A Dream

Every so often I would have a recurrent dream. I was walking in a stretch of grassland, with home behind me --- not far away --- and some destination ahead of me within walking distance. Lately the destination has been a grand and magnificent palace with a golden tower or dome. Like many palaces in Europe, it is possibly a museum, because in one of the dreams I was taking a group of people to on a tour.

Last night the journey was unusually vivid. The trail was surrounded by green and delicate ferns as high as my knees, gently swaying in the wind, and the prairie spread to as far as the eye could see. I was convinced I could get there very soon, perhaps in half an hour. The vision was so sharp that I could count the number of ridges on the leaves.

This is home, I thought. I have lived here all my life and know every path and every turn in the grass. Everything felt familiar. I had taken the road from the home behind me to the tower before me a thousand times. How fortunate that glamor and beauty are so close to home. The sweet anticipation before I get to the happy destination.

The Horror of the Sun

The first two days in LA were a bit overcast, cool and pleasant. Then it turned hot. For the past few days the blaring sun has become increasingly unbearable. I have forgotten how much I dislike days like these.

A darkness hides in too much light. It springs on you when you leave a dark room. For a split second the brightness dims your eyes and you feel oozy and lost. This feeling lurks constantly under the blinding desert sun. Yesterday I was stuck on the freeway for two hours --- I had forgotten how much I hate this too --- and even with the sunglasses on, the effect persisted. An invisible monstrosity lurks in the inescapable light.

The effect is hypnotic. The sunlight numbs and makes the mind sluggish. The eye sees more sharply but discerns less clearly. Thoughts are muffled. Time loses its edge. The brain is suppressed and submerged so that nothing floats to the surface. 

In the bleaching light nothing looks real, including the senses. The world is plastic and fake and horrible.

扮鬼脸

很厚的一本小说被我两天半看完，情节实在抓人。人物繁多剧情复杂令人叹为观止。每个人物能看见不同的鬼，有人能看见所有的鬼，有人能看见某个鬼，有人能看见两个鬼，有人完全看不见鬼，谁能看见哪个鬼的原因还都不一样，而且还有几场大家“欢聚一堂”的高潮戏，鬼看鬼，鬼看人，人看鬼，人看人，必须搞清楚谁能看见谁。每个怨鬼的纠结历史在每个活人眼前的矛盾身上都有呼应，同时还有 serial killer 的背景，还有经营料理店的情节。我脑子都晕了，而作者写得严谨缜密，找不出漏洞错误，这都是技术活啊！读者一般很少会注意到这些地方对功力的考验，我自己写一篇只有六七千字儿的短篇，改过几遍，还被人指出：同学你有好几处前后矛盾逻辑错乱 ...

大结局非常精彩，层层揭密，如一场高潮迭起的盛宴，令人十分满意，最后还把我看哭了，余味无穷。

宫部美幸

在图书馆借了本她的中文版 period novel 《扮鬼脸》。有点类似于 GRRM 大叔（最近还同时在重读冰火第四部），她也很喜欢玩 mixed genre 混合型故事，这里包含了近代历史细节，儿童小说视角，悬疑成分，鬼故事成分，世情成分，最后还少不了...料理！剧情设定在一家刚开张的料理屋，充满了街坊邻居的生活和关系。虽然我不是日式料理的粉丝，但还是很爱看的，而且她的描写注重勤劳工作人民的日常细节，很家常又很真实。整体格调是明亮的，但也并不刻意粉饰美化现实中的冲突和矛盾，人性的弱点。跟 GRRM 大叔类似的地方还有她对人物的细心刻画，即使是很小的配角也栩栩如生，历历在目，无比精致。GRRM 大叔也很爱吃，写到宴席之处必不放过，每道菜都详细描述，可惜建立在中世纪欧洲历史上的菜谱，再怎么描写也引不起胃口，他应该去成都拜访一下！

这种故事很容易落入节奏缓慢戏剧性弱的trap，但宫部有写推理小说的功底，节奏和悬念非常工整有序，人物与情节与环境样样不落下，每章结尾必留悬念让人欲罢不能。真是太厉害了，我好崇拜她。

或许更难得的是淡淡的恰到好处的幽默感，冷不丁地来一下，不注意就错过了。

哦，对了，还有，不看这部小说还真不知道，江户的意思就是大江入海的关口，是水乡，跟上海一样嘛。小说中描写的料理也免不了跟鱼虾海鲜大有关系了。

Something and Nothing

My friend Terence wrote a hilarious piece today about the eternal question of "Why is there something and not nothing?"

So, it dawned on me --- What is nothing? Do we know what it is? In our world, it seems, there is no place where nothing exists. What we previously thought to be vacuum in space turns out to be an endless stretch of dark matter and dark energy. Our universe is filled with something. So what is this "nothing" we think exists?

If nothing does not really exist in the universe, then why are we pursuing it? Where did this idea of nothing come from? Ah, therein lies the rub. Our concept of nothing comes from a lack of consciousness --- the space-time before our birth and that after our death. But in fact we are fundamentally wrong. The nothingness before birth and after death is purely subjective. Something existed before we know it and will exist after we cease to know it. Just because we know it now, does not mean its existence is dependent on our knowing.

A Man After My Own Heart

最近看了两部 Aki Kaurismaki 的片子，Arial, Shadow in Paradise。我特别想看但是不容易找到的一部是 Hamlet Goes Business，现代芬兰荒诞版王子复仇记，只在油管上挖到几个片段，例如这段决斗大结局，笑死我了。

捏着小拳头说，俺要模仿他的芬兰风格！

Measure for Measure

Isn't it funny ironic that the villain in the story, the very embodiment of hypocrisy and cowardice of power, is named Angelo? Oh you wicked, wicked Willie.

The way he wrote about the fear of death here and elsewhere convinces me that he did not believe in the afterlife. He knew very well that the rest is ... silence.