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[This I Believe] 【整理】2016-06-08&06-17 找回迷失的自己

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[This I Believe] 【整理】2016-06-08&06-17 找回迷失的自己

本帖最后由 qingchengshan 于 2016-7-22 13:10 编辑 “我的信念”是美国国家公共广播电台节目,每期会邀请来自各行各业、不同阶层的人士朗读自己的文章,围绕这个题目讲述个人经历和人生信念。在这里听一个平凡的美国人用自己的声音讲述他们的故事,从这里里发现、理解和相信自己成功的原因。大多的故事来自于美国人,但是对美好生活的追求和对幸福的期许,没有国界。

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I Will Take My Voice Back


For years, Quique Aviles was two people: one who was a successful poet, and one who was a crack addict. Now he believes his art and the connections it gives him to other people can help save his life.


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I believe that addiction can kill me, but that writing and performing will save me.


I am a poet and an actor. I am also a crack addict and an alcoholic, and that’s how a lot of people see me: a pipe head, a drunk, a problem, an epidemic, a disaster area.


I came to Washington, D.C., from El Salvador in 1980 at the age of 15. When I told my mom I wanted to be an actor, she said, “You mean a clown.” But I make a living — although meager — through my poetry and performances.


In the early ’80s, crack came to D.C. I saw my city change and me with it. Crack is a killer. Crack turns a ladybug in your house into a hungry rat. Crack transports you into paranoid obsession. You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. Your high lasts 10 to 15 seconds so you need to keep pumping your brain with this poison over and over again.


Mine has been a life of duality. I can function on drug street corners and at wine-sipping theater receptions. In 1995 I was part of a show at the Kennedy Center, but I was sneaking beers into my dressing room before the show and getting high after. I often feel a sense of pride when I put my book and loose poems in my bag before going to do a reading. And yet, I am also this other person — this shadow, this vampire.


I’ve just turned 41 and have finally realized that crack will kill me if I keep on shoving it up my brain. The alternative is death and I don’t want it. I want to get old.


About a year ago, I completed my third rehab. I decided that I would use writing and performing as a catapult for rebound. I decided to stand on stage and share stories from my notebooks that have born witness to my nightmare.


1992


I want to keep playing with verbs


Write letters to old friends


And ask them to keep writing


I want to hold on to the lives of consonants and vowels


In a world of zero tolerance, talking like this about my addiction — even saying it out loud on the radio — may mean artistic suicide. But by telling my story here and on stage, I will take my voice back. People will bear witness to my life. I believe that crack can kill me, but that in the end, that communication and direct human contact will save me.


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I believe that addiction can kill me, but that writing and performing will save me.
I am a poet and an actor. I am also a crack addict and an alcoholic, and that’s how a lot of people see me: a pipe head, a drunk, a problem, an epidemic, a disaster area.
I came to Washington, D.C., from El Salvador in 1980 at the age of 15. When I told my mom I wanted to be an actor, she said, “You mean a clown.” But I make a living — although meager — through my poetry and performances.
In the early ’80s, crack came to D.C. I saw my city change and me with it. Crack is a killer. Crack turns a ladybug in your house into a hungry rat. Crack transports you into paranoid obsession. You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. Your high lasts 10 to 15 seconds so you need to keep pumping your brain with this poison over and over again.
Mine has been a life of duality. I can function on drug street corners and at wine-sipping theater receptions. In 1995 I was part of a show at the Kennedy Center, but I was sneaking beers into my dressing room before the show and getting high after. I often feel a sense of pride when I put my book and loose poems in my bag before going to do a reading. And yet, I am also this other person — this shadow, this vampire.
I’ve just turned 41 and have finally realized that crack will kill me if I keep on shoving it up my brain. The alternative is death and I don’t want it. I want to get old.
About a year ago, I completed my third rehab. I decided that I would use writing and performing as a catapult for rebound. I decided to stand on stage and share stories from my notebooks that have born witness to my nightmare.
1992 I want to keep playing with verbs,Write letters to old friends,And ask them to keep writing,I want to hold on to the lives of consonants and vowels
In a world of zero tolerance, talking like this about my addiction — even saying it out loud on the radio — may mean artistic suicide. But by telling my story here and on stage, I will take my voice back. People will bear witness to my life. I believe that crack can kill me, but that in the end, that communication and direct human contact will save me.
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Homework

Belief is tied to identity, to the moments we must declare who we are and what we stand for. Quique Aviles, a poet, actor and community activist in Washington D. C. usually bases his performance on other people’s lives. But he came to realize he had another story to tell about himself. Aviles’ identity straddles two worlds, one public, one private; one dark and one light. To his belief, he hopes to leave the dark one behind.

