酷我-北美枫

[fanfan]

Cold Mountain Flowers co-authored with ericcoliu


Walking into the hallway of my dorm, I found a not-so-surprising scene: empty rooms; just echoes of far-off voices singing Where Have All the Flowers Gone?.

"They have gone to the Cold Mountain Reading,” I blandly chimed in on the way to my room.

This depressed me: my foreign angst. The guys on my floor had all become “mountain pilgrims” one by one reading through the New Bible, Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems. In 1965, a poetry chapbook written by the 8th-century Chinese recluse Han Shan, whose name literally means cold mountain, had somehow become the "new thing," a pre-requisite for acceptance by coffeeshop intellectuals.

I dragged my feet into my room. Alone I sat by the window and read my textbook for tomorrow’s midterm test. Returning sunlight slipped through my room and spread over the page, giving it a yellowish glow.

“Hi! Man! You’re still cramming! Who bother reading these useless books!” I had not noticed of Gary’s coming and was disturbed by his high-pitched voice.

“We have a test tomorrow, remember?" I replied in a defensive tone.

“Fuck the test. I’m here to get you to The Cold Mountain Reading.”

“No! Thanks. Students should be properly prepared for tests.” I intoned.

“Jesus! Eric! You can fail your goddamned tests a hundred times and it won't do you any harm. But, you cannot fail the examination of our conscience and our zeitgeist.”

“But do you really like Cold Mountain’s poetry?”

“Yah, sure!”

“Why?”

“Why?” He looked at me with eyes wild open as if I had asked the stupidest question, “because he is BEAT, man!”

I remember his matter-of-fact answer to this very day, and the silent rebuttal I never spoke.

Where have all the flowers gone? Long time passing … When will they ever learn? … When will we ever learn? still lingers in the back of my mind.
_________________
Don't imitate me;
it's as boring
as the two halves of a melon.

[[FAFAFA]]

Cold Mountain Flowers co-authored with ericcoliu


Walking into the hallway of my dorm, I found a not-so-surprising scene: empty rooms; just echoes of far-off voices singing Where Have All the Flowers Gone?.

"They have gone to the Cold Mountain Reading,” I blandly chimed in on the way to my room.

This depressed me: my foreign angst. The guys on my floor had all become “mountain pilgrims” one by one reading through the New Bible, Riprap and Cold Mountain Poems. In 1965, a poetry chapbook written by the 8th-century Chinese recluse Han Shan, whose name literally means cold mountain, had somehow become the "new thing," a pre-requisite for acceptance by coffeeshop intellectuals.

I dragged my feet into my room. Alone I sat by the window and read my textbook for tomorrow’s midterm test. Returning sunlight slipped through my room and spread over the page, giving it a yellowish glow.

“Hi! Man! You’re still cramming! Who bother reading these useless books!” I had not noticed of Gary’s coming and was disturbed by his high-pitched voice.

“We have a test tomorrow, remember?" I replied in a defensive tone.

“Fuck the test. I’m here to get you to The Cold Mountain Reading.”

“No! Thanks. Students should be properly prepared for tests.” I intoned.

“Jesus! Eric! You can fail your goddamned tests a hundred times and it won't do you any harm. But, you cannot fail the examination of our conscience and our zeitgeist.”

“But do you really like Cold Mountain’s poetry?”

“Yah, sure!”

“Why?”

“Why?” He looked at me with eyes wild open as if I had asked the stupidest question, “because he is BEAT, man!”

I remember his matter-of-fact answer to this very day, and the silent rebuttal I never spoke.

Where have all the flowers gone? Long time passing … When will they ever learn? … When will we ever learn? still lingers in the back of my mind.
_________________
Don't imitate me;
it's as boring
as the two halves of a melon.

[dundas]

[[dundas]]

[fanfan]

[[FAFAFA]]

[ericcoliu]

[[ericcoliu]]

[robarts]

[[robarts]]

[fanfan]

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[christine]

[[christine]]

[christine]

[[christine]]

[Lake]

In addition to the points in the above comments, I was drawn by the blunt language used in the conversation.

[[Lake]]

In addition to the points in the above comments, I was drawn by the blunt language used in the conversation.

[fanfan]

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[hahaview]

[[hahaview]]

[fanfan]

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[christine]

Your revised version is more succinct and the dialogue is more Americanized. Good.

Han Shan and Gary Snyder share a similar non-conformity in their behaviour and way of thinking: to liberate oneself from social reins, to recover one’s original nature and to experience life in subjective terms. These non-conformist attitudes provide the Beat generation with the image of a poet search for spiritual enlightenment.

[[christine]]

Your revised version is more succinct and the dialogue is more Americanized. Good.

Han Shan and Gary Snyder share a similar non-conformity in their behaviour and way of thinking: to liberate oneself from social reins, to recover one’s original nature and to experience life in subjective terms. These non-conformist attitudes provide the Beat generation with the image of a poet search for spiritual enlightenment.