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中国历史上最高水平的36首诗（下）最后跟贴：好诗最后发表：Angie	lwljan 2014-2-27 18:27	82128	Angie 2014-7-7 13:58
有人读过李异的中央警卫吗？最后跟贴：Rt 最后发表：求人真难啊	求人真难啊 2014-7-6 17:20	01094	求人真难啊 2014-7-6 17:20
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(48)天堂之影最后跟贴：最后发表：ccatsydney	洋八路 2014-7-1 11:23	21139	ccatsydney 2014-7-1 15:36
想买金庸的书，有地方买吗？WA 最后跟贴：记得买旧版的。。。最后发表：xxmplus	mightyview 2014-1-30 15:06	111882	xxmplus 2014-7-1 09:00
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(47)天堂之影最后跟贴：哈哈。。视野很宽哦。。等着眼珠子掉一地。。最后发表：Gone	洋八路 2014-6-24 17:47	61184	Gone 2014-6-29 22:57
桐华的《那些回不去的年少时光》最后跟贴：那些回不去的青春岁月啊，最后发表：rain1625 ...2 3 4 5	blackswan 2013-5-8 10:11	12513235	rain1625 2014-6-29 19:00
重读＜洗澡＞有感最后跟贴：最后发表：stfz	DreamRedMansion 2005-6-11 13:28	257814	stfz 2014-6-26 15:47
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(46)天堂之影最后跟贴：Chapter 46 2/2 Entering McDonalds, the familiarity of the yellow colour and scent and warmth and decoration, made him, and obviously other three, feel somewhat at home. It was odd to think that people admire new things so much, while at the same time missing the old and the past. If one feels only comfortable in a place they are familiar with, why doesn’t he just stay home for the comfort? Such as staying in China? Such as staying in his village where he could swim in the spring water? But no, people tend to have a permanent need to see more, to receive more stimulants, to eat more, to try more, to love more, to wonder eternally what exists beyond a boundary. We call it adventure, and the adventurous mission is usually dangerous and uncomfortable and suffering, many of them even a risk to our lives. Yet we are still tempted to go and risk, obstinately as if under a spell of a perverse spirit. Musing, and chewing the hot chips, the heat of which was moderated by the chill of a Coke he was presently sucking, Bing suddenly suspected of the rightness of his coming to Australia. Why did he have to leave his wife, his parents and many other intimate souls for this place? What did he want from his life, from this new land? For next moment, the elegant face of his wife, her breasts and lips, and the wrinkles and white hair streaks of his mother, and the quiet and discontented lined face of his father, began flashing in his mind. ‘Hurry up, Wang Teacher,’ David said, ‘we need to go to Chinatown.’ Waking up from his little trance, he lifted his head, looking at David who had already finished his beef burger. ‘Now you have enough energy, with the Big Mac…’ ‘Not much, I could eat another if I were rich.’ Mei remarked, ‘You talk like you are poor.’ ‘Of course, I am; otherwise, I would have bought two Big Macs, instead of one.’ They laughed. And in the midst of their mirth, Bing, seeing that even the two girls had half finished their burgers, began to eat his own. To him, eating a burger was more like a cooking process. The raw vegetables, onions, cheese, cream, and beef were just mixed and cooked in his mouth. His hands had to clutch them skilfully lest the stuff stain his nose or his clothes. Sometimes he felt the way of eating it, with all the hunger of the moment, was not unlike a man greedily kissing a woman from various angles. On their way to Little Bourke St where Chinatown was located, he saw an odd-looking sculpture on the sidewalk. Simply made up of some rusty iron plates, it was not exactly like anything he could recognise. Then further down, there were another group of sculptures which looked like imitating white-collared workers walking on the street. But they looked excessively ugly, very thin and tall, their eyes bulging, their nostrils thrusting out, their mouths gaping like a fish just caught and brought onto the land. Their startled and bewildered expressions were numb and dumb and stupid. He wanted to touch the sculpture, but at the same time felt repulsed by its utmost nastiness. It was made of cold metal, not at all friendly and touchable and intimate like the wooden, electric poles. Yet still, as if enchanted by its weirdness and irregularity, he lingered and hovered about them, inspecting their faces curiously, until he had to be called by the impatient David, who, together with the two girls, had already crossed at the traffic lights to other side of the street. Bing had to wait at the lights. He saw two pedestrians, after looking left and right, and left and right again to be convinced of no danger of being run over, bolt across the street against the red light. There were a number of blue and white police cars parked along the street, but no people in uniform emerged to catch the offenders. Nevertheless, compared to the society he had just come from, this place was indeed more civilized. In Shanghai and in Chengdu, where traffic rules were loosely observed by and where the people forever had to compete for limited resources, so called traffic control assistants had to be employed to discipline the half-blind throngs of walkers and riders and drivers. At each street crossing, the assistants, with a red band on their arms, would wave their flags and yell, shout or whistle, demonstrating the everyday road-struggle of the urbane residents. However, according to the map, Australia was about four-fifths the area of China, but its population was just one-fiftieth. He wondered what the traffic would be like if one day the population of Melbourne’s three million was expanded six times to that of Shanghai. The roadway was also different. Very wide, it was divided equally into three lanes. The middle one was exclusively for trams, which looked like a mixture of bus and train, and the outer two were for vehicles. Each tram had long propping power-poles like the trolley-buses in Shanghai and Beijing, but its slow sleep-lulling rattling sound, and the long compartment, and its heavy pulling and panting manoeuvre, resembled more a train. The light turned green and the ticking traffic sound, meaning ‘Walk now’, began beating faster. With his heart lurching, he crossed the road nervously, as if someone or a white ghost was chasing at his back. The two girls were far ahead, and evidently absorbed in some girlish gossips, neither of them looked once back to ensure their country-fellows were not lost in their wake. Catching up with David, and then together overrunning the two girls, Bing was again assuming a default guide to the little group. ‘Wang Teacher, where to go? I see this is Bourke Street, the entrance to Chinatown?’ Mei’s raised eyebrows were very impressive. ‘But I see no sign that says Chinatown?’ ‘No, no, Chinatown is at Little Burke Street, remember the pre-affixed Little,’ he reminded Mei, ‘Little Burke should be just a little distance down the road.’ Shortly afterwards they saw, to their left, a tall and oddly standing arch, which looked very incompatible, very inharmonious to other buildings in the neighbourhood. But, it was Chinese, suggesting nothing but Chinese. For a fleeting moment, the arch impressed him as an entrance to a purplish temple, where people entered to worship Buddha or some spirits of ancestors, to gaze at those ugly-faced, half-man, half-devil figures like the ones he had seen on Emei Mountain. Straining his neck and looking up to survey the arch, he noticed the colour was not purple, or black or yellow or red or crimson, but a mixture of laced patterns, like the garment worn by women in old Chinese dynasty. In the middle of the crossbeam, from right to left, six Chinese characters said ‘Melbourne Chinatown’. Again, the stone was there. Two one-piece stone pillars supported a slanted roof. Two tourists sat on each of the outstretched pillar bases. One of them indulged himself with a leisurely smoke; the other tilted a bottle of Coke to her lips, pouring the dark liquid into her mouth very thirsty on such a warm day. Stepping inside, the two-lane street, compared to Swanston St, was very narrow. No Buddha, no common settings in a temple; it was just a normal alley where the traditional Chinese words were shown as the main shop signage, whilst English, here as a secondary language, was written underneath. ‘Look at the Shark Fin,’ asked Susan, touching her glass, ‘is it the fin of shark they serve? The most expensive food I heard of in China?’ ‘It must be,’ said David, ‘but I doubt it is the most expensive here in Australia. Sharks must be plenty and easier to catch here? How about Bear’s Palm, and Swallows’ Nest that used to be eaten by the Chinese emperors and their relatives?’ Mei, whose eyes seemed to have just located the restaurant thus mentioned, was suspicious, ‘I don’t know, the Chinese name of this restaurant means Eating-Is-First. It was not as if suggesting ‘eating shark fin first’.’ ‘Why don’t we go into the restaurant for our supper tonight?’ said Bing, excitedly. ‘We will then find out.’ ‘Are you crazy,’ said David seriously, ‘it could cost a fortune.’ ‘Well, Shark Fin may be very cheap here in Australia,’ said Bing, ‘may even be cheaper than Big Macs.’ ‘Haha, I wish so,’ David chuckled. ‘But, really this is Chinatown, we Chinese should definitely come here to eat one day.’ ‘Why just one day, why can’t we do this every day. There is no reason we shouldn’t help the business in Chinatown.’ ‘All right, but if only they can give us Chinese a big discount, for the sake of brotherhood and sisterhood.’ While two men were kidding each other upon the eating, the two girls slipped into a newspapers and stationary shop. They followed them in. The papers and magazines inside the shop were all in traditional Chinese. Bing was attracted to some special magazines displayed on the shelf. One of them had a name of Fire Qiling, meaning Fire Unicorn. With pictures of naked legs and thighs on its cover, he believed it was a kind of pornographic materials forbidden in communist China. He picked it up, and checking alertly on any eyes that might fall upon him, quickly turned it over, then as quickly put it back. It was well clothed by a layer of plastic, so he was unable to peer into its contents. He should buy one, sooner or later, he thought, when he could afford it. Bu how much was it? He was about to pick it up again to find the price, when Susan and Mei, who were a moment earlier hidden inside the shop, appeared suddenly in front of him. So he had to divert his glance immediately to other objects. Going out of the shop, four of them continued to explore Chinatown. But there were not many extra things to interest them; all eating places, one after another. Without money in his pocket, and uncertain how much they were going to cost, he felt the restaurants were practically useless. In fact, the whole of Chinatown was useless, unless maybe one day he could come and eat in one of the restaurants, or buy one or two pornographic magazines to appease his curiosity. But the enthusiasm of the other three was not as diminished as his, especially Susan, who had evidently learnt quite a lot in advanced about this city and had become very talkative. She said: ‘Melbourne Chinatown was established as early as 1850, during the Victorian gold rush. It is one of the oldest Chinatowns in the world, and is the second longest continuous Chinese settlement in western countries, after San Francisco in North America, which goes back farther ten years to 1840.’ ‘1840? Isn’t it also the year when the Opium War broke out between England and China?’ asked Bing. She answered, ‘Yes, about that time. Many Chinese were said being carried over to US, like slaves, to build railway and dig gold for them.’ ‘Slaves? Never heard of Chinese as slaves. They were not the slaves like black people, were they?’ ‘They were undoubtedly slaves, all the people whose skin had a colour, yellow or black or dark were treated as secondary citizens in those days.’ ‘But I believe white is just another type of colour, and the secondary people don’t always equal slaves,’ said Bing, surprised and amused to see Susan’s face flushing like a passionate debater over a topic. ‘Slaves are humans sold and bought as common goods like cattle, for a price. But I think Chinese only went abroad to dig the gold or seek a fortune to better their lives outside their own poor, war-stricken country. They were not sold or bought by a force beyond their control,’ he paused to clear his throat, ‘to some degree it was not very much different from the reason you and I have come here today.’ ‘Oh, really? Well…’ Susan faltered, so flushed that she had to take time to compose herself, touching her glasses before she continued, ‘well, it was a fact that the Chinese had been terribly treated by white people in western countries. Nobody could deny that.’ ‘Hehe, I am not to deny that human history in both China and abroad, on its struggling and stumbling path to civilization, had always been very ugly and brutal. There had been no less horrible treatment among Chinese themselves, between their own kin and relatives, than between people of different races or colours.’ Then, realizing he was almost preaching like a history teacher, and with an intent to avoid too direct a debate with the emotional Susan, Bing turned to other two, in softening words, ‘David, and Mei, what do you think? How do you feel, after one hundred and fifty years since the Chinese first came here to dig gold, to build this Chinatown, that today we left our country and came here again, for a reason and a purpose I don’t conceive as very different from our early pioneers?’ David hesitated, ‘Ehm, well, ehm, to be honest, if only China is an ideal and happy place for us to stay, I don’t know why we should have come here, why we should leave our parents, brothers and sisters. If we come here only to study, that is fine, but as far as I know, most of the students, me, one of them, have come here for permanent residence as the ultimate purpose.’ ‘Yes, like water always flows from high to low, so do humans flock, from bad to good.’ Then Mei, who had kept quiet and rather indifferent in the discussion, added, ‘But the fact is we don’t even know if here is worse or better yet. And, I think every person born has a right to move about the Earth.’ ‘We will soon find this out if it is a better place or not, and even that it is an entirely subjective opinion,’ Bing went on, ‘and I agree with you, every one who comes into this world not by his own choice, is entitled with a just and heaven-given right to move about the planet.’ David was amused, ‘Haha, if only such a right is not removed by other more powerful, earlier settlers, who may claim they have a right to annihilate your right.’ Bing returned, ‘In that sense, humans may be even worse than the beasts in a jungle who might not protect, defend and attack a territory with so much blood, hatred, bullets and bombs. Or maybe people just imagine they can forever own, eat and rape the Earth with their mortal claws and teeth?’ Mei complained, ‘This topic is too much,’ then seeing another arch coming to the sight, ‘look, here is another great arch, the pattern is intricate and beautiful.’ Bing was about to say the arch was ugly and grave, but taken over by Susan, ‘Has any of you heard about a woman in Queensland, who recently aired quite a lot of racist comments about Asian people in Australia?’ ‘No, who is she?’ asked Bing. ‘I read about her on internet. She doesn’t like Asian people in Australia.’ ‘Oh, she doesn’t like Asians living in Australia,’ he was a little surprised, but only for a short time before he seemed to revive his cynical tone of debate, ‘So what? People of one race naturally like or dislike one another, for various reasons based on their short, limited, narrow experience of life. Things like egotism, prejudice, pride, inheritance, living or deceased glory, languages, quantity of money, quality of clothes, body shape and height and odour, the colour of skin, the size of eyes, jobs, age, sex, power, what we eat and how we play, etc, etc, can all become the sources for our love or hate. And, also keep in mind we often don’t even like ourselves.’ ‘Haha, Wang Teacher, you are really a teacher,’ laughed Mei. But Susan pursued, ‘But the words of that woman are very disturbing, and would make many Asians angry.’ ‘Hehe, you have a right to feel angry, and have a right to air your anger as well, after all it is Australia. So long as she, or you, or we don’t resort to any violence.’ Susan replied, ‘But if she expressed more of those racist comments, the violence might eventually fall upon us. There had been so much terrible history like that, like World War Two, or the Sino-Japanese War.’ Then David interposed, ‘So what can we do? We can do nothing. We are just students and have spent a lot of money coming here to study.’ ‘Well, nobody asked us to come here to study. We applied and paid the big dollars to Australia, and its government approved. So we came here, and are supposed to earn the money also from here, to pay back the debt we have borrowed in China.’ Susan sounded rather distressed, ‘But if someone dislikes you, hates and treats you as secondary and inferior residents in this country…’ Bing hastened to join her sentence, ‘then, like what immigrants all over the world have been through, you either adjust and endure and bend, or live or fight or die in the new territory, in the new human jungle we have chosen to enter. And, remember there might be more people who dislike you, rob you, discriminate against you, do you more injustice back in China, in our own beloved home country. Living is never an easy business.’ No sooner had he uttered his words than they reached the end of Chinatown at Spring Street. Then they retraced their steps back to the tram station, and so weary and thirsty by their long walking and talking that they closed their eyes for most of the time on the tram back to Peacock Street. Prior to his sleep, Bing wondered why, in the world, there was no Japantown or Indiatown or Germantown or Englandtown or Greecetown or any other towns based on people’s origin. There was no town but Chinatown. He couldn’t figure out an answer. -- End of Chapter 46 --- 最后发表：洋八路	洋八路 2014-6-23 14:08	11127	洋八路 2014-6-23 14:11
