Storm and memory

I was driving. The dark clouds over the horizon in front of us looked menacing. There was a storm over there. We were driving towards it, but so far away from it that it didn't look like we were going to be caught in it. Then I remembered once on our road trip to California. Maybe just outside Chicago, or somewhere in Indiana, we saw dark cloud first, then curtain of raindrops, while our car was still moving dry. Barely before I figured out what was going to happen, there was a loud sound of slam: we literally drove in to a big storm. The windshield became blurry instantly. The raindrops hit the car hard and rapidly encapsulating us in the noise. I slowed down because it was difficult to see the road. "We just drove into a major storm" I remember I was saying.

This is one of those things you remember, and the moment after it pops up from your memory, you realize you might have forgotten it. But it just lies dormant in a remote corner in your memory, waiting to be awaken. I stared at the yard and the sculptures outside the restaurant. It was raining. Through the huge ceiling to floor glass window I could see the raindrops falling from sky. Will I remember this scene after long time? What will awake this moment years later?

The weather yesterday seemed keep changing minutes after minutes. Before it started raining again, on my way driving to restaurant, it was sunny. Passing a quiet tree-lined street in Manhattan, my car was moving almost silently in the dancing of sunlight, shadow of tree leaves and soothing early fall breeze. The brownstone houses looked warm and lovely in afternoon sun. Life moves on, but this is the moment I want to live, over and over, and never to forget. That was the thought I had before dinner. 

夏日炎炎（2）

      那天浩哥接到一单包车的生意，是浩哥在成都公安局的熟人介绍的。据说是成都的一个富商，电话里面说要包一个星期，要浩哥整天跟着他。租金倒是优厚。浩哥答应了。

      从飞机场接到那人，浩哥跟他聊了几句，知道这人其实是在纽约住了很多年的。他上车就喋喋不休地要浩哥注意安全，浩哥也就有一句没一句地答应着。这人矮矮胖胖，刚刚五十的样子。浩哥在后视镜里看到他不停地从裤袋里掏出手帕擦汗。路上塞车很厉害，每次车停下来的时候，那人就四下张望，好像有什么事情要发生。终于他对浩哥说：“你朋友跟你说没有，有人在成都要追杀我。”

      “没有。他就说我要在这边跟着你。”

      “我就是过来躲一阵。”

      “做生意得罪人了啊？”浩哥尽量用理解的语气说道。

      那人又唠唠叨叨讲了一阵，浩哥只觉得他很神经质。他说的什么也没太听懂，浩哥也懒得问清楚。

     那个富商在现代艺术博物馆那里的高级公寓楼租的房子，大门就在博物馆的两个出口之间。他几乎整天不出门，一脸忧心忡忡的样子，仿佛那些追杀他的人会一路跟到纽约来。有一天下午他要浩哥带他去长岛。浩哥下午三点在门口等他。几个工人往旁边的酒吧里搬家具。浩哥点了支烟，看了他们一阵。行人来来往往，他等得有点无聊。他听到公寓大厅里有个女人在大声地说什么。浩哥往门里看了看，一个中国女孩手里拿着一张中文的博物馆地图。

      浩哥往边门走了点，边门半开着通风。他听到女孩在对门房说她以为这里是博物馆的入口，坐电梯上去就走丢了。保安在监视录像里看到她，就上楼把她叫下来。

      又是中国来旅游的，浩哥想道。不过他觉得这个女孩有点特别，突然有了想跟她讲话的冲动。女孩走出旋转门，还是有点糊里糊涂迷失方向的样子，她四下看了看，就往西走去。

      “喂，你去哪里啊？” 浩哥大声说。

      女孩转身看着他，”哦，我去五大道。“

      ”应该往那边走，” 浩哥往东指了指。

      “哎呀，谢谢。” 但是她似乎没有转身往五大道走的意思。

      “你来纽约多久了？”

      “就一周。“

      ”要不要晚上跟我去夜店玩？“

      女孩摇摇头冷冷地说：“不要。”

      然后她转过身来看着浩哥，突然那层冷冰冰的东西从她脸上融化了；她看上去比一秒钟以前妩媚可爱很多。“不行啊，我晚上约好了跟朋友吃饭。“

      ”会很好玩的。“

      她停下脚步。浩哥看见她白色的旅游鞋上有一点血红的污迹。”你鞋上面有脏东西。“

      她低头看了看，”我就是吃东西总不小心。肯定是午饭的番茄酱。她很快从挎包里掏出一张湿纸巾弯腰去擦鞋。

      “要不我替你拿着包吧。”浩哥伸手给她。

     她犹豫了一下，还是把包给了浩哥。包里看上去没有什么东西，但是很沉。

     “你的包好沉。”

