Chapter 33 33. Grim Wonderland (Rainy Washings, Taxi, Bob Dylan)

It's Sunday, it's raining again, and the 4 automatic dryers are packed to the brim.Colorful plastic bags and grocery bags hang separately from the dryer handle.There are 3 women in the drying room.One was a thirty-six or seven-year-old housewife, and the other two seemed to be girls from the dormitory of a nearby women's university.The housewife sat on the galvanized chair boredly, staring at the spinning laundry as if she were watching TV.Two female college students opened Tintin side by side.They glanced in my direction as I entered, then turned their attention to their laundry and their magazines.

I put the plastic bag of Deutsche Airlines on my knees, sat in the chair and waited for the number.The female college student has nothing else in her hands, and it seems that everything has been thrown into the drum of the dryer.In this way, if one of the 4 dryers is vacant, it must be me.I guess I won't have to wait too long, so I breathed a sigh of relief.To pass an hour watching the spinning laundry in such a place - the mere thought of it is depressing.I only have 24 hours left. I relax in a chair, staring blankly at a point in space.In the drying room, there is a strange smell mixed with the peculiar smell of clothes drying and the smell of washing powder.Two female college students beside me are talking about sweater patterns.Neither is pretty.Well-behaved girls don't read magazines in the drying room on Sunday afternoons.

Unexpectedly, the dryer can't stop.The "dryer spins semi-permanently while waiting" is one of the laws of the dryer own dryer.From the outside it looked like the laundry had been thoroughly dried, but it refused to stop.After waiting for 15 minutes, the drum still didn't stop.At this time, a slender young woman came in with a large paper bag, Stuff a large bag of baby diapers into the washing machine, open the bag of laundry detergent to sprinkle in, close the lid and drop coins into the machine.I originally wanted to close my eyes and doze off, but I was worried that the drum would stop spinning when I fell asleep and the clothes would be thrown in by someone who came after me.If that was the case, it would be a waste of time, so I had to pull myself together.

I can't help but regret: just bring a magazine.If you watch something, you won't be drowsy, and the time will be fleeting.But I can't figure out whether it's the right way to pass the time quickly.For me now, I should probably take my time slowly.But the question is, what's the point of spending time slowly in this drying room?I'm afraid it's nothing more than expanding consumption. Just thinking about the time gives me a headache.The existence of time is really too empty.However, once entities are embedded in the temporal framework, it is impossible to judge whether the derived things are time attributes or entity attributes.

I stopped thinking about the time and started thinking about what to do once I got out of the drying room.The first thing to do is to buy clothes, buy decent clothes.There is no time to modify the trousers, and the custom-made tweed suit that was decided underground is also difficult to realize.Although regrettable, but had to give up.Pants can be made do with shorts, just buy a light suit, shirt and tie.Also buy a raincoat.With it, it is no problem to go to restaurants anywhere.It takes about an hour and a half to buy all the clothes. Purchases close by 3:00.There is a 3 hour gap to the 6 o'clock appointment.

I started to think about the use of these 3 hours.No idea came to mind.Drowsiness and fatigue interfered with the flow of thought, and at a distance beyond my reach. I was clearing my mind a little bit when the tumbler of the dryer on the far right stopped spinning.After confirming that it was not an illusion of the eyes, I looked around: both the housewife and the female college student just cast a glance at the revolving drum, and sat still without any intention of leaning back from the chair.So I opened the lid of the dryer according to the rules of the drying room, stuffed the warm laundry lying on the bottom of the dryer into the shopping bag hanging on the door handle, and dumped the contents of my air bag empty.Then close the door and insert coins, and return to the seat.The hour hand points to 12:50.

