Chapter 3 two

I had many strange dreams.I dreamed that spacemen were singing on Venus.I dreamed that the king of cards was groping in the dark at the Finger Ballroom.I dreamed that a group of dogs were gnawing bones.I dreamed that Lin Daiyu was making rubber flowers in a factory.I dreamed of Lu Chen in Hong Kong.I dreamed that she was dreaming in my dreams and dreaming of me. I dreamed that I won the lottery i lost my pen Then I walked into a finger dance hall in Wanchai wearing a sharp suit Call all the dancers to sit on the stage I buy arrogance with money Then I bought a new six-story building live on the first floor

rent out the rest From now on, I don't need to look at the face of the second landlord No need to worry about rent increases Then I went to find Zhao Zhiyao in the car Zhao Zhiyao is a mean guy When I was poor, I begged him for twenty dollars He squinted his head and turned his head to the side now i have money I throw money in his face Then I took the car to find Zhang Lili Zhang Lili is a snobby woman I used to ask her for love when I was poor She squinted her head and turned her head to the side now i have money I throw money in her face Then I took the car to find Qian Shifu

Qian Shifu is the owner of a publishing house I used to ask him to sell my novels when I was poor He squinted his head and turned his head to the side now i have money I throw money in his face Then I drove through Queen's Road Because I like people to look at me with admiring eyes then i woke up Real sobriety.headache.Mie squinted her eyeballs, and found that the sleeping woman was not beautiful.Not only is it not beautiful, but it is also quite ugly.Her hair is messy.There was a lot of shed hair scattered on the pillow.Her eyebrows are very sparse.After a night of tossing and turning, the two false eyebrows drawn with an eyebrow pencil became shorter.Her skin is also rather rough, with particularly large pores. (When I saw her in that restaurant yesterday, her skin seemed very fair and delicate: it is completely different now, what is the reason? Maybe it was because the lighting was too dim; maybe it was because she was wearing too much makeup; maybe I was drunk then; maybe anyway, it's quite different now.) Her nose has a Western taste, in fact, in her whole face, only the nose is the most beautiful.There were still traces of lipstick on her lips, which looked like depigmented cherries in canned food.But these are far from the ugliest.The ugliest thing is: crow's feet around the eyes, there are a few indistinct lines, which cannot be covered up without powder filling.She is no longer young, she may be in her early forties: but under the dim light, wearing too much makeup, and appreciating with drunken eyes, she is still a blooming flower.

She slept soundly, and often moved the corners of her mouth in the misty consciousness.I cannot tell what she dreamed; but I am sure she is dreaming.When she turned around, she let out a sigh of relief, it was fishy and smelly and made me just want to gag. (I would never have slept with her if it hadn't been for a few too many drinks.) I turned over and got out of bed, washed my face and brushed my teeth, got dressed, and gave her half of the manuscript fee I received from the newspaper office yesterday afternoon. in the handbag.My manuscript fee is not much, but I am so generous.I have often pitied myself in my waking hours; now I feel sorry for her more than I do.I stuffed half a month's labor into her handbag, because at this moment I am sober.When leaving the hotel, the first thought is to drink.I went into the store and bought a bottle of whiskey, and when I got home, I dared not drink it.I also want to write serialized martial arts novels for two newspapers.Spreading out the 25×20∥500 original paper, I can’t tell how uncomfortable it is. (These two martial arts novels have been written for more than a year. It is already a surprising thing to give up one's own talents to write such articles for the sake of living; what is even more surprising is that readers will follow the author's imagination to go to the An ethereal realm, and I don’t feel troubled.) I smiled, went to uncap the wine bottle, and poured a glass. (If possible, I will write a novella titled "Hemingway in Hong Kong", saying that Hemingway was a poor and sick poor scholar who satiated his hunger with bread soaked in sugar water every day. "Weapons!" is sold everywhere, but no publisher is willing to publish it. The publisher asked Hemingway to rewrite the martial arts novel, saying that it was to meet the needs of readers. Buy a building and take a car. Hemingway refused to do so, and the publisher said he was a fool. Back home, he continued to work. When he finished "For Whom the Bell Tolls", he didn't even have money to buy bread. The renter took him He was kicked out and rented the bed he had slept in to a peddler who sold pills for kidney deficiency on the street in Shau Kei Wan. Hemingway was still not awakened, and he took "For Whom the Bell Strikes" to sell everywhere, but the result was still disappointing. He had to sell the remaining He pawned a fleece coat, changed a few meals and a pile of manuscript paper, and sat at the bottom of the stairs to continue writing. The weather turned cold, but his desire to write was still burning like a fire in his heart. One morning, The dancer who lived on the second floor came back by car and found a dead body lying at the bottom of the stairs. She screamed loudly, and passers-by gathered around to watch, but no one knew who it was. When the police came, the dead body was still tightly held Holding the original manuscript of a novel, the title is: "The Old Man and the Sea"!) I laughed again, thinking that this miss is very interesting.I took a sip of wine and started writing martial arts novels. (I wrote yesterday that Taoist Tongtian wants to avenge his lover Hang Yuting, but his enemy, Tie Suanzi, is hundreds of miles away. How should I write it?) I raised my glass of wine and drank it all in one gulp. (Yes! Taoist Tongtian picked up a bamboo chopstick with his fingers, breathed on the chopsticks, and threw it in the air. The chopsticks flew like a flying arrow. With a whoosh sound, they passed the mountain without leaning to one side, and happened to hit the iron operator temples!)

