我就这样在不知不觉中挥霍完了最后的大半个月,有好多该见的没时间见了,只能等下次回来了.

然后,写好的致谢词下篇随着系统的重装而不知去向何方,辜负了好些人.

会在走之前看大量的帖子,有好些很煽情的,看地越想越觉得难过.

其中有段写地相当郁闷的是这样的:

 "在美国，从物质层面上我们可以得到一定的满足，

 包括我可以毕业以后就买一辆宝马的Mini cooper(2.1万美金的新车),

 我可以随便的买名牌化妆品送我想送的人,我可以买很多电器做玩具,

 但是,这些未必都能让人满足,人总是奇怪的动物,一个不会满足的动物.

 你也许可以比国内同龄的普通人过的相对大方点的生活,

 但你却失去了亲情沟通的机会,失去了一大批从小一起玩耍的朋友,

 这个时候,你会知道,金钱,是很苍白无力的,

 它甚至买不回你跟一群好朋友在一个惬意的午后，在茶馆喝茶的机会."

 

我看到这想到的是,我可能还达不到这个作者的物质水平,可是我却要承受相同的痛苦.

特别是看到最后一句,我就会会回忆起那个夏天的晚上,和蝶子和小吴在鹿港小镇吃冰的情景.

也许,这样的回忆以后都没有了吧.

这是怎样一种郁闷?!

 

最近喜欢让人猜的问题是"黄石公园门票是多少?"答案很少有人猜对.

如果我看到的资料还是新的话,那门票价格应该是步行免费,开车每人7刀(4人1车的话).

可是,那又怎样?

我现在总不由自主地回忆起和老王和雅莉和七和小吴一起去的青岛日照浙西黄山雁荡山,

虽然那里人很多很拥挤,基本看不到什么宁静的风景.

 

今天用手机和大家一一道别,看着一条条回复的短信,

我有那么一刻真的有些动摇,我怎么舍得离开大家的呀?

 

老王,总是难忘我们为数不多的卧谈会,记得深更半夜人家都跑上来敲宿舍门的那次不?

还有西塘和乌镇给我的开心回忆中总少不了你的身影,

还会对我天马行空的旅游计划认真考虑,也只有你每次都这么包容我了~

谢谢你!希望你在北京一切顺利!

 

小吴,总是会想起第一次见面时你腼腆地站在浦口宿舍门口时的笑容,

还有帮我削了不知道多长时间的苹果,

以及你那台旧本本里的Mario游戏在当年给我们带来多少欢笑,

前段时间的Wii也非常感谢了,不过,害我又迷上Mario赛车了(还放错某样东西出了糗)...

谢谢了~祝你和XF同学永远开开心心的~

 

钱兔,实验室有事,上课点名都是你帮我顶着的,

要不是你,我也过不了那么久的逍遥日子.

还有在苏州和杭州,大家一起也过地很开心呢.

谢谢兔子了~

不过,很可惜你的婚礼我去不了,看不到那个最美丽的新娘了.

祝你和兔G百年好合,白头到老啊~

 

七猫猫,真的很嫉妒你的智慧,也不晓得你怎么会那么聪明呢.

这么多年来,不知道你帮我收场了多少烂摊子,

什么不会做的题目啊,什么乱七八糟的图让你帮忙PS一下啦~

总之,IQ和EQ都相当高的现代女生说的就是你啦,我知道你一定是什么都能搞定的,

所以我从来都不担心你.

所以,加油~其实你是大家的精神支柱呢~

 

蝶子,你是我研究生阶段认识的最好的朋友,

有很多的时候都是你在照顾我,安慰我,给我出主意什么的.

你总是实验室的开心果,和杨总联手活跃实验室里沉闷的气氛~

谢谢你~

希望你一直都能做自己喜欢做的事情,比如现在.

 

雅莉,很遗憾我们还是没有在同一条路上,

当你离开的时候,我才正踏上这条路.