The housewife and the female college student watched my every move quietly from behind, and then their eyes fell on the dryer drum where I had put the laundry, and then glanced at my face.I also raised my eyes to the tumbler that held the laundry I had brought.The fundamental problem is that the amount of laundry I put in is very small, and it's all women's outerwear and underwear, and it's all pink. In any case, it is too eye-catching.I was so irritable that I hung the plastic bag on the handle of the dryer and went to kill the 20 minutes elsewhere. The drizzle is as continuous as in the morning, as if hinting to the world that something is happening.I walked around the street with an umbrella.Passing through the quiet residential area is a road lined with shops.There's a barber shop, a bakery, a surf shop (I can't figure out why there are such shops in Setagaya), a cigarette shop, a bakery, a video rental shop, and a laundromat.A sign in front of the laundromat reads: 10% discount on rainy days.Why is washing things cheap in rainy days?I can not understand.Inside the laundromat, the bald-headed proprietor was pressing an iron on his shirts with a dejected expression.Thick ivy-like iron cords hung from the ceiling.The owner actually irons the clothes himself - the shop is obviously still old.I developed a good impression of the shopkeeper.If it is such a laundromat, it must not use a stapler to fix the clothing number on the shirt collar.I don't like it so much that I don't take the shirts to the laundromat.

In front of the laundry shop there is a bench-like wooden platform with several potted flowers on it.I looked at it carefully for a while, but none of the flowers was named famous.As for why I can't call out the nickname, I don't know why.Potted flowers are common varieties that can be seen everywhere. I think that if you are an authentic person, you should know them all.The raindrops falling from the eaves beat the black soil in the basin.While staring intently, I couldn't help being sad: I have lived in this world for 35 years, but I can't name a very common flower. As far as a laundry shop is concerned, I have made many new discoveries.Ignorance of flower names is one, and cheap laundry in the rain is another.Walking on the street almost every day, I didn't even notice the long bench in front of the laundry.

There is a snail crawling on the bench.Another new discovery for me.So far I have always thought that snails are only available during the rainy season.But if you think about it carefully, if the snail only appears in the rainy season, then where and what does it do in other seasons? I put the snails in October into the pots and put them on the green leaves.The snail swayed from side to side on the blade for a while, then settled down at an angle, and looked around motionlessly. Then I turned back to the cigarette shop and bought a box of Lark length filters and a lighter.Originally, I quit smoking 5 years ago, but I'm afraid it won't do any harm to smoke a pack or two on the last day of my life.I picked up a "Lark" in front of the cigarette shop and lit it with a lighter.I haven't smoked for a long time, and my lips felt an unexpected foreign body sensation. I slowly inhaled and exhaled slowly.

The fingertips of both hands were slightly numb, and my head was dizzy. Next, I went to the pastry shop and bought 4 pastries.Each one has a long list of French names on it, and after putting it in the box, I can't figure out what I bought.I forget all about French as soon as I get out of college.The clerks in the Western-style pastry shop are all tall girls like fir trees. The way the kimono obi is tied is really horrible. I have never met a girl who is tall and dexterous.But I don't know if this theory is universally applicable.It's just my own personal coincidence and I don't know.

