Dew Drop Inn Tourbook 1995

December 7, 1995, Dew Drop Inn Tourbook
written by neil gaiman


It began in darkness; the little girl hesitantly touching the piano-key. She made up a song to sing to the darkness. She sang about the big girls, the pretty ones. She sang all her fear of growing up, all her fear of what she knew she would never be.

When the song was done she lay down, beneath the piano, in the dark.

The piano sang her a lullaby. The black keys and the white keys began to grow, and twine, and blossom, and she was dreaming: and they came into the bare room, all the dream people, crowding and strutting and scuttling and dancing.

There was a woman with a rose in her dark hair, a rose the color of blood. She had a bruise on her check, and her eye make-up was smudged and streaked. She stared at the other people as if she was scared of them; as if any one of them might hurt her again.

There was a hairy-legged man with horns and a tail; he looked like a devil, but when the little girl asked he told her he had been around before ever the devils walked, and he smelled of rain and the forest. The Prophet, his beard dusty with the desert sand, fixed his lipstick, and whispered, "Hey, is that a thunderbolt in your toga, or are you just pleased to see me?" But nobody heard. Wild horses thundered past, their hooves drowning out the noise of the lost lovers, damaged children, wakened babies...

And by then the party was underway, and all the boys were partying, even the boy who were girls, and the World War One flier and the secret agent, all of them grabbing the party food and spilling their drinks and laughing nervously and too loudly. Each of the people had a shadow, and the little sleeping girl found herself staring not at the people but at their shadows, as they danced their flickering shadow party on the floor and on the walls and ceiling, as they caressed and fought and fucked and died in their silent shadow carnival.

A beautiful woman - much too beautiful ever to be a beauty queen, with a tongue split, like a snake's - was carrying a window underneath her arm. Through the window the little girl could see a mirror, and reflected in the mirror was the dark smoke from the mountain. The man with the black-and-white-striped eyes shivered, and began hunting for a door, but none of the guests had remembered to bring a door with them. The virgin began to cry, as her friends strapped her to a chair. They took her gun away from her before they threw the switch, dropped the pill into the water-glass, got her in their sights: four live bullets, one blank; that's the tradition. The American way.

The houngan was feeling up the junkie widow. "I shouldn't be here," she said. "I really shouldn't be here. Maybe I'm not." She pissed herself, then, a thin trickle of vivid yellow urine which ran over his hand and down her stained legs and collected in a pool at her feet.

The floor juddered and trembled. The moon shone through the window, past the volcano, through every mirror in the world.

One by one all the dream-people climbed into their shadows. One by one the shadows crawled beneath the piano, nestled under the little girl. The shadows slept inside her dream.

And when she woke, there was nothing there to show that anything had ever happened at all, only a distant star that twinkled in the window that someone had left propped up against the wall.

She played a song to the star on the piano, one note at a time, while the shadows billowed and swelled and filled the room with darkness, extinguishing the lamps, swallowing the candle-flames one by one, until there was nothing left at all.

Only the dark; and in the darkness, just a twinkle.
--

故事出自Dew Drop Inn Tourbook裡
版權由Neil Gaiman所有
以下是我playboymommy私人的翻譯


一切從黑暗開始。小女孩遲疑地觸碰鋼琴琴鍵，她編了一首歌唱給 這黑暗聽。她唱著關於漂亮大女孩的事，唱著她害怕長大，害怕著 她知道自己不會成為的事。

曲子結束的時候她躺了下來，躺在鋼琴下，躺在黑暗裡。

鋼琴唱了首搖籃曲給她。黑色的琴鍵和白色的琴鍵開始生長，盤繞，開花。她夢到：他們走進空無一人的房間，所有夢裡的人，推擠 ，昂首，疾行，舞動。

有個黑頭髮女人，頭上有朵玫瑰，玫瑰紅得像血。她的臉頰上有傷疤，眼畫得煙燻，她盯著其他人看，像是害怕他們，像是他們之中 有人會再傷害她。

有個腳毛濃密的男人，長著角，還有尾巴；他看起來像是魔鬼，但 是當小女孩問他時，他告訴她早在魔鬼以前他就在了。他有著雨水 和森林的氣味。先知，他的鬍子沾滿沙漠的沙；他塗抹好口紅，輕聲說：「嘿，你們托加衣上的是閃電嗎？還是你們只是想見我？」 但是沒有人聽見他的話。野馬轟隆而過，馬蹄聲淹沒了迷失的情人、毀壞的孩童、醒來的嬰兒的聲音。