胡适徐志摩的那些事——说说公知祖师爷胡适之的小节/(ZT) 最后跟贴： sunnykelly 发表于 2014-6-21 17:10 年纪轻轻，心火旺盛，才子佳人，互相仰慕。可以理解。归根结底，这些才子佳人终究被他们眼里的土包子毛泽 ... 其实这裤裆里的事儿，从上到下有几人敢说自己就是那么纯洁那么干净的？所以就烦那些动不动就把这个拿出来说是打击排斥异己的行为，就像薛蛮子，说实话，真挺丢人的，但是之所以丢人是因为他是公知！反而看那些下马的贪官，哪一个在这方面比蛮子强？更恶心的多地是，可是没觉得他们丢人啊，为什么？因为他们从根子里就是这路货，不如此反而奇怪了呢。所以什么蛀虫之类的屁话还是对当下的执政者去说更恰当呢最后发表：autrant	gary.smith 2014-6-20 11:13	132074	autrant 2014-6-21 21:10
小诗自娱（五）最后跟贴：最后一句得“儿”，大约音“ni”。 lz得诗真不错，后两句维妙维肖啊。最后发表：thecatinthehat	方白 2014-6-1 19:21	111844	thecatinthehat 2014-6-20 14:10
英文小说: A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(45)天堂之影最后跟贴：本帖最后由洋八路于 2014-6-19 13:11 编辑 Chapter 45 2/2 Then, with the two girls in one room, and David and him in another, they did their little task of unpacking. They were not supposed to stay there long. As soon as they found a better, and most importantly a cheaper place, they would move out. Approaching lunchtime, Maria, like a big sister, drove them in a Toyota to a grocery, where the four newcomers purchased the items such as fast noodles, bread, bunches of vegetables, eggs and tomatoes, salt, washing detergent. Bing also bought a Melbourne street directory on Maria’s advice. All up it cost him about $45, the value of which he couldn’t get a clue. So he multiplied the exchange rate of six coming to about 300 Yuan. Based on his salary as the teacher in Jiaoda, this amount, the first money he spent in Australia, had already bitten a quarter away from his monthly income. But it was a relief they didn’t need to buy crockery or cutlery or utensils, for there were plenty already in the kitchen. After coming back to the house, they boiled the water for their fast noodles, the first meal they would have in the country. Their lunch quickly finished, they discussed what to do for the rest of the day. Seeing a phone in a corner of the living room, Bing asked Maria if it was convenient to make long distance calls. The amiable Maria said each of them could make a call to China for this purpose, without an extra charge, so long as the conversation was brief. So in turn, each of them went ahead making a short phone call to China reporting their safe landing. The street they lived on was Peacock Street, and according to Maria in her Taiwan-accented Mandarin, was less than ten minutes walk to the campus. It was Thursday, they could do the registration the next day, and the formal classes wouldn’t start until the followingt Monday. Though it was 11am in the morning, Bing thought he needed some rest first to make up for the loss of sleep. But the other three, probably affected by their emotional phone calls, had less tendency to sleep. So they agreed to take a quick tour to the Deakin campus. And after Maria drew them the directions on a piece of paper, and also gave each of them a key to the house, they set off. In the beautifully named Peacock Street, they saw no peacocks; instead, a number of sparrows, as little as those in Shanghai, were jumping noiselessly in the trees. They also saw a bigger bird, with black and white striped feathers, walking leisurely across the road, proudly cocking its head sideways as if it was the master of the land. Then all at once, this bird issued forth a series of loud whistling that was as fluid and vehement as running water, its throat pumping fervently like that of a frog. ‘What a sound!’ exclaimed Susan, frankly astonished. ‘How can a bird sing like that?!’ ‘Susan, I hope you are not scared as much as by the raven,’ David chuckled. The group gave a gust of laughter, which might have bothered the freedom of the bird, for it stopped singing, taking off from the road and surging away, its white-spotted wings spinning like pinwheels. In another while, Bing looked around, ‘I wonder where the raven is?’ Both Susan and Mei rushed in at the same time, ‘No, the raven is horrible, I don’t want to see or hear any of that.’ Bing made a comment: ‘Well, I remember a story told by my friend in Beijing, when I was visiting the Great Wall. According to him, crows all over the world have inherited the type of plaintive cry of Meng Jiao Nu.’ ‘Really? I have never heard of that,’ said David. ‘I think he just invented it himself.’ ‘What is it?’ David asked keenly. The curiosity was now aroused in the knot of people, including the two girls who had shown aversion to the raven topic a moment earlier. ‘It is too long, I will tell you guys later.’ They ambled on; David and Bing ahead, the other two, chatting in a low voice like a new pair of confidential friends, straggling behind. Now without the bird’s singing, or the raven’s crowing, or the car’s running, the street relapsed into silence. The sky had again turned gloomy, but seemed to refrain from raining. The houses, loosely lined up on both sides of road, were showing no signs of human occupation. Many cars parked in the driveway and along the kerb, yet people were nowhere to be seen. On the roof of each house, a TV antenna was threaded to the short sky; some of them were taken by one or two birds, fat and grey and unperturbed, perched there brooding. The only thing familiar to him was the tall, wooden electric poles, the skins of which were as scarred and miserable as those in his village. And the wires, parallel, never coming across to touch each other, looked feeble and lonely. ‘Is it going to rain?’ Bing asked. David raised his eyes to inspect the sky, ‘Probably, but I don’t know. It was fine just now.’ They crossed Burwood Highway by a subway, and came out at the other side to find themselves right at the entrance of the campus. The six letters of DEAKIN was upside down and adhered floatingly to a slab that was rammed into the earth like a sword. No Chinese-style calligraphy was written here by some famous hands. David asked, ‘What does Deakin actually mean?