one It is two o'clock in the night; it is the darkest hour of the day.I was programming a computer; the program just wouldn't work - I miss the early PCs, and DOS.On it, I want the wind to be the wind, and the rain to be the rain.Today's machines are horrible things, and as far as win95 is concerned, it's a disaster.The main problem is not technological progress, but that I am old, my mind is slow, and my memory is declining. I forget what I just read, and I have to write it on my hand-hands are such a big place.Two cattail fans should be attached to the wrists of people, which can not only write on them, but also fan the wind—I feel hot all over.No one likes to write about these things.Let me tell a story——

There is an editor of an American magazine, about the same age as me now, who was also a talented literary youth, but he spent his good years in the operation of the magazine, and he couldn't help sighing.Suddenly, the boss came into his office and said, "Our subscribers are dropping! What are you going to publish in the next interview?" He submitted the topic, and the boss was furious after reading it, and said, "Only publish such a boring thing? You are ruining my business! Now that people’s hearts are not old and the world is in a turmoil, it’s a good thing you can sit still!" The title I want is this - you go to interview me in person!After speaking, he dropped a newspaper and left.The editor picked it up and saw that it was a classified advertisement.The advertisement content circled by the red pen above is a bit shocking.The editor yelled: Oh my goodness!I often hear Americans yelling like this, the voice is as loud as a donkey, I don't know what it means, but if I don't know the meaning, I can shout it...

do you listen to musicI am listening now.I don't know when and where, someone played a strange blues with a saxophone, and now it is entering my ears one by one.So is my story, which has nothing to do with our situation.I write novels.People who know me will say that I have published a novel.That's only a small part of what's written out.More are under pressure.To do this, you have to ask someone.The editor-in-chief patiently proposed a large number of revision suggestions, but he still refused to give them after the revisions were completed.Someone said to me directly, it seems that you have a great writing talent, but some subjects are not suitable for you.Why don't you write some urban novels?It's easy to sell and doesn't cause trouble... I don't understand what an urban theme is.So ask patiently.Others gave an example of "Chinese Women in Manhattan".Did you make a mistake?I live in Beijing, I am a man, not a woman.Another example is the work of a Hong Kong female writer.My face suddenly turned a liver color.Wang Er lost his temper.There is a vulgar rich woman who sits on the back seat of a Mercedes-Benz and scribbles a few strokes, just wanting to be my role model for writing?Ahhh! ... As you know, I am in my forties.I can't always be Wang Er, so I endured it.When you go out of the gate——did you know that the good horses outside the mouth pass the donkeys, and the donkeys in the pass are one size bigger than those in other places.I yelled like a yelling donkey in Guanzhong: Oh my goodness!

That's it for these things, can't forget my story - in the newspaper that the boss dropped, some girls claimed to have a unique sexual orientation, seeking a partner.This is a society full of personal desires, full of surprises - I say this to prove that I can also pretend to be a grandson.The novel can't be published, and the programming is not going well. Now I write some essays.Essays, as we all know, write a short story, collect some allusions, and post some small discussions.I can make up stories, and I know some allusions.As for the educational significance, I'm not stupid, I can make one at least—if I want to interview this kind of thing, I have to type it in.Mr. Editor sent a letter according to the mailing address on the advertisement, claiming that he was the person sought, and most of the replies were photocopied notes, which said: We don’t know each other yet, please send twenty-five dollars, and I’ll give it to you Wouldn't it be better to send a photo and let's get to know each other better... Send it for twenty-five dollars, send the photo, and then we won't reply.Soon he saved a drawer of weird photos, and he was ashamed to add three locks to the drawer.These mailing addresses are all post office mailboxes, and I can't find them anywhere.I thought the advertisers were not so-called blondes, they could be old men, old ladies, or even burly men, who would scare you when you met them.In short, they are all Latin American immigrants, and the photos are bought at a low price. This is their family's side business, but this explanation is not very educational.It's not about wanting people, it's about some low-level people defrauding some small money to spend. We also have this kind of thing here...

Mr. Editor has a different understanding of this. He found that S/M is such a business: M is for selling photos, and S is for selling photos.He just wrote an interview and handed it in.And then something I'm familiar with happened: the manuscript was shot... Looks like he had to find someone who didn't sell photos.Just go and experience it for yourself--this brother is very awkward about it, he is a devout Catholic, he goes to Mass every week, and he is deadly rigid.It's nice to think that he's in a worse position than I am.I'm sleepy.about to sleep.Let's talk about the story next time...