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What are you fighting for

What sense can I make, of

What you’ve been doing, guys?

Trolling, yes trolling. But what are all those trolls about?

What have you been trolling for? Boys and girls

What are you fucking fighting for, fighters?

Every week, every day, you pick one thing out of nothing, someone in the most invisible corners, you would pick for something you find infuriating, a

Him, or her, just thing, just anything, to give you some meaning to live, which more often than not means nothing to you.

She means nothing to you man! You don’t fucking care one iota of what’s saying from her, or him, or any name you give.

Now, she becomes your gift, to your god. You say to yourselves, to the one next to you,

“It’s her turn now. It’s time."

You pick up your torch of burning flames, follow your herd, in the darkest dark, to

Fetch her, or him, or anything whose turn it is for your game, your fucking name shaming game.

Torch her, burn her, cremate her to ash, for the sake of her blame.

But what did she done man?

What’s her blame?

What you fucking fighting for?

For science, fuck that I haven’t known you of caring science so much! You don’t even tell prime numbers from others!

For children? For fuck sake I have known you for hating them! So much that you want them die in your front you hypocrite!

For mankind? Oh fuck me you do care your kind, your world you selfish mental. Being all but your generation is your mantle!

You fucking mental, picking anyone who make you mental.

One of a time, a sly, a slime, to suck it out your kind. She’s your kind. This time.

And feeling like in a group of self righteous caring group torching the unscientific,

But yesterday you hate someone scientific systematic. What are you? What have you? What are you possessed today.

To feel yourselves together to do something you feel meaningful. To give you s tiny tints of belonging well being

Being anything, rather than nothing,

Rather than accepting

What happens means nothing.

We are nothing

Meaningfully nothing

Nothing

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The Strange and Twisted Life of “Frankenstein”

https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2018/02/12/the-strange-and-twisted-life-of-frankenstein

Read This Aloud

POETRY BEYOND

I’m hanging loose,

You said i seek compilation

Gave me no choice so i had to choose,

I said no more dark, tension

Always in seek of light,

Unlike one beneath the Atlantic

My candle won’t go off my sight,

Taught me what is unique

Never pointing fingers on my faults,

Deep inside never to shy

(away)

Or even hide in fancy clothes,

Dear grandma;

I’m sorry

You got pushed away for years,

Abandoned in that old farm

But still, I’ll keep calling your name

No more sad songs.

.KAI

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Why read bestsellers

The Story's Story

Someone wrote to ask why I bother writing about John Grisham’s weaknesses as a writer and implied in it is a second question: why read bestsellers at all? The first is a fair question and so is the implication in it: Grisham’s readers don’t read me and don’t care what I think; they don’t care that he’s a bad writer; and people who read me probably aren’t going to read him. Still, I read him because I was curious and I wrote about him to report what I found.

The answer to the second one is easy: Some are great! Not all, probably not even most, but enough to try. Lonesome Dove, the best novel I’ve read recently, was a bestseller. Its sequel, Streets of Laredo, is not quite as good but I’m glad to have read it. Elmore Leonard was often a bestseller and he is excellent…

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Work and video games

The Story's Story

I was reading “Escape to Another World” (highly recommended) and this part made me realize something:

How could society ever value time spent at games as it does time spent on “real” pursuits, on holidays with families or working in the back garden, to say nothing of time on the job? Yet it is possible that just as past generations did not simply normalise the ideal of time off but imbued it with virtue – barbecuing in the garden on weekends or piling the family into the car for a holiday – future generations might make hours spent each day on games something of an institution.

I think part of the challenge is that, historically, many of us pursue hobbies and other activities that are also related to craftsmanship. The world of full of people who, in their spare time, rebuild bikes or cars, or sew quilts, or…

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翦影裡的思緒~yingju-Lu

~牧羊女的風鈴詩坊~

~翦影裡的思緒~

停在窗框上的鳥

紗窗門外驚見撲翅展翼的雜音,打破我所屬的寂靜空間,意外增添些許波瀾,我抬頭一望,瞬間鳥的身形一下子完整浮現在我眼前,猜想著牠為何徘徊在此?

