Orion King - 左影羽化 | Knight`s Dreamcatcher

太久没看到这么对我胃口的MV了!

30 Seconds to Mars-Kings and Queens

http://v.youku.com/v_show/id_XMTMxNjE0MDgw.html

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如题.

更新完了.

再见.

别犹豫了. 

简单些.

听着这首歌和从前一样.

冲吧.

有时错觉.让时间定格.一直定格到那些风轻云淡或激情四射的日子好了.

可每到早晨.第一反应总是袭遍全身的悲哀.然后就想梦着不会醒来.

顿时明白骨子里一直不自觉在逃避.

用一句特文艺的话来说叫做:经不起平淡流年.

很讨厌这种类型的文艺范儿段子.又讨厌这句话本身的含义.但却没说错.

不自觉的不主动.不说话.像个看客.更像软体动物进了壳.

和远方亲密的朋友们聊起这些.反差太大.没人信.

有些事物.去了就去了.

岁月.年龄.人.翻着旧了的老黄历使劲追思.也无法改变.

但有些态度.心态不去改变.或许一辈子过去.也就这样了.

更何况是改回原来该有的样子:

曾经那般最坦诚的大哭.大笑.真挚的喜怒哀乐.没面具.没阴霾.不被世故条框困扰.不为这些停留.

那是骨子里的真我.高兴又放肆的笑着.疯着.狂着.叛逆着.荒唐着.没什么不敢或不愿去做.

始终知道自己要什么.追逐什么.

只是去冲.就那么冲着.不管结果如何.从没后悔过.

那些是原来.更希望是我现在.

PS:胡言乱语.只在年底写给自己.算是总结.也算是激励吧.

把咱以前听着做欧洲田园骑士梦的凯尔特与带有欧洲中世纪民谣风的俏皮音乐翻出来挂播放器里. 

09年音乐总结开始

趁哥们不在家我跑来偷个腥上个小网.

一口气把很多喜欢的老歌和今年的歌都挂播放器里了.

09年马上过去了.又到总结音乐的时候了.

感兴趣的Q里给我留言.空了传.

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还是继续打起精神听流朋吧

把Dont Listen To The Radio和Dirty Little Secret放播放器里.

还是这种音乐比较容易催生咱的真实状态.

俗话说的好:一日朋克.终生操蛋.

咱虽早不操蛋了.但被整的毫无斗志连点儿激情的精神头都快没了可是不行啊- -!

The All American Rejects-Dirty Little Secret

下载:http://cd04.static.jango.com/...627718674.mp3

叙旧.及有趣的现象

和两个许久没见的干珠宝和学皮革设计的朋友在798叙旧聊天.了解一些他们设计行业的事情.

觉得很有意思.

北京这样的北方城市文化气氛浓重.但大学毕业后多数珠宝与皮革设计的都去商业气氛浓重的南方打工(北方的奢侈品行业本身就不发达是不争的事实).尤其广东一带.多数碰到的老板家庭本身都没受过什么高等教育.他们教育下一代的方式也同样重商轻文化.(话说广东一代的文化艺术院校也屈指可数)

然后.这些混了南方的人设计出的成品却多数运到北方如北京这样的地方叫北方自家人买了.如珠宝皮革这些奢侈品.帮他们的南方老板赚着大钱.

到头来这些文化艺术的天之轿子们就这样给南方诸如以上老板的人们打着工.然后回北方用他们实际和老板收入差距巨大的工资买着自己群体设计和制造出来的东西彰显品位.自得其乐.

而其中多数人实际收入很低.过很多年.和那些南方老板们更是天壤之别.再混个人五人六也还是个打工的.

于是.这些有文化收入一般却很讲究品位的北方艺术天之轿子们就和很多没文化却富的流油的南方土老板形成了如此有趣的供求和市场关系.

所以说.文化人和聪明人是不是该画等号?有文化是不是能叫人变的聪明就更是个大大的问号了.

这种情况或许也只有在中国能见的到吧.

.

今天在798的照片很少.质量也不高.就小琪这两张还算凑合.

Gap Year

year after he stood to the side of the stage at Grant Park and watched his client, the newly elected President, declare America “a place where all things are possible,” the political strategist and steel-eyed disciplinarian David Plouffe was relaxing over eggs and coffee in Lansky’s, a “classic Jewish deli” on the West Side. (Scare quotes(CITE) necessary because the joint is owned by a guy named Ruggerio, employs an “executive chef,” and features a fried frankfurter called a Devil Dog.)

It was the morning after the off-year no-big-deal election––quiet, sunny, unspecial. Obama’s surrogates in Virginia and New Jersey had been walloped by a couple of Republican mediocrities, and no one knew what to make, really, of Michael Bloomberg, who had to award every citizen of the five boroughs a pot of silver, three chickens, and the keys to a pink Cadillac in order to beat a guy named Whatsis by forty-seven votes.

