Chapter 4 childish words

In the past, when people celebrated the New Year, there were red notes on the wall: "Look up to see the joy" and "Children's words are free".Here I use "children's words without taboo" as the title. I don't have any taboo words. I am eager to vomit quickly, but I plan to talk about my own affairs.The primary school student came back from school and excitedly narrated what he had seen and heard, how his teacher was eccentric, how Wang Debao was late, how the classmate who sat on the same bench with him was deducted one point for being untidy, and talked endlessly. Ballast, let him say it.I probably felt the sadness of this phenomenon when I was a child, and since then I have a taboo on talking to myself.Until now, when I talk to people, if they say I listen, I am always happy.If it was me who told people to listen, then I thought about it afterwards and always felt very uneasy, afraid that people would find it annoying.There is nothing to say if you really hold back your stomach. The only way is to go out and do something earth-shattering, and then write an autobiography, so that no one will pay attention to it.This was originally a childish dream, but now I gradually understand that the hope of becoming a big man who attracts worldwide attention and writing a personal autobiography is very slim. When you are old, you can't copy your hair once, and you must be more nagging than anyone else.

However, the surrounding literature of "I, I, I" is to be scolded. Recently, I saw two sentences in an English book, borrowing it to scold the kind of writer who is too interested in himself, but it is very appropriate: " They spend their whole lives staring at their own navels and trying to find them, but other people are also interested, so they should come and stare." I am a little skeptical if this is a navel exhibition, but it is still wrote. money I don't know if the custom of "catch the week" has spread everywhere.When I was one year old, I routinely picked something out of a lacquer tray to predict my future aspirations.I took money—a little gold pound, I suppose.My aunt remembered that, and another maid insisted that I was holding a pen. I don't know which one is more reliable.But anyway, it seems like I've always liked money since I was little.My mother was very surprised to find this layer, and she shook her head when she came, and said: "People of their generation..." My mother is a noble person. When he was powerful, he also took money very lightly.This spotless attitude aroused my disgust and inspired me to go to the opposite side. Therefore, as soon as I learned the term "money worship", I insisted that I was a money worshiper.

I like money because I have never experienced the hardships of money—although I have experienced a little suffering, it is nothing compared to others who have really suffered—I don’t know the bad things about money, but only the good things about money. When living at home, there is no need to worry about food and clothing, tuition fees, medical expenses, and entertainment expenses, but I never have money in my hands.Because we were afraid that the children would buy snacks, our New Year's money was always put under the pillow and handed back to our father after the New Year, and we never thought of rebelling.Until I was sixteen years old, I never went to the store alone to buy anything. I had no habits, and thus no desires.

After watching the movie, I stood on the side of the street like a child recruited by the police station, waiting for the driver at home to recognize me (I couldn’t find him, because I couldn’t remember the number of the car at home), this is what I recalled The only luxurious feeling. The first time I made money in my life was when I was in middle school. I drew a cartoon and posted it in the English "Damei Evening News". The newspaper gave me five yuan, and I immediately went to buy a small-sized Danqi lipstick.My mother blamed me for not keeping that bill as a keepsake, but I'm not as emotional as she is.For me, money is money, and I can buy all kinds of things I want.

There are certain things which I feel should be mine, because I enjoy them better than others, because they give me great joy.Miansi dreamily planned a piece of clothing, and when it came time to buy it, she had to think about it again and again. The process of thinking was also joyful amidst the pain.If there is too much money, there is no need to think about it; if there is no money at all, there is no need to think about it.My restrained pleasures belong to the petty bourgeoisie.Every time I see the words "little citizen", I think of myself embarrassingly, as if wearing such a red silk note on my chest.

I have been a self-reliant petty citizen for the past year.Regarding professional women, Su Qing said something like this: "Look at it myself, I bought everything in the room, even a nail. But what happiness is there?" This is a wise saying, After thinking about it several times, I just felt the desolation in it.I heard a lady puff her chest and say: "I have supported myself since I was seventeen, and I have never used a man's money until I am thirty-one years old." It seems to be something to be proud of, but it is also almost arrogant Bar? Until now, I have fully enjoyed the joy of being self-sufficient, maybe because it is still new to me, and I cannot forget how when I was a child, I asked my father for money to pay the piano teacher's salary.I stood in front of the cigarette shop for a long, long time without getting an answer.Later I left my father and lived with my mother.Asking my mother for money was a kind and interesting thing at first, because I have always loved my mother with a romantic love.She is a beautiful and sensitive woman, and I rarely get in touch with her. She went abroad when I was four years old, came back and left several times.In the eyes of children, she is distant and mysterious.There were two times when she took me out, and when she was crossing the road, she occasionally held my hand and felt a strange stimulation.But later, in her predicament, I reached out to ask her for money for three days and two days, I suffered for her temper, I suffered for my ingratitude, and those trivial embarrassments ruined my love little by little.

