Recently in Reminiscence Category

今天晚上，在鄰近的便利商店裡選飲料的時候，我看到了你。 熟悉的超短頭髮，後腦線條還算漂亮的頭形，不過髮色似乎比以前紅棕了那麼一點點。感覺正在留的落腮鬍，儘管你總是等不到它真正長長，而我也總是慶幸你對自己鬍子的沒耐性。好像剛從哪裡跑著過來才有的白裡透紅臉頰，還是稍嫌瘦削。四肢仍然瘦長，背著我沒看過在你身上出現的斜背書包，你也正在選飲料，更確實地說，礦泉水。 運動短褲怎麼這麼醜，我心想。 突然發覺這應該不是你，但眼前這人臉側的線條實在讓我無法將散光的視線移開。對啊，認識你的時候我就是這樣的。 但我又不敢到你身邊，抬頭看到底是不是那張時帶嘲諷的臉。於是我站在你遠遠的左邊，又移到你右邊的紅茶奶茶果茶前方，卻仍是無法轉頭盯著你。平日在公司在家人朋友面前都沒想過「冒犯」這兩字的我，居然怕驚擾了你，更怕這不是你。 (平常我應該都會想，「怕什麼呢！我們這之後又不會再見到。」是吧。 但也許我心裡希望這是你，然後還會再見到你。) 從你身後繞過時，我好像聞到一絲運動香水的氣味，雖然很淺很淺，而我又有個不太可靠的愛過敏鼻子。更加深我的懷疑。 說到鼻子，我忍不住想知道你是否還有和我一樣的「台灣鼻」(雖然我是天生而你是後天養成)，在夏夜裏的Wisconsin小鎮湖邊居然還會流鼻血的、不習慣乾燥的台灣鼻。啊我真是想太多。 就這樣我和自己僵持了一分鐘左右，你卻已經選定大瓶礦泉水輕快走到櫃檯去結帳。還是沒清楚看到你的臉。此刻突然意識到不能就這樣錯過的我，才猛然轉身墊起腳尖從零食架上看這個疑似是你的長形臉嫌犯。 這一眼看到了我自己。 應該說，看到了自己的希望與失望。我希望是你又害怕是你，然後重重失望竟然不是你，程度令我詫愕。I caught myself offguard. 有點難過，也有點高興。難過的是，我好希望是你，就算你馬上就會不見，而我只能向你揮手致意。高興的是，我以為過去兩年半來我已經忘記你，但是這一眼證明我沒有。我馬上辨認出這是你不是你，雖然眼前這個抱著大瓶礦泉水的人也有個很像你的瘦長鼻。 我希望你仍留這種短頭髮，希望你仍然穿襯衫卻穿得很隨意。希望你還是不搽香水但經常不算發臭。 但我呢？ 我想著如果是你遇見現在的我，這個腳上已經沒有人字拖曬痕的我，會是怎樣感想。我已經一兩年沒有爬樹。雖然現在家裡門上還是貼了Bob Dylan的海報，但我已經很久沒有在回家路上或睡前對天花板哼他的歌。基本上打扮可以算是從歐美掛變成日本掛(大笑)，沒辦法我掉了太多肉。 已經很久沒有在下班之後去喝杯啤酒，帶客戶去的不算。 很久沒有讓男生用野狼125載我。白色吉普車更沒有。 你離開之後，從來沒有人對著我說那些讓我第一反應生氣第二反應害怕的誠實語言。那語言讓我感到的赤裸比在愛人面前除下一切衣物更加緊張更加深刻。你了解我總是多過我自己的父母，也比生養我的他們教會我更多事，不管我願意不願意(雖然從無後悔)。 現在的我幾乎每天都上妝，從討厭指甲油到偶爾自己搞點彩繪或3D粉雕貼貼鑽。從拒絕燙髮到能夠吹出CanCam雜誌上輕盈的柔軟波浪。軟皮平底鞋(你偶爾笑我"太East Hampton")變成全天穿各式稱得上優雅的高跟鞋(雖則我本來就具備此本能)，需要時我還可以著stiletto boots在空曠的浦東奔跑追車。 我也有很多事沒變吧，我猜。例如我還是有那些你說過的缺點。 但是如果你看到現在的我，經過不堪回首的前段戀情的我，在原本從未想像過的產業跌跌撞撞的我，因為許多只能用「人生如戲」來解釋的緣故而變成這樣的我，你會說什麼？會想什麼？ 你會不會，也希望再見到我？ 也許你還是會問我，「早就跟你講過了。妳為什麼不到芝加哥？」 我的回答會變。現在我可能只會輕輕地，有點疲倦地搖搖頭。路標已經變了。 真沒想到，非常不擅長電玩的我的內心和耳際，在你這龐大如巨型投石車的幻影突然這樣出現後，還是像被攻擊的城鎮中心鐘塔般，噹噹噹地響起不會飄散的鐘聲。

If the Romantic poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850) were still alive today, he'd be turning 234 years old now. Whoa. I'm not sure if I want to see a great poet that old. It'd be too much for him. Wordsworth, what an appropriate name for a meritable author. This poet laureate was the first English poet whose work I came to know and learned to appreciate, as I was travelling in his town, the picturesque Grasmere. To toast the nature-loving poet, allow me to share this poem that is quite timely for now: Written in Early Spring I HEARD a thousand blended notes While in a grove I sate reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. To her fair works did Nature link The human soul that through me ran; And much it grieved my heart to think What man has made of man. Through primrose tufts, in that sweet bower, The periwinkle trail'd its wreaths; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes. The birds around me hopp'd and play'd, Their thoughts I cannot measure, But the least motion which they made It seem'd a thrill of pleasure. The budding twigs spread out their fan To catch the breezy air; And I must think, do all I can, That there was pleasure there. If this belief from Heaven be sent, If such be Nature's holy plan, Have I not reason to lament What man has made of man?

In case any of you (who like to say I'm "too young" to enjoy blahblahblah) has a single bit of doubt, YES, I grew up listening to the Fab Four. At bedtime, sometimes when forced, my folks actually SANG me Beatles songs, or hummed the tunes when they forgot the lyrics, so that the fastidious little infant Natasha would fall sound asleep with a slight trace of smile on her face. During the day the albums would suffice as "background music" for my daily chores, which included playing, crawling, crying, laughing, fake fighting with Granny, fake reading, fake singing and the sport I sincerely devoted myself to - paper eating (I liked colorful thousand-dollar bills the best). However, at night time, especially before bed, I was said to be "insisting on real people singing instead of tapes." There goes the chance for my parents to polish their vocal techniques - or at least, endurance. Poor Ma and Dad, they had no idea why this little girlie had such a stubborn passion for their music; she could hardly utter "Ma" and "Da" at that time, for crying out loud.

Joan Baez，六零年代民謠之后。這種聲音我沒聽過別人有，一聽便愛上了。在Private Washroom讀到關於Leonard Cohen的文字，讓我又鑽回往昔，除了Cohen之外，也翻出一張張的Dylan來聽，當然更不能例外地回到Joan Baez的木吉他音箱裡來。 有好一陣子，這首Colours是最愛哼的歌，也是想像中最想在某個人耳邊哼的歌(然而當時事情不如我們所願)。雖然不是Baez自己的歌曲，卻成為我心目中這位先鋒人物的代表歌曲之一：

夏令營的女孩們，星期天的傳統 - picnic. 記得那年夏天最後一個星期天，也是我當hostess，輕鬆的哩！