In 1993, Wenyou and I were in Datong Hongqi Square
The one who introduced me to another literary youth circle was Mr. Hou Jianchen. Jianchen I met since 1990.
Earlier, he had more contacts with his brother, Mr. Hou Jianzhong, who was an allegorical writer with a lot of writing, and worked in Zuo Yunwenlian at that time. Whenever I went to Zuoyun, I often visited Jianzhong.
Later, I read some essays signed "Hou Jianchen" in the newspaper, so I guessed that he was probably Hou Jianzhong's brother. Asked Jianzhong, sure enough, Jianchen worked in the Datong Municipal Bureau of Culture and lived in the datong city art school faculty dormitory.
In the summer of 1990, I went to Datong Art School to visit Jianchen, and after an exchange, the two became very close friends, and since then they have become close friends, and one relationship has been thirty years.
In the spring of 1993, I was working as a clerk at the Datong Office in the Beijing Garrison District, and one afternoon, Jianchen came to my residence to visit the door, and in small talk, he said that there was a gathering of literary friends on the weekend and invited me to participate.
On weekend morning, when the sun was warm, I rode a bicycle and came to Hongqi Square on an appointment. Jianchen and his friends had arrived, more than twenty men and women, some from the city, some from the countryside, and some from the mines.
Jianchen introduced me one by one: Sun Tiansheng, Zhang Jianfeng, Zhang Weixin, Yao Jin, Shen Jiangtao, Cao Baochun, Xu Shuren, Guo Zhong, Xie Feng, Zhang Xiuping, Wen Liying, Li Wenli, Yao Yan, Tong Lihong, etc.
Afterwards, everyone walked in the square and took a group photo. By noon, it was time for dinner.
The figure comes from the network, invaded and deleted
I can't remember who did it, a group of people rode their bicycles to a restaurant near Datong Long-distance Station, sat at two tables, ordered two tables full of dishes, nothing more than: fish shredded meat, spicy tofu, fried potato shreds, spicy white, pork stew powder, scrambled eggs with tomatoes and so on... What about wine? I clearly remembered that it was northern roasted liquor, fifty-six degrees.
This wine was drunk for about three hours, two tables and a table, the high-rollers went back and forth to toast at the table, wrote down the phone numbers of each other, and the descendants burped their wine, patted their chests, and were full of strength: The next time I invite guests, who will not? No way!
Drinking shochu out of the hotel, it was overcast and raining.
A group of people rode their bicycles, giggling and driving side by side on the main and secondary roads of the city, Jianfeng took the lead, the brothers echoed, while walking and singing praises, seconding "Return from Target Shooting", improvising the words, I still remember a rough -
"Sunset West Mountain Red Xiaxia flying
Wen Peng's poetry friends drank before they returned,
The red light is full of happiness wow,
We must drink again in the evening...
Mi Sister-in-law Rami, Lami Mi Chu Rui,
We must have a drink in the evening, hey! Drink! ”
In the evening, sure enough, I had another drink. Drunk and paralyzed more than a dozen brothers, I remember that when the wine was half drunk, Elder Brother Xie Feng suddenly "disappeared", and then several girls screamed violently, saying that they did not know what strange things were stepping on their feet, and lifted the tablecloth to see, Mr. Xie Feng was lying under the table and sleeping, and there was a benevolent brother next to him who accompanied him in the sweet purring...
Friends in this circle, I have been dating for many years, and there are still a few who are still dealing with them frequently. Most of them were students of a literary workshop organized by the Datong Municipal Federation of Literature and Literature in 1992, and they all gathered together with a sincere love for literature.
It's that simple purpose. Therefore, the feelings between them are very pure, so that after more than ten years, many friends still get together, of course, there are few left who insist on literary creation, after all, literature cannot be eaten as food, otherwise they will be hungry.
This is one of the catalogues of works published in the nineties
Those hard years in the early nineties were the years of my diligent creation.
In the July issue of the monthly magazine "Essays" in 1991, I published a group of my poetic essays, "The Story of Nomura", which was immediately reprinted by the "Literature Newspaper"; in November, "Essays" published my "Confusion in Saibei".