To be able to love someone to the point of asking him for pocket money is a rigorous test. Bitter though it is, I love my job. "Learn literary and martial arts, sell to the emperor's family"; in the past, literati relied on the ruling class to make a living, but the situation is slightly different now. I am very happy that my parents are not "emperor's family" but the public who buy magazines.If you are not flattering the public - the public is really the cutest customer, not so capricious, "unpredictable"; don't put on airs, treat people sincerely, and for your little benefit will remember you until five or ten years later Long.And the masses are abstract.If you must have a master, of course you would prefer an abstract one.

Although the money I earned was not enough, I also stocked up some goods. Last year, I heard a friend prophesy: ​​Qiao Qirong, which has been out of market in recent years, will soon become fashionable, because in today’s Shanghai, women’s fashion can’t be changed. When we come up with new tricks, we must look to the memories of five years ago for inspiration.So I saved a few hundred yuan and bought a piece of Qiao Qi fleece material.Hoarding until now, I saw Qiao Qirong appearing in the market, and sent it to the consignment shop, but hoped that it could not be sold, so I could keep it for myself.

It's full of contradictions like this, going to the street to buy vegetables, probably with a romantic attitude of a troubled son?However, recently, when an old vegetable seller weighed vegetables and put them in my net bag, he held the stumble of the net bag in his mouth for a while.I didn't feel anything strange while holding the wet tripper.I found something different from before, and I was very happy-it seemed like a little solid progress, and I couldn't explain why. Put on Zhang Henshui's ideal can represent the ideal of ordinary people.He likes a woman wearing a blue cloth blouse, with a red silk cheongsam slightly exposed under the blouse, which is a little seductive in her innocence. I am not qualified to enter his novels, nor do I have the desire.

Because my mother loves to make clothes, my father once muttered: "A person is not a clothes rack!" One of my first memories is my mother standing in front of a mirror, pinning an emerald brooch on a green jacket, and I looked up beside her. Looking at her face, she was extremely envious, and she couldn't wait to grow up.I said: "At the age of eight, I want to comb my ass, at the age of ten, I want to wear high heels, and at the age of sixteen, I can eat zongzi, glutinous rice balls, and everything that is difficult to digest." The more impatient I am, the more I feel that the days are too long.The days of childhood were warm and slow, just like the sunshine on the pink velvet lining inside the old cotton shoes.