大家的选择也许都没有错,只是我们没能一起走过.

杭州是我喜欢的城市,希望你能在那里找到你想要的生活.

 

最后要特别感谢juju,我一路走来都得到你精神上无限的帮助,

你给我的精神财富是巨大的.

人生真是很有意思,我离开的次日你恰好回来.

 

我昨天去做头发,人家从我头上拽下5根白头发,

都是头发新长出来的最后一段是白的,

被人问到是不是最近一年半年比较辛苦,

我苦笑... ...

 

事到如今,也许,我应该更潇洒一点,更坚定一些和大家说再见.

回忆是美好的,但也是无情的,它是在告诉你一切都已经是过去式.

最近喜欢的歌依旧是《Love will tear us apart》. 

还特别喜欢蝶子写过的一句话:

"烟火，当升到一定的高度，每一个小火花都不在一同前进，

--------------------------------------------------------
"无论我们在哪里活着，无论我们是谁，我们都会受到边界的束缚

--有些是真实的，有些是想象的。

在这些边界之内，我们中许多人满足地活着，另外一些人却是迫不得已。

然而，我们之中有些人必须去挣脱，去突破这些边界，哪怕在边界的另一边是恐惧和未知。"
                                          

                                                     --EMINEM《8英里》

 

 

 

That Old Feeling: Days of Being Leslie

Thursday, Apr. 3, 2003
In the first minutes of Wong Kar-wai's 1990 Days of Being Wild, Leslie Cheung strikes up a chat with Maggie Cheung. She's lovely and lonely; he's smoldering and supercool. Out of the blue, he purrs a boast to Maggie: "You'll see me in your dreams tonight." Next day he comes by again, and she brags that she didn't dream of him. "Of course," he replies with practiced confidence, "you couldn't sleep at all."

Ah, Leslie: suave, cocksure, with a touch of the brute (they love him for it) and a hint of sad solitude. A Canto-pop idol and film idol since the '70s, Cheung was dubbed "the Elvis of Hong Kong" by Canadian critic John Charles. Except that Leslie lasted longer, did more, dared more. And did it his way. It's fair to call him the most widely adored and admired male diva of the late 20th century.

Cheung starred in many of the signal popular successes and artistic glories of Hong Kong's golden movie age: John Woo's A Better Tomorrow, Tsui Hark and Ching Siu-tung's A Chinese Ghost Story, Stanley Kwan's Rouge, Ronny Yu's The Bride With White Hair, Wong Kar-wai's Days of Being Wild, Ashes of Time and Happy Together. He won international acclaim for his role as a Peking Opera princess in the Cannes Palme d'Or winner Farewell My Concubine. As a singer he stood boldly, sometimes blatantly?in high heels, waist-length hair and a designer dress?atop the Cantopop charts, from his first song-contest crooning of American Pie in 1976 to his 2001 CD Forever Leslie. His concerts, alternately suburban-soulful and androgynous-sinful, packed the Chinese diaspora in around the world.

Back home, Leslie?whose homosexuality he hinted at, exploited and deflected until it was the worst-kept secret in Hong Kong showbiz?has been catnip for the voracious paparazzi. "They follow me everywhere," he told Stephen Short for a TIME Asia profile I wrote two years ago. "They know my car numbers, so they're there whether I'm at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel Coffee Shop or at Propaganda [a hip gay club]. I don't even put my litter outside the house. People try to find things and sell them."

If he changed at all during his half-life in the public eye, it was to become more wily in the lavishing and husbanding of his allure. A cunning tease, he developed what might be called the Leslie Two-Step: seduce, then withdraw; approach and forbid. Such guile ensured that his appeal, which could have subsided like a schoolgirl's crush, remained a long-running provocation, a sustaining fever. He could have qualified as a monument to pop longevity if he had not been still in his glistening prime?and still so damned gorgeous. Any visitor to Hong Kong who mentioned his name to a local film maven would hear the same refrain: a conspiratorial "Guess how old he is." As if Leslie kept a rotting portrait of himself in the attic.

