NoMuzikNo:zilchide

作者 mstar (Wayne Su)
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標題 [資訊] 地震 規模、震度..與"能量"

那天夜裏，我夢到了吳念真。 
        嚴格的說，我只是夢到我急著想打電話給吳念真，但是已經深夜十二點了，我不敢打，怕他已經睡了，因為明天我們有重要的期末考。夢裡面的我們是大學同班同學，成績不相上下，就是那種第一名和第二名的競爭關係。夢裡的我，比他聰明很多，哈哈，當然，那只是夢。在真實生活中，我記得當我們還面對面一起上班的那段日子，吳念真對我說過最多的話就是：「小野，我覺得我比你聰明，而且聰明很多。」 
    　通常他在說這句話時眼神中流露出一種少見的溫柔，如果他正在抽菸的話，隔著一層煙霧，那種眼神豈止是溫柔而已，簡直就是偉大的劇作家才會有的那種悲憫和仁慈。（我就是在他的菸害中長大的）他在說這句話時並沒有要貶抑我的意思，他只是覺得我真的很笨，許多事情都已經知道是沒有結果的，還要勇往直前的做，其實是一種疼惜或讚美吧？（當然，這種特質只有我身上才有。）如果我自己不做這樣的解釋，我們的友誼怎能維持到現在？因為我們見了面一定會以刻薄無比的語言嘲諷著對方，從身材到品味，我們樂此不疲；如果沒有一點想像空間和信心，我們早就打一架結束長達三十年以上的友誼了。 
        回到那個夢境吧。夢裡面的吳念真並不是目前台灣社會普遍認識的那個簡直就要和台灣庶民文化畫上等號的各種產品的代言人，那個簡直要替全體台灣人打點所有食、衣、住、行、交通和生死的廣告代言人。夢裡的他還是青澀的大一學生，就像我們當年初相識的模樣。在夢裡的他上課時都坐在第一排，非常認真聽講，他要花很多力氣才能考得和我一樣好。我常常不去聽課，所以連考試的時間都忘了，夢裡面我焦急的要打電話問他，就是關於考試的科目和時間。我這大半生都被這樣的考試夢所苦，如果考試的夢中又出現了吳念真，那就是沒完沒了的苦了，因為夢裡他的成績已經遠遠超越了我。

是何等的失策 他在遊過岩石之間時
被鬆動的岩石卡住
人們也會陷入困境

我們必須思考的是，台灣有任何一位政治人物，能夠讓你獲得這樣的感動嗎？

2008/04/17 update
No Music No Life : 日韓.jp(10)

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孔子的名片

Bereft of any information, their mothers wait. Some of them told me they refuse to believe that their boys could be capable of such horror. They are really in Spain, they said. They will be coming home any day.
“A mother can feel it when her child has a fever,” Souad Ashtut, the mother of Bilal and Muncif, said. “So how could I not feel that he died? I feel that my children are still alive.”
Any little thing stirs a memory. The mother of Abdelmunim, the sea smuggler, opens the wrong drawer, and there are his swimming trunks. She spots a stranger with the same lumbering stride. She sees his black eyes in the daughter he left behind.

Hamza’s friends admired his soccer skills. “No ball entered his net,” one fellow player said. But off the field, he seemed adrift. He dropped out of high school and worked selling car parts in his father’s shop. His friend Younes Achbak made it further in his studies. He was also a gifted athlete, though he smoked a pack of Marlboro Reds a day. He promised his mother he would run the family’s shops once he graduated from college. But his heart was in Europe, she told me. He tried sneaking into Spain but was caught at the border and roughed up by the authorities.
Before the Madrid bombings in March 2004, Hamza, Younes and the Ben Abouds would chat casually about the day’s news. Their attention drifted from topic to topic. Sometimes it was soccer; sometimes politics. But after the bombings, they became consumed by one subject: the war in Iraq. They began meeting after the ishaa, or evening prayer, at the dusty entrance of a middle school around the corner from the Ben Aboud home, a young man with intimate knowledge of the group told me. The man, who spoke on condition of anonymity, was one of Hamza’s best friends. He is also related to two of the men who left for Iraq. He said the friends became obsessed with the war. They traded details of the day’s news, stirring the anger in one another. They were outraged by the graphic deaths they saw on television and by the American contractors they heard were profiting from the occupation.

Yet Chino’s turn to militant Islam was neither swift nor decisive. He felt conflicted about his criminal livelihood but unwilling to start over. His solution, his brothers said, was to give his money away. He dispensed with watches. He regaled his Moroccan nieces with gold necklaces and rings. One day, while traveling in Holland, he called his brothers and told them to set fire to his cars. “Life is worth nothing,” Chino told his brother Mustafa. “We won’t live long.” (They ignored the instruction. “Mustafa likes cars,” one brother explained.)
Chino had come to believe that Muslims who earn money illegally suffer in the afterlife — unless they put the money to good use. He began sending cash to the mother of the man he had stabbed in Tetouan. He continued to drink and do drugs. But his drunken binges sometimes ended with him crying over the stabbing and the mother of the victim, one of his Madrid friends, Abdelilah el Fadwal el Akil, recalled. “He would say that it was his fault she had lost a son, and that the least he could do was take care of her,” Akil wrote to me from a Spanish prison, where he was being held as a defendant in the Madrid bombing trial.
During a rare visit home to Morocco in 2000, Chino was arrested for the man’s murder and imprisoned in Tetouan. But key evidence was still missing in the case, including a witness who failed to appear. Chino’s parents hired a local criminal attorney, Mourad Elkharraz, who told them their son stood a good chance of acquittal. The lawyer assured them that the process would take no more than a year. Instead, it dragged on for three. During that time, the lawyer witnessed a startling transformation in his client. At first, the change was merely physical. Chino went from wearing gold necklaces and jeans to a gray, Afghan-style tunic and matching pants. He began carrying a Koran. Then he started fasting on Mondays and Thursdays. He stopped swearing and began peppering his sentences with “Allah.” Eventually he became a prison imam, leading prayers five times a day. “He said: ‘I’ve become someone else. I’m a new man,’ ” the lawyer told me. “But his anger rose more and more.”