上星期有人問我，既然我 7 至 8 點可以下班，不用煮飯，又不喜歡看電視，那每晚的時間都用來做了什麼呢?
真是一個好問題。
我的時間到底去了哪裡呢?
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Friday, December 10, 2010
弱水三千
主唱：麥浚龍
作曲：馮穎琪
填詞：林夕
編曲：張亞東
監製：Jerald．Juno
三千春江水 暫住寂寞天空
逛夠了世界 跌進了春風
＊ 活著自活著 萬象在逝水中暢泳
偶爾愛上過一些倒影
流言流成河流 流過幾道名勝
浪停下像拿著鏡 難辨舊日風景
山水非山水 凍了變雪堆
山水般山水 遇熱若霧水
混雜絕望後便是淚水 衍生出心碎
狂潯約花絮 再醉了愛再醉 會跌進漩渦太虛
擠於渠裡 浸於浴裡 同樣落自春水
汗滴在血海紅不紅 散聚後味道餘殘濃不濃
那是快感還是痛 深海裡永遠看不通
靜靜地浮游在清空 一轉身可以化進了杯中
口乾了便喝盡那密雲 像喝掉如夢如幻信不信
REPEAT ＊
三千春江水 暫住寂寞天空
逛夠了世界 跌進了春風
清水苦水一樣暫住半空
水清不起花 萬物靜默夾道
碎了這塊鏡 照見了洶湧 眉頭才震動
汗滴在血海紅不紅 散聚後味道餘殘濃不濃
那是快感還是痛 深海裡永遠看不通
靜靜地浮游在清空 一轉身可以化進了杯中
口乾了便喝盡那密雲 像喝掉如夢如幻信不信
水慢慢飄升於天空 水慢慢將萬物玩弄
活著若是夢 是夢蝶讓水色震動
撇夠了冷雨 得到升空
煮飯仔
上星期第一次去街市買菜。直到最近我才弄清唐生菜和西生菜的分別。
還有一球看來像西生菜，但看來比較厚和蒼白的，那是椰菜。
最後去了一間專賣有機菜的檔口買唐生菜。3 棵菜 $ 17.3 算不算貴? 我不知道。
聽朋友說洗生菜算是最簡單。
先浸十五分鐘，用水沖洗 。然後再將上述步驟重複。
洗菜的時侯，我發現了幾條蟲，慌張地打電話問工人菜還可不可以吃。
她說有幾條蟲是正常，又問我為什麼不叫她幫忙。
原來洗菜很累。逐條菜像洗碗一樣洗，一個下午等同洗了40多隻碗。
還有一球看來像西生菜，但看來比較厚和蒼白的，那是椰菜。
最後去了一間專賣有機菜的檔口買唐生菜。3 棵菜 $ 17.3 算不算貴? 我不知道。
聽朋友說洗生菜算是最簡單。
先浸十五分鐘，用水沖洗 。然後再將上述步驟重複。
洗菜的時侯，我發現了幾條蟲，慌張地打電話問工人菜還可不可以吃。
她說有幾條蟲是正常，又問我為什麼不叫她幫忙。
原來洗菜很累。逐條菜像洗碗一樣洗，一個下午等同洗了40多隻碗。
煮一餐飯，比行山跑步還累，簡直是劇烈運動。
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
聖誕咭
陸陸續續收到聖誕禮物，全都是同事送的。
比較意外、開心的，是收到兩張聖誕咭。
現在和朋友溝通不是用Facebook就是用講的，可能認識多年也不知道她/他的字跡。親手寫的，感覺上、份量上，始終有點不同。
忽然想起上次逛街見到不少精緻可愛的聖誕咭，很有衝動想買下來。
當然最後沒有買 - 因為我想不到送給誰，更不想送給自己。
那些聖誕咭的樣子我都不記得了。
還記得的，是當時想送、想收、再由熱鬧的商場忽然跳進一片荒蕪的感覺。
比較意外、開心的，是收到兩張聖誕咭。
現在和朋友溝通不是用Facebook就是用講的，可能認識多年也不知道她/他的字跡。親手寫的，感覺上、份量上，始終有點不同。
忽然想起上次逛街見到不少精緻可愛的聖誕咭，很有衝動想買下來。
當然最後沒有買 - 因為我想不到送給誰，更不想送給自己。
那些聖誕咭的樣子我都不記得了。
還記得的，是當時想送、想收、再由熱鬧的商場忽然跳進一片荒蕪的感覺。
Thursday, December 2, 2010
身後事
很久以前，爸爸已說過，他死了之後，不用為他立什麼墳。把他的骨灰撒向大海就可以了。
上次見面，他又舊事重提。
「你媽說其實不用撒向大海那麼麻煩。把骨灰倒進馬桶，還不是一樣。」
我一呆。然後忍不住大笑。
上次見面，他又舊事重提。
「你媽說其實不用撒向大海那麼麻煩。把骨灰倒進馬桶，還不是一樣。」
我一呆。然後忍不住大笑。
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Jonathan Safran Foer's Eating Animals Turned Me Vegan
Natalie Portman
27 Oct 2009 7:30AM
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/natalie-portman/jonathan-safran-foers-iea_b_334407.html
Jonathan Safran Foer's book Eating Animals changed me from a twenty-year vegetarian to a vegan activist. I've always been shy about being critical of others' choices because I hate when people do that to me. I'm often interrogated about being vegetarian (e.g., "What if you find out that carrots feel pain, too? Then what'll you eat?").
I've also been afraid to feel as if I know better than someone else -- a historically dangerous stance (I'm often reminded that "Hitler was a vegetarian, too, you know"). But this book reminded me that some things are just wrong. Perhaps others disagree with me that animals have personalities, but the highly documented torture of animals is unacceptable, and the human cost Foer describes in his book, of which I was previously unaware, is universally compelling.