     “是啊，”她抬头微笑着说，“我买了好多东西。” 她的微笑十分美丽。

     “看上去里面没有装什么东西。”

     “可是都很贵啊。” 她看着浩哥，有一点佯作恼怒的样子。然后浩哥和她都笑了起来。

     她的脸在阳光下放着光彩。她让浩哥想起高中约会过的一个女孩子。她们都是那种可以让人感觉她们的脸上有炫目光芒的类型。美丽不只是从她们的脸上，而是从她们的浑身上下，里里外外散发出来。

      她仔细地把鞋擦干净，然后直起身拿回她的包，“谢谢了，太感谢了。”

      “今晚还是一起出去玩吧。” 浩哥还想再试一次。

      “把你的手机号码给我吧。我要有时间就给你打电话。”

      “好的。”浩哥把他电招车的名片给了她一张。

     “谢谢，” 她看了看名片，微笑着说道。现在她的微笑更美丽了。她看着着浩哥的眼睛，有那么一下，仿佛她直视到浩哥的内心深处了。浩哥深吸了一口气，那种只有人看到难以相信的东西的时候的吸气。

     “我要赶时间了。很开心跟你讲话。”

     她转身快步朝六大道走去。一辆黑色的越野车急速从后面开来，猛的停在她跟前。她一下子打开门，敏捷地跳上去，车一下子开走了。浩哥愣愣地看着，真是一个不一般的女孩。是啊，她真有不一般的地方。她真是不一般的漂亮，浩哥想道...... 但是，浩哥注意到，她开车门的时候，手上戴着手套。那种几乎透明看不出来的手套。只是因为那一瞬间阳光的角度凑巧，浩哥才看见了。

      这个时候浩哥想起楼上的客人，一种不祥的直觉穿透他全身。他冲进公寓楼，赶到他的客人住的房间门口，用力敲门。“老板，你在里面吗？”他几乎在大喊了。没有人回答。他不停地敲了又敲。