然後派對開始，所有的男孩都參加，即使是女孩的男孩也參加，還 有一次大戰的裝訂員和情報員，所有的人抓著食物，飲酒濺得到處 ，緊張又大聲地大笑。每個人都有影子；小女孩發現自己盯著看的 並不是這些人，而是這些人的影子。當他們跳舞，他們搖曳的影子 在地板、在牆壁、在天花板狂歡，在他們自己無聲的影子嘉年華裡 愛撫，爭吵，做愛，死去。

有個美麗的女人，有著分岔的舌頭，像蛇的一樣；她的臂下抱著一 位寡婦。透過窗戶小女孩看得見一面鏡子，鏡子反射山林的黑煙。 有著黑白相間眼珠子的男人打了冷顫，急著要找門，但沒有賓客記 得帶扇門來。少女開始哭泣，她的朋友們把她綁在椅子上，丟掉棍 子前，把她的槍拿走，藥丸投進水杯，瞄準好：四顆實彈，一顆空 彈；這是傳統，美國人的方式。

男巫師正在撫摸那個有毒癮的寡婦。「我不該在這的。」她說。「我真的不該在這。或許我根本沒有在這裡。」她撤了尿，黃色的尿 液流過他的手，她髒污的腿，在她的腳邊聚集一池。

地面震動、搖晃。月光穿透窗子，越過火山，透過世界上的每個鏡子。

一個接著一個，所有的夢人爬進自己的影子；一個接著一個，所有的影子在鋼琴下爬行，偎依在小女孩下。影子在她的夢裡睡去。

當她醒來時，房間裡什麼都沒有，只有一顆遠方的星子映在窗上發亮。

她為這顆星演奏了一首歌，一個音符一個音符彈，影子波濤翻滾，鼓起，整個房間被黑暗佔據，熄滅了燈，吞噬了燭火，一個接著一 個，什麼都沒留下。

只剩下黑暗。而在這黑暗裡，有一點光，閃閃發亮。

Diva Magazine 2004

Diva Magazine
February 2004

以下是我playboymommy私人任性的翻譯
翻譯自2004年二月的Diva Magazine
以下只是訪談節錄
---------------

I ask Tori if her tunes feel very different now?
我問多莉她的歌曲是否有不同於以前的感受？

"I think Playboy Mommy feels very different," she says. "I wrote it when I was in deep sadness, but with Natashya in my life now, I'm in very a different space. When I heard it, what I heard was the amount of love that this woman singing had inside her. My mother told me years ago that you won't love until you become a mother; unselfish love."
「我想"Playboy Mommy" 有很不同的感受。我在極悲傷的狀態下 寫下"Playboy Mommy"， 但現在的我有了娜塔夏亞，處於不同的 時空，每當我聽到這首歌，我聽到的是這個女人唱出的愛；我的 母親曾告訴過我，當了母親之後你才會懂得愛，那是完全無私的 愛。」

And the other songs on the album?
那專輯裡的其他歌曲呢？

"Well, my relationship with all my songs is only my relationship with them. I've come to understand that they have relationships with people, that all my fans have different pictures that they attach to the songs, and that's completely valid. When I perform, I walk into the song like it's architecture, a sonic building, and I have to bring my recent experiences to it to be able to sing it truthfully. So I might be seeing different pictures than when I wrote it, but that's the only way I can do it.”
「我和這些歌曲的關係就只是我個人和他們的關係。我了解到他 們有他們自己和他人的關係；我的歌迷們都有他們自己和這些歌 曲的關係。當我表演時，我走進歌曲，就像是走入音樂的建築物 ，我必須帶著我當時的經驗體悟，如此才能真實地演唱，因此我 可能有了和當時寫下這些歌曲時不同的觀點體悟，但這就是我能 做的。」

---
"The songs come inside me, re-form in me, and I see and sing from their perspective. Is my perspective similar? Sometimes, Sometimes maybe I'm the character that's in shock by this song's character's　behaviour, but I'm there, singing from the other point of view."
「這些歌曲進到我的身體來，重新形塑，我從他們的觀點觀看他 們，演唱他們。那我的觀點是否和他們的觀點相似呢？有時候是 的，但也許有時候我會被歌曲自己的角色的行為嚇到，不過我還 是從他們的觀點演唱。」

---
Any Madonna and Britney-type collaborations planned?
有任何像瑪丹娜和小甜甜布蘭妮那樣合作的計劃嗎？（她們在 2003年MTV 音樂錄影帶頒獎典禮表演上女女親吻，而這個親吻 在2010年的一月剛被獲選十年來最佳接吻榜首。）

