酷儿们

意外精彩的BBC纯独白剧集

没有背景音乐 没有场景画面 只有一个人坐在面前讲述

每集都只有十几分钟但却都是十分深入内心的故事 代入感强到可以让我缓半天 因此也花了将近半个月的时间去细细品味每一个故事

每位演员从神态到语调到肢体无不彰显细节

台本用词也很考究 常常让人停下回味或是查词典

从LGBT角度分析 剧中包含近代以来英国该群体外部生存环境改善的许多重要时间节点 在关注故事的同时也了解了人文历史 故事本身也都具有一定深度

个人来说真的太爱了 很英国 很BBC

最后为Fantopia字幕组打call 包含摘要式时间点相关背景介绍 以及地道双语字幕 剧末的滚动字幕也完全打动我

剧末滚动字幕（1）

剧末滚动字幕（2）

片尾钢琴曲也百听不厌 必须五星～

第1集（推荐度：4/5） “那一刻没有火车，没有部队，没有战争，只有他的嘴唇紧贴在我的手指上。” 因为Queers是一部同性恋去罪化50周年的献礼剧，所以我的预期是本剧会讲述大量压抑的、禁忌的、充满英伦风情的、刻骨铭心的、因为迫害而无疾而终的爱情故事。第一集简直是完美地贴合了这种预期。一场战争期间的爱情，没有表白，没有倾诉，没有爆发，没有结果，从头到尾只有英伦式的隐忍。令人完美联想到《莫里斯的情人》、《故园风雨后》等英伦经典，哀而不伤，如梦似幻。结尾处本卫肖流下一滴眼泪，并以上述这句话扔下高能煽情炸弹，于是我应声哭得稀里哗啦。 我以为这个剧就是这样了，我以为8集会是8个英伦悲剧爱情故事。然而，接着看下去，其实完全不是。 第2集（推荐度：5/5） “如果他们同意了，如果他们改到16岁，昨晚我就会直接回家了。” 故事的背景是1994年英国国会把同性性行为合法年龄从21岁下调到18岁（而异性性行为合法年龄是16岁）。一个17岁的同志少年参加了反对这一决策的示威活动，因此没能赶上回家的火车，于是他和一个在游行中认识的成年男人回家发生了性关系。 这个故事讲了一个微妙的主题：“禁忌”。禁忌来自于外界的长期压迫和歧视，但这种禁忌早已被酷儿们内化成了内心的压抑和矛盾。禁忌既给这位少年带来了喷薄的快感，又让他在快感之后全身心地担忧父母有没有在电视上看到自己。这个故事虽然很简单，传递的信息却很丰富，不仅是禁忌的正反两面，还有许多其他矛盾多面的东西：在这个少年身上，有对不公的义愤，但也有赤裸裸的软弱；有迷惘不知方向（他对示威活动的描述，虎头蛇尾，并且几乎走题），但也有坚定和此志不渝（他无数次提到了自己的基友Sean，相当高级的告白啊）；有羞涩胆怯不敢言说（小哥儿连三明治好不好吃都不敢直说，再三地掩饰和改口），却也有直抒心声的勇气。 酷儿们和我们每个人一样，是复杂和矛盾的，他们当然不可能全部是脸谱化的、如梦似幻的本卫肖（我是指本卫肖在第一集中演的那个角色）。 第3集（推荐度：5/5） “难道我的心血，就只能放在档案馆里面腐朽吗？” 我觉得这个故事的主题是stereotype。所谓stereotype，就是对一个人群的刻板的印象，外人非要把这个人群中的所有人都套到这个外人想象出来的框框里。比如在这个故事中，小哥吐槽了社会对酷儿人群的各种stereotype：酷儿就等于艾滋病，酷儿角色在艺术作品中撑不到第18页就一定会得病死掉，他们在等死的途中必须对政府满怀愤怒；酷儿就是年轻无辜苍白瘦弱的娘炮，他们一定滥交，一定在悲剧的爱情故事中黯然神伤。所以这位小哥的愿望，是接一个“正常”的酷儿角色，一个没有因为艾滋病死掉，就和其他普通角色一样有血有肉、有自己故事的酷儿角色。