods eventually die with the destruction of the world in Norse mythology, no matter what they do,” I added, as I sipped the last drop of Macallan out of a Riedel.

“Good that we live in a real world,” said the girl with an absent-minded smile.

"Wish I could," I told myself.

Whatever the meaning was, it ain’t when the words came out of the mouth. Our love was like a Long Island Ice Tea missing vodka, gin and tequila. It still made a good Cuba Libre, just not what I asked for.

First there was silence, then there came fights, like thunder after lightning.

“Who is she and when did it begin?” asked the girl.

More silence, which was like darkness after the Nightfall. I couldn't find any word for a thing not happened or a person not existed. The desire to communicate dimmed, and the perpetual machine broke down.

“The world as the Nordic knows will eventually come to an end,” I said, softly.

“To hell with everyone in Valhalla!” shouted the girl.

That was the last thing I heard from the girl.

Loving a girl is like picking a bottle of spice without label for your favorite recipe, and you won’t get the same taste again for good or bad. I thought as I sped into the highway with my turbo engine wailed like the ride of a banshee into the night sky.


瓦哈拉首頁 前一則 後一則
加入討論留言
留言討論區

Val  (Apr 17, 12)
其實不好意思講因為味道並不像,是想模仿海明威,當然我沒他那麼man。

我女兒如果看我寫的這些東西會看得很投入,那不是她有問題就是我有問題了。

orangebach  (Apr 16, 12)
還是忍不住問一下,某位作家是哪位作家?

如果令嬡連拉威爾的音樂都不是音樂,那對把拔如此這般的評語倒也不令人吃驚。

Val  (Apr 13, 12)
坦白說原本是想模仿某位作家的文字風格,而且只打算寫極短篇,所以前因後果交代不清,但符合這位作家極酷的味道。我加了點前因的部分並且稍微修飾了文字,讓故事完整一點也稍微增加可信度,雖然我並不確定讀者怎麼想。

續集是不會有的。就像村上春樹說的,當話說出口,就已經失去原本意圖的意義,所以男生的獨白不會發生。

我如果能夠多了解女性一些我也許可以從反面寫一些東西,但人生總是充滿but,而我們總是希望能多往前看。

不知該說是欣慰還是失望,我女兒看了這兩篇她終於能看懂的英文文字,告訴我說:把拔你寫的好boring.

orangebach  (Apr 13, 12)
相當極致的表現了,很厲害。

文字、用典、metaphor、自己的偏好都顧到了。而且還有真實感,應該至少有個部分真實。

只是感覺好像未完待續,如果純粹看文章論文章,讀起來不覺得女生是看到黑影就開槍的人,這個人物可以更特殊些。

而男生似乎也有些甚麼故事吧。如果是我,接下來或許會接男生的monologue,標題或許是Le vent dans la plaine,Brouillards也可以。

Val  (Apr 13, 12)
結束了,也掰不下去了..

純屬虛構,但對於了解某種風流自賞的人物也許有點幫助,我自己是寫得挺痛快的。

orangebach  (Apr 13, 12)
還沒結束吧?

  加入討論留言
瓦哈拉首頁 前一則 後一則


All Rights Reserved TravelerEdge.com 2004