Fragments / 碎片
Fictional, meaningless writing practice. 虚构的，无意义的写作练习
When does a discus feel its own incompleteness? It’s not the moment it is born from a factory mold, not the moment it is packed and then boxed up with its companions, not the moment it is wiped clean and ready to take to the field, but when in the air. A discus, suddenly remembering all the injustices of its creation by God: the dust mixed in the mold holds up its cracks, the bumps on the road make it lose some mass, even the pressure of the sunset to make it deviate from its square shape. A discus, in the air, looks back at the player who threw it with resentment, and also falls to the ground with a determination to destroy itself.
一块铁饼是什么时候感受到它自己的不完整？不会是它从工厂的模具中诞生的时刻，不会是它与它的同伴们被包装起来然后装箱的时刻，也不会是它被擦拭干净准备登上赛场的时刻，而是在空中。一块铁饼，忽然想起了它被上帝创造的过程中的一切不公：模具里混进的尘埃撑开它的裂缝，路途中的磕碰使它脱落了一些质量，就连夕阳的压力也是使它偏离正圆形状的原因。一块铁饼，在空中，带着怨念回望着掷出它的选手，也带着摧毁的决心坠向地面。
I went to the park holding a story and played origami with others who were holding stories. We folded up our stories, and eventually only a few incomplete sentences showed up on the surface to be read. I read some of the stories that were folded into airplanes, finger traps, and darts, but all that remained in my mind was “you”, “me”, and “him/her”. My story asked me, “But aren’t ‘you’ and ‘him/her’ both ‘me’?” , I said, “Yeah, don’t break it down, they take refuge in ‘you’ and ‘him/her’ or they’d be writing about you over and over again with hundreds of pseudonyms like what I do.”
我牵着一个故事去公园，与其他牵着故事的人一同玩折纸游戏。我们将各自的故事折叠起来，最终只有少数几个不完整的句子露在表面能够被读到。我读了一些被折成飞机、指套、和飞镖的故事，可留在我的脑中的只有“你”，“我”，“他”。我的故事问我，“可是‘你’和‘他’也不都是‘我’吗？”，我说：“对呀，不必拆穿这件事，他们在‘你’和‘他’里避难，不然他们就会像我一样用几百个笔名重复地写你。”
I slept on the damp couch in the cabin, unable to move one of my arm. There was shallow water on the floor, a conductive calendar taped to the wall, and metal food on the table that I hadn’t finished eating. I was going through a process of my own, like a fish washed up on deck by a wave and then flung into the sea. I waited over the bumps for the arrival of a man. He would sent me the parts I desperately needed as a gift, which enables me to start repairing myself. No anesthetic was needed; I decided to replace the waterlogged capacitors myself.
我睡在船舱里潮湿的沙发上，一只手臂动弹不得。地板上浅浅地铺着一层水，墙上贴着一本导电的日历，桌上还有我没有吃完的金属食物。我在经历一个我自己的过程，像被浪冲上甲板的鱼又被甩入大海。我在颠簸中等一个人的到来，他送来我急需的零件作为礼物，使我能够开始修理我自己。不需要麻药，我要自己换掉那几只进水的电容。
Day is a continuation of night, I wake up to see people walking down the street rushing to work but still dreaming. Day is a complement to night, night retreats into the shadows of opaque objects and draws clear boundaries during daytime. Day is the packaging of night, those words condensed in the darkness will only be dusty in the sun. Day is less perfect than night. Day is less pure than night. Day is night mixed with mistakes. Day cuts night to pieces, heartbreakingly. Day is the test given to night by the earth. I push open the door plastered with labels cut from clothes. What strange and bizarre, yet irrefutable theories are you inventing in the room?