这让我想起了很多年之前看《蓝宇》，看完觉得无比失望。好无聊好俗套的爱情故事啊，这种故事不是可以发生在任何一对异性恋之间吗，同志的特点在哪里？何必拍一部和任何异性恋故事毫无区别的同志片呢？后来，似乎看到导演的访谈说，他就是想拍一个普通的爱情故事，这个故事里没有同志片“应该”要有的东西，比如被边缘化的身份。他只想拍一部会发生在任何两个情侣之间的爱情故事，因为他们想要的其实就这么简单，就是能像普通人一样生活和恋爱而已。 在本集的故事里，小哥对这种stereotype十足反感。他说不要你们假装关心我们，不要你们区别对待我们，我们得不得艾滋病跟你们没有一毛钱关系。但最后，他的男友真的得了艾滋病，他感到天崩地裂，因为他无法继续活在自己躲藏的假象里。原来酷儿群体中就是有很多人因为艾滋病死去，原来酷儿群体中就是有很多因为无法维持长期稳定关系而黯然神伤的爱情故事。那些stereotype虽然讨厌，却是部分真实的；主流社会给予酷儿群体的特殊关注虽然讨厌，但也有有理有据的真实关怀在里面。打破了这个魔咒以后，小哥从拒绝进行艾滋病测试，变成了定期检查；他从“我们过的超好，不要给我们廉价的同情”，变成了“其实我们过的并不好，你们根本不懂我们经历了些什么”。于是我们明白，小哥一开始的否认和拒绝既是他的反抗，也是他自欺欺人的逃避。甚至最后，他想象八十年代过去，艾滋病能被治愈，“同志等于艾滋病”的stereotype消失，他的感受竟然是：那我以前演的那些东西算什么，谁还会想看那些，我的心血就这样在档案馆里慢慢腐朽了吗？ Stereoptye是把双刃剑，区别对待的做法里事实上既有歧视也有关怀。而作为被stereptype的对象，实际上既痛恨被区别对待，又害怕真正地被无差别对待（因为那样便失去了关注和特权）。所以，在终于接到了一个和普通人一样会偷税漏税的“正常”酷儿角色以后，小哥最终的反应却是失望:因为那个角色真的太无聊了。这集说的东西还是挺深刻的。 第4集（推荐度：5/5） “我会想你的，Alice。” 我觉得这是全剧中最妙的一集。这个故事表现的是一个被歧视的少数族群和另一个被歧视的少数族群之间的微妙关系。男方是不敢出柜的酷儿，女方先是未婚先孕被社会唾弃的失足妇女，后来又成了身心俱疲、有苦说不出的同妻。这两个同样被歧视、被损害的人之间有同情和友谊，却也有冷酷的利用和赤裸裸的伤害。作为一个失足妇女，在教堂里不配和家人坐在一起，只有Micheal愿意陪她坐在后排，愿意给她讲笑话。我相信此时Micheal的行为不仅是为了骗婚，这些陪伴里有真正的同情和温柔，因为没有人比他更了解那种在日光下被耻辱炙烤的感觉有多么可怕。也正是出于对这种炙烤的恐惧，男方选择了骗婚，但不管怎么说，在女方的那段生命里，那些笑话和陪伴肯定让她的生活（暂时）变得容易忍受了许多。接下来，他们结了婚，男方的欺骗给女方带来了巨大的折磨，她开始觉得自己胖，觉得自己不值得被爱。发现真相以后Alice孤立无援，其他人的态度是“你装一下就好，你忍一下就好”，因为失足妇女和酷儿一样不值得被理解和尊重。丈夫提供你一个屋檐、一个姓氏已经是慈善行为，你还想怎样？我相信Michael懂得Alice的感受，因为在世人眼中他们的地位是一样的。所以在濒临分手的关头，Michael给了Alice性和一个孩子， 这不光是为了婚姻存续和自己的利益，我相信那个晚上他的安慰和同情是有几分真心的，但当然他的软弱和自私也是实实在在的。