One Song a Day - Ice-cream Van (雪糕車). Translation and Song link in the bottom.
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A song about the thriving Hong Kong public housing estate life in the 70’s and 80’s, reflecting how kids grew up in a big city from the bottom. When you’re busy meeting ends, you know how to appreciate little things in life. Thankfully it is still the little things that can make my day.
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Ice-cream Van
(Chet Lam)
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Carrying an overweight school bag
Browsing new pencil cases in the store
Couldn’t wait for Spacecraft (TV show) to take offat 4:30
A family of seven in 300 square feet
Everyone had his own awesome corner
Soap operas triumphed every night
Listen, some chunky melody downstairs is coming close, calling all the kids to come down
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Feeling joy instantly whenever the ice-cream van approaching
Even homework would melt away
We played traffic light, jumping aero planes,
Paper scissors stones
Nobody cared about win or lose
We just kept laughing
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Focus shifted to my hair
I did’t care about the chilly weather
I would rather check out my cool self in the mirror
Wandering around, I didn’t want to go home
The night was falling, but loneliness was scarier
The gate key at home was chaining my heart
Loved it, hated it, sometimes I couldn’t even tell
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Feeling puzzled, Youth was not a laughing matter
Everyday I was on the telephone until late
We held hands for a few seconds when crossing the traffic lights
While the ice-cream van far away was not needed anymore, it’s too old
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Times have changed, Relationships thinned away
Not used to the new things yet they already got old
We go forward, scenery goes backward
The nuances are turning into a paper crane hidden in the memory
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Furnitures and plastic bags loaded up the truck
Boxes fillied with memories
When I moved away that day, I would rather go slow
When the truck passed through the ice-cream van
The old man’s business didn’t look so good
Then the van vanished in sight
Days gone by I was so busy trying to live through the chaos
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Too busy, I started forgetting how to smile
Car loan, home mortgage, utilities all added up heavy
We’re competing with traffic lights
When you had credit cards, I had money, he had a mountain of cheques to cash
We finally parted
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Things advance too fast
Transitions too speedy
Some senses degenerate
We always need to take off before we settle in
Been there done that
New things become old
We cannot recall certain things after too many farewells
Suddenly, some chunky melody is getting closer
And my heart feels a deep strike
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I almost have forgotten some simple laughters
Whenever I heard the ice-cream van approaching I would just melt away
I stop for a moment, see a little kid holding the cone contently
That happiness...
Nothing is more important than that
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在沒有選擇之下開心選擇,能夠練就情緒智商(EQ);在沒有資源的環境長大,能夠加倍享受生命給你的一點一點驚喜;我的童年並沒有「快樂」這個概念,只是一個永遠不會被佛格華茲取錄的麻瓜學生,但簡單如差勁音響傳來的雪糕車音樂聲,竟然能給我一點點希望。其實,我從來都不喜歡那些軟雪糕,小時候也沒有閒錢去買那些零食,我嚮往的,只是外面的世界;現在我還是嚮往外面的世界,但我希望在有能力選擇生活時,仍然可以為微小的事情而滿足。
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雪糕車
(曲詞:林一峰)
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背上過重書包放學 看看店裡新到筆盒
穿梭機快快四點開
一家七口三百呎內 各有各繽紛一角
電視劇晚晚都精彩
叮叮噹樓下笨重音響漸大催促小子快下來
迷住了 頃刻開心了
每當聽到雪糕車靠近 功課也溶掉
紅綠燈 飛機一起跳 你出包我出剪他有'Dub'
輸贏繼續笑
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心思開始遷到髮上 再冷我也不怕著涼
穿新裝對鏡子欣賞
到處逛逛公園坐下 轉轉轉也不想歸家
天黑黑寂寞更可怕
鐵閘門匙就像一把心鎖 愛恨參半知多少
迷住了 青春不可笑
每天都與聽筒多接近 偶爾到天曉
紅綠燈 拖手的幾秒
遠處的雪糕車不再被需要 太舊了
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時代換了 人情淡了
還未習慣新的都已變舊了
沿途風景漸後退
餘音漸幻化藏在記憶裡一隻紙飛鳥
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傢俬膠袋充塞貨櫃 載滿了記憶的箱子
搬走當天確有點依依
車子駛經村口發現
老伯伯雪糕車生意不怎麼好 轉角已不見
一天天過去混亂中忙著應戰
忙極了 開始不懂笑
要供車要供樓水與電差餉也不少
紅綠燈街中爭分
你有卡我有錢他有疊支票 告別了
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進化太快高速過度 退化了一些感覺
未及著地又要起飛
看過聽過新的變舊 再見說了多次以後
一些感觸再也想不起
街角傳來笨重音響剎那間
一種騷動直搗心深處
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差點忘掉了 簡單的歡笑
只需聽到雪糕車靠近 便完全溶化掉
停住了 看著小伙子
滿足握著雪糕筒那幸福感
沒比這更重要
la...la...la...la...la...