Leslie Cheung turned 46 last September 12, and will forever stay that age, no older. But he chose a drastic method of staving off wrinkles, a pot belly, the whims of a fickle public. On Tuesday he strode through the Mandarin Oriental lobby, took a room on the 24th floor, walked out onto the terrace that gives a view of Hong Kong Harbor, and jumped off. He landed in front of the hotel on the Connaught Road sidewalk and was pronounced dead at a local hospital at 7:05 p.m.

LESLIE LOST

In a region already unnerved by the outbreak of the SARS contagion, the reaction to Leslie's dreadful April Fool's shock was swift and volcanic. His Hong Kong fans, many of them in audible tears, clogged the radio shows with their grief and love. The www.lesliecheung.com website, which offered fans worldwide a memory book to sign, received so many hits it was virtually impossible to get through for 24 hours. Wong Kar-wai and Chen Kaige issued messages of grieving.

I too felt shocked. And pissed. Mourning gave way to rancor: he had no right to do this, to deprive us of his brilliance, his overbite, his presence on earth. A star's magnificence is a gift, not to himself, but to us. We, his fans and friends, are the ones to say it's over?and ain't over. No one is so possessive as the bereft. We buy into a star and want a lifetime guarantee. Ours.

Grady Hendrix, the Shakespeare of the Subway Cinema movie collective, expressed this poignantly in a message he sent me yesterday:

"Leslie was supposed to be bright, and beautiful, and brittle, and bitchy forever. ... [But] when Leslie Cheung killed himself he was just a guy... a guy who was looking in the mirror and seeing a receding hairline, an expanding waistline, a lack of options. He didn't see the hopes and dreams we had all projected onto him, he was seeing lines around his eyes that he had never seen before. ... And he was lonely, so lonely that he couldn't bear the thought of being alive for even one more minute. ... I look at Leslie Cheung in The Chinese Feast and I can't make the guy on-screen the guy in the hotel room who killed himself. ... Trying to reconcile these two men makes my heart ache and my eyes water."

It happens that my wife Mary and I knew Leslie a little, and had been in his thrall before we met him. At the 1993 Cannes Film Festival we saw The Bride With White Hair and Farewell My Concubine. The first was martial-arts fantasy, the second historical epic: The Sunshine Boys reconfigured as tragedy spanning a half-century of Chinese heartbreak. To see an actor play the world-weary swordsman in love with a wolf woman (Brigitte Lin) and homosexual masochist in love with his stolid partner (Zhang Fengyi) was a revelation. Returning to New York, I rented as many Leslie Cheung movies as I could find at Kim's Video, and that spurred me into the colony's burgeoning filmography. As much as anyone, Leslie hooked me on Hong Kong movies.

We later met the star a few times, as I will tabulate later. And we figured to see him next week, on our first trip to Hong Kong in three years; the director Yonfan said he hoped to arrange a meal for us with Leslie and Brigitte! Even I feared that was too much legend for one dinner table. But SARS was aligned against us. We postponed our trip to Hong Kong. And we will never see Leslie, except in dreams on the screen, and on the screen of our dreams.

"SENSE" MEMORY

Hong Kong is the tattle capital of the entertainment world; its score of dailies pounce voraciously on film and TV actors and Cantopop singers. Late last year the local dailies speculated on Cheung's demeanor. Reports said he was stressed, depressed. Had he broken up with Daffy Tong, the lawyer to whom Leslie had been "married" (his word) for 20 years? Was the perpetual youth facing a tumble into midlife? Some reports had the actor "haunted," to the brink of suicide, by his most recent movie, the Lo Chi-leung thriller Inner Senses.