在此后的婚姻生活中，Alice给了Michael几乎母性的宽容和保护，那不光是对痛苦的无可奈何，她的豁达里有友谊和同情的光辉。然而，当同性恋终于去罪化的那一天到来，Alice的想法居然是：“你真的需要自由吗，体面、身份、家庭，你不是已经有了你所需要的一切吗？”。 也许任何理解终究是隔了一层的。在Alice和Michael之间，同情和奉献是真实的，但冷酷地为自己打算也是不可避免的。我们甚至还看到，同是被侮辱被损害地群体，在看到别人最终挣脱枷锁的时候，竟会隐隐地有嫉妒和恨（凭什么是你不是我，一起继续做奴隶才是合理的吧）。 “我会想你的，Alice。”这句话Michael说过两次。这是世界上最真挚的感情流露，却也是世界上最冷酷的谎言。 第5集（推荐度：3/5） .“我也想坠入某人的怀中，而不是落入某人的手中。” 第五集的主旨并不新鲜，还是倾诉同志群体的疾苦。但是本集妙在反其道而行之，不是让一个光正伟的形象如泣如诉地讲述自己的悲伤，而是由一个花里胡哨、老不正经的老基友大谈“我喜欢战争，我喜欢当男妓”云云。当然，这种设定的精髓便是99%的愤世嫉俗，加上最后1%的灵魂流露。“我也想坠入某人的怀中，而不是落入某人的手中。”谁不渴望安稳幸福，谁不渴望和心上人一起走在街上看看太阳？我们会被触动，是因为人同此心。这位老基友让我想起《越快乐越堕落》里的曾志伟，是那个角色第一次让我知道，酷儿们的世界里并不是只有年轻帅气的梁朝伟和张国荣。 第6集（推荐度：2/5） “有时候，只有放弃自己的诺言，才能让你活下来。” 本集是讲一个来自英属殖民地的有色人种同志少年在伦敦的冒险和挣扎。其实我觉得这个少年的挣扎很大程度上是他的肤色和故乡造成的，而与同志身份关系没有那么大。结尾处少年选择主动入伍保卫英国。以我在前英国殖民地生活的经历，殖民地人民（包括我自己）确实相当爱英国，这究竟是文化光辉、人性共鸣、板球和赛马的魔力、还是斯特哥尔摩综合症？这是一个见仁见智的问题。 第7集（推荐度：1/5） 这一集大约旨在把本剧覆盖群体进一步拓展至于lesbian和transgender。但是由于技术细节太过猎奇，我觉得更像一个十日谈故事。所以，本集无感。 第8集（推荐度：3/5） “你可以讲述你自己的故事，你可以主宰你自己的人生。” 完结篇当然要回归春晚模式。本集讲一对基友有情人终成眷属，在盛大的婚礼开始前其中一方准备婚礼致辞的情况。虽然剧本很老套，但是有笑有泪的丰富细节和演员的合格演绎成功hold住了全场。在新郎的这段独白中，有因为同志身份受到的欺负和凌辱，但也有善良的人们对他最温暖的包容和保护；有不安和惶恐，但也有勇气和希望；更有托身已得所的满足和幸福。虽然很春晚，但是在难忘今宵的歌曲中（并没有），我完全感受到了导演想要告诉我的：同志群体一步步走到今天的（相对）自由不容易，这里面有他们自己的抗争，有善良群众的包容，也有正直的政治人物的功劳（第4集的字幕里提到，1954年英国成立了一个委员会来研究同性恋问题。委员会的主席沃芬敦本身是反感同性恋的，但是经过长达3年的讨论质证以后，沃芬敦最后提交的报告是支持同性恋去罪化的。说实话，我很感动。） 最后，我想给本剧的所有演员手动点赞。站在墙壁前面独白20分钟还能抓住观众真的不是每个人都能完成的任务。你们的演技给了我感动和新知，谢谢你们（显然我还沉浸在春晚的气氛中不能自拔）。 最最后，我想说我很喜欢《禁色》中的一句歌词：“别怕，爱本是无罪。” 祝天下有情人终成眷属。

