Après la pluie...

A performer at the circus has no theater curtain to come down and
hide him and thus preserve the magic spell of his act unbroken.
Poised
high on the trapeze under the blazing arcs, he has flashed and pulsed
like a star indeed.
But now, grounded, unsparkling, unfollowed by
spotlights, yet plainly visible to anyone who cares to look at him- they
are all watching the clowns- he hurries past the tiers of seats toward
the exit.
Nobody applauds him any more.
Very few spare him a
single glance.
Together with this anonymity, George feels a
fatigue come over him which is not disagreeable.
The tide of his
vitality is ebbing fast, and he ebbs with it, content.
This is a way
of resting.
All of a sudden he is much, much older.
On his
way out to the parking lot differently, with less elasticity, moving
his arms and his shoulders stiffly.
He slows down.
Now and then
his steps actually shuffle.
His head is bowed.
His mouth loosens
and the muscles of his cheeks sag.
His face takes on a dull dreamy
placid look.
He hums queerly to himself, with a sound like bees
around a hive.
From time to time, as he walks, he emits quite
loud, prolonged farts.
﹝From a single man, pp92-93﹞
幕
落，熄燈，掌聲無幾，快步疾行，離去。
我們，你、我或大家，都是演員，在名為社會的舞台上，扮演「被賦予」的角色。
有
人恰如其份，活靈活現，把自己的角色給演活了，精準；
有人拙於詮釋，絆手絆腳，怎麼樣也無法達成期盼，喪氣。
換幕了，戲，
還上演著。
帶著怎樣的心情、怎樣的思緒、怎樣的詮釋、怎樣的技巧，你演的是誰？ 開心，就好。
可是George的心，就
像一灘死水，些微的漣漪都未能因風而起。
他不開心，不是因為Mary，而是因為Jim。

In the course of certain American lives,
way out in the flyover
gloom between the coasts,
it's possible to arrive-
through
loss of love, through the long, formless shock of watching parents age,
through
inadequacies of moral training, through money problems-
at a stage
or a juncture or a passage-
dismiss the buzzwords at your peril-
when
we find ourselves alone in a strange city where no one lives any longer
than he must
and all of our neighbors come from somewhere else, and
damn it,
things just aren't working out for us,
and we've tried
everything,
diets, gyms, jobs, churches, but so far not this thing,
which
we read about on a glossy flyer tucked under our windshields:
a
breakthrough new course in Dynamic Self-Management
developed over
decades of experience training America's Top Business Leaders
and
GUARANTEED TO GET YOU WHERE YOU'RE GOING!
And we go. And feel
better. Because there's wisdom there,
more than we gained at our
lousy college,
at least, and more importantly there's an old man's
face-
beamed in from California by satellite-which appears to be
looking at us alone,
the ninety-eight-pound weaklings, and not
laughing!
A miracle. Not even smirking! Beholding us!
﹝Adapted from Up
in the air.﹞
Almost finished, but seems not get the whole picture
yet.
Poor English, and even poor relationship.
Now I finally
realize when u rush into something, u may lose more than u can get.
I
know I have to get rid of all the chaos.
I know I have to quit
getting addicted in the last relationship.
I know I have to look
forwards to the whole new life.
I know I have to find my own pace
back.
I know, I know, I know.
But I don't know, either.
I
don't know why I can't get well soon this time.
I don't know why I
fell so deeply, so hopeless n so helpless.
 I just want to leave
here, leave all the stuff behind.
I want to escape and I want to
find out the exit.
But I am lost.
Perhaps someday in the
future, while I am looking back to this,
I will laugh at myself
easily for such a fool I have once been.
But I am not well yet now.
I
am almost crushed.
How ironic! This was exactly the reason for u to
propose to break up.
And now, I am close to the condition while u r
away from this mess.
Rescue me.

It's wasn't them. It's me. I ruin everything.
Have you ever
looked inside my car?
It's all old phone bills and spilled
McDonald's Cokes.
 I can't catch up with myself.
I'm underwater.
I promise to do something simple, like walk those dogs,
but
then I remember another promise I made,
and another one on top of
that,
so I make up a list with boxes and little checkmarks,
but
before I can finish it my pen runs dry,
so I run off to find a pen,
and then it's quitting time.
Pretty soon things have piled up so
high I have to call in sick to clear my head, and when I come back
they're all angry at me, furious, so instead of buckling down, I run and
hide.
And it isn't just work I'm talking about.
It's everything.
It's breathing. It's sleeping. It's feelings.
Does this make sense?
" It's all about managing time."
It's more than that.
﹝Adapted from Up in the air.﹞
It's not really easy to
forget all the past in a short time,
I mean, either sweetness or
bitterness.
Therefore, I still can't feel released at all.
I
recall, I cry, I smile, and I lie.
But things don't change, just
as what you said.
Not even slightly changed.
And I could
only await and pray, till time past away.
At that time, I could
eliminate the color gray.
I am begging for the coming of that day.