Sometimes I feel that the days go too fast, and I suddenly grow a lot taller. I can't wear the newly made foreign clothes, green and brocade, and I don't have a upper body even once.When I think of that dress later, I feel sad, thinking it is a lifelong regret. For a period of time, I lived under the rule of my stepmother, and I picked out her leftover clothes to wear. I will never forget a dark red thin cotton gown, the color of ground beef, which I wore endlessly, as if I had chilblains all over my body; It's gone, and the chilblain scars are still there - such an abomination and shame.Most of it is because of self-ashamedness, life in middle school is unpleasant, and I seldom make friends. After graduating from high school, I lived with my mother.My mother proposed a very fair solution: if you want to marry early, you don’t have to study and use the tuition to dress yourself up; if you want to continue studying, you don’t have money to spend on clothes.I went to Hong Kong to study at university, and later I won two scholarships, which saved my mother a little money. I thought I could be free, so I made some clothes as I wanted, and I am still addicted to it to this day. For the harmony of colors, the Chinese have newly learned the two rules of "contrast" and "harmony" from the West - in a superficial view, contrast is red and green, and harmony is green and green.Little do they know that the conflict between two different greens is very obvious; the more the two greens push and pull a little, the more disturbing it is to see.Red and green contrast, there is a kind of gratifying stimulation.But too straightforward a comparison.Red and green, like a Christmas tree, lacks aftertaste.The Chinese also paid attention to clear contrasts in the past.There are two nursery rhymes: "Red and green are not enough; red and purple make shit." In it, the family's daughter-in-law Ning Huilian wears a big red coat and borrows a purple skirt to wear it; I found a piece of blue silk to make a skirt with her. Modern Chinese often say that people in the past did not know how to match colors.The comparisons of the ancients were not absolute, but varied, for example: sapphire blue with apple green, pine flower with bright red, light green with peach red.We have forgotten what we knew before. The delicate and complex harmony of the past can only be found in Japanese clothing materials.That's why I like to go shopping in Hongkou, but it's a pity that their clothes are rolled into cylindrical shapes like ancient paintings, and I can't visit them casually. I have to let the shop assistants slowly unroll them one by one.It's embarrassing to mess up the whole store and end up buying nothing. The tailoring of the kimono is extremely complicated, and the looser patterns on the fabric are often buried, but a Chinese cheongsam with simple lines is made.The impression is clearer. Japanese calico, one piece is a picture.When I bought it home, I often took it out for appreciation several times before handing it over to the tailor: the palm tree leaves half-covered the small Burmese temple, it was raining heavily, in the reddish-brown tropics; the pond in early summer, the water was covered with a layer of green film , floating duckweed and purple and white lilacs with broken stems, as if they should be filled in the small order of "Sorrow in the South of the Yangtze River"; there is another one, the theme is "Flowers in the Rain", on a white background, there are big purple flowers of Yin Qi , dripping. I also remember those who saw it but didn't buy it.There is a dark olive-green silk with large black shadows passing across it, full of wind and thunder.There is also a kind of silky Japanese material, light lake color, with wood and water patterns shining; at intervals, there are two plum blossoms the size of teacups floating on the water, with iron hooks and silver hooks, like the colorful glass window paintings in medieval chapels. , with heavy iron rims embedded in the red glass. The most common colors on the market are all kinds of colors that cannot be named. Blue is not green, gray is not gray, yellow is not yellow. They can only be used as backgrounds. They are all neutral colors, also called protective colors, civilized colors, and called mixed colors.There are also mysterious and lovely ones in the mixed color, shining on the body like the sun in another universe.But I always feel that it’s not enough, it’s not enough, like Van Gogh’s painting, when he painted sunflowers under the scorching sun in southern France, he always felt that the coloring was not strong enough, so he piled up a lot of colors and raised them high, turning the oil painting into a relief. For the nonverbal, clothes are a speech, a pocket drama that goes with you.Living in such a self-made theatrical atmosphere, isn't it becoming a "cheater"? (Chekhov's "man in a cover" always wears a raincoat and holds an umbrella to cover himself tightly. Even his watch has a watch pocket, and everything has a cover.) The drama of life is unhealthy.People like us who grew up in an urban culture always see pictures of the sea before seeing the sea; read love novels first and then know love; our experience of life is often second-round, with the help of man-made dramas , so it's hard to draw the line between life and the dramatization of life. One night, under the moon, a classmate and I were walking in the hallway of the dormitory. I was twelve years old and she was a few years older than me. She said, "I'm very close to you, but I don't know how you are." Because of the moon, because I was born to write novels.I solemnly said in a low voice: "I am... besides my mother, there is only you." She was very moved at the time, and even I was moved by myself. There is another thing that disturbs me too, it was earlier, I was five years old, and my mother was not in China at that time.My father's concubine is an older prostitute named Lao Ba, with a