      然后他的客人打开门。他看上去有点不高兴。“你就在楼下等着吧。我还要十几分钟呢。“

      于是浩哥一直靠在他的门口等着。

      这就是浩哥怎么遇到那个女孩的。

      至于那个客人，据说他几个月以后在西班牙死于交通事故。

夏日炎炎 （1）

        天气好热，九十多度。晚上还要吃火锅。有人先写电邮来想吃火锅，然后接着写道：今天是今年以来最热的一天，我们真的要选今天？我于是上网找了一段四川高温酷暑，火锅店更加繁忙的新闻送出去，以证明今天吃火锅的合理性和传统性。
       搜到的新闻都在花边新闻一类的栏目里面，讲的都是四川拉拉杂杂的东西，我一条条看下去，却想起了一个读研究生的四川同学。他是一个比我还要地道的成都人。比我大几岁，当时在我们圈子里算是老大。名叫吴浩，我们都尊称他浩哥。
       浩哥在长岛上班，那年被公司裁掉的时候正是夏天。纽约的夏天经常闷热，天黑得很晚，我们坐地铁去法拉盛吃饭，地铁过了东河就在地面上跑，从窗口看着曼哈顿的黄昏很惬意。沿途的涂鸦在夕阳下让人觉得气温更高；家家户户窗户紧闭，开着空调；间或看见一家窗户大开，不免担心住在里面的人如何熬过这样的高温。这是一个很热的夏天，平常的海风似乎都无影无踪，空气仿佛停滞在地面上，任由温度和湿度一升再升。
       周末的时候我们几个人都到法拉盛去吃饭。下了地铁，就能闻见路口羊肉串烧烤的味道。天气再热那个小贩也会摆摊出来，站在他的炭火前我们汗如雨下也要非吃一串东西再继续走。我们在浩哥选的餐馆聚会，因为他住在法拉盛，通常是他认识那个老板，或者跟里面上班的人有点渊源，于是就会领着我们去。
       那天浩哥宣布他失业了。不过他立刻接着说，他正在找工作，现在暂时开电招车打工。在法拉盛有很多这种私人的电招车，虽然不太合法，也没有人管。只要在报纸上登一条广告就能开始做生意。他的家就在法拉盛的一条侧街上，两边都是红砖的老公寓楼。他已经结婚有个女儿，失业以后老婆很快就跟他离婚带着女儿回了成都。
       开电招车就会遇到各种各样的人。过了不多久，浩哥就有了好几个住在法拉盛的常客。其中一个是很漂亮的韩国妓女。
      浩哥白天在外面跑车。晚上在法拉盛的一家麻将馆吃饭。
       麻将馆在一个连排屋的半地下室，老板是个成都人，他的客人基本上都是四川人。他走到浩哥跟前问：“在成都你做啥子的？在国营单位？”
        “对头，在机电公司，”浩哥说。
        “好单位啊，不错不错，”他说，“也来美国混啊。”
        浩哥是理工大学毕业的，曾经外派到中东和非洲，后来到纽约念MBA，就留下来工作了。老板说：“还是你们念过书的好。念过书，会英文，咋个都比我们好。”
        旁边的沙发上坐了一个光头。他的手臂上到处都是烫伤留下的疤痕，一看就是做餐馆的。光头对浩哥眨眨眼，一面说：“老板，念过书有啥子好，他还不是开电招车？念书没得用。”
        老板转过身去从空着的麻将桌上拿起一张中文报纸，上面是华人保险经济和投资顾问的广告。光头拿过来瞥了一眼，问道：“咋个嘛，这些就是白领阶层了？”
       “人家都是在办公室上班，天天西装领带。哪里像你娃，一天干到晚，回到屋里浑身都是油烟味。”
       “是，是，我们是打体力工的嘛。”光头说着便把报纸递还给老板。
       “读书有用吧？”
       “没得用，”光头答道。
       每天晚上除了打麻将的客人，还有好几个象浩哥一样打工的人来吃五元钱一份的盒饭。他们都是四川人。光头想存够钱去开自己的餐馆，一个要做画家，另一个天天钻研易经给人算命。吃完饭浩哥他们就在旁边看人家打麻将，有时候也自己坐上去玩玩。另外有个年轻人，就住在楼上，是哥伦比亚大学毕业的金融硕士，毕业以后一直都找不到工作。他整天心不在焉若有所思的样子。有时候也出去面试，但是就是没有公司要他。他以前在一家大公司工作，还办到了绿卡。那是经济好的时候的事了。现在谁都不知道经济会什么时候好起来，只知道那一阵电视上大银行的坏新闻不断，不过，慢慢地好新闻坏新闻似乎就跟自己无关了。
       这几个人都是在法拉盛打工，除了哥大的金融硕士；他整天躲在屋里炒股票。光头来纽约的时间最久，干过很多不同的工作，故而有些把一切都看开了的态度。其实，没有人真正能把什么看开。几个人除了每天晚饭在麻将馆相遇，没什么更深的交情了。然而，当浩哥开车到曼哈顿接客人的时候，或在黑夜中在曼哈顿街上走路的时候，酒店里灯光闪烁、音乐不绝之际，或者，当假日来临，五大道上时髦的男男女女熙熙攘攘，浩哥不得不推开行人，挤到前面去的时候，他偶尔会想起麻将馆里的那些人，感到由于某种类似的境遇突然与他们息息相通，这是没有去过麻将馆的人无法理解的。

        韩国妓女的名字叫沙莉。浩哥说沙莉是他见过的最漂亮的韩国女人。沙莉的腿长得挺美，她老是穿着方格花布的裙子。她常常把她的头发整整齐齐地盘在脑后。走在街上人们都喜欢看她的面孔，因为她的面孔很愉快迷人。

        浩哥给沙莉出了几次车以后就非常喜欢她。他喜欢她从门里出来走到车前的样子。他喜欢她的长发乌黑。他喜欢她的模样象邻家女孩。他喜欢她在后座上用韩语打电话。有一天，她在车里化妆，他发现自己喜欢她手臂上细细的茸毛，和她手腕上的玉镯。喜欢这些，他自己也觉得好笑。