During the 2008 campaign, Plouffe wore the wired and haunted look of a marathoner bleeding in his shoes. Late at night, in order not to wake his wife, he would lock himself in the bathroom to talk on conference calls with Obama, David Axelrod, and Robert Gibbs—the inner core of the campaign. Starting out, the odds were so long that Plouffe doubted Obama would run. Even now, he said, “If you ran the Democratic primaries a hundred times, Clinton probably wins ninety-five times. It’s hard when you have to live your life the whole time with one focus: beating them, beating them, beating them.”

It infuriated him to see Clinton slogging it out for months after the pundits had counted to ten. In his frustration, Plouffe often thought Clinton was deluded, living in an “alternate universe” in which she still thought victory was possible. Long after Obama had got past the bruises of the battle with Clinton, Plouffe nursed his resentments. “I’m a warrior, so it was hard for me to put down the sword,” he said. But things settled down quickly after Obama won the Presidency. Plouffe rebuffed Obama’s blandishments to work in the White House. His wife, Olivia Morgan, gave birth to their second child three days after the victory. He “re-bunkered” with his family.

At breakfast, Plouffe looked positively serene as he talked about the Amazon ranking for his inevitable campaign memoir, “The Audacity to Win.” Last year, he suffered from the meth nerves of a man wired to his BlackBerry; now he was engaged in the leisurely concerns of a literary man, warily anticipating the competition on Grub Street. “You’ve got Sarah Palin coming out in two weeks”—with her book, “Going Rogue”—“and you’ve got Andre Agassi”—an actual, if occasional, meth consumer, it appears—coming out with a memoir of his own. Naturally, Palin seemed to him of greater interest.

“I guess we’ll find out her version of events in about two weeks, right?” Plouffe said. “I think in the last, let’s say, generation the two political books that sold best were Bill’s and Hillary’s, right? Supposedly, this is going to blow both of them away. It’s remarkable. She’s going to sell maybe over two million books.”

Plouffe may regret Palin’s oxygen consumption on the book-tour publicity trail, but he seemed to welcome her as a Presidential candidate in 2012. “I think it would be catastrophic for them to nominate her,” he said. “A lot can change, but I doubt she’ll run. Right now, in terms of her ability to sell books and get speaking fees and just go out there and be a prominent voice in the Republican Party, she’s at a pretty high level. But if you run a race you’re going to get nicked up and you may fall from grace.”

Plouffe said the obvious characters like Mike Huckabee and Mitt Romney were around, but “we ought to learn from the Obama experience that someone can come out, not someone you’ve never heard of but someone who you just didn’t think would run for President.”

Nothing has trained Plouffe to anticipate the unexpected more than his experience with Barack Obama. “We all lived with absolute knowledge how strong [Hillary Clinton] was and how unlikely our victory was,” he said. “It wasn’t like, in the beginning, we said, ‘We know something no one else knows—this is going to be kryptonite that’s going to really bring her to her knees.’ ”

Plouffe is taking it easy: having moved with his family from Chicago to Washington, he’s writing and doing a little organizing, a little spinning and informal high-level advising, but none of it with the intensity of the campaign he conducted or the White House he refused. “If, a couple of years down the road, there is need for me, inside or outside, I am obviously going to strap the uniform back on,” he said. “My wife and I count the days: we’re a year into our two-year bout of freedom.” 

靳晨曦!从明天开始你再完不成自己定的计划你再无病呻吟TMD就是一大废物大SB你活着就是一杯具你TMD就不是人!干!

欢迎大家一起监督和无情的唾骂我不争气的意志力!

从今往后不许有任何借口和半途而废的征兆!

尤其是没课的下午再TMD睡过2点半犯懒你以后就生孩子没P眼!

靳晨曦!你就是一呆B!课是真挺着上下来没怎么缺!但你自己的计划怎么总完不成啊!

每天必须从新看至少100个单词5遍!靠!为什么一到晚上就发懒找借口!你还是人嘛你!

每天必须复习2篇剑桥上已经精读过的文章!为什么总看一半就抱怨!就不懂先温习一遍片语和单词啊!

每天必须坚持写一篇大作文!写的慢憋出屎来也必须写完!尤其是这个!看你那可怜的词汇量和从句用的还好意思不写!

每天必须坚持跟读剑桥5后面已经熟悉的文章至少10遍!TMD口语烂到爆而且还有那么多单词听不出来和不会读你TMD智障啊!

假如您和我再熟不过了.那请将此上文字编辑成短信每天发我嗷嗷多遍.