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Bing said, then asked the two girls, ‘do you know what Deakin stands for?’ Mei shook her head; Susan, frowning, touched her glasses and said: ‘I read the introduction and vaguely remember it is after the name of someone famous in Australia.’ ‘Is it? That makes sense, but I find it hard to say it properly,’ said David, and then turned to Bing, ‘Wang-Teacher, what is the correct one, Dikin, or Dekin, or Diken like the translated Chinese?’ ‘Honestly I don’t know, I would think Dikin, but it sounds very odd, doesn’t it?’ ‘We will find out when local people say the word,’ Mei summed up the topic. On the campus, the first building they saw had a whitewashed masonry wall, high and very broad, with a surface curved slightly like a gigantic white plate, sparkling even in the cloudy afternoon. The name of the university was marked on its right upper corner. And the windows, or in other words, rows of identical rectangles as if punched out by a sculptor, were arrayed neatly on the larger part of the wall, very much like a careful display of standing match-boxes. ‘I saw that building on the website,’ David said, ‘what is it?’ ‘Well, it only says Deakin on the wall,’ Bing replied, ‘or maybe the library?’ ‘Not the library; the library is at the other end,’ Susan said, pointing down the main path. Bing was impressed with her knowledge. ‘How do you know? Have you been here before?’ ‘I checked the university website, and there is a map,’ said Susan, touching her glasses, ‘but I don’t know what this white building is called.’ ‘Maybe just Deakin Building; it must be the iconic building of the university,’ Mei remarked, who seemed very good at making conclusive comments. Under their feet was a paved lane, the middle of which was patterned with a zigzag of colours, like a long, multi-coloured ribbon suddenly shaken by a gust of wind. Then on their right an open space with cascading rows of concrete benches. A number of students sat there reading. A water channel began from the top, going through a number of small ponds, arriving finally at the last and also the biggest pond at the bottom. Rushing and splashing and ringing, the water feature was very impressive. At the end of the lane was the library, which was in acute contrast to Bing’s conception of a library. With a lot of shining space and shapes and with those clean and tidy chairs and cushions, it was as if entering an art gallery or a glamorous shopping centre. Inside, he saw an area of book racks and shelves, but the tables and chairs still claimed a lot more space in the room. Students loosely occupied the furniture, quietly writing something at the desk, or indulgently turning the pages of a book as if they felt better with the touch of the leaves than its actual print and content. ‘Studying must be very comfortable here,’ David remarked. ‘Yeah, but it seems to me more like a resting place than for study,’ Bing said, ‘and I wonder if I will fall asleep more easily here than the library back in China.’ The two girls went to the bookshelves. Bing followed, and began to browse through the books, taking one out, turning and skimming a little, then putting it back, then another... … On their way back, they saw a noticeboard, where heaps of paper were stuck one over another, as messy as the posters he had seen in Shangwai and in China Renmin University in May and June 1989. ‘Look, a lot of rooms to let,’ Bing said, ‘do any of you have a pen with you? The rent, $50 a week, is much cheaper than $90 we currently pay.’ ‘No, you don’t need a pen, just rip one of the pieces on its end,’ Mei said. ‘Haha, how stupid am I not noticing it.’ He immediately tore one from it. ‘It is in Box Hill.’ ‘Box Hill has a train station. I heard there were a lot of Chinese living there,’ Mei shared her intelligence. ‘And the bus is convenient.’ ‘Yes, that is what the agent told me.’ With a number of slips in their pockets, they strolled back home. The white building, now beheld from this side, was like a giant sail or a hamburger with two walls holding a thin layer of what looked like a swirling staircase. Maria was not in the house. For their dinner, the two girls cooked rice, lettuce, and tomatoes with fried eggs, while David and Bing elected to wash the dishes. After that, Bing made three calls about renting, and agreed to see the places as soon as possible. --End of Chapter 45-- 最后发表：洋八路	洋八路 2014-6-19 10:30	11281	洋八路 2014-6-19 10:33
强烈推荐这篇《菡萏花开》，作者描写得很细致，让人觉得很舒服最后跟贴： michelle.lv 发表于 2014-6-17 09:26 刚去看了一眼，从4月22号到现在都没有更新难道是等着出版商联系嘛？ ... 呵呵有可能啊… 最后发表：junlintianxia	okproperty 2014-4-22 19:27	233259	junlintianxia 2014-6-19 09:30
- 最后跟贴：社会变化太快，心境也随之变化,偶尔回顾也是另有滋味最后发表：dandany	yekai819 2014-4-23 21:42	192957	dandany 2014-6-17 07:23
非类 (小说）最后跟贴：最后发表：时光雕刻中 ...2 3 4 5	xiaopangzi 2009-5-27 18:32	14412926	时光雕刻中 2014-6-15 00:18
读书版原创征文活动——我的系列小说/散文读后感活动之《红楼梦》最后跟贴：本帖最后由 zick 于 2014-6-13 12:35 编辑刚开始给俺闺女讲呢, 准备两年讲个大概, 唉小时候咋就没人给我讲呢, 若是读过, 也不致错投了理科最后发表：zick	ljc 2013-2-24 13:06	101912	zick 2014-6-13 12:12
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(44)天堂之影最后跟贴：本帖最后由洋八路于 2014-6-12 16:03 编辑 Chapter 43 On 25th of February 1998, in Chengdu airport, Bing was seen off by a group of people, including Qiuyan and her parents, his parents, and Ming and her husband. Kai had planned to come but had to call it off a day before due to a university meeting he said too important for him to miss. He would first fly to Shanghai, then transfer to Melbourne. It was not all sadness like eleven years back when he was but an innocent, freshly fledged young bird, flying to a place that seemed even farther than Australia. At twenty-eight, he was now a mature, married man, taller than any of the beloved people around him. He was smiling, repeating the comforting words to his crying mother, who was the only one at present in tears, and who had always grumbled her disagreement with his idea of going abroad. Ming was a policewoman, with strong mind and