The human cost of factory farming -- both the compromised welfare of slaughterhouse workers and, even more, the environmental effects of the mass production of animals -- is staggering. Foer details the copious amounts of pig shit sprayed into the air that result in great spikes in human respiratory ailments, the development of new bacterial strains due to overuse of antibiotics on farmed animals, and the origins of the swine flu epidemic, whose story has gripped the nation, in factory farms.
I read the chapter on animal shit aloud to two friends -- one is from Iowa and has asthma and the other is a North Carolinian who couldn't eat fish from her local river because animal waste had been dumped in it as described in the book. They had never truly thought about the connection between their environmental conditions and their food. The story of the mass farming of animals had more impact on them when they realized it had ruined their own backyards.
But what Foer most bravely details is how eating animal pollutes not only our backyards, but also our beliefs. He reminds us that our food is symbolic of what we believe in, and that eating is how we demonstrate to ourselves and to others our beliefs: Catholics take communion -- in which food and drink represent body and blood. Jews use salty water on Passover to remind them of the slaves' bitter tears. And on Thanksgiving, Americans use succotash and slaughter to tell our own creation myth -- how the Pilgrims learned from Native Americans to harvest this land and make it their own.
And as we use food to impart our beliefs to our children, the point from which Foer lifts off, what stories do we want to tell our children through their food?
I remember in college, a professor asked our class to consider what our grandchildren would look back on as being backward behavior or thinking in our generation, the way we are shocked by the kind of misogyny, racism, and sexism we know was commonplace in our grandparents' world. He urged us to use this principle to examine the behaviors in our lives and our societies that we should be a part of changing. Factory farming of animals will be one of the things we look back on as a relic of a less-evolved age.
I say that Foer's ethical charge against animal eating is brave because not only is it unpopular, it has also been characterized as unmanly, inconsiderate, and juvenile. But he reminds us that being a man, and a human, takes more thought than just "This is tasty, and that's why I do it." He posits that consideration, as promoted by Michael Pollan in The Omnivore's Dilemma, which has more to do with being polite to your tablemates than sticking to your own ideals, would be absurd if applied to any other belief (e.g., I don't believe in rape, but if it's what it takes to please my dinner hosts, then so be it).