The adjoining video rental store is a frequent haunt of mine.The owner and his wife are about the same age as me, and the wife is very beautiful.Walter Higgins' "The Boxer" was playing on a 27-inch TV screen outside the store.Charles plays boxer Bell and Gumz plays his manager.I went in and sat on the couch and watched the boxing to pass the time. Inside the counter, the owner's wife is on duty alone.Seeing her bored look, I advised her to eat a piece of pastry.She chose pear pie.I picked up a sandwich and ate it while watching Charles fight the bald man.Most of the audience thought that the big guy would win, but I watched it a few years ago and firmly believed that Charles would definitely win.After eating the pastry, I started smoking.Halfway through the suction, Charles completely knocked the opponent to the ground.After seeing it clearly, I left the sofa. "Take it easy for a while!" the wife advised. I said I would like to see it, but the laundry has already been put into the coin-operated automatic dryer, so I can't leave it alone.Looking at the watch, it was already 1:25.The dryer has long since stopped. "Oops!" I groaned. "It's okay, someone must take it out and put it in the bag, and no one will steal your underwear." "That's true." I replied dejectedly. "When you come next week, there will be three old Hitchcock films coming in." Walking out of the video rental store, I took the same route back to the drying room, but luckily there was no one there except my clothes lying on the bottom of the dryer waiting for my return. Only one of the 4 dryers was running.I put the clothes in a plastic bag and carried them back to my residence. The fat girl was sleeping soundly on my bed, maybe because she was sleeping so soundly, at first glance I thought she was dead.Close your ears and listen, still panting slightly.So I pulled my clothes out of my bag and put them next to my pillow, and put the pastry box by the bedside lamp.If the situation allowed, I really wanted to get into her and have a good sleep, but I couldn't. I went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, and suddenly remembered to pee.After using the toilet, I sat on the dining chair and looked around.But in the kitchen, there are faucets, gas water heaters, ventilation fans, gas stoves, pots and pots of various specifications, refrigerators, electric ovens, pantry cabinets, kitchen knives, large welded iron cans, electric rice cookers, coffee bean grinders, etc. And feet. The word "kitchen" is simple to say, but it is composed of various utensils and items.Between re-examining the kitchen in this way, I feel an inexplicable silence in the orderly composition of the world. The wife was still there when we moved into the apartment.It was 8 years ago.At that time, I often sat at this dining table and read alone until late at night.My wife sleeps so quietly that I often worry about her dying in bed.Even though I am not perfect, I still love her in my own way. Come to think of it, I've lived in this apartment for 8 years. 8 years ago my wife and cat lived in this room.The first to abandon me was my wife, followed by the cat.Now I'm leaving too.I smoked a cigarette using the coffee cup that had lost its tray as an ashtray, and drank another glass of water while pressing it.Why did you live in this kind of place for 8 years?I feel incredible.It wasn't particularly desirable, and the rent was definitely not cheap.The sun is too western, and the caretaker is not friendly.What's more, after moving in, life didn't become more beautiful, and the population also dropped sharply. But anyway, it's all coming to an end. Eternal life - I thought.Immortal. The doctor said that I will enter the kingdom of the undead.He said that the end of this world does not mean death, but a new transformation.There I will be myself and see again what has been lost or is being lost. Maybe it is.No, it can be said that it must be so.The old man knows everything.Since he said that it was a world of immortality, he was sure of immortality.However, the doctor's words still can't convince me.Those words are too abstract, too empty.Even now I fully feel that this is me.As for how immortals view their own immortality, this question is far beyond my poor imagination.If the appearance of unicorns and high walls is even more unimaginable, I am afraid that "The Adventures of Oz Country" is a little more realistic. What am I missing?I scratched my head and thought.Yes, I have lost many things.Listed in detail, it might be as thick as a book of university lecture notes.There are not only those who lost things that were not thought of at the time but regretted later, and the opposite situation.And it seems to continue to lose all kinds of people, things and feelings.There is a fated hole in the pocket of the overcoat that symbolizes my existence, and no needle or thread can close it.In this sense, even if someone opened the window of my room and stuck his head in and yelled at me "Your life is zero", I can't deny it, and there is no basis for denying it. But I seem to feel that even if I can start my life again, I am afraid I will still go back to my old age.Because that—the life that continues to be lost—is myself.I have no choice but to be myself.Even if more people abandon me, or I abandon more people, even if the colorful