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移民如進化糞池 中國糞超難化嗎？

作者：change?  於 2019-11-1 23:02 發表於 最熱鬧的華人社交網路--貝殼村

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貝殼村裡瀟灑的紐約遊民老邱，飛大洋另闢奇徑，睡大街指點人生，拍鍵盤閑庭信步，文筆不輸殘雪，信手拈來，蔑視所謂成功者，這是一種什麼酷呢？窮拽？嬉皮？憤世嫉俗？現在他已經相當美國化了。但中文極其好，極其好。是因為他的一般人沒有的乖張，他的一般人不敢嘗試的自由嗎？這個怪咖在移民的過程中思想變化（化糞）也相當值得注意。傑克倫敦年輕時（本來也沒活多少年）滿世界跑，一路要著吃用，對各地各種人大方小氣人格高低有各種有趣的觀察,也開啟並成為描寫艱困存亡狀態下生命掙扎的名家。殘雪也只是小學學歷，在人生最低處以下找到自己，用超現實的實驗派手法打通過去現在和未來表現人生在哲學意義上的共通性和荒謬性，被美國名作家蘇珊桑塔格認為是唯一有資格問鼎諾貝爾文學獎的中國作家。

老邱的寫作，他稱作是日記, 確實如此，也是隨筆，直觀，另類，他把性行為稱為「操屄」，而不是「做愛」，「性交」，「打炮」等知性，中性或感性語言，體現了這位老兄的駕馭型操作型實幹型傳統型目標管理型等人格特徵。老邱窮游天下，心懷美女春夢，把別人丟棄的食物比如蘿蔔乾當成寶貝，津津樂道，吃不完還捨不得扔，卻瞧不起結過婚帶孩子的女人，頗以黃花臉老男人自居，愛琢磨的他終於在此處無解，只有繼續窮游碰運氣了。如果有英國文豪蕭伯納的造化，碰到一個有緣富婆，「結合后」如果嫌累，連「操屄」都不用，依然男歡女愛，一生就悠哉游哉了。

蕭伯納1946年（90歲）在家中
上面是默片很沉悶。富婆為嘛看上老蕭？看這個短視頻聽他1933年訪美時風趣幽默兼具英國式怪異風格的談吐可能有所啟發，更不用說他的文學天才了。

老蕭一向很狂，除了覺得「操屄」這種苦力活他不屑於做也徵得了太太的同意外，他一直嘲諷貶低莎士比亞，專門寫了一本書，沒事看看挺有意思。

看這位頭號「莎黑」的黑莎語錄：



另外，這傢伙還是一個老血紅，當年公然稱讚斯大林和蘇聯，真是不知死活的傻叉，他這種只會說真話的主兒，會被社會主義制度分分鐘射成灰哦。

老邱的寫作，以冷峻但極具質感的文字和不加修飾的視角挑戰偏見和自得，偶爾，或者說會罕見地，在癥狀性的自大下表現出他的是非觀和愛憎心。在紐約庇護所里的人性流露，感動甚至讚許，令人沉思，感謝美國的文明社會福利制度，讓他有尊嚴地看待一切，讓他有勇氣生活在「外面」，讓他有信心遊走太平洋兩岸企圖撈到「黃花鮭魚」，甚至讓他創造出「混滋傻」這樣的讓錢鍾書也會自嘆不如的稱謂挑戰他的「幸運同類」。生動，具有很好的出版價值，他會碰到有慧眼的出版者嗎？

語言是人的衣服，人是會根據說話做判斷的。下面這位發視頻的老姐, 東北人，學音樂的，在香港生活若干年，嫁到英國。看看這些經歷對她人格氣質的影響塑造。移民了，不入鄉隨俗，不經過化糞池的改造怎麼行？


係英國小鎮 #嗿一碗鍾意啲湯河粉牛，要幾多錢？沿途介紹

讚！美味！令人垂涎！

牡丹妹妹，你好！最近才發現你的視頻，跟你一起唱"願榮光歸香港"和你一起流淚，由六月至今能開懐不能安睡，為香港孩子們禱告，我土生土長至今六十多未嘗試 這痛心！Kingston.金斯頓，離倫敦不是很遠，2013二女兒大學時我也在那住了一個月，搭巴士去倫敦也很方便，英國小鎮各有特式。感覺這才是人住的地方。不像香港這麽糟糕，現更像人間地獄！祝福你身心安康！

睇完好想食湯河。

睇來好抵食喎！見妳吃得咁香，開心！讚

Thank you for the tour.

