Chapter 82 bar

The prosperity of Beijing's bar industry made me discover the landing of petty bourgeois sentiment.In Sanlitun, which is adjacent to the embassy district, there are dozens of bars dotted around. Although there are many foreigners with blond hair and blue eyes, most of the people who are obsessed with them and linger are my yellow-skinned compatriots. They, just like gradually accepting new things such as taxis, karaoke, disco, sauna, etc., immediately fell in love with the modern vocabulary of clubbing.The word "pao" is very classic, although the term "pick up" was also popular before - after all, they are all fashionable, and fashion as understood by the Chinese is still a synonym for fashion - and fashion needs to be like Just like catching a train.As a result, bars have sprung up in the college district of Haidian, as well as in the east, west, north, and south urban areas (to borrow a popular metaphor).Shengxiao every night, everywhere on the terrace.

What kind of magic does the bar have?What kind of mood do people enjoy in their goblets?I've thought about it and can't find a definite answer.Let's call it petit-bourgeois sentiment.Is not it?The illusion created by the otherworldly atmosphere of the bar is probably fulfilling the hazy little bourgeois complex in the hearts of these young men and women.Playing around, playing is the heartbeat, and the most interesting thing is the sentiment - the spirit is more durable than the material.It is precisely in the gameplay that the level of the level can be measured. I have no complaints about the bar itself.Even to put it harshly: the bars in Beijing are nothing special, they are just young people (or white-collar workers) from the third world who envy and deliberately imitate the lifestyle and consumption concepts of Western developed capitalist countries.What they are playing with like a treasure is just an old thing in other people's hands... I only pay attention to some cultural phenomena related to bars.This is what really makes me regret: Why did Chinese literati at the end of the twentieth century play with petty bourgeois sentiments?And if you don’t play it, it’s enough, but when you play it, it’s unstoppable, as Xu Zhimo chanted when he played "Flesh Paris" in the first half of this century: too thick to melt.The petit-bourgeois sentiment is actually a leftover that is too sweet and too greasy.If you eat too much, you will lose your appetite.

For example, Daxian, a Beijing poet, became obsessed with clubbing, and his poetic style changed drastically. He wrote nearly a hundred essays on the long streets and short lanes, plants and trees in Sanlitun bars. In addition to publishing "Notes on Sanlitun Bars" in many newspapers The column, this collection of essays called "One knife can't be broken" is actually published by the Writer's Publishing House, and it is said that the circulation is not low.I looked through it in admiration of the name of the Great Immortal, and found that it was just a series of romantic events one after another.Even if there are a lot of poets, they should not waste their talents casually.There is only one Li Bai who writes about wine most successfully in China.Daxian soaked in the bar, but became a frog at the bottom of the well.Putting on an upstart attitude and writing about wine can at best make a modern Liu Yong—drinking draft beer, without alcoholic strength.

For example, Qiu Huadong, the representative figure of New Citizen's novels, I always smell the smell of foreign wine when I read his novels.In his novels, he sits on a high swivel chair with his back against the bar counter countless times, ordering rows of wine bottles with foreign words floating like tadpoles in the wine cabinet, without feeling tired at all.Did he drink all the wine, or did he copy down all the labels?Even if an actor were to perform like this every day, it would be dull.Reading his novels is like visiting an exposition of foreign wine and various imported goods.He said again and again: "I'm still alive, sitting in the Sacred Heart bar night after night drinking ounce after ounce of this tequila spirit that brings endless happiness." Not drunk.If you are really drunk and write novels, it will be more memorable—at least, you will forget those weird wine names.Qiu Huadong's so-called new citizen novels are actually love letters to the comprador class, which can be simplified into a confession: "I love you, foreign goods!"