Ridiculous! Leslie had played men in love with ghosts in some of his most famous films (A Chinese Ghost Story and its immediate sequel, Rouge, The Bride With White Hair). His fans gave him the nickname the Phantom Lover, after a film in which he incarnated a demon romancer. It could be said that Leslie's entire career was a risky game he shared with his audience: Let's pretend I'm straight; let's pretend I'm pretending. He was too smart a fellow, and too cynical, to fall for one of the corniest plots in melodrama: the actor who is ensorcelled by his role. I had watched Inner Senses last October, when it was part of Subway Cinema's In the Mood for Gore retrospective of Hong Kong horror movies, and had been impervious to its ethereal chills. So last night I screened it again.

Inner Senses is about Yan (Karena Lam), a young woman who sees dead people, and Jim (Leslie) the psychiatrist she goes to for help. The therapy proceeds smoothly?Yan seems cured of her illusions, and doctor and patient fall in love?until a madwoman attacks Jim, breaks a glass on his head and screams, "Why aren't you dead yet? You can never escape! Die, just die!" Jim now catches the seeing-things bug. A dead girl crowds his field of vision, or field of dreams. We learn the ghost is Jim's schoolgirl sweetheart, who went mad when he jilted her and killed herself by leaping to her death. The film has its denouement on the roof where the ghost had jumped decades before. Jim walks to the unguarded ledge, looks over, turns back and sees the dead girl. "I know what I have to do," he tells her. "You want me to jump? You want me to die." Stepping out on the ledge again, he nods and says, "I'll die with you."

In Inner Senses, the Cheung character doesn't jump to his death. The ghost forgives Jim his sins, and morphs into Yan. She and Jim fall into each other's arms, huddled for love and protection on the roof. But when Leslie stepped onto the terrace of that 24th floor room, no ghost called him back from the brink. No lover rocked him back to sanity. No friend was there to shout, "It's only a movie, Leslie." Life is not a movie?not that harsh, handsome, exalting, tragic.

Then again, Leslie's life was.

HOW KWOK-WING BECAME LESLIE

Cheung Kwok-wing was born September 12, 1956, in Hong Kong. "I'm one of ten children," he told TIME's Stephen Short in early 2001. "I'm the youngest and the loneliest. The one closest to me is eight years older. My brothers would be dating girls and I was left alone in the corner, playing G.I. Joe or with my Barbie Doll. I never lived with my father for one single day, never. My father used to beat my mother up. It was terrible. And I always used to think, 'This what they call marriage.'"

Cheung p貥 was tailor to the stars: William Holden, Alfred Hitchcock. "My Dad had a fortune. We're from Canton province and at one point we were the largest landowners in the province. My grandfather got killed during the Cultural Revolution because he owned too much land." Leslie said that he helped support most of his six surviving siblings. "I'm a blessing. Aside from my elder sister, who is very well-educated and doing OK, my brothers and sisters aren't doing very well, so I do help them out sometimes. But I've no regrets. Blood is thicker than water." He enunciates the first principle of control through charity: "It's better to help somebody than have somebody help you."

At 11, Kwok-wing took math and verbal exams to get into secondary school. "I failed the regulations. I won awards for prose readings and music festivals but not the maths. My father called me up and asked if I wanted to study abroad. I thought it would liberate me. My situation had been miserable to that point. So I got on the plane and went to the Norwich School [in Norfolk, England]." At Norwich, Kwok-hing had to make a lot of readjustments. "There were racial problems, discrimination. But it still enabled me to see more things. I could take a train to London. So I didn't feel lonely. During weekends I used to go to Southend-on-Sea to see my relatives; they ran a restaurant there, so I was a bartender. I'd start doing performances. I was only 13 years old, but I'd do amateur singing every weekend." By this time he had chosen his English name. "I love the film Gone with the Wind. And I like Leslie Howard. The name can be a man's or woman's, it's very unisex, so I like it. It's rare in Hong Kong, too." There are 300 Cheungs listed in the Hong Kong Movie Database, but only one Leslie. As it should be.

