Some vague success
今天一口氣看了整個下午的書，起身時頭暈目眩，意識語言突然變成中文。
也許是天氣轉涼了，最近比較深居簡出，畏光且厭食，成天在等待著甚麼事情發生。答應自己每天要早起、行走、寫字。似乎又回到了十年前的此時：初乍入世，不知道如何自處，只好依偎著文字。
而現代主義和陰性書寫推拒冰涼的現實，這樣保持著若即若離的關係──彷彿有意義又彷彿沒有──挨著秒針一步一步走到暮色泛起。又一天過去。一些微弱的勝利。
Music festival versus textbooks
Best things that happened to me today: Palma Violets, Of Monsters and Men, and Blur. Wasn’t I supposed to be studying? Right. # I never realized until today how good they’ve been to me. I’ve taken so many people’s trust and appreciation for granted. They listen, and think, even when I act like a willful child. I remember on a quiet afternoon with Pan – it’s one of the few conversations we shared alone – I confided that I was far less than what people assumed. The way they listened and talked to me frustrated me; I couldn’t begin to explain to them my fear. For the first time someone believed; he understood. I was the same, he said. I was so thankful. # Received a postcard. A car submerged in pitch dark road, headlights seeking forward. At night in the country, senses seem to be reduced to smell. The smell of fertilizer. Of stagnant water. Of breezes traveled through grass. Of empty space.
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