But Foer makes his most impactful gesture as a peacemaker, when he unites the two sides of the animal eating debate in their reasoning. Both sides argue: We are not them. Those who refrain from eating animals argue: We don't have to go through what they go through -- we are not them. We are capable of making distinctions between what to eat and what not to eat (Americans eat cow but not dog, Hindus eat chicken but not cow, etc.). We are capable of considering others' minds and others' pain. We are not them. Whereas those who justify eating animals say the same thing: We are not them. They do not merit the same value of being as us. They are not us.
And so Foer shows us, through Eating Animals, that we are all thinking along the same lines: We are not them. But, he urges, how will we define who we are?
Natalie Portman
27 Oct 2009 7:30AM
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/natalie-portman/jonathan-safran-foers-iea_b_334407.html
Jonathan Safran Foer's book Eating Animals changed me from a twenty-year vegetarian to a vegan activist. I've always been shy about being critical of others' choices because I hate when people do that to me. I'm often interrogated about being vegetarian (e.g., "What if you find out that carrots feel pain, too? Then what'll you eat?").
I've also been afraid to feel as if I know better than someone else -- a historically dangerous stance (I'm often reminded that "Hitler was a vegetarian, too, you know"). But this book reminded me that some things are just wrong. Perhaps others disagree with me that animals have personalities, but the highly documented torture of animals is unacceptable, and the human cost Foer describes in his book, of which I was previously unaware, is universally compelling.
The human cost of factory farming -- both the compromised welfare of slaughterhouse workers and, even more, the environmental effects of the mass production of animals -- is staggering. Foer details the copious amounts of pig shit sprayed into the air that result in great spikes in human respiratory ailments, the development of new bacterial strains due to overuse of antibiotics on farmed animals, and the origins of the swine flu epidemic, whose story has gripped the nation, in factory farms.
I read the chapter on animal shit aloud to two friends -- one is from Iowa and has asthma and the other is a North Carolinian who couldn't eat fish from her local river because animal waste had been dumped in it as described in the book. They had never truly thought about the connection between their environmental conditions and their food. The story of the mass farming of animals had more impact on them when they realized it had ruined their own backyards.
But what Foer most bravely details is how eating animal pollutes not only our backyards, but also our beliefs. He reminds us that our food is symbolic of what we believe in, and that eating is how we demonstrate to ourselves and to others our beliefs: Catholics take communion -- in which food and drink represent body and blood. Jews use salty water on Passover to remind them of the slaves' bitter tears. And on Thanksgiving, Americans use succotash and slaughter to tell our own creation myth -- how the Pilgrims learned from Native Americans to harvest this land and make it their own.
And as we use food to impart our beliefs to our children, the point from which Foer lifts off, what stories do we want to tell our children through their food?
I remember in college, a professor asked our class to consider what our grandchildren would look back on as being backward behavior or thinking in our generation, the way we are shocked by the kind of misogyny, racism, and sexism we know was commonplace in our grandparents' world. He urged us to use this principle to examine the behaviors in our lives and our societies that we should be a part of changing. Factory farming of animals will be one of the things we look back on as a relic of a less-evolved age.
I say that Foer's ethical charge against animal eating is brave because not only is it unpopular, it has also been characterized as unmanly, inconsiderate, and juvenile. But he reminds us that being a man, and a human, takes more thought than just "This is tasty, and that's why I do it." He posits that consideration, as promoted by Michael Pollan in The Omnivore's Dilemma, which has more to do with being polite to your tablemates than sticking to your own ideals, would be absurd if applied to any other belief (e.g., I don't believe in rape, but if it's what it takes to please my dinner hosts, then so be it).
But Foer makes his most impactful gesture as a peacemaker, when he unites the two sides of the animal eating debate in their reasoning. Both sides argue: We are not them. Those who refrain from eating animals argue: We don't have to go through what they go through -- we are not them. We are capable of making distinctions between what to eat and what not to eat (Americans eat cow but not dog, Hindus eat chicken but not cow, etc.). We are capable of considering others' minds and others' pain. We are not them. Whereas those who justify eating animals say the same thing: We are not them. They do not merit the same value of being as us. They are not us.
And so Foer shows us, through Eating Animals, that we are all thinking along the same lines: We are not them. But, he urges, how will we define who we are?
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