剧本来源：BBC官方网站 搬运/侵删

Queers. s01e01 Episode Script

The Man On the Platform

Douglas Fairbanks there thinks he's in with a chance.

A bit of company on a wet Friday night.

Except old Dougie doesn't have a cast in his eye and a built-up shoe.

At least, not last time I was at the flickers.

It's always the eyes.

That's how you know.

A glance held just that little bit too long, dragged off to one side, like the trail of a Very light in the dark.

After the do, the, um, interview .

.

the officer asks me, not unkindly, I must say, "So how do you chaps, "chaps like you and the captain, know one another?" So I told him.

Not my words, something somebody said to me once.

"A certain liquidity of the eye.

" That's how HE knew.

My eyes are bad, mind you.

Too bad for shooting Prussians at any rate, so I was shunted onto hospital work.

"Cushy", says Sam.

"That's a charabanc holiday, Perce.

"You always wanted to see France, didn't you?" I remember my first day in resus - the resuscitation tent.

That's where they take the dying or the nearly dying and the shocked ones.

There's heated beds to put some life back into them, and transfusions.

Our guns were going hell for leather.

The sky was all lit up - powdery, green.

Horrible green.

Like the air was sick.

Star shells, Verys, dumps going up.

And then the ambulances come in and we have to ferry them in, the ones that can't walk.

And they've got these labels on them that tell you what's wrong with them.

Like left luggage.

Have you ever carried a stretcher? Bloody horrible.

You feel like your arms are going to pop out of their sockets.

Some chaps can get very heavy.

Those that can walk into the hospital .

.

are covered in mud and salt sweat.

Caked in it.

All stiff and cracked, like moving statues, like those poor fuckers in Pompeii what got covered in lava.

I've seen photographs of them in the lending library.

And then, in the resus tent, a thing you'd never expect.

Silence.

Not a moan or a groan.

They're beyond all that, I suppose, most of them.

Smoking, breathing, just about.

Mind you, I've seen what a transfusion can do and it is a bloody miracle.

Lads with one foot in the grave and their pulses all thready, they have the transfusion, they're up, they're joking, they're having a smoke in a couple of hours.

I said to Captain Leslie, I said, "You wouldn't credit it, would you? "It's like It's like witchcraft.

" "Sounds about right", he says, "since we're in hell.

" But he says it with a smile and when he does that there's these creases in his cheeks like ripples in the sand.

"You're a credit to this unit, Percy", he says to me.

"You've all the tenderness of a woman.

" And he shakes my hand.

"It's Terrence," he says and I says, "What is?" He says, "Me.

"My name.

Terence Lesley.

"Do call me Terence.

"I can't bear all this formal rot.

" But he's an officer and it don't seem right, so, "I'll stick to Captain Leslie," I say, "if it's all the same.

" He just smiles again and shrugs.

And his eyelashes are long.

Long and blonde.

I can't see much of his hair cos it's under his cap, but then one day I'm bringing in a stretcher .

.

and he takes his hat off and, just like that, his hair tumbles out.

Yellow as corn.

And I must have stared because he grins at me and pushes his hair out of his eyes and says, "Come along, Perce, stir your stumps.

" But I don't move.

And just for a bit Well, like I say, held just a just a moment too long.

Douglas Fairbanks over there will give me a wink in a minute.

There you go.

HE SIGHS KNOWINGLY I've always been a skinny bugger, me.

Thin as a whip, Mother says.

Father was the same.

Mother always had a bit more beef on her after she had Albert and me, and there was one before us.

A boy.

But he died.

He was called Percy, an' all.

Poison berries.

Never think a thing like that can happen, but it does.

I can remember Mother showing me the pictures in the medicine book, all shiny and glossy pictures like Jesus in the book at Sunday School.

And little Percy had grabbed a handful of these berries and .

.

that was that.

Box, I think, the berries.

Black, like little bullets.

Like liquorice sweeties.

Maybe that's what little Percy thought they was.

Anyway, they done for him and then, a year or so after that, along comes I and they call me Percy, too.

A bit odd, some might say, a bit morbid, but Mother always said that she could see him in me.

And she looks so funny when she says that to me .

.

and she looks so sad.

But I don't think it's just because of little Percy because there was another time she looked at me the same way.

It was freezing, I remember that.

We was waiting for a train.

Dad had some business in Reading, I forget what it was.

We were to come with and make a day of it.

I was 15, thereabouts.

Albert was 12.

I'd been dispatched in search of tea and buns.

They all sat in the waiting room, steam coming off them like wet dogs.

Anyway, I'm on my way to the refreshments and there's a commotion, so I think, "Oh, the train must be coming in," so I say to the girl behind the tea stall, pretty girl I remember with bows in her hair, I ask her to get a shift on.

She says, "What's the hurry? The Reading train isn't in for another "quarter of an hour.

" So I think, "What's all the fuss about, then?" And then I see it ahead of me on the platform.

Policemen, at least I think they're policemen, but then I look properly and they're not, they're from the jail.

Dark uniforms, little hats with shiny brims.

And between them, well, aa prisoner .

.

waiting to be taken away, I suppose.

And it's not the first time I've seen as such.

I used to see them a lot, poor bastards, shuffling along in their chains and the arrows on their clothes.

And it's rough clobber, like to make you itch, worse than this.

