“ I’m tired of living unable to love anyone. I don’t have a single friend – not one. And, worst of all, I can’t even love myself. Why is that? Why can’t I love myself? It’s because I can’t love anyone else. A person learns how to love himself through the simple acts of loving and being loved by someone else.
— Chapter 8, Book 2, 1Q84 by Murakami Haruki
“ Once you pass a certain age, life becomes nothing more than a process of continual loss. Things that are important to your life begin to slip out of your grasp, one after another, like a comb losing teeth. And the only things that come to take their place are worthless imitations. Your physical strength, your hopes, your dreams, your ideals, your convictions, all meaning, or, then again, the people you love: one by one, they fade away. Some announce their departure before they leave, while others just disappear all of a sudden without warning one day. And once you lose them you can never get them back. Your search for replacements never goes well. It’s all very painful
— Chapter 6, Book 2, 1Q84 by Haruki Murakami
I was reading Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human, on the back of the book I found a little paragraph of what he wrote in the book Sun Setting.
It is touching.
“When I pretended to be precocious, people started the rumor that I was precocious. When I acted like an idler, rumor had it I was an idler. When I pretended I couldn’t write a novel, people said I couldn’t write. When I acted like a liar, they called me a liar. When I acted like a rich man, they started the rumor I was rich. When I feigned indifference, they classed me as the indifferent type. But when I inadvertently groaned because I was really in pain, they started the rumor that I was faking suffering. The world is out of joint.”
”I start to become nostalgic.
I should have known this would happen. There is another bad thing about diaries: they remind you of how much you can lose in just four months.” — Submarine by Joe Dunthorne
I think the movie has more sense of black humour than the book itself. The director showed his understanding of characters, and I have to say I love them both the same level, but in different perspective.
“A golden haze” He read. ”Afar off the towers of Florence, while the bank on which she sat was carpeted with violets. All unobserved Antonio stole up behind her” — A Room With A View by E.M. Forster
So that was my good-bye gesture to 2011- listening to Jay Jay Johanson’s Spellbound. It was the last status I updated on weibo.com.
2011 was definitely a dramatic turning-point in my life.
Struggles, sleepless nights, achievements, joy, sorrows, adventures. Also, I could finally cry again. I felt like I haven’t really lived for years, it made me recall how hollow 2007 was.
I have a ait of an issue remembering the number of the year right. I thought this is the beginning of 2011, but sadly 2011 has just passed by.
How the year ended was a bit blue, but 23 really is a special number to me.
I guess, I started writing again, and it must mean something.
Hope 2012 is not the end of the world, even though it is, I wish I have no regrets.
“When we meet on the other side
Will you recognize me there
Can we take up from our last goodbye
Or back from start again” - On The Other Side by Jay Jay Johanson
p133 Thinking With Type by Ellen Lupton
Various forms of dysfunction appear among populations exposed to typography for long periods of time. Listed here are a number of frequently observed afflictions.
TYPOPHILIA An excessive attachment to and fascination with the shape of letters, often to the exclusion of other interests and object choices. Typophiliacs usually die penniless and alone.
TYPOPHOBIA The irrational dislike of letterforms, often marked by a preference for icons, dingbats, and— in fatal cases—bullets and daggers. The fears of the typophobe can often be quieted(but not cured) by steady doses of Helvetica and Times Roman.
TYPOCHONDRIA A persistent anxiety that one has selected the wrong typeface. This condition is often paired with OKD (optical kerning disorder), the need to constantly adjust and readjust the spaces between letters.
TYPOTHERMIA The promiscuous refusal to make a lifelong commitment to a single typeface—or even to five or six, as some doctors recommend. The typothermiac is constantly tempted to test drive “hot” new fonts, often without a proper license.
If I blocked my ears, I wouldn’t hear it; if I closed my eyes, I wouldn’t see it.
I thought I have escaped, from one side of the planet to another; nevertheless, these are the unbreakable trammels in my life. Because they are the ones who brought me to the planet.
God I miss you,__.
Then I started drawing some sentimental pieces.
I sort the CDs according to the colours on the spines when I think of you.
Words can’t be said.
I want no parts of the reality.
The most touching words she said to me were “more than 70% of your emotions involved with him are sadness, I don’t want to see you sad” “I WANT TO KILL HIM NOW, because he has made you cry”. I remember that day I was designing something, heart tired, empty, then suddenly, I wanted to call her, because I wanted to cry, after a few days feeling nothing. The moment I heard she said such words, I cried even harder. I don’t know if she thinks me as her closest friend, but I do think of her as mine. It is quite scary to put someone in a such important place in my heart.
When we listened to the music, you said that song is a purplish blue colour, and I said, you have stolen my thoughts. I remember simple tiny things like this, they are the raindrops that I have collected and contained them in a china vase.
It surely has been blue. I always bring my smiles with me, but sometimes it feels like the little mermaid dancing with her legs.
I know I need some sleep. However, the fears of darkness, I have no excuses to tell you anymore.
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