"I think - and I'll say this to the Diva readers - the one thing we need to understand is that if you're going to French kiss another woman, it doesn't mean you're going to be an ingenue at 40. If you're 20, it doesn't mean you're going to get wisdom. You're going to get some cute lipgloss on and a yummy feeling inside, but there's a bit of a devouring going on When someone French kisses another woman to try and get something, that isn't passion; it's very interesting to me, an intriguing study. If you're going to French kiss somebody, French kiss a woman that can say, 'Okay, honey; okay sister, come with me and I'll show you a tongue like you've never seen before'. If you're going to walk down that road, do it! A tongue does not touch the intelligence inside another person. you know, Madonna's sTayed around for 20 years, but Britney is not going to get that, and Madonna isn't going to become 20 years younger. I did not see 'I honour you' in that kiss. But that's me; that's what I saw."
「我想要告訴帝娃讀者的是，我們需要了解，如果你要和女人來 個法式熱吻，你不必須是個四十歲女人。如果你才二十歲，也不 表示你就會從這個親吻得到什麼智慧；你得到的只是一些唇膏， 還有可口的嗞味，但是兩個女人親吻試著得到的，應該是更全然 的情感，而不是單純的激情。這對我來說很有趣，是很吸引人的 課題。如果你要和別人來個熱吻，找個會說：『親愛的，沒問題 ，來吧，我會讓你瞧瞧你沒看過的唇舌。』的女人。如果你真想 像瑪丹娜和布蘭妮那麼做，就去做吧！唇舌是觸碰不到人內在的 才智的。瑪丹娜已經在歌壇二十年了，那是布蘭妮做不到的，瑪 丹娜也不會再年輕個二十歲，在那個吻裡，我看不到『我崇拜你 』的意涵在。但這只是個我個人想法，我個人看到的。」

Scarlet's Walk Tourbook 2002

Diary text from Scarlet's Walk 2002 Tourbook Copyright September 2002 by Neil Gaiman.
日記內容出自Scarlet's Walk 2002 Tourbook
版權由尼爾蓋曼(Neil Gaiman)所有



以下是我playboymommy私人任性的翻譯


---
Pages from a Journal found in a shoebox left in a Grayhound Bus somewhere between Tulsa, Oklahoma and Louisville, Kentucky.

日誌在行駛於奧克拉荷馬土耳沙還有肯塔基路易斯維爾之間的灰狗巴士 上，遺留的鞋盒裡找到。



---

Monday 28th

I guess I've been following Scarlet for a long time now. Yesterday I was in Las Vegas. Walking across the parking lot of a casino, I found a postcard. There was a word written on it in crimson lipstick. One word: REMEMBER.

On the other side of the postcard was a highway in Montana.

I don't remember what it is I'm meant to remember. I'm on the road now, driving north.

二十八日，星期一

我已經追尋史卡莉特一陣子了。昨天我人在拉斯維加斯，經過賭場的停車 場時，我發現一張明信片，上頭用深紅色的口紅寫著一個字：記得 (REMEMBER)。

明信片的另一面是蒙大納的公路。

我不記得我應該記得什麼。我現在上路了，往北方走。

---
Tuesday 29th

I'm in Montana, or maybe Nebraska. I'm writing this in a motel. There's a wind gusting outside my room, and I drink black motel coffee, just like I'll drink it tomorrow and the night after that. In a small town diner today I heard someone say her name. "Scarlet's on the road," said the man. He was a traffic cop, and he changed the subject when I got close and listened.

He was talking about a head-on collision. The broken glass glittered on the road like diamonds. He called me "Ma'am," politely.

二十九日，星期二

我人在蒙大納，或者是內布拉斯加。我在汽車旅館裡寫這篇日誌。房間外 一陣風呼嘯而過，我喝著旅館的黑咖啡。今天在鎮上的小餐館我聽到有人 提到史卡莉特。「她在路上。」那個男人說。他是個交通警察。正當我湊 過身要聽仔細時，他改變了話題。

他講到一起正面相撞的車禍，破碎的玻璃散在路上閃閃發亮像鑽石一般。 他很有禮貌地稱我「女士」。

---
Wednesday 30th

"It's not the work that gets to you so bad," said the woman. "It's the way that people stare." She was shivering. It was a cold night and she wasn't dressed for it.

"I'm looking for Scarlet," I told her.

She squeezed my hand with hers, then she touched my cheek, so gently. "Keep looking, hon," she said. "You'll find her when you're ready." Then she sashayed on down the street.

I wasn't in a small town any longer. Maybe I was in Saint Louis. How can you tell if you're in Saint Louis? I looked for some kind of arch. Something linking East and West, but if it was there I missed it.

Later, I crossed a river.