So, "Why are all these folk whispering and pointing?" I wonder.

So I look at the chap in the chains and he's a big chap, sort of like a big bear of a fella.

With a big slack, pouchy face.

Fat-ish, except it's all sunk in now, and his hair, which was most likely black as your hat is now shot through with grey.

And he looks wretched.

As well he might.

There's rain dripping off his hair and down the creases in his big face.

And then I realise, it's not just rain, he's bloody crying.

And then he looks at me.

And there it was.

In that moment .

.

a certain liquidity of the eye.

And then he looks back down at his boots and it's as if the whole world has come tumbling down around him.

I stand there.

And I think, "He knows me.

"He knows me for what I am.

"He can see it in me.

" And I start to shake.

And it's not from the cold, it's shame.

And fear and .

.

terror.

And someone starts laughing.

And there's a little girl and she's wandered close to the prisoner.

She's got a little wooden horse on a dirty bit of string.

And then her mother goes up and drags the girl away from the man as if he were like to eat her up.

And then I hear it, a name.

Whispered behind fancy gloves and November hands what are stiff with cold.

"It's him, isn't it?" And suddenly Dad's beside me and he's gripping my arm and he says, "You all right, Perce?" And he's proper worried.

And there's a sort of ringing noise in my ear and I feel for a moment like I might faint, but then this chap goes straight up to the prisoner on the platform and he He spits in his face.

And Dad looked shocked.

And just then, the train comes puffing into the station, steam everywhere.

And I look back to the prisoner, but he's covered now in a great big cloud of steam.

Dad picks up the tea and the buns and he gets us into the carriage.

It smells of damp wool and musty, like church, and there's little beads of rain on the window, the open window.

And Mum pulls down the leather strap and the sound sort of .

.

snaps me out of it.

"What was all that fuss about there, Clem?" And Dad sups at his tea and it hangs in little drops from the ends of his Kitchener 'tashe.

"You won't believe it," he says.

"Out there on the platform, waiting to be taken to prison" "Who?" pipes up Albert.

And he looks at us and he shakes his head in wonder.

"Oscar Wilde!" he says.

And then Mum looks at me.

Tender, like I've never had the nerve.

That's the thing, I suppose.

A notion of getting in trouble or being a bother I could always imagine Mother's face if she found out I'd been up to things.

And I couldn't bear it, I couldn't bear to disappoint, so I didn't, I didn't do anything about it.

Not even a tuppeny wank with Sam or nothing.

I kept my own counsel, as they say.

Also, there was a girl who was sweet on me.

Annie.

And that sort of stopped people asking, I suppose.

We courted for a long while, but she got fed up because I never asked her to marry me.

I took on like Annie had broke my heart and then, what with one thing or another and then the war, it sort of, somehow, I got away with it.

A lot of questions, of course.

Especially when all us Tommies were billeted together for the first time.

"You married?" "No.

" "You got a girl?" "Well, I used to.

" And then one day, in Amiens, there was a sort of lull.

Hot as hell it was.

Not what you think.

People think of all that mud and rain, but we was there the live long year and sometimes it was hot and parched.

Fucking flies everywhere.

Blue and green bellies on them.

Fat.

Great clouds of them because of the dead bodies.

And Captain Leslie comes up to me and he slaps me on the shoulder and he says, "Come along, Perce, we're going hunting.

" And I say, "What?" He says, "Butterflies", because we're camped on this sort of downland.

And there's marigolds and poppies all over, little splashes of colour.

I can still taste the dust.

Chalky in your mouth and your hair and .

.

on the Dunlop tyres like white paint, because Terrence had only gone and got us bicycles, the silly bugger.

And it was only for a few hours but you could forget, you know, for a bit, everything that was going on.

And we came to this sort of lake.

It was a crater hole, I suppose, and the water was glass green and clear like a perfume bottle.

And Terence, he starts hollering and rattling the bike down to the water and he pulls off all his clothes and in he goes.

I follows, and then we go splashing about in our birthday suits.

And he's brick red from the sunshine, but not where his shirt's been, so he's got this sort of red face and arms, and the rest of him is He's like a ghost.

And after we've swum about, we just lie in the grass and fall asleep.

You can hear the buzz of the flies, but they are way off and some of the ones that are closer are butterflies, so that's all right, and I just .

.

lie there and I watch Terence sleeping and .

.

his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

And his hair is golden.

And the line of his jaw is just sort of .