a cup.two cups.three cups.Four cups. Put down the pen.The rain still hasn't stopped.The glass tube pierces Shi Mintu, and through the crystal curtain, I want to see the wine vortex in the distance.Thousands of horses are galloping on the roof ridge across the street from the oval ridge, and the north wind yawns frequently. two circles.One is thirty-six in light purple; the other is twenty-two in dark green. The feeling of two zigzags, greetings in the wine glass.Autumn laughed wildly.Thirty-six becomes forty-four. Sometimes, the top is the bottom.Sometimes, the bottom is the top.There is no difference between looking down and looking up.So a circle plus another circle, of course, cannot be two circles.

Thirty-six is ​​not the same as thirty-six.The upper one has two circles, the lower one has only one. Autumn hovers outside the figure of eight.The sun loves the day; the moon loves the day; but the night is never lonely.Who lies on the bed of memory, because someone is good at playing with hypocrisy. When dancing with the figure 8, the wisdom teeth have not yet come out.Melancholy equals happiness.All will pass away. The autumn wind is late, a little bit of sweat. I had to declare war on myself in hopes of overcoming my inner fears.In my heart, it is also raining. (Poets are discussing traditional questions. Actually, the answers are easy to find.)

(Take "Dream of Red Mansions" as an example.) (If it is said that "Dream of Red Mansions" is the most outstanding work in Chinese classical literature, I believe no one will object.) (From today's perspective, "A Dream of Red Mansions" is a traditional work.) (However, what is the actual situation? What was the form and tradition of novels more than two hundred years ago? If Cao Xueqin deliberately followed the creative methods of his predecessors, he would not be able to write such a great novel as "A Dream of Red Mansions". Here comes the work.)

(If Cao Xueqin’s creative method was not anti-traditional, Liu Quanfu would not have written such a postscript six years after he obtained the Zhiyan Jiaxu edition: A Dream of Red Mansions is not only a novelty, it is just another kind of pen and ink.) (However, from today's perspective, "Dream of Red Mansions" is a traditional work.) (If Cao Xueqin's creative method is not anti-traditional, he will not be misinterpreted by Liang Gongchen and others.) (However, from today's perspective, "Dream of Red Mansions" is a traditional work.) (Let’s listen to Cao Xueqin’s confession: Why is my teacher so stupid? If there is no dynasty to test, why is it so difficult for my teacher to use the age of Han and Tang to add embellishments? This is not a trick, but novel and unique.)

(There is no doubt that Cao Xueqin's creative method is anti-traditional!) (He is dissatisfied that thousands of parts are the same, and thousands of people are the same!) (Eliot once said: If the meaning of tradition is only to blindly follow the style of the predecessors, tradition is useless.) (So, when Rousseau wrote "Confessions", Cao Xueqin wrote "The Story of the Stone" in a realistic way! About thirty years later, Goethe completed the first part of "Faust". About forty years later, J. Austin's "Pride and Prejudice" was published. About eighty years later, Gogol's "Dead Souls" was published. About a hundred years later, Flaubert's "Madame Bovary" was published. More than a hundred years later , Turgenev's "Fathers and Sons" and Dostoevsky's "Crime and Punishment" were published. About a hundred years later, Tolstoy's "War and Peace" came out. How about these? Or drink some wine.)

a cup.two cups.three cups. After the first glass of wine, someone knocked on the door, it was the renter woman, and asked me when I would pay the rent. After the second glass of wine, someone knocked on the door. It was a handyman from the newspaper office and asked me why I didn't send the continuation manuscript. After drinking the third glass of wine, someone knocked on the door. It was an unknown middle-aged woman who was obese and almost bloated. She asked me why I took a bite out of the apple in her son's hand when I came back in the morning. (Cao Xueqin is also an alcoholic. It was a windy and rainy day. Duncheng met him in Huaiyuan, and the cold was blowing into his bones. Duncheng took off his saber and bought wine, and they had a good drink. Zhiben Zhu commented that Cao Xueqin died of On Renwu New Year’s Eve, the cause of death was not disclosed. Could it be that Cao Xueqin was a heart patient. He drank heavily because of sentimentality, and his old illness broke out?)

(Alcohol is not a good thing and should be avoided. I think.)