In the June issue of "Feitian" in 1992, thirteen national essays were grandly launched, and my "Saibei" was published. In the September issue of Northern Literature in 1992, my "Old Well" was published.
In 1993, the June issue of the monthly magazine "Essay" published my "Thin Soil", which was immediately reprinted by "Essay Overseas Edition"; the November issue of "Years" of that year published my "Clay Sculpture"...
Those two years of hard work, and more than a dozen essays have been published in influential journals across the country. I was also listed as an important author by the Propaganda Department of the Municipal Party Committee, and I remember to talk to Mr. Cao Naiqian, who else is who? I can't remember, we put together a group. It is said that according to the group's creative achievements, rewards will be given, but later with the merger of the geese, it will not be solved.
In 1993, I was just over 21 years old.
If we persist in this direction, we may be able to mix with a writer of the Eight Classics today. However, fate eventually forced me to abandon my chicken ribs and choose to fill my stomach, thus becoming a sprinter with insufficient confidence.
Mr. Shofu, who has always cared for my growth, has placed great expectations on me and told me to read more books, read good books, and go further. I remember that I was still in the Xiaoximen Old Liu Bone Museum, specially inviting Mr. Xiangfu, Jianchen, Sun Di and other brothers to drink wine and eat meat, to express my little gratitude.
At the age when I was creatively vigorous, I moved away from literature and turned to the path of so-called "reportage" (actually words that touted enterprises), wandering on the fringes of what seemed to be literature and non-literature, from devout muses to pathetic traitors.
Looking back, choosing to leave at that time was a helpless move.
One: life is forced. Literature cannot feed people. It is okay to sing poetry, play deeply, and flicker the little girl for the time being, after all, it is not equal to bread and milk. As a twenty-year-old who entered the society, I can no longer add any burden to my family, but need to contribute to the family to make money. What literature, muses, for the economically strapped home, is simply strange bullshit.
In September 1991, in order to make more money, I resigned from the iron rice bowl of the state-run workers (at that time, the monthly salary was 106.8 yuan) and went to the military mine to work as a secretary. After that, the military mine fell, and I had to wander the society and seek a gorgeous turn again.
Second: I deeply feel that I have read too little, have insufficient education, and have no pen strength. I didn't get into a formal college campus, and although I later mixed up with a college degree, it was just to earn more money. It's like a female watchman who has to buy a cheap fashionable dress in order to win the favor of female ticket customers.
Until 2017, I grabbed my pen again and wrote a novel "Records of the Ancient Capital" (published by China Federation of Literary and Literary Publishing Houses in January 2019, renamed "Mission").
At this time, it has been more than twenty years since I gave up pure literary creation.
Twenty years later, the depths of my soul are still in love with the muse, struggling on the edge of dream and reality, walking at the intersection of literature and life. Actually, I'm not far from literature. I just quietly observed her in the hustle and bustle, silently examining myself in a deep loneliness.
For twenty years, I received a rich and brutal college education. The name of this university is: Social University.
Twenty years, wandering society, mixed in the literary world, I call for the return of the soul.
For a lot of flashes of light, I can be indifferent. What a name to give you, what aura to give you, is not enough to make me ecstatic.
After all, that thing is not a top meal, and it can't prove that you are really a big name or a big coffee.
Live a real me, a full me, and use authentic and simple words to restore the lost mental journey.
A friend read a few of my "mixed in the literary world" and said that I was "nostalgic for the old".
I said I wasn't nostalgic, I was combing through the mental journey of the past twenty years. I hope to find some strength and thinking in it, because there are still one or two twenty years ahead, and I must use enough strength and mature thinking to walk the road ahead.
About author:Shanxi Lao Xie, real name Xie Hongyu, ancestral home of Shanxi Shanyin, born in August 1971. He is the author of the novel "Mission" (China Literary Association Publishing House, 2019.1) with Mr. Geng Yanbo as the protagonist's artistic prototype.
A novel based on Geng Yanbo was purchased for ¥48