姐，你的這家餐館感覺是越南那邊的風味小吃

請講普通話吧！


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回復 change? 2019-11-2 09:38
William Shakespeare was, famously, a playwright and an actor. George Bernard Shaw was, famously, a playwright and a critic — and a particularly acerbic critic of Shakespeare, whose cult he insisted had mushroomed by the 20th century far beyond what the man』s dramaturgy merited, and whose characters he declared 「have no religion, no politics, no conscience, no hope, no convictions of any sort.」

Whew. Mayhap we should see about renaming the Folger.

Or mayhap not: Shaw was also famously a bombastic old curmudgeon (even in his youth), a genius gadfly given to making outrageous claims to get an audience』s attention, then using his peerless wit and erudition to make a watertight case for the more measured position he』d actually come to argue. (Or the opposite position: Shaw is forever giving equal time to the opponents of his own ideas.)

Indeed he would over the course of his long life shower much praise on Shakespear, to use the spelling Shaw preferred, and would even lend his name and pen to the earliest efforts to establish a national theater in England.

True, his utter impatience with 「Bardolatry」—his efficiently dismissive coinage for the breathless Victorian fanboying that elevated Shakespeare to the ranks of the prophets and the philosophers—that impatience would remain with him to the grave. (Makes one long for a comic one-act that imagines him meeting a young Harold Bloom for cocktails at the Algonquin, doesn』t it?)

Saint Joan, onstage at Folger Theatre this month, may well be the most Shakespearean of Shaw』s major plays in its matter and its style, as dramaturg Michele Osherow notes. (There is Caesar and Cleopatra to consider, but that』s more of a counterargument, and best left for another season.) Look to the ephemera, though, and you』ll find a scattering of charming artifacts, each one testament to Shaw』s lifelong entanglement with Our Boy Bill.

The Dark Lady of the Sonnets, of which a types**t copy resides in the Folger Library』s collection, is probably the best known of these. Written in 1910 as an early contribution to the campaign to establish the National Theatre, it』s a hilariously imagined amongst-the-hedges encounter between an unsuspecting Elizabeth I and a Willy Shakes of such Shavian egomania that he』s barely able to avoid insulting his queen. With its thoroughly flustered monarch and its brusque braggart of a hero stealing plum phrases from everyone he encounters, it reads like nothing so much as an inverted early draft of Shakespeare in Love.

Another tasty morsel of Shavian mischief is also housed here at the Folger, again in types**t, this one bearing Shaw』s hand-inked corrections — including several joke-sharpening changes that showcase a perfectionist at work. It』s a wrecking ball of a book review, published in 1916, in which Shaw recasts the final scene of Macbeth in 2,400 words of hilariously blowsy narrative prose, all for the sake of demolishing author Arnold Bennett』s argument that plays are easier to write than novels. It』s just one of umpteen examples of Shaw』s nine-decade fascination with the Scottish Play, an obsession that might merit its own scholarly subspecialty. It』s also a reminder of both Shaw』s critical stature and his personal charm; despite the review, which was part of an extended public exchange of intellectual fire, Shaw and Bennett were to become friendly-enough correspondents that the novelist would eventually seek the master』s tutelage on, yes, playwriting.

Nothing speaks so clearly to Shaw』s evolving understanding of Shakespeare, though, as Cymbeline Refinished. Late in his life, Shaw audaciously rewrote the fifth act of Shakespeare』s oddball late romance, cutting its length roughly in half, stripping out most of the original』s surprise revelations, and making the play』s heroine Imogen more assertive almost to the point of modern feminism. Yet Shaw does, in a 1945 foreword acknowledge that his youthful dismissals of Cymbeline—as 「stagey trash of the lowest melodramatic order,」 most pungently—were more about how the Victorians staged Shakespeare than about what Shakespeare put on the page. He even acknowledges that the Bard might have known what he was doing when he included the notorious masque played by Sicilius et al during Posthumus』 nap.

Shaw, in short, never entirely backed away from his career-long assertion that Shakespeare was no English literary god—though he did come to view him as a singularly talented mortal. As for his own place on the spectrum between the sacred and the profane? Perhaps this quote from Shaw』s correspondence with the actress Ellen Terry best sums up his self-assessment:

「I have no objection whatever to an intelligent cutting-out of the dead and false bits of Shakespeare. But when you propose to cut me, I am paralyzed at your sacrilegious audacity.」

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