郑智化的事情，看得我很生气！首先，我非常讨厌为大boss百般找理由；其次，我也完全不认为这些人号称是为机场工作人员发声，真的是共情了他们，这无非是为大boss找理由的传统手法罢了。。。说起来，我在路上就没见过残障人士，在生活里除了听力较弱的朋友之外，我根本不认识/听说过任何残障人士。。。而每一个出国的人都会惊叹，原来路上有这么多残障人士，呵，一定是本国的残障人士不爱出门吧。。。我根本不想和这些认为人没有尊严才是默认值，人类就应该弱肉强食优胜劣汰，人类就应该没有什么基本线/基本保障的人相处，如果认为残障人士就不要出来给人添麻烦了，我就。。。很恶毒的希望这些人变成残障人士。。。或者作为健全人，你享受了那么多公共便利，是不是应该一步一叩首呢？
以及，我觉得，问问自己最诚实的内心，是希望自己过得好，同时大家都过得和自己一样好，还是希望自己过得好，同时大家远不如自己，虽然我想要的前者，但我觉得很多人，其实想要的是后者。。。
怎么说呢，为了自己的心理健康，还是不看得好，免得生气
那就继续来看Rudolf Nureyev的传记吧！
上文说到，普希金和他父母姐妹、同事、同学因为他的叛逃受到很大牵连，尤其是普希金，作为他老师，一遍遍的去做检讨，他非常担心自己就此被学校开除，计划经济时代没有单位么就约等于死路一条了，但是所有人都没想到，有个领导站出来保住了他，没被学校开除，这个领导是一个大家一直以来都非常讨厌的人，非常僵化教条，就是很政工干部，有关系密切的人说，这人真的很讨厌，但是他做的这件事真的很让我敬佩，怎么说呢，我再次觉得，人类啊，是比较复杂的
他叛逃之后，后来和一个密友说到过师母，他朋友说，你怎么会和她发生关系呢？！她可是你最敬爱的老师的老婆啊！！他的回答是“Because she wanted to”，呃。。。
他师母在老师生日之前接到他的一个电话，KGB当然是知道的，她向KGB汇报的时候，说“她觉得有什么东西把他留在那里了”
师母的感觉是准确的，传记的笔锋一转，转到了他和丹麦芭蕾演员Erik Bruhn上，他俩在一起了，这位演员也是芭蕾传奇人物，比Rudolf Nureyev大10岁，成名已久，Rudolf Nureyev一直非常崇拜他，但他俩的舞台风格非常不一样，感觉来说，Erik Bruhn是轻盈敏捷款的，Rudolf Nureyev是浓郁狂野款的，但这段对“a totally reciprocal deep passion”的描写真是太美了，我昨晚在开了一下午庭之后，脑子和身体一起僵硬的躺在床上，裹在软软的暖暖的被子里读完这段，真的，整个人都好像重新生动起来！非常有画面，这种两个男子的镜像，我在马修伯恩的《天鹅湖》里看过，舞台上那么几个动作已经很震撼，而这里日常练习里大量的两个人互为镜像，互相检查，互相模仿，最后两个人的交流几乎不需要言语，这种荡漾，真的比AO3上大部分纸片人好磕啊！！我要都抄下来！
This began each day at the barre. Home-movie footage shows them working together in a studio, both dressed in black. Erik raises one arm into an arabesque position, Rudolf, facing him, does the same. They study themselves in the mirror, not with vanity but with the self-critical scrutiny of dancers. Then they change sides. Still facing each other, they move in close, their heads almost touching as they begin a fondu en arabesque exercise.Then they change sides. Still facing each other, they move in close, their heads almost touching as they begin a fondu en arabesque exercise. A faintly homoerotic undertone now emerges, which also plays on the idea of gender reversal, as they partner each other. Rudolf supports Erik’s leg on his shoulder effecting a grand rond de jambe as he promenades around holding Erik’s hand and forcing the arch of his back. Rudolf studies the effect in the mirror. Erik then does the same for him. Still at the barre, they try out a Don Quixote matador stance known in the bullfight as the quiebro: feet immobile, the body twisted and extended into the curve adopted by the matador before he plants the sword – upper torso sensually arched, head inclined, eyes half closed. Rudolf’s crescent is less exaggerated than Erik’s, but also more arrogant and commanding. Erik watched how Rudolf took the same steps and made them his own. ‘It was like speaking the same language, using the same words, but expressing oneself with a different accent and intonation.’
In the centre they take turns to set exercises: Rudolf leading a Pushkin-inspired, controlled adage, Erik a grand élévation sequence followed by a series of entrechat six. Here the difference in their schooling – and in their ages – is unmistakable. Erik executes the petite batterie with his arms placed and perfectly relaxed, Danish-style, whereas Rudolf is more agile in a Petipa diagonal of beaten cabrioles en arabesque, which Erik struggles through. Having begun working separately, neither wanting to influence the other, they slowly start to experiment, one trying the other’s way of doing things. ‘That’s how we began to take from each other.We got so that we hardly talked at all: we knew and understood each other just from a gesture of the hands.’ Stirred by the lyrical ardour in Rudolf, which he himself lacked, Erik had begun inflecting his movements with more force and passion, while Rudolf, never ceasing to marvel at Erik’s attention to detail, was working towards achieving classical calm and perfection for himself. They were Apollo and Dionysus who had found their opposite and were feeding off each other. And this was more than a metaphor: each, in his way, had apotheosized himself.
‘When you listen to Bach you hear a part of God … When you watch me dance you see a part of God,’ Rudolf once said, while for Erik, too, the artist was semidivine, capable of attaining what he described as ‘something total – a sense of total being.’‘There have been certain moments on the stage – four or five times – when I have suddenly felt a feeling of “I am!” A moment that feels as though it’s for ever. An indescribable feeling of being everywhere and nowhere.’
后面还有段关于这种战栗和狂喜的描写，说起来Rudolf Nureyev喜欢斯克里亚宾，但是斯克里亚宾的音乐我完全不懂，我就去找了一下，有一段对钢琴家安天旭的采访，我觉得很有意思（整篇访谈我都觉得蛮有意思），其中说到“我其实不太清楚到底斯克里亚宾怎么弹，才算是特别好。索弗罗尼茨基，里赫特，霍洛维茨，据说是权威……我听着也是各有各的好，但形成一个非常完整的评判的体系，我做不到，或者说还没想明白。因为听贝多芬，李斯特，拉赫等，我是有个人的评判体系的。我只能说一个体验：Svetlanov指挥的某一版“狂喜之诗”现场录音，我确实听出了狂喜到“七窍流血”以至可以“暴毙而亡”的感觉。我很抗拒，但大受震撼。”
搞得我对斯克里亚宾有点好奇诶。。。