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https://instabio.cc/ChetLamIceCreamVan
同時也有2部Youtube影片,追蹤數超過10萬的網紅MONGABONG,也在其Youtube影片中提到,This Chinese New Year makeup is everything sweet, girly and natural! ? It’s long wearing as well, great for your full visiting days or even meeting yo...
「pencil down the meeting」的推薦目錄:
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 Chet Lam 林一峰 Facebook 的最佳貼文
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 YOSHITOMO NARA Facebook 的精選貼文
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 MONGABONG Youtube 的精選貼文
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 Vivian Yip Youtube 的精選貼文
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 Pencil you in on/for Sunday evening? - English Stack Exchange 的評價
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 Meeting Notes - iPad Forms - Pinterest 的評價
- 關於pencil down the meeting 在 The best note-taking apps for the iPad and Apple Pencil 的評價
pencil down the meeting 在 YOSHITOMO NARA Facebook 的精選貼文
Nobody’s Fool ( January 2011 )
Yoshitomo Nara
Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.
It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.
But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.
While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.
As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.
In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.
Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.
Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!
I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.
Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.
By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.
After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.
And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.
Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.
But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.
The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.
Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.
After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.
Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.
After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.
I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….
pencil down the meeting 在 MONGABONG Youtube 的精選貼文
This Chinese New Year makeup is everything sweet, girly and natural! ? It’s long wearing as well, great for your full visiting days or even meeting your in-laws!
It’s gonna be my first year celebrating Chinese New Year as a married couple so I’m quite excited yet nervous at the same time ? Let me know how your cny went in the comment box down below!
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FAQ
Hello! My name is Mong Chin and I'm from sunny Singapore. I am 1.63m and I am singaporean Chinese. I speak English, Mandarin and am currently learning Korean in my free time. I love all things beauty and fashion, and I also like to share my life here. I hope you guys enjoy watching my videos!
DISCLAIMER
Special thanks to Nudestix for sponsoring some of the items used in this video. None of the links are affiliate links - I don't make money off of any purchase and they don't cost you anything extra!
Wishing all of you a happy Chinese New Year year! Enjoy feasting and spending time with your loved ones this season! ❤️
Thank you for watching! ~
pencil down the meeting 在 Vivian Yip Youtube 的精選貼文
VIVA VOCE
➡️️ Style With Budget
Meeting your boyfriend's parents is stressful! I hope I can give you some ideas on what make up and outfits I would wear on this special occasion!
If you like GRWM videos, subscribe to my channel NOW cuz GRWM Date nights, Girls Night out, Job Interview.... are COMING SOON!
? 1080p makes all the difference!
Make Up Products
Primer:
[Maybelline] Baby Skin Pore Eraser
Foundation:
[Maybelline] FIT ME Foundation - Luminous + Smooth Shade 105
Concealer:
[Maybelline] FIT ME Concealer Shade 20
Brow Pencil:
[Miniso] Solid Waterproof Eyebrow Pencil Shade 4 Gray
Brow Powder & Eye Shadow:
[Kiko] Eye Shadow Shade 122
Highlighter:
[Miniso] Nasal Highlight & Contour Stick
Contour:
[Maybelline] BROW Drama Promade Crayon
Blush:
[Maybelline] Master Glaze Blush Stick
Mascara:
[Kiss Me] Heroine makeL Long and curl mascara)
Eyeshadow (Optional):
[Maybelline] BROW Drama Promade Crayon
Lip:
[Revlon] Ultra HD Lipstick 830 Rose
Outfit 1:
Shirt with embroidery details [Taobao] Expired***
Similar: https://world.taobao.com/item/5449965...
White Pants [New Yorker]
Black Flats [H&M]
Outfit 1 (cont'd):
Navy Vest: [UNIQLO]
White Pants [New Yorker]
Black Flats [H&M]
Outfit 2:
Green Dress [H&M]
Shirt [HK local store]
Black Flats [H&M]
Outfit 3:
Nude Top [Shein]
Shein Link: https://www.shein.com/Apricot-Spaghet...
Denim Pants [H&M]
Overcoat [Forever21]
Red Flats [Maud Frizon]
Links: Last update on 5 March 2017
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pencil down the meeting 在 Meeting Notes - iPad Forms - Pinterest 的推薦與評價
... the meeting using your apple pencil or typing into the form on your iPad. Use the agenda section before the meeting to jot down ideas or questions that ... ... <看更多>
pencil down the meeting 在 The best note-taking apps for the iPad and Apple Pencil 的推薦與評價
We show off our favorite iPad note-taking apps for use with the Apple Pencil, ranging from apps that render your handwriting into text to ... ... <看更多>
pencil down the meeting 在 Pencil you in on/for Sunday evening? - English Stack Exchange 的推薦與評價
... engagement down on some kind of calendar or schedule, but doing so in pencil rather ... The words "a meeting on" are omitted as implied. ... <看更多>
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