三十日，星期三

「糟糕的不是工作，」那個女人說。「而是人們盯著你看的那副 模樣。」她顫抖著。那是個寒於的夜晚，她穿得不夠多。

「我在找史卡莉特。」我告訴她。

她緊握著我的手，摸了我的臉頰，很溫柔。「親愛的，繼續找下去。」 她說。「當你凖備好的時候，你就會找到她。」然後她走入街道。

我今天不在小城鎮，也許我是在聖路易斯。但是要怎麼知道是不是在聖 路易斯？我尋找著連接東部和西部的拱門，但如果有的話，我也錯過了。

之後，我渡過一條河。

---
Thursday 31st

There were blueberries growing wild by the side of the road. A red thread was caught in the bushes. I'm scared that I'm looking for something that does not exist anymore. Maybe it never did.

I spoke to a woman I used to love today, in a cafe in the desert. She's a waitress there, a long time ago.

"I thought I was your destination," she told me. "Looks like I was just another stop on the line."

I couldn't say anything to make it better. She couldn't hear me. I should have asked if she knew where Scarlet was.

三十日，星期四

路旁開滿了藍莓，樹叢裡發現了紅色的絲線。我害怕我在找已不存在的東 西，又或者它從來不曾存在過。

今天在沙漠的餐館，我和一個我過去愛過的女人說話。很久之前，她是那 裡的服務生。

「我以為我是你的目的地。」她告訴我說。「看來我只是個停靠站。」

我說不出什麼話來讓場面好點。我真該問她是否知道史卡莉特在哪的。

---
Friday 32nd

I DREAMED of Scarlet last night. She was huge and wild, and she was hunting for me. In my dream, I knew what she looked like. When I woke I was in a pick-up truck, parked by the side of the road. There was a man shining a flashlight in the window at me. He called me Sir and asked me for I.D.

I told him who I thought I was and who I was looking for. He just laughed, and walked away, shaking his head. He was humming a song I didn't know. I drove the pickup south, into the morning. Sometimes I fear this is becoming an obsession. She's walking. I'm driving. Why is she always so far ahead of me?

三十二日，星期五

我昨晚夢到史卡莉特。她高大狂野，正在捕獵我。在夢裡，我清楚她的樣 貌。當我醒來時，我人在一輛皮卡車上，車子停在路邊。有個人拿著手電 筒朝向窗子照著我，他叫了我聲先生，然後要求我出示身份。

我告訴他我是誰，還有我在找誰。他笑了笑，走掉了，一邊搖頭，哼著我 不知道的曲子。我開著皮卡，向南行，一路開到白天。有時候我害怕我追 尋史卡莉特變得走火入魔了。她用走的，我開著車，為什麼她還總是遠遠 在我前頭？

---
Saturday 1st

I found a shoebox that I keep things in. In a Jacksonville McDonald's late a quarter pounder with cheese and a chocolate milkshake, and I spread everything I keep in the shoebox out on the table in front of me: the red thread from the blueberry bush; the postcard; a Polaroid photograph I found on some fennel-blown wasteland beside Sunset Boulevard it shoes two girls whispering secretly, their faces blurred; an audio cassette; some golden glitter in a tiny bottle I was given in Washington D.C.; pages I've torn from books and magazines. A casino chip. This journal.

"When you die," says a dark-haired woman at the next table, "they can make you into diamonds now. It's scientific. That's how I want to be remembered. I want to shine."

一日，星期六

我找到個可以放東西的鞋盒。在杰克遜維爾的麥當勞吃大芝士漢堡和巧克 力奶昔，我把鞋盒裡的東西全倒在桌上：藍莓樹叢的紅絲線、明信片、日 落大道旁荒地發現的拍立得相片，上頭兩個女孩交頭耳語，臉龐模糊不清 、一捲卡式錄音帶、閃著金色光彩的小瓶子，那是我在華盛頓特區得到的 、從書本還有雜誌上撕下來的書頁。還有個賭場的籌碼，及這本日誌。

「當你死了。」坐在隔壁桌的深色頭髮女人說。「他們可以把你製成鑽石 。我想這樣被記著，閃閃發亮。」

---
Sunday 2nd
The paths that ghosts follow are written on the land in old words. Ghosts don't take the interstate. They walk. Is that what I'm following, here? Sometimes it seems like I'm looking out through her eyes. Sometimes it feels like she's looking out through mine.

I'm in Wilmington, North Carolina. I write this on an empty beach, while the sunlight glitters on the sea, and I feel so alone.

We make it up as we go along. Don't we?