I believe that addiction can kill me, but writing and performing will save me. I’m a poet and an actor. I’m also a crack addict and an alcoholic. And that’s how a lot of people see me, a pipe head, a drunk, a problem, an epidemic, a disaster area. I came to Washington D. C. from Salvador in 1980 at the age of 15. When I told my mom I wanted to be an actor, she said, “you mean a clown?” But I make a living, xx meager through my poetry and performance. In the early 1980s, cracking to D. C., I saw my CD change and me with it. Crack is a killer. Crack turns in a ladybug in your house into a hungry rat. Crack transports you into paranoid obsession. You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. Your high lasts 10 to 15 seconds so you need to keep pumping your brain with this poison over and over again. Mine has been a life of duality. I can function on drug street corners and at wine sipping xx receptions. In 1995, I was part of a show at the Kennedy Center. But I was sneaking beers into my dressing room before the show and getting high after. I often feel a sense of pride when I put my book and xx poems in my bag before I going to do a reading. And yet, I’m also a disordered person, the shadow, this vampire. I’ve just turned 41 and finally realized that crack will kill me if I keep xx it up my brain. The alternative is death. And I don’t want it. I want to get old. But a year ago, I completed my third rehab. I decided that I would use writing and performing as a kind of Xx rebound. I decided to stand on stage and share stories from my notebooks to have born witness to my nightmare 1992. I want to keep playing with verbs, write letters to old friends and asked them to keep on writing. I want to hold on to lives xx and xx. In a world of zero tolerance, talking like this about my addiction, even saying it aloud on the radio may mean artistic suicide. But by telling my story here and on stage, i will take my voice back. People will bear witness to my life. I believe that cracking kill me, but in the end, communication and direct human contact will save me.
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Homework

Belief is tied to identity, to the moments we must declare who we are and what we stand for. Quique Aviles, a poet, actor and community activist in Washington D. C. usually bases his performance on other people’s lives. But he came to realize he had another story to tell about himself. Aviles’ identity straddles two worlds, one public, one private; one dark and one light. To his belief, he hopes to leave the dark one behind.

I believe that addiction can kill me, but writing and performing will save me. I’m a poet and an actor. I’m also a crack addict and an alcoholic. And that’s how a lot of people see me, a pipe head, a drunk, a problem, an epidemic, a disaster area. I came to Washington D. C. from Salvador in 1980 at the age of 15. When I told my mom I wanted to be an actor, she said, “You mean a clown?” But I make a living, xx meager through my poetry and performance. In the early 1980s, cracking to D. C., I saw my CD change and me with it. Crack is a killer. Crack turns in a ladybug in your house into a hungry rat. Crack transports you into paranoid obsession. You don’t sleep. You don’t eat. Your high lasts 10 to 15 seconds so you need to keep pumping your brain with this poison over and over again. Mine has been a life of duality. I can function on drug street corners and at wine sipping threater receptions. In 1995, I was part of a show at the Kennedy Center. But I was sneaking beers into my dressing room before the show and getting high after. I often feel a sense of pride when I put my book and .... oein my bag before I going to do a reading. And yet, I’m also a disordered person, the shadow, this vampire. I’ve just turned 41 and finally realized that crack will kill me if I keep shoving it up my brain. The alternative is death. And I don’t want it. I want to get old. But a year ago, I completed my third rehab. I decided that I would use writing and performing as a kind of pullful rebound. I decided to stand on stage and share stories from my notebooks to have born witness to my nightmare 1992. I want to keep playing with verbs, write letters to old friends and asked them to keep on writing. I want to hold on to lives concenate and vows. In a world of zero tolerance, talking like this about my addiction, even saying it aloud on the radio may mean artistic suicide. But by telling my story here and on stage, i will take my voice back. People will bear witness to my life. I believe that cracking kill me, but in the end, communication and direct human contact will save me.
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Belief is tie to identity. To the moment, we must clear who we are and what we stand for.Quique Aviles was an poet actor and community activistor in Washington DC. Usually basis his performances on other people's lives. But he can't realize here is another story to tell about himself. Quique Aviles identity struggle to worlds. One public, one private. One dark, and one light. To his belief, he hopes to live the dark one behind.