尤其是那些想报仇没地方报的想骂人没人敢骂的以及早TMD看我不顺眼的!来吧!使劲骂我吧!我这辈子都会嗷嗷感谢你的!

Snowfall 

照旧6:30把自己叫醒.磨蹭到6:45左右才爬起来.

望窗外.都是白.大雪悄悄下过.雾已散了去.

天光虽不亮.却看的出今天必定是晴.

路上.一切慢下来了.

瞬间凋零的叶.黄色.绿色星星点点.飘落在雪白上.

缓慢的行车.搀扶行走的老人.孩子们父母的叮咛.

一切交叠在一起.却不吵闹.

走到车站.拿出手机再看时间:7:35.

要迟到了.却不急.反到坦然起来.

心里还暗想:车来的再晚些吧...

只想听着舒缓的音乐一直站在雪里.多好啊.

 这种生活节奏已远离太久.

这次.真希望更久些.一直这样下去好了.

清晨6:57.屋子窗外的景象.起床随手拿起相机拍下.也不PS了.

周日.雾天.

下午.睡到自然醒.洗梳完毕.来码字.

尤托匹亚之城

我们曾生活在一个叫尤托匹亚的地方.

在那里.大家辛勤劳作.

用知识搭支架.用艺术砌城墙.

建起了最美的堡.构筑了理想的天堂.

城堡中.我们自由翱翔.



如今.我们遍体鳞伤.

站在高山般的破瓦颓垣上.向下遥望.

现实腐蚀着最后的根基.欲望吞食着残存的城墙.

于是.我们穿上厚重铠甲.

却打磨掉前身利刃.用光滑圆润取代锋芒.

而把背后暗刺磨砺的更长更尖更乖张.



以维护最后尤托匹亚的名义俯冲下去.

却慢慢都迷失掉方向.行尸走肉般游荡.

只为自保衣食行囊.



尤托匹亚之城仍会偶尔闪现脑海.

我们却告诉自己:

无非是早已幻灭的臆想.

后话:

信仰崩塌.或无信仰. 在这个时代早无关紧要.

那些曾为之付出一切的人.以如今很多人的价值观看来是那么可笑与可悲.

但.

我却始终不知道真正可笑与可悲的到底是他们.还是如今这个年代的价值观.

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郑重宣布

咱又改英文名儿了...还是改回我心爱的 Orion  好了- -!

工作那会儿是换家公司换个英文名儿.都不带重样儿的...= =!

这次想来想去还是Orion最喜欢.恩...换回来吧.继续咱的猎户.

而且和姓的King缩写是O.K.OK比Kurt的KK好吧.哈哈.

普天同庆!

经过将近一个月的等待.Blogcn把咱原先几百张老图都复活了!

日啊!终于不用谋划搬家大费周折了!

发照片庆祝一下!

预祝Blogbus在未来几年里.顺利操翻Blogcn!

完毕.洗洗睡去了.

朋克愤青们勇敢奔向三张

Good Charlotte-Hold on

下载:

http://sillypipedreams.net/mp3/ipodroulette/08%20Hold%20On.mp3

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万圣节 第一场雪 安生

这次来北京.几乎推掉了一切活动.

即使学习状态到出离崩溃.也只想一个人安静待着.或找个熟人叙旧.看展.压马路.仅此而已.

万圣节.到底还是推掉了去欢乐谷.熟人是再了解不过我对迪吧的厌倦.可这次推不掉的就是后半夜到后海迪吧.于是去了.

到了后海.这家名叫"后海天堂"的迪吧也趁着节日的热度改叫了"后海灵堂".漫天飘洒纸钱.装疯卖傻鬼哭狼嚎的人目不暇接.

进去坐下来.无非还是和一帮饮食男女喝喝洋酒玩游戏.

上去蹦迪时怨念也随之而来:舞池小到挤的只能上下蹦.朋友也在一旁抱怨时间太晚没有定上工体和三里屯的迪吧.

感到无趣.下来.坐到一旁自己勾兑酒抽烟.看非洲人打鼓.看舞池里群魔乱舞的狂欢到后半夜.然后离开.

出了门.我愣住了:下雪了.(或许混南方太久.总不见雪以及感到这么早就会下雪的缘故吧)

脑子嗡了一下.感觉世界顿时清净.

豁然开朗.

打车回家.安心的睡了.

清晨小醒了一下.望见窗外树上白茫茫一片.就又沉沉睡过去了.

一觉到下午.自然醒.整开眼.强烈的橘红阳光射入窗.

暖暖的.

Mike And Carleen McCornack-Snowfall Over Baldy

下载:

http://www.gardenvariety.com/audio/Mike%20And%20Carleen%20McCornack%20-%20Snowfall%20Over%20Baldy.mp3