二日，星期天

鬼魂走在以古語寫成的陸地小徑，不走州際公路。他們行走。那就是我在 追尋的嗎？有時候像是我透過她的眼睛在觀看；有時候又覺得是她透過我 的眼睛在觀看。

我人在威明頓，北卡羅來納。我在空無一人的海灘寫這篇日誌，陽光照著 海水發亮，我感到如此孤獨。

我們前行，捏造一切，不是嗎？

---
Monday 3rd

I was in Baltimore, standing on a sidewalk in the light fall rain, wondering where I was going. I think I saw Scarlet in a car, coming toward me. She was a passenger. I could not see her face, but her hair was red. The woman who drove the car, an elderly pick-up truck, was fat and happy, and her hair was long and black. Her skin was dark.

I slept that night in the house of a man I did not know. When I woke, he said, "She's in Boston."

"Who?"

"The one you're looking for."

I asked how he knew, but he wouldn't talk to me. After a while he asked me to leave, and, soon enough, I did. I want to go home. If I knew where it was, I would. Instead I hit the road.

三日，星期一

我人在巴的摩爾，站在下著秋天小雨的人行道上，想著我要到哪裡？我想 我看見了史卡莉特，坐在車裡，向我駛來。她是個乘客，我看不見她的臉 ，但她的頭髮是紅色的。開著老皮卡的女人胖胖的，蠻開心的，她的頭髮 長，黑色，皮膚黑。

我在陌生男子的屋子裡渡過一晚。當我醒來時，他說：「她在波士頓。」

「誰？」

「你在找的人。」

我問他怎麼知道的，他不告訴我。一會兒後，他要我離開，很快，我就 離開了。我想要回家。如果我知道家在哪裡的話，我就會回家了。於是我 又上路了。

---
Tuesday 4th

Passing Newark at midday, I could see the tip of New York, already smudged dark by dust in the air, now scumbled into night by a thunderstorm. It could have been the end of the world.

I think the world will end in black and white, like an old movie. (Hair as black as coal, sugar, skin as white as snow.) Maybe as long as we have colours we can keep going. (Lips as red as blood, I keep reminding myself.)

I made Boston in the early evening. I find myself looking for her in mirrors and reflections. Some days I remember when the white people came to this land, and when the black people stumbled ashore in chains. I remember when the red people walked to this land, when the land was younger.

I remember when the land was alone.

"How can you sell your mother. That was what the first people said, when asked to sell the land they walked upon."

四日，星期二

中午的時候經過紐華克，我看得到紐約，滿天塵土燻得污黑，雷雨開始， 天黑得像夜，像世界末日。

我想世界結束時將會是黑與白，像是老電影一樣。（頭髮黑得像煤炭，皮 膚白得像雪。）有許只要還有顏色，世界就還不會結束。（嘴唇紅得像血 ，我不斷提醒自己。）

傍晚時我到達波士頓。我在鏡子和反射裡找尋她。我記得白人來到這土地 ；黑人蹣跚而行，帶著鍊銬；印地安人也在這，更早之前。

我還記得誰都還沒來到這塊土地時。

「你怎麼可以賣掉你的母親。」當被要求賣掉腳下這塊土地時，他們這樣 回答。

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Tuesday 5th

She spoke to me last night. I'm certain it was her. passed a payphone on the street in Metairie, LA. It rang, I picked up the headset.

"Are you okay?" said a voice.

"Who is this?" I asked. "Maybe you have the wrong number."

"Maybe I do," she said. "But are you okay?"

"I don't know," I said.

"Know that you are loved," she said. And I knew that it had to be her. I wanted to tell her that I loved her too, but by then she'd already put down the phone. If it was her. She was only there for a moment. Maybe it was a wrong number, but I don't think so.

I'm so close now. I buy a postcard from a homeless guy on the sidewalk with a blanket of stuff, and I write REMEMBER on it, in lipstick, so now I won't ever forget, but the wind comes up and carries it away, and just for now I guess I'm going to keep on walking.

五日，星期二

我昨晚和她說話。我很確定那是她。經過洛杉磯梅特略街上的付費電話時， 電話響了，我拿起話筒。

「你還好嗎？」聲音這麼說。

「你是誰？」我問。「也許你打錯了。」

「也許。」她說。「但你還好嗎？」

「我不知道。」我說

「你要知道你是被愛著的。」她說。我知道那是她。我想要告訴她我也愛 她，但是她已經掛上電話了。如果那真是她。她只在那停留了一會兒。也 許是打錯了，但是我不這麼想。

現在我和她是如此接近。我向行人道上的流浪漢買了張明信片，用口紅寫 上「記得」(REMEMBER)，這樣一來我就不會忘記，但風吹來把明信片吹走 了，我想我將繼續往前走了。
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