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The Spoon


Spoon fed sweet comfort

In our mouths can make us doze

Which feels so nice


Like lying on pillows in a limo 

Being driven, in our softest dreams,

Along a gorgeous path


To a bed where a smile and soothing words  

Cross any missing meaning

Behind our backs.



故事,你跑到哪里去啊? 你为什么离开了我? 我是否虐待了你?破坏你的情节的逻辑呢? 不走向你必然的结论? 还是你以为我对你不忠,跟其它的故事发生关系?我到底是犯了什么罪?


现在我只是一个单独的字在一本空白的书。。。每天我没事做, 我只能从第一页跑到第二百页, 连一个卑贱的标点符号都没有。。


我跟你说,你不是世界上唯一个故事! 我会当汉姆雷特!我会当李尔王!我会当奥赛罗!不要怀疑我——我真会!





There are no real solids and Buckminister Fuller

Explained that love is a kind of metaphysical gravity

So, as love begins, being swells and surges,

Like when you emerged from foam onto silica,

And I emitted an oscillation through space time,

Along with a transfer of energy, and you waved back.






在第一个轮回里我当个胡萝卜,享受肥沃的泥土,跟附近的西红柿说一点闲话。其实,很多人喜欢欣赏植物的生活方式。比如当个高尚的黄瓜,狡诈的蘑菇,或者一个诚实的西兰花- 这真是一种狂喜。



from Evolutionary Emotion Theory in Education


...evolutionary psychology’s definition of emotion can be inferred from two things already mentioned: first, from the observation that emotions stretch across biological, cognitive and social categories, thus, seemingly, resisting neat categorization and frustrating attempts at definition and, second, from the notion of a mind composed of numerous software programs governing our biological, cognitive, and social functioning in a manner that produces adaptive behaviour.  Put those two notions together and a definition emerges- emotions are superordinate programs that coordinate subordinate programs, activating, overriding, deactivating and altering the parameters of those programs, harmonizing them so that responses are adaptive.  


Or imagine- first, one’s ideal mate in the nude, then, second, going off to find food for that mate and hearing a predator approaching, and finally, escaping from the predator, returning home, and finding one’s ideal mate copulating with one’s rival.  These three different situations would bring about different changes within a person, changes involving heart rate, cognition, attention, valuation, motor systems, motivational, assessment, recall and much more.  Although the many ‘software programs’ that bring about these numerous changes are adaptations, they are also adaptations which themselves can create an adaptive problem, in that these numerous programs must be coordinated with each other, to achieve an adaptive result appropriate to the circumstances.  What would happen if a deadly predator approaching predisposed a person to brood over one’s romantic history, or a romantic opportunity brought on a fight or flight response?  Thus, lust can be understood as a coordination of numerous systems in the body and mind, as can fear, or jealousy.  


The idea that emotion harmonizes numerous physiological and cognitive systems is consonant with modern scientists’ conviction that emotion is inexplicably intertwined with other types of cognition, including rationality, decision-making, creativity, memory, and the like.   Evolutionary psychologists view the more traditional stance of cognitive psychology- that ‘thinking’ and ‘feeling’ are different- as a fundamental error, believing that a proper perspective should lead to a fully integrated structure.


 This is a structure which ties together not only emotion and cognition, but also long-enduring aspects of human experience like parenting, eating, alliance, foraging, and mating.  If these types of situations have been recurrent throughout millions of years of history, and reproductive fitness dependent on adaptive behaviour within those situations, then perhaps much of our mental life, including emotion, simply cannot be understood without reference to these ‘evolutionary themes’.


Spying on two old people through their living room window



I can see how it ends

In the grey-blue rust on the shadows of these social security ghosts,

As they melt slowly into furniture,

Floating in a daydream bowl of half-yellow darkness. 


And as I wait for the subway to start I pace

Then perch and rub my hands, watching like a pigeon these statues,

As they sit


Like the old expressionless mountains

Wrinkled into their faces,

Unthinkably remote, grand, and completely past everything


Within the polish and flow of our world,

Its clockwork humming in their soft purple veins

The stomach sand of sad songs.


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