emotions, outstanding qualities and hopes for the future are restricted or disappear, I can only be myself, how can there be any other? ! When I was younger, I also imagined the possibility of being something other than myself.Even thought I could open a bar in Casablanca and meet Ingrid Bergman, or be realistic—actually, that’s another matter—living a useful life that fit my own self.For this reason, I also carried out self-transformation training. I read "Green Revolution" and "Light Cavalry" three times, but I still sailed back to the original place like a curved boat.This is me.I have nowhere to go by myself.I stay here by myself, always waiting for my return. Must one call it despair? I don't know.Perhaps despair.Turgenev might call it disillusionment, Dostoevsky might call it hell, Maugham might call it reality.But whatever anyone calls it, that's me. I can't imagine what the kingdom of the undead looks like.There, maybe I can really find everything I lost and establish a brand new self.Maybe someone clapped and someone blessed.May be happy to live a beneficial life that suits you.But no matter what, that is another self that has nothing to do with the present me.I am now who I am now.This is a historical fact that no one can shake. After thinking about it in this way, I finally came to the conclusion that I am afraid it is more logical to assume that I will die in a little more than 24 hours.And if you think that you are moving to the country of the immortal, things will inevitably end up as anticlimactic as in "Don Juan's Last Words". I'm going to die - I decided to let it be.This is far more in line with my personality.So the mood is somewhat cheerful. I put out my cigarette and went into the bedroom to look at the girl's sleeping face and make sure I had everything I needed in my trouser pocket.But when I think about it carefully, for me right now, there is almost nothing I need.What else do you need besides a wallet and a credit card?Room keys are useless.No calculator license needed, no manual needed, car already thrown away, no car keys needed.No knife needed, no zero coins needed.I took out all the coins in my trouser pocket and spread them on the table.I first came to Ginza by train, bought a shirt, tie, and light suit at "Pol Schwartz", and paid for it with a credit card.Put it on and stand in front of the mirror, the image is not bad.It's somewhat unsatisfactory that the line of the olive green shorts is dying, but it's impossible to be perfect.The combination of a navy blue flannel blazer and an orange shirt gave me the vibe of a young and promising employee in an advertising agency.At least not someone who has just crawled underground and will disappear from the world in 21 hours. When I straightened my posture, I found that the left sleeve of the light suit was 1.5 cm shorter than the right sleeve.To be precise, it's not that the sleeves are short, it's that my left arm is too long.I don't know why.I usually use my right arm and have no memory of using my left arm reluctantly.The clerk said that the sleeves could be repaired within two days, and advised me to give it a try.Of course I refused. "You play baseball or something?" the clerk asked, handing back his credit card. I said no baseball. "Most physical activity deforms the body," the clerk told me. "For suits, it's best to avoid overexercise and overeating." I thank you and walk out the door.It seems that the world is full of all kinds of laws.Indeed, there are new developments every step of the way. The rain is still falling.I stopped shopping for clothes, stopped looking for raincoats, and went into the beer hall to drink draft beer and eat raw oysters.For some reason, the beer hall plays Bruckner's symphony.Can't tell which symphony it is, and anyone generally can't tell the number of Bruckner's symphony.Anyway, it was the first time that Bruckner was put in a beer hall. Besides me, there were only two tables in the beer hall: a young man and a young man and a thin old man in a hat.The old man drank his beer with his hat on, while the young men and women just whispered, the beer barely moving.The beer house on a rainy afternoon is roughly like this. While listening to Bruckner, I squeezed lemon juice on the oysters and swallowed them clockwise.I drank a glass of beer.The hands of the huge clock in the brasserie were 5 minutes off from 3 o'clock.At the lower end of the clock dial, there are two lions standing facing each other, twisting their bodies and holding the needle core.Both are males with tails curled into a coat-like shape.After a while, Bruckner's long symphony ended and Ravel's Bolleiro was replaced. After asking for a second beer, I went to the toilet to pee again.No matter how much you wait to urinate, it won't end.I don't understand why I urinate so much.But anyway, there is no urgent matter, just let it pour out slowly.It is estimated that it takes about 2 minutes to urinate."Bolero" came one after another from behind.It's weird to urinate while listening to Ravel's Bolleiro, and feel like I'm going to urinate forever. Finished the long piss and felt as if I had been completely reborn into another person.I washed my hands, looked at my face in the deforming mirror, and returned to the table to drink beer.Wanting to smoke a cigarette, I realized that the box of "Lark" was