        有一个月沙莉回韩国去了，浩哥也没怎么想到她。沙莉回纽约的时候叫了浩哥的车。当她从机场出口出来的时候，浩哥发现自己看见沙莉很开心。

        第二天晚上，沙莉就和别人出去喝酒。半夜两点的时候，她叫浩哥的车去接她。她从酒吧走出来，两眼带着醉意，头发有一点乱。等到了她家楼下，她已经瘫在后座了。浩哥怎么也叫不醒她。她手里捏着门钥匙。浩哥用力扶起她，几乎是抱着她到门口，这时候沙莉醒了，她挣扎了一下想自己站起来，却一下子呕吐在浩哥的怀里。她迷迷糊糊地道了声歉，又睡过去了。浩哥打开门，把她放在床上，替她擦干净，然后又到洗手间把自己整理一下。他回到床边，沙利翻了个身，拉住他的手，

        “对不起。就在这里休息吧。”她轻声说。浩哥在她身边躺下。她把他的手放在乳房上，转身继续睡。浩哥能感觉到她的乳房坚挺，隐隐约约像是做过隆胸手术。浩哥靠着她，一下子也睡着了。

        早上浩哥醒来的时候，沙莉的身子压着他的手臂。他轻轻把手臂抽出来。沙莉睡得很熟，她一动不动。他坐起来，把衣服拉拉直。沙莉脸上还留着昨晚的残妆。浩哥俯身过去在她脸颊上吻了吻。她还是睡得很熟。浩哥看了看周围，外面天已经亮了。他给沙莉盖好被子，然后起身走出她的房间开车回家。太阳正从东边升起来。

Career Day

An antique book was discovered recently in Italy. It turns out to be a literate slave's journal written in 200BC. It gives us a rare window to look at slave's life in ancient Rome. Here is one typical entry.

5:00am: I had to get up. It was still dark and cold outside. But I couldn't be late for picking grape again. Yesterday I was late and the team leader gave me the look that he was going to kill me if I were not the slave owner's property.

8:00am: Worked two hours non-stop already. Status meeting. I pulled out my bread to have a piece for breakfast. We weighed the grapes. This year we picked 15% more than last year. The owner is happy, but not THAT happy. Hey, he shouted at the end of meeting, our goal is number one in Rome!

9:00am: Meeting again. We were so glad to see the nice lady from Slave Supply Department. She told us over and over how much our owner loved us; he wanted us all to be strong and healthy, and even my family and kids, which, naturally, are his property too.

9:15am The lady's main topic today was how to best spend a life in slavery. Basically we should aspire to be a leader, who can decide what fruit the others pick, and take the bread away if someone is lazy.

10:00am Saw those young slaves under a big tree. They were apprentices from school to learn orchid management here. They were debating which work had bigger potential: fruit-picking or fish-cleaning. But obviously they all wanted to work in Quantity, which counts the gold coin for owners. If you can count over a hundred, the owner could give you some extra bread; if over a thousand, you might even get a gold coin at year-end!

10:15am I was telling young apprentice slaves what I saw yesterday in Lukuani, the central market. A farmer tried to sell a lot of apples for a cow. Pompey, the greatest general and the richest man in Rome brought in his quantity team, after busy counting and computing, they told the farmer that he actually didn't have a lot of apples, instead he had many apples, for which he could only get a goat. Seeing the farmer leading his goat away, Pompey the greatest murmured: we are just doing God's work...

11:00 am Those young apprentices from slavery school swarmed around me after I told the story. They asked me for advices on how to sell themselves for a good price on market. There are very obvious ones, like wear your best tunic, bare your muscle or breast (depends on you are male or female) as much as you can. There are tricky ones too. For example when a buyer asks how much you eat. If you reply with too little, they would think you are weak; with too much, you are expensive.

2:00pm Pulled out my bread for lunch. The best farm to work for is General Pompey's: his slaves got four breads a day, we only got three!

6:00pm Listening to Senator Cicero's inspirational speech "From slave to slave owner: working harder for your masters" Knowing that we have the chance to be a slave owner made everyone so excited that we all agreed that Spartacus and his men were just out of their mind.

How do you want your pictures look like

Most of people think themselves look better in pictures. I am no exception. One seemingly scientific explanation is that our image is distorted subtly by the transformation from three-dimension to two. I have my own theory: we look better because we were younger when taking the picture than when looking at it. The time difference could be years, weeks, days or minutes. Nonetheless the shutter has clicked, and the moment has passed forever. For the few who think that their pictures look uglier than themselves, they have the potential getting into a romantic novel. Dorian Gray had a picture in closet which became aged for him, so he could keep youth perpetually. Benjamin Button went even further. His life reversed the entire cycle from the very beginning. How do you want your own picture look like?