Be Empty

Spiritually, too full.

Full of too many feelings, thoughts and imaginations.

Meanwhile, there is fear.

Fear of mankind, of the unknown world.

Life is a solid wall.

Sometimes, you have to break it, ruin it;

Sometimes, you have to climb up and stride over it;

Sometimes, you have to make a hole, a window of it;

Sometimes, or maybe sometimes,

You just have to let go, be empty.

Empty, empty, empty.

From head to toe, from one pocket to another.

Till you can embrace it, as to embrace the darkness.

Maybe Lao Tzu was right. –

To become learned, each day add something.

To become enlightened, each day drop something.

So, time to drop, time to enlighten.

Meanwhile, to become learned.

Learn through traveling, traveling all alone.

Through the shadow of a solitary beauty;

Through what you really see.

So, let the journey begin.

From south to north, from one place to another.

Sometimes, fly up in the air;

Sometimes, pass some bends;

Sometimes, stay still.

All full of joy, surprise and adventure.

So what? So what?

Drop, drop, drop;

Add, add, add;

Drop, drop, drop.

To become wildly naked.

Yet, holy blessed.

PS:

Before writing the second novel, I’m going to throw myself into the crowds, to empty myself with madness, to sketch, to experience something new and afterwards, to survive from zero.

Therefore, on 27th, I’ll travel alone to Beijing, Shanghai, Suzhou, Nanjing, Wuzhen and Hangzhou. For Beijing, I’m going to face the fear and power. For Shanghai, I’m going to get lost into material world. For Suzhou, I’m going to feel the classical form of beauty. For Nanjing, I’m going to try to understand thoroughly about war and hatred. For Wuzhen, I’m going to explore the possibilities of recovering one’s original simplicity. For Hangzhou, I’m going to feel like a nun, imagining to drown in the West Lake.

Then, I shall doom myself again for In Between.

Drawing#38: Zombie

What’s left in you, if you are framed as a slave?

 

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From now on, I’ll post my drawings weekly, or maybe twice a week. To share the below auto-biographic stories, I’ll keep being creative, transforming my thoughts into words and images.

I started school when I was ten. In primary school, there was no lessons other than Maths and Chinese. The rest were merely reading on your own and doing homework. So basically, I had to skip the rest of the classes to do housework or farmwork. And the teacher used charcoal to write on the wooden board. Not to mention that I never owned any proper paper. One evening after dinner, I invited my best playmate to visit my room. We sat up on the bed face to face, looking into each other. Then we came up with an idea to draw each other’s face. So we used the back page of my Chinese and Math books, which were blank and white. In the end, we looked again and again at the drawings, laughing with pride. Too bad, soon the pictures faded away naturally. Now the drawn face has become vague, but the memory of my very first drawing with a pencil is still vivid.

Butterflies#75 – The Minimalists

“What you see is what you get.”

Next comes the bird.

 

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Theme 1: Beautiful Creatures.

For this theme, the 1st project is to share about 50 butterflies.

Why butterfly? Because when I was young, I have had supernatural experience with a super big butterfly, which has become a part of my first Chinglish novel . Since then, I have been into the mystery of all different butterflies and their short lives. 

Drawing#37: Death

No comment.

 

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From now on, I’ll post my drawings weekly, or maybe twice a week. To share the below auto-biographic stories, I’ll keep being creative, transforming my thoughts into words and images.

I started school when I was ten. In primary school, there was no lessons other than Maths and Chinese. The rest were merely reading on your own and doing homework. So basically, I had to skip the rest of the classes to do housework or farmwork. And the teacher used charcoal to write on the wooden board. Not to mention that I never owned any proper paper. One evening after dinner, I invited my best playmate to visit my room. We sat up on the bed face to face, looking into each other. Then we came up with an idea to draw each other’s face. So we used the back page of my Chinese and Math books, which were blank and white. In the end, we looked again and again at the drawings, laughing with pride. Too bad, soon the pictures faded away naturally. Now the drawn face has become vague, but the memory of my very first drawing with a pencil is still vivid.

Butterflies#74 – The Queer

On the white wall, in a woman’s toilet,

is a special butterfly, the queer.

Only lives indoor, without light;

Only in the woman’s toilet, not men’s.

Only sticks to the wall with its wings wide.

Like her colors, black and pale yellow;

Like her patterns, a faint circle and light dots;

Like her movements, all in complete silence.

She seems to act like the dance of death, the melancholy.

 

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Theme 1: Beautiful Creatures.

For this theme, the 1st project is to share about 50 butterflies.

Why butterfly? Because when I was young, I have had supernatural experience with a super big butterfly, which has become a part of my first Chinglish novel . Since then, I have been into the mystery of all different butterflies and their short lives. 

The Fucking Book – Less Than Mystery

The Fucking Book – Less Than Mystery – My first English novel is done.

Finally, here is a copy of the Fucking Book, Less Than Mystery.

It is almost as thick as the length of this lighter; total 6 parts, 484 pages, 129,237 words. It has taken three versions of  the manuscripts. The very first one, which was finished within one week, was crap. The whole book took me about two years to complete – one year of writing, one year changing and editing. More precisely, if not counting the parts on suffering from writer’s block, traveling and worrying about other things, it would be half a year of writing and half a year of changing and editing. It is sometimes like a lighthouse sometimes a nightmare. 

Why is it the Fucking Book? Because  sometimes it weighs as heavy as my heart can carry sometimes as thin as the air that my lungs need to breath in and more importantly, because it holds my life between something and nothing. 

To be honest, I thought  I would celebrate it, but now it is more like a victory that brings no joy.  Why? Because it is not the final victory. Just not yet.

It may not be great but absolutely unique. Initially, it is  quite a fanciful illusion – with a structure like Pulp Fiction, a language like William Faulkner’s, a sort of anger like Henry Miller’s and a rightful dream for women’s liberation in China like Simone de Beauvoir’s in The Second Sex. What is it now? – My angers, my wonders, my observations and my beliefs wrapped in mysteries. In a word, it has my character.

 
The next book is In Between.

At the moment, there is the same question – “To be or not to be”.

But –

 

I must write, or I die. If I write, I must survive too.

Drawing#36: Shadows

Who are you?

Who am I?

Are we all shadows on earth?

 

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From now on, I’ll post my drawings weekly, or maybe twice a week. To share the below auto-biographic stories, I’ll keep being creative, transforming my thoughts into words and images.

I started school when I was ten. In primary school, there was no lessons other than Maths and Chinese. The rest were merely reading on your own and doing homework. So basically, I had to skip the rest of the classes to do housework or farmwork. And the teacher used charcoal to write on the wooden board. Not to mention that I never owned any proper paper. One evening after dinner, I invited my best playmate to visit my room. We sat up on the bed face to face, looking into each other. Then we came up with an idea to draw each other’s face. So we used the back page of my Chinese and Math books, which were blank and white. In the end, we looked again and again at the drawings, laughing with pride. Too bad, soon the pictures faded away naturally. Now the drawn face has become vague, but the memory of my very first drawing with a pencil is still vivid.

Butterflies#73 – The Observer

I climb, I watch, I think;

Higher and higher;

Till I see the whole view.

I take a different look.

Is the world outside always so beautiful?

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Theme 1: Beautiful Creatures.

For this theme, the 1st project is to share about 50 butterflies.

Why butterfly? Because when I was young, I have had supernatural experience with a super big butterfly, which has become a part of my first Chinglish novel . Since then, I have been into the mystery of all different butterflies and their short lives.