forgotten in the apartment kitchen.So he called the male waiter, bought a box of "Seven Stars", and asked for matches. In this empty beer hall.Time seemed to have stopped.Actually still moving non-stop.The lion continues to rotate 180 degrees relative to each other, and the hour hand has advanced to the position of 3:10.I stared at the clock hands, rested my elbows on the table, drank beer and smoked "Seven Stars".No matter how you think about it, there is no point in staring at the hands of a clock to pass the time.But I can't think of a good alternative.Most of people's actions are based on the premise that they will still survive.If this premise is removed, there is not much left. I took out my wallet from my pocket and counted them one by one: 5 ten thousand yuan bills and several thousand yuan bills.In the other pocket, 20 million yuan bills were mixed with paper clips.In addition to cash, there is Amex and Visa.There are also two bank cash checks.I folded two cash checks in four and threw them in the ashtray, which was useless anyway.Indoor pool memberships, video rental store memberships, and coupons for coffee beans were also thrown away.After leaving the driver's license, the two old business cards were also thrown away.The ashtray is full of the wreckage of my life.That way, all you're left with is cash, credit cards, and a driver's license. When the hour hand reached 3:30, I leaned over and left my seat, paid and left the store.The rain had almost stopped while drinking beer, so I simply left the umbrella in the umbrella tube.The signs are good.After the rain, the sky is sunny and refreshed.After removing the umbrella, I suddenly felt relieved.I'd love to move somewhere else, preferably somewhere crowded.I watched the TV screens lined up with Arab tourists at the Sony Building for a while, then went down to the subway and bought a ticket for the Marunouchi Line to Shinjuku.As soon as I took my seat, I felt drowsy. When I opened my eyes, the train had already entered Shinjuku Station. When he walked out of the subway exit, he remembered the skull and the fuzzy calculated data kept in the luggage storage.Although the thing is useless by now, and I didn't bring the pick-up certificate, but I have nothing to do anyway, so I decided to take it out.I climbed the steps of the station, went to the window of the luggage storage area, and said that the pick-up voucher was lost. "Have you searched carefully?" the man in charge asked. I said it was hard to find. "how is it like?" "Blue sports bag with Nike logo." "What does the Nike logo look like?" I borrowed a sticky note and a pencil, and drew the Nike logo like a deformed curved flying target, and wrote NlKE on it.The male person in charge read it half-believingly, picked up the note, went to the shelf and turned around, and returned with my bag for a while. "this?" "Yes." I said. "Is there anything to prove your address and name?" I handed over my driver's license, and the man compared it with the sticker on the bag.Then I took off the sign and put it on the counter together with the ballpoint pen, asking me to sign it.I signed the tag, took the bag and said thank you. The things were brought out successfully, but the blue sports bag with the Nike logo didn't match my attire no matter what.It's impossible to go to dinner with a girl with a Nike gym bag.It's a good idea to buy a replacement bag.The problem is that only a large suitcase or bowling box will fit the skull.Suitcases are too heavy, and you'd be better off carrying this Nike bag than a bowling box. After thinking about it like this, I finally came to a conclusion: As far as the method is concerned, I'm afraid it's the most authentic and safest way to rent a car and throw this bag on the back seat.In this way, there is no need to worry about the trouble of carrying the bag for walking, and there is no need to worry about its harmony with the clothes.If possible, it is best to rent a European car with a sense of style.Not that I have a soft spot for European cars, but it was a rather special day in my life and it was better to ride in a car that was accordingly tasteful.Since I was born, I have never driven anything other than a "Volkswagen" or a domestic mini-car that was about to be scrapped. I went into the bar, borrowed a telephone directory organized by industry, marked the numbers of the four car rental agencies near Shinjuku Station with a ballpoint pen, and dialed the numbers one by one.None of the dealerships have European cars.On Sundays in this season, there are generally no cars left in the store, and besides, there are no imported cars at all.Among the four stores, two of them have no cars labeled "passenger cars" left at all.The other has a Honda Civic left.In the last room, there is a Kalina 1800GT double-row jet engine car and a Mark II.The woman at the service desk said that they were all new cars, and there were stereos in the cars.I didn't bother to call anymore and decided to rent the Kalina 1800GT twin jet.In fact, it doesn't matter what, I didn't have much interest in cars at first.I don't even know the style of the new Kalina 1800GT and Mark II. Next, I went to a record store and bought a few cassettes.There are Yoni Mattis's best selections, Arnold Belk's "Clean Night" conducted by Jabin, Kenny Baller's "Sunday