.

perfect.

Like a draughtsman's drawn it.

Like I'd drawn it.

And his lips are dark and full and they're like bramble.

And all I want to do is bend down and And he opens his eyes .

.

and squints.

And he lifts his hand to cover them so he can see better.

And he says, "We'd best be getting back.

" We all had on us the stench of death.

The bread we ate, the stagnant water, everything we touched had a rotten smell.

But that day, everything was OK.

It was bright.

And it was pure, you see? And nobody had seen, had they? I've done my bit.

The officer mentioned that.

Exemplary service.

When he took me aside for a quiet word.

And of course, what had Terence and me What had the Captain and me .

.

got up to? Sweet FA.

But someone had seen us and .

.

they thought, "Hello, what's going on here?" And it's bad for morale and all of that, so I was to be sent elsewhere.

And, of course, I didn't get to see the Captain, did I? Because he'd been transferred, too.

I was packed onto this carriage .

.

sweat and tobacco smelling and fellas pushing up against you and shoving for room, and the train gives a great big lurch and then it starts off.

I just sit down on the floor and pull me cap over me eyes and drift off.

I don't know how much time has passed, but I wake up and it's dark outside.

And the train's pulling into a station and in the carriage it's just these little night lights on - bluey.

They make everyone look three-parts dead.

And the train pulls into the station and it's going slow, like, puffing, like some of them boys in the resus tent.

And then, I do see him.

Terence.

He's out the window, on the platform.

Grey coat, hair tucked under his cap, neat.

And he's talking to someone.

And they must have made him laugh cos there's those little lines in his cheeks again.

But he don't see me.

So I push through the carriage past the other fellas and it's not easy now cos most have dropped off and I trip over some poor bugger and he curses me, but I make it to the window and I pull down the sash .

.

and the air outside is warm.

And all I want to do is wave.

But, of course, what can I say? Um "So long, Captain Leslie?" "So long, Perce.

" But then he does see me.

He glances over, but he's still talking to his pal and just then the train lurches forward.

The brakes go on and the blue lights go out and just like that, pitch-black.

And all the other fellas in the carriage start groaning and someone says, "Oh, here we fucking go," but all I can feel is my heart beating and the air.

And the darkness pressing against the window and my hand gripping the window ledge.

And then someone takes my hand.

Someone outside on the platform.

And it's Terence.

And he takes my hand and he just .

.

lifts it to his lips and he kisses it.

There's no train then, there's no troops, there's no war.

There's just his bramble lips pressed against the tips of my fingers .

.

and all the hair on my neck goes up on end.

And then the train lurches forward and he's let go of my hand and all the blue lights go on, and Outside there's nothing but steam.

Steam and darkness.

Next Episode >

Queers. Episode Scripts | More Television Show Episode Scripts

酷儿们，第一集：站台上的人，一闪流光的眼神，隐秘而伟大的相识；第二集：伟大的一天，我们甚至不需要那一点看似宽容的让步，因为这一点宽容即是冒犯；第三集：多点愤怒，如果只是面对天灾而非人祸，那么愤怒应该会少点；第四集：想念爱丽丝，爱丽丝！你应该离开的……第五集：我想念战争，想念那场战争带来的某人；第六集：城市里最安全的地方，逃避一时，终需一战；第七集：完美绅士，快乐重要吗？自由才重要；第八集：借来之物，如果爱一定要拘泥于形式或某种结果，那不如还你。

写影像之书的初衷，想要活成每一人，每一物。

不能做到的话，就活成边缘人，少数人，非常人。这里说的非常人绝非贬义。事实上，每个人都是非常人，不是吗。无论我们是谁，无论我们爱的是谁。

这周本来想写圣罗兰，艺术家，时尚宠儿，数不清的灵感，很有得写。就在动笔前一刻，打开了17年的英剧《酷儿们》，然后就有了这一篇文章，很符合日落使我头皮痒的初心。我想，圣罗兰与他的先生也会很高兴看到这一篇文章的。不过，我也只能分享看完《酷儿们》的感受。说感同身受和完全理解，那肯定是糊弄人的。