bones, even her heart might have been hardened by her numerous exercises and battles in the street. And today, in her uniform, she was standing together with her husband, Gao Hui, the proprietor of a computer company, from whom Bing had borrowed most of the money for his Australian endeavour. From her face, Bing couldn’t trace the sort of weakness he remembered when she had had wept heartily at seeing him off on his first journey to Shanghai. His wife was talking to her mother as if carelessly, hiding her emotions well. They had thought she should go with him, but after considering the cost as well as the uncertainty of his adventurous nature, they decided he would go there first, and she would stay in Happy Mountain with her parents, spend her time studying English, until he had a clear idea of what living in Australia was all about before she would join him. So, after throwing the words, ‘Don’t worry, mum, don’t worry, all of you, I will call you as soon as I arrive in Australia,’ he waved and smiled to them and with his hand gestured a number of kisses to them, as if he was a soldier only returning to the regiment after winning many battles. His mother began to smile, but her smile was accompanied with more tears that she had to frequently brush away. So with his mother’s tears in his mind, and with Qiuyan’s pretending coolness, he didn’t enjoy his first flight experience as much as he had hoped. He knew he was forever a child in his mother’s regard, and he knew Qiuyan would miss him, wondering every day in his absence whether their marriage would be able to endure the separation until the time of their re-union. The night before he made love to her three times, in her easy tears and fervent limbs, in many of his whispers and promises, as if it was their last intimacy prior to the end of world. After three hours of flight, he landed in Shanghai Hongqiao Airport, where, at its domestic terminal, he had witnessed the life of his best friend disappearing around the corner. How could he have imagined then that eight years later he would come here again heading to another country? And where was Vivian at this moment? Sitting in the lounge room awaiting the next boarding, he did have some luxurious moments for reflecting on his past. However, the image of Vivian and his four years’ living experience in the city didn’t seem to be as vivid as they had been in many of his nostalgic moments back at Emei Mountain. It was as if the shortened distance had diluted rather than enhanced its intensity. At any rate, today he was just bypassing this place, leaving China for a country far, far away, where surely, more layers of substance would be imported to overwhelm the aged sediment in the bottle of his life. The flight attendants on the plane, in their one-coloured uniform, looked both serious and beautiful. They didn’t smile often, but they did have very nice and fine cheeks, and good teeth and pert noses. Any one of them seemed to be more attractive than his wife, or Vivian, or perhaps any other girls he had so far had a chance to behold. But, weren’t they just servants waiting on customers, delivering the food and cups in the same manner as in a restaurant? Then why did they appear far more superior and important than the passengers they were serving? Why did they have to be more charming than other types of servants in human society? For the moment in his curiosity as a first time plane passenger, he wouldn’t hesitate to assume that the collective beauty gathered in an aircraft served only to provoke the unnecessary desire of male passengers, make them unsatisfied with their own wives, drive them to earn money like an addict, like a swindler, like a corrupt official in order to assuage their desire. The female passengers would also suffer to no lesser extent, for in the presence of them, they might feel inferior, jealous, unhappy, piteous of their own not-as-good features and body line, worrying about their husbands’ potential infidelity. The only safe place for these beautiful servants ought to be the kindergarten, where the hearts of children are still innocent and able to enjoy the pure beauty without inflicting an unhealthy desire, as it certainly did to a vulnerable man like him. Now, these servants were demonstrating puppet-like safety measures. Their smiles looked genuine, their gestures well-conducted in time with the voice of the speaker, like school students doing the exercises broadcast over the radio between classes. There were many seats in the plane, much broader and deeper than the one that had carried him from Chengdu to Shanghai. He was sitting in the middle of six-seat row between two aisles. The whole carriage was just like a packed, big classroom. Chained by the seat belt, he didn’t have freedom, but his eyes were able to look about, peering through the little window at the dusky outside. There was a Chinese girl sitting close to the window. Frequently, she would take off her glasses and touched her eyes with her hand. Then he realized she was actually wiping away her tears, and he was sure she had a very emotional departing at the airport. Most of the passengers had a Chinese face, sad, blank and wooden, as if their hearts were still left in the airport. Some non-Chinese-faced people were talking in English, of which, to him, only words rather than sentences were comprehensible. Now and then, they were giving out free chuckles. Their faces were large, rough and ruddy, and carelessly happy. But their noses were just too long and strong, unnecessary and extravagant, how much air and oxygen did they really need? How much stuff would come out if they sneezed and blew? Now the plane had stabilized after taking off. He closed his eyes, and some of his Shanghai memories became more active and began to tease him. He wondered what Vivian was doing at this moment, whether she was right under the wings of the plane, whether the spirit of Kang was on the campus, in the dormitory, or