After a year studying textile management at the University of Leeds, he returned to Hong Kong and placed second (singing American Pie) in ATV's Asian Music Contest. He was an immediate pop star, and stayed at the top for a quarter century. In the late 70s, as now, pop singers were encouraged to do movies, and at 21 Leslie made his film debut in a cheapo production, Erotic Dream of the Red Chamber, which was notable only for the first unveiling of his silky derriere (later almost a trademark). He appeared in a few TV dramas, including The Wu Lin Family, with a teenage Maggie Cheung. But the small screen couldn't contain his smoldering appeal. Leslie had a thing or two to teach Hong Kong about movie masculinity.

MOVIE LESLIE

Here was a new kind of star: beautiful, tender, toxic. James Dean with a mean streak, or a deeper Johnny Depp. At first he exploited his luscious youthfulness. In A Better Tomorrow he was tough Ti Lung's soft younger sibling?essentially a kid sister?so infuriated by righteousness that he seems in a perpetual girlish snit. (No matter that Cheung turned 30 the month after the movie came out.) In his next hit, A Chinese Ghost Story, he was again the naif, getting tossed around by a 1,000-year-old tree demon with a giant yucky tongue and happily bossed around by the spectral Joey Wong.

He showed terrific versatility, at ease in art films (Farewell My Concubine, his fullest, bravest performance), action thrillers (A Better Tomorrow), fantasies (The Bride With White Hair), dark romances (The Phantom Lover) and fluffy comedies (as the music mogul who falls in love with a girl he thinks is a guy in He's a Woman, She's a Man). He could play soufl饭light (the chef in The Chinese Feast) or psycho-dark (the killer in Double Tap).

Inside these varied characters was the irreducible, enigmatic "Leslie": a beautiful man whose sexuality is a gift or a plague to those who fall under his spell. They loved him and he left them; he must have said, "I don't love you" more times than anyone else in movies. He often played slick Ah Fei (shiftless youth) types; he could be daringly uningratiating, playing rotters and not caring what people thought. Seeming not to care, he got audiences to care. Women loved the on-screen Leslie because he came on sexy, forbidding, dominant, dangerous, easily bored or annoyed. Then, when he embraced you, you felt the simmering sky had cracked open, and Thor smiled.

Beyond attitude, this star was an actor. Leslie didn't simply mesmerize or bully the camera; he worked subtle wonders before it. He glamorized a scene in Days of Being Wild just by appraising himself in a full-length mirror while doing an expert cha-cha. Or, in unforgiving closeup, without moving a muscle, he could somehow change emotional temperature. You could see feelings rise in him like a blush or a bruise.

It was Wong Kar-wai who illuminated the inner Leslie on the big screen. Days of Being Wild made him a pouty brute whose mistreating of women is his payback to the mother who deserted him; it won Cheung a Hong Kong Film Award for best actor. In Ashes of Time, cast as a martial-arts scoundrel, he ably anchored a film of top Chinese stars and rapturous visual splendor. In the not-so-gay drama Happy Together he taught Tony Leung Chiu-wai how an actor prepares.

The film opens with a stark scene of the two main characters having sex. "When we tried to shoot the love scene it really shocked Tony," Cheung recalls. "He refused to do it. For two days he was miserable, lying on his bed. So I went up to him and said, 'Look at me, Tony, I've gone through so many scenes kissing, touching girls, grabbing breasts, do you think I really enjoyed it? Just treat it as a job, a normal love scene. I'm not going to fall in love with you, and I don't want you to really have sex with me. You're not my type.' So he agreed to do the scene."

