當我聽到

煙花。廣東名稱完全抓住了它的神韻。它直勾勾地滑進天際，在煙霧裡綻放花朵。相比之下，firework就太過物質主義了，大刺刺道出它只不過是一件工具，把那一抹迷霧劃破；就像把街邊捲起的棉花糖硬生生地擠成球狀的粉紅色糖果，太沒趣味。

我喜歡red。不喜歡紅色，喜歡red。很多字詞的讀音都特別，red是其中之一。因為要讀r音，舌尖捲向喉嚨，發音前喉嚨收緊，發出輕微的鳴鳴聲，低得幾乎聽不見。e是戲劇性的滑音，由r到e至少有一個八度；e是高潮的強拍，它扯著你的頭髮，把你一下子提高，跳進紅色的興奮。還有小小的d，它一點都不起眼，跟在觸目耀眼的e後面，它只是小小的配角；不是很多人會把尾音讀準，但我就是堅持把red的d音讀完；像說故事人拉下布幕，提起三角鈴，「叮」，the end。叮，餘情未了。Queen的Bohemian Rhapsody，最後一句anyway the wind blows，語音未落，一聲銅鑼已然蓋過；跟d音一樣，似是有話未完，卻永遠沒法知道下文，使你心癢難耐。

ｒ－Ｅ－ｄ

我覺得夢想離我很遠，遠得看不見她的輪廓。其實每個人的夢想都是用水彩畫成的吧？她們總是在水中化開，剩下白紙一張。有人說，當我們在社會打滾時，夢想就會慢慢褪色。這是暗示我們的社會是個大池塘嗎?我看頂多是一湖死水，攪也攪不動。呼...洩氣......當我聽到心的跳動，感受到她的力度，才驚覺自己仍然活著......太好了......

殘酷的現實

想唔想知咩係現實?
想唔想知咩係天國?
大家齊齊黎玩呢個小小聲既小遊戲啦!




遊戲作者:

why why tell me why
you're so 仆街

祝 安康

音樂之死

Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "This’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die."

msn到處都是玫瑰花。他們說台灣有位才女去世，於是放上玫瑰以示永遠懷念云云。我不知道她是何許人，也不知道她幹過什麼使人覺得她的辭世是一種遺憾，所以一直以來也置身事外。我不是沒同情心的怪獸，廿多歲就與世長辭的確很可惜；七十年代有三Ｊ-- Janis Jopin、Jim Morrison和Jimi Hendrix，三位都英年早逝，死因是服用過量藥物。Youth died of Overdose。

相比起黎，許ｘｘ的死是否較符合世人的道德？其實死可以用道德批評嗎？死有重於泰山，到底如何才是重於泰山的死呢？是死法的分別？轟轟烈烈的死，像馬丁路德金被射死，和平的追求者被最暴力的方式結束生命、像Kurt Cobain堅持自己的信念：It's better to burn out than to fade away, I hate myself and I wanna die，一槍轟掉自己的腦袋、像U2的Bono，為了第三世界的利益，即使被威脅也無懼站在台上搖滾、或像莫札特，急病去死，臨死時還說，自己的嘴唇邊有死亡的味道（The taste of death is upon my lips...I feel something, that is not of this earth.）？

我覺得不是死法的分別就能帶給個人重於泰山的死。那頂多是更富戲劇性罷了。如果今天下年4時15分，我嗑著４條煙，像滾石的Brian Jones般跳進泳池淹死自己，也不見得很英雄。

身上維繫著愈多其他人的「心」，他的死，就愈重於泰山了吧？

死又是什麼？有一晚我以為自己死了，明明好端端的坐著，卻覺得自己不斷往下沉、沒有盡頭。有一晚我突然看到生命的痕跡，自此之後就更加怕死了。死，如果是一遍虛無的話，多麼可怕。永生呢？有人說很可怕，會悶到抽筋。其實如果有生命力，或對生命的熱誠是源源不絕的話，永生又有咩好怕？咁，如果只有我一個人永生呢？沒有同伴，我還會有生命力嗎？

音樂也曾經死了。1959年2月3日，一架飛機墜毀，機上三位美國搖滾音樂家－－Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens同 J.P. "The Big Bopper" Richardson一齊byebye. 1980年12月8日，John Lennon於曼克頓被射殺。我經常遺憾自己太遲出世，錯過了flower power，黑人權利運動，punk 的反建制和DIY精神，布拉格之春.....全部都無緣參加......但...假如我在1980年收到Lennon過身的消息,我能否承受...?可能整個人都垮掉了，像以為自己死了的那一夜一樣。


有套劇集叫American Pie，唔知講乜。有首歌叫American Pie，係我仲未被搖滾fucked up既時候，大頭仔介紹既，講既就係音樂死亡既日子：２月３日 . The day the Music died.

American Pie -- Don Mclean



A long, long time ago...
I can still remember
How that music used to make me smile.
And I knew if I had my chance
That I could make those people dance
And, maybe, they’d be happy for a while.

But february made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver.
Bad news on the doorstep;
I couldn’t take one more step.

I can’t remember if I cried
When I read about his widowed bride,
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

So bye-bye, miss american pie.
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Did you write the book of love,
And do you have faith in God above,
If the Bible tells you so?
Do you believe in rock ’n roll,
Can music save your mortal soul,
And can you teach me how to dance real slow?

Well, I know that you’re in love with him
`cause I saw you dancin’ in the gym.
You both kicked off your shoes.
Man, I dig those rhythm and blues.

I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck
With a pink carnation and a pickup truck,
But I knew I was out of luck
The day the music died.

I started singin’,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Now for ten years we’ve been on our own
And moss grows fat on a rollin’ stone,
But that’s not how it used to be.
When the jester sang for the king and queen,
In a coat he borrowed from james dean
And a voice that came from you and me,

Oh, and while the king was looking down,
The jester stole his thorny crown.
The courtroom was adjourned;
No verdict was returned.
And while lennon read a book of marx,
The quartet practiced in the park,
And we sang dirges in the dark
The day the music died.

We were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Helter skelter in a summer swelter.
The birds flew off with a fallout shelter,
Eight miles high and falling fast.
It landed foul on the grass.
The players tried for a forward pass,
With the jester on the sidelines in a cast.

Now the half-time air was sweet perfume
While the sergeants played a marching tune.
We all got up to dance,
Oh, but we never got the chance!
`cause the players tried to take the field;
The marching band refused to yield.
Do you recall what was revealed
The day the music died?

We started singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

Oh, and there we were all in one place,
A generation lost in space
With no time left to start again.
So come on: jack be nimble, jack be quick!
Jack flash sat on a candlestick
Cause fire is the devil’s only friend.

Oh, and as I watched him on the stage
My hands were clenched in fists of rage.
No angel born in hell
Could break that satan’s spell.
And as the flames climbed high into the night
To light the sacrificial rite,
I saw satan laughing with delight
The day the music died

He was singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
And singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

I met a girl who sang the blues
And I asked her for some happy news,
But she just smiled and turned away.
I went down to the sacred store
Where I’d heard the music years before,
But the man there said the music wouldn’t play.

And in the streets: the children screamed,
The lovers cried, and the poets dreamed.
But not a word was spoken;
The church bells all were broken.
And the three men I admire most:
The father, son, and the holy ghost,
They caught the last train for the coast
The day the music died.

And they were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
And them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die.
"this’ll be the day that I die."

They were singing,
"bye-bye, miss american pie."
Drove my chevy to the levee,
But the levee was dry.
Them good old boys were drinkin’ whiskey and rye
Singin’, "this’ll be the day that I die."