Publish, publish, publish, publish...

Trent 2022-01-21 08:01:27

(You strike your world / strike or publication is not out of the closet / publishing it, publish it, publish it, please publish it ...... title three elections)

A

on the English subtitles read it twice, then with Chinese subtitles Read it again. Since they speak Norwegian, I read it again naked. Four times, four, maybe very unlucky.

The story started like this:

Two young people, we call them Mr. A and Mr. B for the time being, both wrote their own stories. Before submitting the manuscript, they imagined something that was about to happen.

In Zixuwuyouli, their books have all been published. They separated, then fell deeply into a certain emotion, stopped working in their respective worlds, and continued to struggle with writing. But one day they met again and found that both sides were writing the same book.

Then set off, the two people collaborated to make a version, which caused a great uproar in East Africa. It was banned by the Vatican, which awakened the Dalai Lama. The 12-year-old Ford, whose father is a meat pie master, regarded it as sex. The textbook of enlightenment.

As a result of the facts, Mr. A's book was successfully published, while Mr. B's manuscript was returned.

The scene shifted to the mental sanatorium six months later.

The real story happened alternately between the present and these six months, or even a long time after the present.

When the

thick stack of manuscripts in the B lens is put into the mailbox, it feels really good.

Think about it now, I, and maybe you, should all be electronic documents when you submit your papers, right?

There is no sense of weight at all.

Mr. A

and his girlfriend were walking on the road and were hit by a car when they exited the alley. Although there should be no injuries on the surface, something has changed.

He should have been hit by a car and came out of illness, but the doctor said: It was his passion that made him sick.

In short, Mr. A became mad, cut himself all over with glass and was sent to a mental hospital, and his girlfriend was forced to separate from him.

B

Nordic, black clothes make people feel very cold and handsome.

It seems that they can always give people the impression of such an inorganic form, just like their design, just like the characters in Fujiwara Kaoru's pen.

And what about us? What kind of shape is it? Very turbulent, the Chinese are very turbulent.

The Nordic people become neurotic because the night is too long, while the Chinese become neurotic because the mentality is too dark.

Mr. A

lives in his own shadow, but Mr. B lives in the shadow of Mr. A. However, after Mr. B revised his work, he finally got the opportunity to publish it.

Although Mr. A’s book was published before Mr. B, the movie did not directly describe the process of publishing Mr. A’s book. Instead, it described the process of publishing Mr. B’s book and the reasons for continuing to seek creation; and at the same time, Mr. A, the movie describes his anxiety, and what he continues to look for is a reason not to let himself go crazy.

None of them look like Miles played by Paul Giamatti in Sideways, but one of them looks like an upgraded version of Virginia Woolf played by Nicole Kidman in The Hours.

B

probably has a lot of these guys, who don’t have the consciousness of being a professional writer. They are more like the male protagonist played by Jean-Hugues Anglade in "Paris Wild Rose" (37°2 le matin), who secretly writes something. Then I hope someone will find them one day and go crazy because of them.

Everyone does not want others to have such an impression of themselves, just like the impression that the government's policy on the national flag is lonely and self-respectful.

If only one or two words are used, maybe everyone can sum up themselves. But if you have to use a sentence to describe yourself, then I am afraid it will not be organized.

But if you are another person, you might sum up yourself like this: He only knows words and can't speak.

The story may be written by anyone, maybe some people have even written two or three hundred thousand stories, but they are probably hidden in the coffin because they still haven't found a special tone for them. Because most of the time you will feel that what you see is the world from the perspective of others. The taste of others in this world will immediately make you feel that you are too ordinary to impress people.

Most people can’t do this to the extent that they mutter to themselves "I love you, even if death is in your head." In this case, the creation has always been in chaos and chaos. ongoing. Because you might feel that you can only do something in chaos, you can only do something in chaos. Therefore, it is difficult to express the memorized creative material in this way.

On the other hand, most people nowadays have been living in such a city after another. There are always a few artificial trees growing between houses and on both sides of the road. Those who walked on the street almost evolved into plants. In this case, I tried to distinguish what they were, and at the same time prevented myself from defeating again and again, and tried to condense the specific body again and again. It seems to be futile to think about how to do it.

EE Cummings said: "Life is not a stage, and death is not an episode." The result of your careful consideration is that, in fact, he is basically saying that your existence is actually nothing, and nothing is worth a dime. .

The sense of existence, like freedom, is extremely hypocritical. If possible, you will feel that they are the last thing you want to encounter. Because it always disappoints. And in order to get them you have to make a lot of choices, and the problem is not the choice, it is more like mirror copying, living in other people’s minds, living at the rhythm of others, breathing other people’s air...choosing is not like freedom Will?

After thinking about it, I still don’t think that I can do what Eliot said "immature poets imitate, mature poets plagiarize." You, a person of that level, will come up with such thoughts from time to time: it's over, it's over, feeling This life was really miserable, although it was not over yet, it was already settled.

Repeat this, and over time, you will stop working in your own world. Maybe you need to find a lot of similar friends and friends to restart your life, or maybe it’s a lonely travel life to replay this life-in short, as long as you can find a way to restore all your emotions to work, you should try it. .

In short, fight for the goal of publishing your work, everyone! Holding the mentality that the drunkard's intention is not to drink!

Generally speaking, compared to most people, you are, you are, have always been, and will always be the number one escape problem on the human list. But in short, please fight, a passionate life needs no explanation! (Laugh outrageously, let's recite the spell together: whether it's a critic, a translator or a gunman, publish it, publish it, publish it, publish it...) Mr.

A

and Mr. B, and theirs A large group of friends, the name of the rock band they like in common is either taken from a pornographic film, or their favorite rock song is called the prime minister’s force, and Mr. A and Mr. B are a writer they like more than any of them. Even more silent, in the end he committed suicide-although this may only happen to the heterogeneity of Mr. B's imagination sitting on the plane. Just like their hypothetical nature at the beginning, they all happened in time and space that might happen a long time later. It may never happen.

For the writer they admired, they said that if he had written in English, he would have become famous all over the world.

In this imaginary space and time, the back is gone and Mr. B did not know, mention his death, A king joke: because he had only two avid reader, a mad, while the other fled the country ......

in In this imaginary time and space, everyone is in pairs and everyone is happy.

But at this time, Mr. A actually went to the hospital again, and all the unbearable emotions made him strike again.

But Mr. B left without saying goodbye. At this time, he was on the plane, wearing walkman earplugs, and perhaps listening to the prime minister’s force, imagined the restart of their lives and work after a long time, especially the people he cared about.

Everything has yet to be verified.

Everything that hasn't happened is very beautiful.

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