FIVE TIMES LESLIE

My wife Mary and I spent serious time with Leslie?I should say, he granted us an audience?five times over five years in five far-flung cities: Suzhou, Atlantic City, New York, Hong Kong and Las Vegas. Each encounter gave us a tantalizing glimpse of uncut celebrity magnetism. He flirted (with Mary) and flared (at the mention of other Chinese stars). He was at ease with his often dogmatic petulance, unburdened by the world's acknowledgment of his luster. Leslie didn't manufacture star quality, or trouble much about radiating it. He was star quality. He embodied more charisma, more purring sexuality, more danger and need, than any Hong Kong or Hollywood actor I've met.

We first met Leslie on a four-day visit to the Suzhou, China, set of Temptress Moon, his reunion with the director, producer and female lead of Farewell My Concubine: Chen Kaige, Hsu Feng and Gong Li. Leslie was no prima donna, at least with us. Gracious, witty, instantly intimate with two strangers from halfway across the world, he gabbed and gossiped in high spirits and style. Then, just before a scene was about to be shot, he would retreat a bit, curl himself into his character and take his place on the set. I remember a scene that required him to burst through a door, cast an eye on some domestic mischief and escalate into high dudgeon. He did it perfectly, and at the end bowed to the crew's applause. "One Take Leslie!" he announced proudly?the honorific of a gifted professional.

A year or two later, we joined Norman Wang, our guide in all matters cinematically Chinese, for a Leslie Cheung concert at an Atlantic City casino. He expertly wooed the staid audience until they danced en masse in front of the stage, votaries to the pop god. You must understand that Hong Kong pop stars tour all over the world, entertaining thousands of fans at every site, and perform all their material?the songs, the patter, the works?in Cantonese. But that Easter Eve, Leslie stepped into English and said he was dedicating the next song to Mary and Richard. Ting-le! It was the theme from Temptress Moon. We floated home.

In 1997 or so, we lunched with Leslie and Ang Lee in New York. Ang said he was hoping to get to his long-delayed martial arts project, and Leslie practically auditioned for the part. Which part? I didn't know at the time. But in 2001, Leslie told Stephen Short: "If Ang Lee had asked me to play the part Cheng Chan plays, the film would have been a different story again." He meant: better.

In April 2000 we saw him at the ultra-swank China Club, where one woman came to our table and asked Leslie to autograph a CD of his. (How did she know he would be there? Or did she always tote the disc, hoping she would spot her favorite Canto-popinjay?) That afternoon, Leslie was so glamorous he was glowing. He said he talked with Zhang Yimou, and hoped to star in a film about China's first emperor. The Hero role most suitable for Leslie went to Tony Leung, his co-star in three Wong Kar-wai films. A wary soul could start to see these occasional blips of rejections as a trend.

Christmas 2000: Vegas! Two Caucasians and a South China sea of Asians had the casinos to themselves. At the MGM Grand, Jackie Chan headed an all-star revue that filled a 13,500-seat arena with tickets at $75 and $150. Over at Caesars Palace, Leslie had stopped with his Passion tour. Through an idiocy of scheduling, the two concerts went on at the same time. So, two nights earlier, I'd flown to Toronto to see Leslie's show. For his evening of Passion he donned eight Jean-Paul Gaultier outfits, in ascending order of outrageousness, from a white tux with angel wings to a naughty skirt (and long black wig). At his Toronto concert a voice cried out, "I love you, Leslie!"; he said, "I love you too, whether you're a boy or a girl." The line happens to be one he delivered in the hit 1994 comedy He's a Woman, She's a Man, but it winks at the man's pansexual appeal.

While I was enjoying Jackie's Vegas extravaganza, Mary was being serenaded by Leslie. Directly. Again he performed most of the concert in Cantonese. This time he offered "a special song for Mary." It was White Christmas, in English.