Storm", Dick Allendo's "Everybody's Evil" London, Torreba Pinnock's Brandenburg Concerto and Bob Dylan's tapes including Like a Rolling Stone.This combination is solid It's messy, but it's just okay—I can't figure out what kind of music I want to listen to in the Carina 1800GT twin-jet engine car.In fact, after sitting in the car seat, what I want to hear may be James Taylor, maybe Verna Waltz, or "The Police", or maybe it's not known.Or don't want to hear anything at all.All in all unpredictable. I put 6 tapes in my bag, went to the rental car agency to see the car, handed over the driver's license and signed it.Compared with the commonly used cars, the driver's seat of the Kalina 1800GT double-row jet engine car is exactly the same as that on the spaceship.If someone who is used to riding in the 1800GT of this Carina goes to take my car, it is likely to be regarded as a shaft-style dwelling.I plugged a Bob Dylan tape into the stereo and listened to "Water Runs" as I took my time to confirm the switches on the dashboard one by one.Once you press the wrong switch while driving, it can be a big deal. I was checking the buttons one by one in the car. The kind young lady who received me came out of the office and came to the car and asked me what was wrong. advertising model.The teeth are white, the lipstick is a decent color, and the cheeks are not sagging. Nothing out of place, I said, just checking just in case. "Understood." After finishing speaking, she smiled again.Her smile reminds me of a girl in high school.That is a smart and neat girl.It is said that she later married a revolutionary activist whom she met in college, had two children, and then left the child behind and ran away. Now no one knows where she went.The smile of the girl at the rental car agency made me think of this high school classmate.Who would have predicted that this 17-year-old girl who liked J.D. Salincha and Harrison would go missing after giving birth to two children for revolutionary activists a few years later? "If everyone can drive carefully like this, we are really grateful." She said, "The computer-style control panel on the car these days is difficult for people who are not used to it." I nod.The one who is not used to it is not myself. "To find the answer to the square root of 185, which button should I press?" I asked. "I'm afraid it will be difficult to achieve my wish before the next new model appears." She replied with a smile. "Is this Bob Dylan?" "Yes." I replied.Bob Dylan was singing "All the way."Although 20 years have passed, a good song is still a good song. "Bob Dylan, you can hear it if you pay attention," she said. "Because the harmonica is worse than Steben Wonder?" she laughed.It's really nice to make her laugh.I can still make girls laugh too. "No, the voice is special." She said, "It's like a child standing at the window and watching the rain." "Well said," I said.Well said indeed.I have read several books about Bob Dylan, but I have never encountered such an appropriate expression.Concise and to the point.As I said this, a slight blush appeared on her face. "It's hard to say, it's just how it feels." "It's very difficult to put feelings into words," I said. "Everyone has feelings, but few people can express them accurately." "I really want to write a novel," she said. "You must be able to write a good work." "Thank you." "But it's rare for a girl as young as you to listen to Bob Dylan." "Love the old days. Bob Dylan, Beatles, Doaz, Buzz, Jimi Hendrix, etc." "I really want to talk to you slowly again." I said. She smiled sweetly, tilted her head and pondered.The girl with the quickest brain knows 300 ways to answer.Divorced 35-year-old men should also be treated equally.I thank you, and the car moves on.Bob Dylan started singing "Singing Memphis Again."I feel so much better after meeting her.The choice of the Kalina 1800GT twin-row jet engine car was not in vain. The electronic gauge on the dashboard reads 4:42.The sunless sky on the street is transitioning to dusk.I drove along the crowded road at a snail's pace towards where I lived.It was Sunday, coupled with the congestion, unfortunately, another small green racing car stuck headlong into the waist of an 8-ton truck carrying prefabricated concrete blocks, causing the traffic to be almost hopelessly paralyzed.The green racing car was seriously deformed, like someone accidentally sat on a deflated cardboard box.Several policemen in black raincoats surrounded the side, and the ambulance was connecting the hook on the back of the racing car. It took a long time to walk through the scene of the accident.There was still some time before the meeting, so I leisurely smoked a cigarette and continued to listen to Bob Dylan tapes.And ponder what it's like to be married to a revolutionary activist.Can revolutionary activists be viewed as a profession?To be precise, revolution is of course not a profession.But since politics can be a profession, revolution should also be a variant of it.I'm really not sure about this. Could it be that the husband came home from get off work to drink beer at the dinner table and talk about the progress of the revolution? Bob Dylan started singing "Like a Rolling Stone."So I stopped thinking about the revolution and hummed along to Bob Dylan. We shall all grow old, as sure as the rain.