For another example, some rock bands or singers who seek to be in line with business or who can't stand loneliness have begun to enter bars to "sing" in order to "attract audiences"?I always find this a heart-wrenching "mark-down" (or downgrade) gesture.A bar with ambiguous lights is only suitable for playing classical music or pop songs; how can a narrow-minded stall accommodate the "steel beast" of rock and roll?Soaking in this petty bourgeois gentle and rich town for a long time will only hatch soft rock and roll: heavy metal becomes light and light, and human beings gradually lose the instinct to howl... You can never exchange a vocal cord for draft beer, this is not equivalent exchange.

For example, like rock and roll, poetry (the strongest voice in this literature) has also begun to use the bar table.The Huangtingzi Bar was first opened by a couple of poets, and it became famous for holding regular poetry readings - "Oriental Time and Space" also introduced it.Immediately ushered in the imitation of many bars - following Internet cafes, music bars, etc., the phenomenon of poetry bars appeared.Many literary events have been moved to the bar - between the two, I don't know who is arty?The poets read under the roof of the bar, with different levels of performance-after all, they are on the territory of other people (businessmen).Once, Yisha, the "Chinese descendant of the Howling School", came from Xi'an to recite at the Huangtingzi Bar in Beijing. His expression was very shy, and his voice did not dare to let go. , which was more or less beyond my expectation.The highest state of recitation should be carried out in the square like Mayakovsky.At least it should have the spirit of Ginsberg, "howling" in the stadium of 10,000 people.The times are different, and the poet's recitation can only be held alone in a small range of bars-like a memorial ceremony for the golden age that has passed away.After the recitation is over, the poets have to pay for wine and drink by themselves—just as most of them have to publish poetry collections at their own expense.Except for my colleagues, the audience here basically cannot understand Misty poetry.Yisha shouldn't come to such a kitschy venue, Wang Guozhen may be suitable.There is another reason why I am against the marriage of poetry and bars.Later, Haizi, a poet in Shanhaiguan, out of loneliness or seeking to communicate with the secular society, once entered a tavern in Changping, Beijing (the bar had not yet become a trend at that time), and discussed with the boss: "I am here to recite poems for everyone. I drink?" The boss laughed (I guess it was a sneer): "I can give you a drink—" He paused for a moment, "but don't read poems here!" This happened to other poets deeply. Hurt a piece of my heart as a poet.Perhaps their dialogues are more soul-stirring and lethal than any form of recitation (including Shakespeare's plays).In particular, this dialogue between the poet and the businessman is not choreographed, but the reaction and echo of two social concepts on two people.Since then, I personally refuse to read my works to unrelated audiences in bars or on any occasion.

In this era, there are still many cultural phenomena related to bars.I don't have a special liking for things with a petty bourgeois sentiment.I never expect that real literature can find real readers in the social class that pretends to be high-minded and arty.So I use the story of the bar to remind the Chinese literati at the end of the 20th century: Although this is an era of rapidly fissuring values, there is no need to deliberately cater to the aesthetic tastes of the petty bourgeoisie—their ears have been worn out by the romantic stories. .What they are happy to buy are always those well-behaved pets-as if they themselves are the new favorites of society.No matter whether it is literature or art, one is either a complete commoner or a complete aristocrat, there is no third way.Even if it is made into an idol appreciated by the petty bourgeoisie, it will be neither fish nor fowl.What is an example?Wang Guozhen's poems and Yu Qiuyu's prose are the products of petty bourgeois sentiments, which are most suitable for readers with a middle education level.They're bestsellers, but they're also perishable.Since the time of Lu Xun, the real literati in China have struggled with this kind of exaggerated, fake, and pale aesthetic taste for more than half a century.For example, Lu Xun slammed Liang Shiqiu as "...the lackey of the ruined capitalists", and in it alluded to Xu Zhimo as the "thin poet" who complained under the flower tree.Literati can be thin, but not without bones; they can be emaciated, but not without calcium and blood.The same is true of literature.Surrounded by the indissoluble fat and powder, literature will be suffocated—it is better to simply accept the edification and test of the smell of fireworks in the world.Even a little bit more turbid, wild, gangster, or rustic is better than that kind of man-made handsomeness-after all, literature should be a career that is far away from fashion and fashion.