the parallel of things

I remember there was a chinese prose saying the young don’t know about sorrow, but in order to write they put themselves in that sorrow even there is none. after years they finally tasted all kinds of misfortune, but they fail to say it anymore, utter only about the weather.

I remember my friend S took me to a live performance of a blind singer called Zhou Yun-Peng (周雲蓬), i was so touched by one of his songs that night. The lyrics go like this: we earn our money with blood and sweat, and then we give it to our landlord, I am bored with such living.

i don’t know whether i can wholly relate myself to the prose nor the song, but i found myself fail to say anymore, and I am bored with such living.

欲語還休
我對自己的這種生活有一點厭倦了

(i dont want to make myself sound like this miserable, cos it might not be as bad as you think i am now, maybe i just need some times as usual, in search for myself and life again- just like what sigur ros wrote in somewhere (hope i don’t have a false memory) and then wake up happy, wake up happy.)

Further reading:
辛棄疾《醜奴兒》

Further listening:
周雲蓬《錢錢錢》