kick starting

So I was reading �??活�??�??/To Live again this afternoon. Those who know the book will realise soon just how little progress I've been making despite all the promises I made to myself to get back into the study over the summer holiday. Anyway, I got to this passage which reminded me of this excellent post at Paper Republic (if only I had the Paper Republicans translation skills) about the scatological nature of the Chinese sense of humour:

�??�?��?��?�??身份�??人�?�?��?�??�?�?�就�??个穷人�?�??�?�?�?��?��?�??�?边�??马桶�?�??�?�?�?�?��??似�??�??欢�?��??�?��??�?��??�?�??�?天�?��?�??�??�??�?��??�?�??�?��??�??饱�??�?�?�声�??�??�??�??�?��?�差�?�?�?走�?��?�?��?�?��??�??�??�??�??�?��??粪缸走�?��??

My dad was a man with high status, but when he took a shit he was like a poor man. He didn't like to take a shit on the bedpan beside the bed inside, like livestock he liked to go into the wilderness to shit. Every day when dusk came, my dad burped, a sound that was like a frog croaking, went outside, and slowly wandered towards the excrement vat at the village entrance.

What the hell is a 粪缸 in English, anyway? The word is descriptive enough, but I can't find an English word to match the image in my mind. Anyway, it continues:

走�?��?粪缸�??�?�?�?缸沿�??�?就�?��??踩�?�?�蹲�?��?�?��??�??�?�年纪大�?�?�?�?�?�??�??�?�?�?��?��?容�??�?�?��?��??�??们�?�家人�?��?�?��?��?�?��??�?��?��?��?��??�??

When he got to the excrement vat, he suspected the edge of the vat was dirty, so he lifted his feet, stepped up and squatted on the top. My dad was getting old, and the shit was getting old with him, it didn't come out too easily, at that time everybody in the family could all hear him at the village entrance crying out "Ow, ow".

�?��??年�?��??�?��?�?��?样�??�?�?�?��?�?��??�?�?�?�?��?�粪缸�?�?蹲就�?��??�??�?�?�两�?��?�就�??�?�?��?样�??�?��??�??�?��??欢�??�??天�?��?��?��?�?�?��?罩�?�?�??�?��?��??�??女�?��?��??�?��?�?�??�?�?常�?�?��??�?��??她�?��?��??�?�?�??�?��?�?年纪大�?�?蹲�?�粪缸�?�?��??�?�??�?��?�?��??就�?��?�?

�??�?��?��?你为�?�?�?��??�?�??

�??�?�说�?�??�?��?�?��??�??�??

My dad shat that way for dozens of years, even when he was into his sixties he could still squat on the excrement vat for ages, those two legs of his had the strength of birds' claws. My dad liked to watch the sky slowly darken, covering his land. When my daughter Fengxia was about three or four she would often run out to the village entrance to watch her granddad shit. My dad was getting old, after all, so squatting on the excrement vat his legs would tremble a little, and Fengxia would ask him:

"Granddad, why are you moving?"

My dad would answer: "It's the wind blowing me."

So there you go, another rough-arse translation, and, as always, constructive criticism is most welcome, but I think you've got an idea why reading �??活�??�??/To Live is a much more fun way to study than any textbook.