still jumping in the basketball courts. And, yes, the watch, Vivian’s gift, must still be ticking in his luggage on the overhead storage. Last night, when he was packing his luggage, without Qiuyan’s notice he took it out from the corner inside his old case. He turned the delicate knob, and after a few rounds, it was ticking again, to his great joy and surprise. Indeed, after so many years, the watch was still functional. What a magic and cruel thing! A half thrill ran through him. He gave the watch a kiss and allowed Vivian’s face to flash a moment in his eyes, like an ember flickering its last life. Then he wound the watch to its maximum limit. The decision whether or not he should bring it with him to Australia was no longer difficult. Gently he stored it, together with his favourite books and photos, into the new case his wife had purchased for him. It would keep ticking for at least a couple of days before it was dead again. Then he felt very tired. He needed some rest and sleep. The sexual conduct with his wife last night must have consumed three quarters of his manhood, and the sexy female flight servants, restlessly shoving back and forth in the aisles, drained the rest. But his nap was soon interrupted by such a servant, who came over to deliver the supper. She asked him, very friendly though only gazing at his chin, ‘What do you want, the chicken or beef or…?’ and he looked up into her eyes, and answered ‘Beef’. In the minutes that followed he was absorbed with the first delicate and privileged food provided free, well, not free actually, by the air service. He was enjoying it very much, but not as much as a man sitting two seats away from him, as he noticed. The man, at his fifties, looking thin and healthy, had an impressive eating manner. His food was something like lasagne or soft pasta filled with a lot of sauce or cheese. Using the spoon that he applied horizontally, he scraped the food from the very top, layer by layer like water slowly levelling down, until he reached the very bottom. Each thin layer was completed neat and tidy, leaving no stains whatsoever around the box before he was ready to strip the next. In the end the whole box was so clean that it appeared even cleaner than a woman’s face. Bing observed that he was not really starving, he was just really, really appreciating the airplane-food, and managed to consume it with an ardour like an artist working on a piece of work. And, if his eating manoeuvre was not evident enough to prove such appreciation, then his calling the attendant for a second box was a double indicator. And indeed, he was finishing his second box precisely in the same manner, at the same speed, and with the same mental concentration. Glancing furtively and frequently at him, Bing’s own jaw was slowly dropping. The man must have had much flying experience. A new traveller like Bing couldn’t possibly have known that an extra meal could be asked for. After finishing his own share, Bing waited for the attendant to come over to collect the rubbish so that he could resume his nap. But for a long time she didn’t come, and when someone finally came, it was not her. He shut his eyes again, but found it hard to rest. In this craft, there was no rattling sound like in a train lulling one into sleep. The buzzing was constant, like that of a starving, giant mosquito. And all the time he had to strain his neck because of the weight of his head. It was true he was sitting in a nice seat, very comfortable to his lean buttocks, but he could not find a way to alleviate the stress on his neck. The design of the seat was very ridiculous. Sure it had a cushion supposed to support his head, and there was even a piece of soft paper with an advertisement stuck to it for the purpose. But how could he rest his head on it? Hooked and harshly bent over, it did nothing but oppose any such an attempt. Actually it was trying to rest on his head instead of the other way around. Therefore, for many hours, his efforts to sleep were futile due to the soreness of his neck. Then he had a better idea; he put down the tray and rested his head on his arms on it, like a student stealing slumber in a classroom. After how long he didn’t know, he awoke to detect the saliva trickling at the corner of his mouth, which was very good, for it meant he had had some quality sleep. Straightening up, he found people around him were all sleeping one way or another. The two foreign gentlemen - he meant the passengers without a Chinese face - impressed him the most. Sitting upright, their giant mouths were gaping upwards, in the same fashion as baby birds opening their beaks for drops of food, or as the men he remembered sleeping on the benches in Lu Xun Park. It amazed him that they were able to stick their heads back so comfortably well, against the law of gravity. For the rest of the journey, he could not do or think much else in the dull protracted hours in the chamber. Like others, he might unfasten the seat belt, go to the middle section, move and stretch his knuckle bones. Once, feeling a vague need to go to the toilet, he waited in the queue and at his turn, slid into the narrow folded door. The space was enough for him, but the flushing sound was so explosive, so frightening that he felt his heart was shocked out of his body. Then, curiously he began to wonder if the waste was sucked directly out and thrown into the sky. But well, it couldn’t be. It was unthinkable to imagine it was directly released to the sky, to be mixed up with the beautiful clouds, to make in part the sweet raindrops as well as the marvellous rainbow. However, from his belief that the train toilet did have the dirty behaviour along the railway, it was still possible the plane had a similar design, otherwise why were the toilets prohibited from use prior to landing? Well, so many man-made mysteries, in the air, and on the land! When the wheels of plane at last touched screeching on the concrete, he could almost hear a collective breath of relief from all passengers, a lucky relief they had indeed survived a trip of 7500 kilometres, high above the sea. And the travellers, with their awakening little spirits, began to fidget and fret about the seats and their precious belongings even before the plane stopped taxing. The way to the immigration counter was very long, but the flat escalator, and the shine and polish of the floor, and the colour and smiling posters on the wall, made his steps buoyant, exciting his soul to skip and swell. So this was Melbourne! So this was Australia, a country, a human society that must be very different from where he had expended the twenty eight years of his life. -- End of Chapter 43-- End of Part IV 最后发表：洋八路	洋八路 2014-6-12 15:47	0972	洋八路 2014-6-12 15:47