酷儿们的伟大时刻，在时空中分散的，将在爱中凝结成火。

《站台上的人》

1917年，佩尔斯，士兵，一名瘦弱的同性恋。

记得我15岁的时候，在街上看到两名警察追捕疑犯。我走过去询问，他们抓的是谁？是奥斯卡·王尔德。

总是靠眼神，靠眼神就能知道。那一瞥延续了有点长，然后才转向另一侧，像是黑夜里划过一束光。

一瞬流光的眼神，就足够了。他，就是这样知道的。

我记得在复营——复苏营的第一天。寂静，难以忍受的寂静，只有伤员。

我对莱斯利上尉说，我说：“你不会相信的，是吧？”“听起来很好，”他说，“既然我们都在地狱里。”当他笑着的时候，脸颊上的皱纹就像沙漠里的涟漪。

“你让这个小队有了保障，佩尔斯”，他跟我说，“你有着女人一样的细心。”他突然握了我的手。“泰伦斯，”他说，我没反应过来：“什么？”他说，“我，“我的名字，泰伦斯•莱斯利，就叫我泰伦斯。”

“我还是叫你莱斯利上尉吧，”我说，“反正都是一样的。”他又微笑了接着耸了耸肩。他的睫毛很长。长，而且是金黄色。我不能看到他太多头发，因为他戴了帽子。但有一天，我正在搬着担架，看到他脱下帽子，他的头发就那样露出来，玉米一样的金黄色。我当时一定是盯着他的，因为他朝我咧嘴笑了，然后他拨开眼睛前的头发对我说：“快点，佩尔斯，赶紧跟上。”

但我没动，就一会儿……像我说的，就是，就是很长的一会儿。

我们躺在草地上，能听到苍蝇的嗡嗡声，但它们离得很远，离得近的是蝴蝶。他的喉结上下起伏，他的头发金灿灿的，他下巴的弧度简直是……完美 。他的唇色很深，嘴唇饱满，像黑莓一样，我想做的只是弯下腰……

那天，我们什么都没做。可是，还是有人看到了我们。他们想着，“哦，这儿有些什么？”这简直有伤风化之类的，所以我要被调到别处去了，哦，当然了，我没能见一面上尉， 因为他也被调走了。

有一天，我就坐在火车的地板上，用帽子遮住眼睛，迷迷糊糊地睡着。我不知道过去了多久，但当我醒来的时候外边是黑的。火车进站了。在车厢里只有夜灯零星的蓝光，让每个人都看起来像被截成了三段。突然，我看到了他，的的确确是他，

泰伦斯。

就在车窗外面，在站台上。灰色外套，头发收在帽子里，干干净净。他在跟某人说话，他们让他笑了，因为他的脸上又浮现出褶皱。但他没看到我。所以我挤过车厢，穿过人群，那并不简单，因为很多人都还没醒。我被某个家伙绊倒了他还骂我。但我走到了床边，拉下框格，窗外的空气很暖和。我想做的就只有挥手。

当然了，我还能说什么？

“再见，莱斯利上尉？”

“再见，佩尔斯。”

但之后他也看到我了，扫了一眼，但仍在和他的伙伴聊天。突然见，火车向前一抖。开始制动，蓝光熄灭了，一下子一片漆黑。整个车厢的人都开始抱怨，有人说：“他妈的灯又灭了。”

但我能感到的就只有心跳和空气，还有紧贴在车窗上的黑暗。我的手紧抓着窗台。然后有人握住我的手，窗户外面站台之上的某人，我知道，是泰伦斯。他握着我的手，抬到嘴唇边上，然后轻轻吻了一下。没有火车，没有军队，也没有战争。只有他黑莓般的嘴唇，紧贴在我的手指上。我脖子上的汗毛都竖起来了。然后火车又向前抖动了一下，他放开了我的手，所有的蓝色光又亮了起来。窗外只有蒸汽，蒸汽和黑暗。

《伟大的一天》

1994年，英国国会同意将同性恋合法年龄下调至18岁，双方同意的同性恋行为不算犯罪。

1994年，我，17岁，同性恋。今天，英国国会同意将同性恋合法年龄下调至18岁，双方同意的同性恋行为不算犯罪。

我不明白，18岁在这里有什么用？既然要撤罪，何不撤得更合理一点，我觉得定为16岁不是更好吗？算了不想了，至少比起过去，这也算是一种进步。你看，就在这间酒吧里，那里有一群同志们。我认出他们了，他们昨晚也去了议会，还投了反对票。我说拜托，哪一个同性恋会投反对票？我不敢相信他们认为自己是有罪的。