日是夜的延续，我醒来时看见街上走着赶路上班但仍在梦中的人，日是夜的补充，白天夜退缩进不透明物体的阴影里，划出清晰的界限，日是夜的包装，那些黑暗中凝结的言语在阳光下只会沾满灰尘，日不如夜完美，日不如夜纯粹，日是混入错误的夜，日将夜切割得心碎，日是地球给夜的考验。我推开贴满从衣服上剪下的标签的门，你又在房间里发明什么稀奇古怪，但又令人无可反驳的理论。
Finally we all become people who can blow smoke rings. Recalling how eager we were to gain the ability, asking for tips to learn how to blow smoke rings in private like passing secrets, practicing curling tongue and mouth, and even cheating at parties, with fingers tapping the cheek to blow a perfect smoke ring to show they have mastered it… Finally, we all became people who could blow smoke rings, some used it to provoke, some used it to show off, some used it to attract girls, and then they all disappeared one by one, from the smoke ring spitting support group. Of course, the most boring people are us, who use it to make a living – to perform blowing smoke rings. We have to live with it day and night, even though smoking have burnt our throats and blistered our lips, and whenever I see the audience cheering desperately for my performance, and I see in their eyes there are me in the past who longed for it so much, I think to myself, how cruel it is to gain something.
后来我们都成为了会吹烟圈的人，想到我们曾经多么渴望能够拥有这种能力，在私下里像讨教秘密一般讨教吹烟圈的方法，练习卷舌和口型，甚至在聚会时作弊，用手指轻击脸颊来吹出完美的烟圈以示自己已经学会…后来，我们都成为了会吹烟圈的人，有的人用它来挑衅，有的人用它来炫技，有的人用它来吸引异性，后来他们一个个都消失不见，从吐烟圈互助小组中消失了。当然最无趣的还是我们，这些用它谋求生活——表演吐烟圈的人。我们不得不日日夜夜与它相处，即使吸烟已经烫坏了我们的喉咙，把我们的嘴唇磨出了泡，而每当我看到那些观众为我的演出拼命喝彩，我从他们的眼中看到那个曾经无比渴望的我时，我在就想，得到究竟是一件何等残酷的事情。
All along the way, it is the problems that erode me away
这一路上，都是蚕食我的问题
The feeling you want to write down is fleeting, the words are like illusions, and when you read them again, you are in that moment of your life.
你想写下的感觉转瞬即逝，文字就像幻觉，当你再次读起，你在那一刻的生命。
Opinion / 观点
Immature Opinions based on observations. 不成熟的观点
Workflow is a priceless asset, I read a report that NetEase’s competitiveness in making games is actually its internal tools and workflow precipitated in the past 20 years, which makes it able to mass-produce games with low enough cost and fast enough that the ROI is positive. Similarly, for individuals, the precipitated workflow (that is, habits) will likewise make a huge difference between people and people in the end, in which a lot of trial and error results and know how are formed. of course this is a nonsense, but just because it is not written on our balance sheet, it seems that there are not that many people who consciously change their workflow. For example, I’ve been trying to figure out how to mass-produce workflow for writing for almost 7 years, and now I’m finally on track.
workflow是无价的资产，以前看一篇报道说，网易做游戏的竞争力其实是它这二十年沉淀出的内部工具和workflow，使得它能够量产游戏、成本足够低，速度足够快，以至于ROI是打得正的。同理，对于个人来说，沉淀出的workflow（也就是习惯）同样会让人和人之间最后形成巨大的差异，在其中形成大量试错结果以及know how。当然这是一句废话，但只因为它没有写在我们的资产负债表上，似乎有意识地去改workflow的人并没那么多。比如，关于如何量产写作的workflow这件事，我摸索了将近7年了，现在总算走上正轨了。
I try to keep the language as concise as possible, writing only the important parts and only the parts that must be written. I look closely at every idea that comes to my mind and use it as a criterion to determine their length.
尽量保证语言的精炼，只写重要的部分，只写非写不可的部分。我审视在我脑海中产生的每一个想法，并以此为标准决定它们的篇幅。
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