The next day Leslie met us on the Caesars ground floor to take us up to his suite. As usual he poured on the charm: doting, droll, sweet as a cinnamon roll. But when he realized he was being pursued down a remote corridor of the hotel by one of his myriad Japanese groupies (Leslie was elected Best Actor 10 years in a row by Japan's 17,000-member Cinecity fan club), he spun around and shouted, in English, "Go away! Get the hell out of here!" The young woman receded; I like to think it was exactly what she wanted. Anyone can get a star's autograph. But to receive a flash of his rage?private Leslie ad-libbing the movie Leslie?is a compliment masquerading as an insult.

There you have it: our five brushes with the master of painted faces. I pause in sadness to know there won't be a sixth.

DIVA

Even in 2001, Leslie was guarded about his future. "I was asked to do a Japanese TV series with Norita Fujiwara, but at my age I don't want to go back and do TV dramas. I don't care how big the Japanese market is. I might get more money through endorsements, but what's the point? It would downgrade me. I want to play things by my heart." He paused and smiled: "I like that line. 'I have to play things by my heart.'"

And what did this survivor of the 70s, 80s and 90s think about his standing in third-millennium Hong Kong? "I've worked bloody hard for 20 years," he said passionately. "I was penniless, dying hard for my groceries. I can now live in a reasonably sized detached house. I'm still very strong in Japan and Korea. But I may be a little pass頩n Hong Kong. The place is so extravagant, vulgar, expensive. People have forgotten what integrity is. Money comes first. I may be too soft for Hong Kong. I don't always count myself as one of them."

Spoken like a true diva: above, aloof, alone, yet avid for attention. He was at home on stage, because he knew he was so good at commandeering audiences, and because their innocent ecstasy turned him on. But while watching Leslie perform, I thought I saw him watching himself, as much the critic as the creator?a luscious showbiz courtesan, bringing the crowd to climax as he calculates both what he gives and what the box office takes.

Not that Leslie performed by rote. His instincts to entertain, goad and seduce were as genuine as he trusted the audience's response would be. He had an almost naked love for being loved. What I should have realized is that that love could be a gnawing need, and with that need might come the hint, the suspicion, the certitude that the fire of the fans' adoration would one day cool. His CDs wouldn't go to No. 1. His movies would earn less money; the directors he wanted to work with would get someone else. (And why did it so often have to be Tony Leung?) The accountant inside him could see diminishing returns around the corner?perhaps, as Grady Hendrix suggests, in the mirror. The last thing Leslie wanted was to become an oldies act.

A glittering raiment of ego had cloaked and cushioned Leslie for nearly 30 years in the limelight. Still beautiful, still looking a decade younger than his years, at the end he had all the perfections but one: a belief he was not as perfect a Leslie as he had been. Or that he was not seen to be as beautiful, as necessary, which for a magician is the same sad thing. What to do? Leslie's choices of films, songs, plumage, concert strategies had been brazen and true. Could his choice of a solution to his despair be just as daring?

I have no informed idea what circumstances led Leslie to take his life. But I imagine he felt an artist's grim pleasure as he determined the form of his suicide. It would be audacious, yet in a grand tradition. Chinese actresses?from the first superstar, Ruan Lingyu, in 1935, through the 60s luminaries Lin Dai, Betty Loh Tih, Kitty Ting Hao and Margaret Du Juan, to the troubled Pauline Chan last July?had chosen early death (usually by sleeping pills) as a final starring role. These women?all women?ended their careers with a crimson exclamation point. Leslie Cheung, the cinema's greatest man-woman, would trump their startling exits. Instead of riding out the inevitable decline, he made the most sumptuous gesture possible: a swan dive from a swan diva, from the balcony of his enduring eminence to the sidewalk of his misery.

I wish him a better tomorrow. I'm no scholar of Buddhism, but couldn't a body, just this once, come back as himself? Leslie could see, then, how much he was loved, respected, treasured and missed.