我也去议会了。感觉很奇怪，我以前总是一个人，不知道还有谁是......嗯，同性恋。而昨晚，有很多人，我们都很棒。我环顾四周，然后想：“这些都是好人。”然后想，他们当然会投对票，怎么不会呢，投错了又有什么意义

然后我看到了他，他也看到了我。他很可爱，我有点害羞，我跟他回了家，和他过了一夜。他说他是BBC的会计员。天哪，所以这真的是第一次，感觉做什么事都合法，和一个会计，我不知道自己在做什么，我还谎报了年龄说自己是18岁，但是他很好，很有耐心。

我确实是做了。

我在想：“现在来看看我在干嘛啊？”

我感觉真好。

《多点愤怒》

1987年，英政府开展“艾滋病：不要死于无知”活动，这是一个重大的公共信息宣传运动，给英国的每个家庭都发了一份关于艾滋病的传单，警告说，我们无法分辨出谁感染了这种病毒。

我，菲尔，男演员，同性恋。我在等待我的测试结果。我不会的，只是碰巧，我只是不小心染上。

在荧幕上，我演的也是同性恋，经常被屠杀，染病，锒铛入狱，父母抛弃我，让我找个好女孩结婚。总之，我不会有什么好下场。不夸张，这些事在现实中也经常发生。

那天，我认识了一个人，他叫西蒙。我原以为，爱情可有可无，床伴更加重要。

这是我的爱情魔咒，爱不了人。可是今天，它被打破了，我的魔咒。

我爱上了他，西蒙，像中了毒。我跟他回了家，他拥抱了我，告诉我他得了艾滋病。

“但是我把自己照顾得很好，你不用担心，你不会染上的。”

他对我说。

说实话，我当时害怕了。

我沉默了，逃走了，像个懦夫。

可是怎么办，西蒙打破了魔咒。

昨天，经纪人给我打电话让我去试镜，同性恋角色，克莱夫，没有生病。BBC的人说，不会生病，都写在合同里了，活的，和其他角色一样，有主线，只是从同性恋的角度。那就是进步了，不是吗。至少不是在棺材里演完整场戏。

后来我想起西蒙，幻想我们牵手去电影院，哦我现在可以扮演恋爱中的样子了 。

这几天，警察关闭了很多同性恋酒吧。他们戴着橡胶手套，说是为了躲避艾滋瘟疫。

我没想到会有一天，一个人只是由于爱上另一个人，就足够有罪了，甚至还是死罪。

许多我们爱的人死去了，剩下的人对这些事已经司空见惯，这世界太疯狂了。

他们说，同性恋等于艾滋病，我还需要更愤怒吗！

《想念爱丽丝》

1954年，英国成立了专门委员会研究应该如何处理“同性恋犯罪与卖淫”。1957年，英国政府报告提出“同性恋不是一种病”以及“任何成年人之间，在相互允许情况下，私下进行同性恋活动不应被认为是犯罪”

我，爱丽丝，两个孩子的母亲。

我和迈克尔是在在教堂里遇见的，只相识了两个月，我们就结婚了。

可我们从来没有亲密地过夜。

当我们有了自己的房子，他总是很晚回家，一直说工作很忙。

有一天，他带了一份礼物回家，这让我很担心。

我问他，是哪个女人给他的礼物。

“不是个女人，爱丽丝。”

我懂了，我的丈夫是同性恋。

我们没有离婚，就这样以夫妻的名义度过了10年，我们还有一个孩子。

事实上，我也没有地方可去。

今天，我在报纸上看到了这份报告，同性恋不再是犯罪。

我们手挽着手，去看了电影。回家的路上，我问他对这一报告有什么想法。

这倒不是出于担心，我只是好奇。他笑了笑，什么都没说。

然后，当我们看完电影，在回家的路上，他突然说：

“我会想念你的，爱丽丝。”

我曾试图结束我的存在，我很擅长自杀。在别人的故事中隐藏是很难过而恐怖的事。在决定这些事的时候，至少问问当事人，我们是否可以代他们说话。

所以，包括你在内，所有的酷儿们，请骄傲地说出自己的故事吧。

无论我们是谁，无论我们爱的人是谁。

我要说，我是常人，我要说，我是非常人，我要说，我是我性。

他性，它性，她性，一旦被察觉，都是一样的。

下个月的今天，5月17日，是“反对仇视同性恋、双性恋与变性者国际日”——国际不再恐同日。

不要讲什么黑白，这个世界是彩色的。