pale oval face and long skirts hanging down. She made me a fashionable snow-green velvet short jacket and long skirt, and presented to me. Said: "Look at how well I treat you! Your mother makes clothes for you, and she always uses old things to make changes. How can she be willing to use the whole piece of velvet? Do you like me or your mother?" I said: "I like you "Because I didn't lie this time, thinking about it makes me feel even more bitter. eat When I was a child, I often dreamed of eating Yunpian cake. As I ate it, the thin cake turned into paper. Apart from the astringency, I also felt an embarrassing sense of loss. I have always liked to eat the froth of milk. When drinking milk, I try to swallow the little white beads on the side of the bowl first. On the morning, Mother Jia asked Xue Baochai what dramas she liked to listen to and what food she liked to eat.Baochai knew that the old people liked to watch lively dramas and eat sweet and rotten food, so they chose what Jia Mu liked.I like to eat sweet and rotten like the old people.I don't like anything that is crisp and refreshing, such as pickled vegetables, pickled radishes, and toad cakes. I don't like melon seeds, and I don't eat delicate dishes such as fish and shrimp. The so-called "Beef Village" in Shanghai is a lovely place, snow-white and clean, with a deep peach red note "Soup ×× yuan, Philip ×× yuan" pasted in T-shaped on the tile wall.On the roof, the large white spherical lamp is covered with an anti-aircraft black cloth cover, lined with a red lining, very bright.The guys in white coats are all rosy and fat, smiling, with one foot on the bench, reading tabloids standing upright.Their eggplants are extra big, their onions are extra fragrant, and their pigs are extra deserving.There was a collapsed car parked at the door, and two pigs were brought in, neat and tidy, not yet peeled, with some blood stains on the tip of the mouth, and a line of belly was lifted, revealing the red lining.I don't know why, but there is absolutely no unpleasant feeling after watching it. Everything should be no more appropriate, no matter how legal or more appropriate.I am willing to find a job in the beef farm, sitting in front of the computer and collecting money.There is a spiritual sanatorium with clean air.It's not okay to think too much about everything.adults Sitting on the tram, look up at the people standing in front of you. Most of them are handsome and have extraordinary looks, but their nostrils are seldom clean.So there is this saying: "No one can act as a hero in front of his subordinates." younger brother My brother was born beautiful and I am not at all.Everyone in our family regretted it when we were young, because such a small mouth, big eyes and long eyelashes were born on a boy's face, which was a waste of nothing.The elders like to ask him: "Can you lend me your eyelashes? I will pay you back tomorrow." However, he always refused.Once, when people talked about how beautiful someone's wife was, he asked, "Is it as beautiful as mine?" People often made fun of his vanity. He was jealous of the pictures I drew, so he took them and tore them up or painted them with two black lines when no one was around.I can imagine the oppression he felt psychologically.I am one year older than him, can speak better than him, and have a better body than him. He can't eat what I can eat, and he can't do what I can do. When playing together, I always give advice.We are two brave generals who are used to fighting in "Jinjiazhuang". My name is Yuehong, and his name is Xinghong. I use a sword, he uses two copper hammers, and there are many virtual partners.It was always dusk when the opening ceremony was held, and Aunt Jin was chopping vegetables in the public kitchen. Everyone had a full meal, and took advantage of the moonlight to climb over the hills to attack the barbarians.Occasionally on the road, I killed two tigers and robbed tiger eggs, which were big brocade blankets, cut open like hard-boiled eggs, but the yolks were round.My younger brother often does not listen to my instructions, so he quarrels.He is "neither to be commanded, nor to be commanded", but he is really beautiful and lovely, and sometimes I let him make up a story: a traveler is chasing a tiger, chasing, chasing, chasing, running like the wind , whining and rushing... Before he finished speaking, I collapsed from laughing, and kissed him on the cheek, treating him like a little thing. After having a stepmother, I spent a lot of time living and studying, and it was rare to go home. I didn't know what kind of life my younger brother lived.Once on vacation, I was surprised to see him.He became tall and thin, wore a dirty blue blouse, and rented a lot of comic books to read. I was reading Mu Shiying's "North and South Poles" and Ba Jin's "Death" at that time, and thought his Taste needed to be corrected, but he was gone with just a shake.Everyone told me about his misdeeds, truancy, disobedience, and lack of ambition.I was more angry than anyone else. I went along with everyone and slandered him so fiercely. Instead, they persuaded me instead. Later, at the dinner table, my father slapped him for a small matter.I was so shocked that I covered my rice bowl with tears streaming down my face.My stepmother laughed and said, "Hey, why are you crying? It's not about you! You see, he didn't cry, but you did!" I dropped the bowl and rushed to the bathroom next door, locked the door, Sobbing silently, I stood in front of the mirror, looking at my own swaying face, watching the tears streaming down, like a close-up in a movie.I gritted my teeth and said, "I want revenge. One day I will." The glass window of the bathroom was facing the balcony. With a snap, a rubber ball jumped onto the glass and bounced back again.My brother is playing football on the balcony.He had forgotten about it.He was used to this kind of thing.I didn't cry any more, only a cold pang of sadness.