 

 

 

   

    当离一样东西很远时，或许反而更容易想起...我说的是这里。积攒到今天，终于有码字的兴趣。

 

    食物

 

     冬天要积攒些脂肪过冬，所以食量不应该控制。可是，今天的错在于，把端上来的5元的大碗沙县馄钝当作3元的，硬是全吃光了，在结帐时才意识到，结果是胃疼到深夜。

 

    电脑

 

     学校的网络好麻烦，为什么会分@a和@b？反正我貌似2G都用不完，只是两个都开通了，不都用可惜，都用也不容易。

 

    音乐

 

    昨天莫名的因为某首歌的翻唱版（王菲演唱会翻QUEEN的“Bohemian Rhapsody”）而发了通火，无辜遭殃的人一针见血地指出了个人的性格问题（龟毛+冲动），我承认，但是我没法改。今年大半年的时间都用tizzy bac磨耳朵，我喜欢的发狂，可是，我的错在于KTV时不应该妄想自己也能演绎出其哪怕1%的精妙之处。

 

    电视

 

    疯似地迷了几天《DEATH NOTE》，不管死神的形象一开始给我的冲击力有多大，这样阴暗的情节反而正好衬托我的心情。一口气看了3个版本，漫画，TV以及TV真人特别版，不幸的是又不小心瞄到了一眼最后的结局，想起《钢炼》，就因为这个原因，中间的N集始终放着。真人版的L感觉更适合演月，不知道月是经过怎样的过程才能演上月的，应该不容易吧，但是，我不喜欢。

 

    晚上犯了一个错，忘记去下今天才更新的TV第11集了，唉~~对不住蝶子了~~

 

    另外一个BAD NEWS是《宫2》的男主角似乎换成了现在很红的SEVEN什么的。这下好了，我可以和韩剧彻底决裂了，连最后的一部都没兴趣看了，不用念着明年1月份的这个了。

 

                 

 

    香港

 

    只有这个名字，能给我梦般的感觉。明明离它那么远，飞机直飞也要2个半钟头，可是，为什么，每天总有那几个瞬间，觉得就近在咫尺呢？说不清的感情，就是迷恋吧……

 

    另起一行，这一段给某人看的。对不起，无论怎么样，我得到的最大的惩罚就是，以后每次想到它就会想起我的任性所犯的错。

 

    婚姻

 

    高中好友上周领证，我楞是花了一天时间来接受这个事实。喜糖很好吃，对于她，我只有祝福。我相信这世上一定存在着绝对适合你的另一半，只是，我不相信，每个人都有能遇着的那份运气。上帝总是给你一些，不给你一些；不给你一些，然后再给你一些。

 

    课题

 

     我真的做的很郁闷，我从不这样容易认输的；但是，这次，我甚至祈祷有人能来帮我，可是没有……

 

   “人，只有自个儿成全自个儿”——看来这句台词是真的。

 

    背景音乐

 

     今天听的是又轻巧又诡异的两个小女生的《在动物园散步才是正经事》  

 

     今天的故事是《一枚指环的畅想》

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

    结尾

 

    很郁闷地问一句:是不是基本上都只看到那8个红色的叉啊?

    是的话,麻烦在下面踩一下.真搞不懂是我的问题,还是@a和@b的问题啊?   

 

   

叱咤女皇 -- 有耳非文                               

打狗女郎
从小叛逆爱自由
偶尔上台获奖
哭得比猪还丑 
平时利用[扫货』and『扫街』
活动money和身体 
伟人什么什么主义早已忘记
叱咤一时有什么好了不超 
叱咤一世才很原很了不起
要一马当先 
讨厌利用『名声』and『名气』
招揽money和朋友 
人生什么什么目的早己放弃 

叱咤一时 多得一只大狗熊
叱咤一世 难得一位好英雄 
叱咤一时 侥幸得来很容易
叱咤一世 全凭努力不容易 

要发奋图强

打狗女郎

口袋空空但富有 
偶尔哼哼首歌
笑得比花还美 
La... 
带著梦想梦想去飞『叱咤一世』

 

==================

自然卷，

之后是有耳非文，

捣鼓indie……