《四库全书》断想最后跟贴：方白发表于 2014-6-9 22:19 这世界太疯狂了，已经没办法让人静下心来读点书了。我们只能尽己所能，能读多少就多少吧。 ... 是啊… 光看帖 …都觉得时间不够呢… 最后发表：junlintianxia ...2	方白 2014-6-6 20:18	463851	junlintianxia 2014-6-12 10:42
悉尼有没有教书法，或者书法协会之类最后跟贴：有的，书法协会定期活动的。还有讲座。自己搜下吧。。最后发表：alyssa	davidguan 2014-6-10 15:21	11657	alyssa 2014-6-10 15:22
参加活动“介绍一本我读过的好书”——“用香水写作”林燕妮：《青春之葬》最后跟贴：这本书我十几年前读大学时看过，当时不知作者是谁，但印象很深，是觉得写的有些自恋的，现在想想女主角是不是可算是传说中的玛丽苏？:）我就记得女主和三个男人，一个是底层浪子，一个是留学时遇见的富家同学，什么都优秀可就是性无能，一个是性无能同学的弟弟，最后她选择嫁给性无能的那个了，所以叫青春之葬~~~但刚才去搜了下，发现网上的版本和我记忆中的不完全一样，前一半是一样的，但后面比我当时看的还多出一半来，没仔细看，不知后来女主怎样了哈最后发表：夕燃漪	静好如初 2011-8-20 20:55	216590	夕燃漪 2014-6-10 11:50
英文小说: A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(43) 天堂之影最后跟贴：洋八路发表于 2014-6-9 23:49 谢谢你的回复. 我目前的思路：原来如此。。爱情啊。。婚姻啊。。大家都是糊涂虫啊。。。。大概明白你的思路了。。是我没有读明白你的用意。。谢谢你的小说。。晚安。。最后发表：Gone	洋八路 2014-6-8 14:40	81973	Gone 2014-6-10 00:01
书最后跟贴：前两周在悉尼来着，错过了，可惜最后发表：locatelli	hedgehog 2014-6-7 18:20	21911	locatelli 2014-6-9 17:16
自学《三字经》最后跟贴：百读不厌的圣书. 全都忘光了. 最后发表：stmimi ...2	big_beast 2013-9-9 23:22	307675	stmimi 2014-6-7 10:18
优雅，是穿透岁月的美丽(转贴）最后跟贴：优雅女人，是内心优雅的女人。内心没有优雅的话，不能说是真正的优雅。优雅的女人一定具有一颗善良宽容的心。因为善良，她的眼底才会闪现温柔，她的表情才会柔和。因为大度，她真诚坦然，举止从容。她爱朋友，爱家人，爱自己心爱的人，明白什么是爱，什么是属于自己的，什么是不属于自己的。她有自己的生活目标，活的简单而有味道。在最失意的时候，不会堕落也不会放纵，只需从容的抬头微笑，就可将生活中的遗憾变成圆满。优雅女人心若芷萱，散发出无穷的芬芳，从内到外，悠远不绝。优雅女人，是有美丽内涵的女人。“腹有诗书气自华”，优雅女人更知道，内涵、修养与智慧是女人优雅不可缺少的养分，她是经常读书不断修身养性的女人，有学识，有才华，有不俗的谈吐。她会把喧嚣的时光梳理成荷塘月色般的淡然与恬谧，静守一份淡泊，从容在书香中美容，在文字里穿行，让灵魂芳香四溢，历久，而弥香。优雅女人，是有品位的女人。优雅女人懂得穿着打扮，懂得色彩搭配，懂得心灵与外形的协调。知道在什么样的场合穿什么样的衣服，即使忙的团团转也不蓬头垢面，即使仅穿一条长裤，一件宽大的白色衬衫，清新自然的妆容，高雅不俗的举止足以令那些打扮前卫的女子望尘莫及。优雅女人，是富有生活情趣的女人。她会把家庭布置得温馨而浪漫，宁可啜饮一杯清茶，欣赏一段音乐，捧一卷书，也不会去抽烟、买醉、“垒长城”。白日尘埃落定，她会在灯下捧卷而读，修复日渐粗粝的灵魂，使自己云清月朗，温润如玉。在冬日暖暖的午后或是夏日明媚的晨曦，听着舒缓轻柔的音乐，煎茶闻香，慢慢养心怡性，回归淡然与宁静。　优雅女人，不是琐碎的是非女人。她洞明凡尘，清心内收，不会加入东家长李家短的是非讨论。她看得透世事的芜杂，却愿意用简单对待复杂，她学不会饶舌，学不会刁难，她喜欢没坏心眼的人，喜欢享受生活中的一切美好，她懂得尊重，懂得感恩，她用对人生的宽容和不苛求，求得了内心的丰润宁静，活的简单而有味道。岁月，只会让优雅女人更加美丽。优雅女人知道：“一个人在30岁以前，是用加法生活的，就是不断地从这个世界上收集他所需要的东西，比如经验、情感、名誉等等。但是，物质的东西越多，人就越容易迷惑。30岁以后，就要开始学着用减法生活了，也就是要学会舍弃那些不是你心灵真正需要的东西。”她摒弃了张扬和浅薄，多了一份娴静之气，多了一份书卷之气。她不争不闹，淡看花开花落，用内心的智慧，把眉眼的沧桑和岁月郁积的霜雪，在满是皱纹的脸上绽放成笑意盈盈。优雅，是穿透岁月的美丽，是一个女人内在文化素养与外在表象的完美结合，包含着对生命逐渐老去的从容和淡定。那时，苍颜白发，更是她丰厚从容的优雅老去的享受。最后发表：sky20000	sky20000 2014-6-5 09:26	01284	sky20000 2014-6-5 09:26
这书能让你戒烟最后跟贴： daniello 发表于 2014-2-20 23:41 嘿嘿，承你贵言，戒烟成功了为什么要背叛革命啊？最后发表：cdfei ...2 3 4 5 6..8	daniello 2013-2-12 09:49	23119398	cdfei 2014-6-4 11:05
请問一下，大家有用過易淘有网站吗？最后跟贴：如题，想在里面買点书，不知道可不可靠，合算不？ www.etaoyo.com 最后发表：小鴨	小鴨 2014-5-31 23:45	02034	小鴨 2014-5-31 23:45
对算命有兴趣的可以看看《了凡四训》最后跟贴：看看最后发表：xuyue ...2 3 4	liyuefu 2010-10-10 21:32	10710412	xuyue 2014-5-31 16:19
ZT: 余华写的什么东西? (和菜头评<兄弟>) 最后跟贴：兄弟上很好，下隔了段时间出的，字里行间读得出社会舆论对余华创作的压力最后发表：zwbs88	东食西宿 2006-11-30 18:12	274234	zwbs88 2014-5-31 01:17
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise (42)天堂之影最后跟贴：真实的生活原型加写者加工的天分，是好小说的雏形。如果再有思想上的深刻，主题上的升华就是名著了吧。。我觉得你脑子的那个具体对象该是具备了你感兴趣的强烈的性格。。人物性格把握好了，无论场合如何变换，都会应对自如吧。。就像咬定青山不放松任尔东南西北风。。哈哈，我的想象。。我看的书少，更不会写。是这部小说的第一部分非常吸引我，才一直追着看。但愿没有给你增添麻烦。。最后发表：Gone	洋八路 2014-5-29 10:25	111723	Gone 2014-5-30 12:12
这里有东野圭吾的爱好者么? 说说你们最喜欢的作品吧~ (已更新) 最后跟贴：看完的感觉很奇怪，感觉书里描写的人很奇怪最后发表：冰壶 ...2	dogdogkun 2013-11-9 21:32	514223	冰壶 2014-5-29 16:10
小诗自娱（二）最后跟贴：方白发表于 2014-5-27 18:48 噢，恍然大悟了，原来这个鬼是鬼子啊。啊，我想说鬼见都愁，何况凡人，肯定失眠。最后发表：sesia	方白 2014-4-26 18:12	131814	sesia 2014-5-27 20:50
有人听《神医》么？最后跟贴： dootbear 发表于 2014-5-23 19:21 说什么的？作者是谁？网络文学吧。杜撰华佗后人--一个20岁的小神医在一家贵族大学和来自各大黑白之家的美女之间的牵扯。最后发表：Pwn	Pwn 2014-5-22 21:37	21490	Pwn 2014-5-26 10:16
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(41)天堂之影最后跟贴：洋八路发表于 2014-5-24 09:53 我记起来了，对的，原来是有错误，171，后来改过来了。。如果纯粹是网络小说，有点错误不太要紧。。因 ... 你有这种心态真好。老实说，如果我是作者，我是非常希望读者有所反馈的，哪怕像我这样说话不着调。。既然做了就尽量做好。。这是对自己的交代。。加油。。最后发表：Gone	洋八路 2014-5-21 19:22	62016	Gone 2014-5-24 10:16
今天买了三本书最后跟贴： MathsOneOnOne 发表于 2014-5-23 22:51 道金斯还有一本God delusion也挺有意思 Head to Head - Dawkins on religion https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U0Xn60Zw03A 这个节目就是谈这本书的，今天看了这个视频，觉得挺有意思，那个主持人经常打断道金斯的回答，让我感觉怎么选了这么人当主持？最后发表：山东大姐	山东大姐 2014-5-23 18:02	131872	山东大姐 2014-5-24 00:54
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise(40)天堂之影最后跟贴：at the bleak foot of the Email Mountain. 昨天忘记说，这里是Emei吧。。最后发表：Gone	洋八路 2014-5-19 12:24	41656	Gone 2014-5-20 11:04
几部网络小说的读后感最后跟贴： nemobaby 发表于 2014-4-22 12:07 昨日连夜下载了唐七的《华胥引》，太喜欢了，看到夜里2点多。同感最后发表：yangguangmm ...2	月光绵绵 2014-4-20 04:34	515359	yangguangmm 2014-5-19 13:34
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise (39) 天堂之影最后跟贴：洋八路发表于 2014-5-17 14:06 说的很好。。有光就有影。。这本书也是有光（虽然这个希望读者自己去体会）-- 自然，亲情，田园，呼唤干 ... 谢谢你回复这么多，有好多光。。这么好的中文，为什么不用中文写呢。。再次感谢。。周末快乐。。打扰了。加油。。最后发表：Gone	洋八路 2014-5-16 09:56	182226	Gone 2014-5-17 20:53
twlight吓人吗？最后跟贴：500页的书，450页的废话。挺无聊的。最后发表：albyn333	月光绵绵 2014-5-9 23:48	51385	albyn333 2014-5-16 21:36
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise (37) 天堂之影最后跟贴：虞宅与美丽发表于 2014-5-16 12:23 其实我觉得那句话不一定是夸奖呐我也沒有覺得是:p 最后发表：blackswan	洋八路 2014-5-12 22:31	242321	blackswan 2014-5-16 12:26
英文小说：A Shadow in Surfers Paradise (38) 天堂之影最后跟贴： Gone 发表于 2014-5-16 11:52 我们的风俗是上坟的物品不带回来的。祭祀的印象里是另一回事。。大概各地的习俗不一样。。我觉得老家和 ... 不知道不同性别的读者感觉如何...可能会有很大差距...而且要从头看到尾，我知道辛苦的，因为有太多的references... 最后发表：洋八路	洋八路 2014-5-15 14:47	71786	洋八路 2014-5-16 12:08
心中的家园－《巨流河》最后跟贴：最后发表：Micky2013	Micky2013 2014-5-12 14:39	41243	Micky2013 2014-5-15 09:46