I believe that addiction can kill me. But writing in a perform was saving me. I am a poet an actor. I must crack the addict and alcoholic. That's how a lot people see me, a piepip, a drunk, a problem and apedamic the disaster area. I came to Washington DC for Salvador in 1980's at age of 15. When I told my mum I want to be an actor, she said you mean clum. But I make a living, ... through my poetry and performances. In the early 80's, cracking to DC, I saw my city change and mean with it. Crack is a killer.  Crack turns a lady bugle in your house into hungry rat. Crack transport you into paranoia or obsession. You don't sleep. You don't eat. You highlights 10 to 15 seconds so you need to keep pumping you brain with poison over and over again. My has been the life to reality. I can funtion the drugs  corners in a white spin s* septions. In 1995, I was the part of show the candidate singer. But I was sneaking beer things to my dressing room before the show and getting high after. After feel  sense of pray when I put my book ... back before going to do a reading. I am also the sort of person, the shadow, this vampire. I am just turn 41 and finally realized that crack will kill me if I keep shoveling up my brain. Alternative is death. ... I want to get old. But * I complete my serve we have. I decided that we use writing performing we put * for rebound. I decided to stand on stage, and share stories from my notebooks have born witness my nightmare. 1992 I want to keep playing with verbs, writer letters to old friends and ask them to keep on writing. I want to hold on to the light consonants to the vowels. In the vowel of * tolerance, talking this about my addiction, even say it up loud in the radio may mean a artistic suicide. Bu by telling my story here and on stage, I would take my voice back. People will * witness to my life. I believe that crack can kill me. But in the end, communication and directive contact will save me.

[Homework]2016-06-08&06-17 找回迷失的自己

Belief is tied to identity till the moment we must to clear who we are and what we stand for. XXX is a poet actor and community activist in washton dc, usually bases his performances on other ppl's lifes. but he came to realize he has another story to tell about himself,XXX identity ``` two worlds, one public, one private, one dark, and one light. to his belief, he hopes to leave the dark one behind. i believe that addiction could kill me, but the writing, and performing will save me. i am a poet and an actor. i am also a crack addict and alcoholic, that is how a lot of ppl see me. a ```, a drunk,a problem, an epidemic, a disaster area. i came to washington dc from ``` in 1980 at the age of 15. when i told my mom i wanted to be an actor, she said you mean a clown? but i make a living, outdoor meager, through my poetry and performances.in the early 80's, ```to dc, i saw my city change, and me with it. crack is a killer. crack turns a ladybug in your house into a hungry rat. crack transport you into paranoid absession. you do not eat, you do not sleep, your high last 10-15 seconds, so need to keep pumping your brain with this poison over and over again. mine has been a life ```, i can function on drug street corners and at wine sipping theater reception. in 1995, i was part of show at the kennedy center, but i was sneaking beers into dressing room before the show and getting high after. i often feel a sense of pride, when i put my book and loose poems in my bag beofre going to do a reading. and yet, i am also this sort of person- the shadow the vampire. it turns 41, i finally realized the crack will kill me if i keep on ``` it up  my brain. the alternative is death. and i do not want it, i want to get old. about 1 year ago, i completed my ```, i decided that i would use writing and performing as a ``` of rebound. i decided to stand on stage and share stories from my notebooks that have born witness to my nighmare. 1992, i wanted to keep playing with ```writing letters to old friends, and asked them to keep on writing,i want to hold on the lives of consonants and vowls. in the world of zero tolerance, talking like this about my addiction, even saying it loud on the radio, may mean artistic suicide. but by telling my story here on stage, i will take my voice back, ppl will bear witness to my life. i believe that crack can kill me, but in the end, that communication and direct human contact will save me.

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