數秒後,鳥停留在窗框上,發出低沉的啼咕聲,還有些稚嫩之氣,就像孩童般的音質,裏頭還有些落寞和孤單。

從走道望去,只能瞧見鳥灰色的翦影,也不知道是什麼鳥及牠的長相,但依稀能猜出是小斑鳩,因斑鳩也是我們這裡的常客。而此刻,我知道牠也只能以背望著我的姿態看向前方。

在這處百公分不到的窗框架上能活動的範圍有限,來回踱步了幾次後,似乎想找個安適的角落,歇著,…果真過沒多久,牠靜了下來,一動也不動,可能真的在打盹,進入夢鄉去了!

時間在高高的窗框上凝止,反而我的存在顯得好些怪異。

也不知為何,落單的一隻?也好,剛好陪伴獨在的我。

好幾個小時不知不覺中過去,我閱讀、創作,休息時喝了杯咖啡,似乎已做了許多許多事,也不時關心著窗框上的翦影…。

待鳥兒終於又有了動靜,醒來後的牠似乎仍在那裏放空。

飛離前,鳥的留影

午後了,已近45點,很好奇鳥守著那做什麼?窗外不是藍天嗎?一整日麻雀吱吱喳喳地,還到牠附近嬉鬧過呢!不是風光正明媚嗎?怎無精打采地躲在這,幽僻的角落了?牠有滿腹的心事嗎?實在頗令人費解!

偷偷、靜悄地,我試著打開紗窗門,透過小小的縫隙,空中已然飄來一股野味,像好久沒洗澡的鳥的味道。我看牠毫無反應,又勉強把門往前推了些,一下子,鳥警覺到了,驚慌地啪啪翅膀展翼疾馳而去。而隨著牠的飛逝,空中落下如混著細砂般灰塵的顆粒…。

~翦影裡的思緒~

~yingju-Lu~

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對不起。我又柒了

都話我冇權說三道四吧。早前還說這套叫Taboo很垃圾。基於一個影評。還比之賭城風雲。

看了二集半就放在一旁。跟著,就是以下的兩篇影評。

https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2017/feb/23/naysayers-be-damned-tom-hardys-taboo-is-a-work-of-wicker-man-genius

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/feb/25/tom-hardy-taboo-imperialist-capitalist

係喎。套野最難看的地方在哪先?因為難頂嘛。因為乜先?因為它重口味嘛。你見條女,Hardy成鬼日吊住佢尾,但條女成個蔡斯背咁的鴉烏咁,你就知幾重口味了。跟著我再因為以上的影評再看埋嗰半集。嘩。原來嗰個係阿妹來的。跟住個妹在教堂騎乘自己個阿哥?個親王成個sin city的Junior咁。跟住條蔡思背個老公原來逆服癖,在妓院俾錢俾人SM自己?還跟Hardy講每天為扮正常瘋狂屌蔡斯背?

正正就是唔想再看糖衣美片,才來看BBC。但看得久了,看得薑化了,看得膠了,慣了。偶爾來一套重口味,我竟嫌棄之?那我還型在哪裡呢?

所以我,決定看下去。更反醒,所謂的自我,還是似有還無。其實都是跟大眾,跟大佬。他說得無錯,我只是看通大勢,跟大隊的一員。以後不要扮有型了。

“How to build an autocracy"

The Story's Story

How to build an autocracy" appears in this month’s Atlantic and may turn out to be the most important article of 2017. It’s so important that I’m putting it in a standalone post rather than including it as an item amid others in a link list. One hopes that the future David Frum imagines in it doesn’t come to pass.

But if it doesn’t, it won’t because individual people choose not to let it come to pass. Knowledge is one step in that process. Action is another.

We seem to have collectively forgotten history. We’ve seen authoritarianism before. What’s odd is seeing it again—although Richard Rorty may have predicted it twenty years ago; until the last election I complacently thought, “It can’t happen here." I was wrong.

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