Chapter 12 11

------------------ 11 The vigilantes were gone, leaving me bewildered and helpless in this windowless hut in the YMCA.I'm still in my tattered underpants - it's certainly not a good look to testify in front of a group of dignified people, but they have a way of popping up at the most inopportune moment.Had I stayed in a decent hotel—even in my mother's apartment, despite the pink carpet and red and green plastic flowers and rooms decorated like a whorehouse—they might have let it go tonight I go.It was a lesson... I took a few steps around the house, walked into the hallway and headed for the men's room (as if there was a women's room.) lol.That's interesting, Mr. Nudelman.One minute you're crying and crying, and the next you're joking.

The bathroom is empty except for the dripping water - the long row of washbasins and urinals are ready to drain at any time like guardians eager to welcome guests.3:30 in the morning.Even voyeurs need a little sleep—or are busy making up bizarre stories about someone else's genitalia they spied yesterday. I bent over and stood in front of the enamel urinal, and the urine formed a long and beautiful golden arc. I am afraid that McDonald's will be ashamed of itself.I pulled the lever and watched drunkenly as the flush whirled into a whirlpool.Good American plumbing work, I shook my head admiringly.But I still have to get out of this damn place.If I continue to sleep here, I don't know what will happen in a while.I moved my head, I was so tired.Why do I always live in the dark, struggling in the cracks?Why live on the wrong side year after year?Right now, personally, family, and financially, all three are woefully intertwined, and what I need more than anything is a little joy in life.Happy things.No matter what kind.But I worry that even if I bump into it, if it grabs my balls, if it scratches my armpit, I might not recognize it.That's the fun.Actually everyone is talking about it, isn't it?Come to my house and let's do something fun.Man, did you have a good time last night?Haven't been this happy in years.From my personal life experience, I have not figured out what it is, although I know that everyone should have a little bit, and it is clear that no one needs a little bit of happiness more than my humble self.Happy things.It is as elusive as success.Another thing, as I retreated to the airtight hut, my bewildered mind was digging into new and profound things with a truly miraculous speed.If I have a pen, a piece of paper, a little patience, and a sickening amount of faith, I can create something very interesting.Why do you have to spend your time writing fiction?With the help of a collection of academic papers and philosophical articles, this stuff is likely to get me a Nobel Prize, and fun, and even - if I'm good at it - success will follow And to.Hi.All I had to do was write a bestseller, a short novel about a rainbow fish threatening a community.

I dressed, packed, and went downstairs—I said goodbye to that room forever, feeling better at once.I leaned in diagonally towards the booth and got through to Goobswell.ring tone.bell.bell. "Hello?" Viveka's voice, hoarse and half asleep. "It's me," I said happily, and I was instantly and miraculously revived by hearing her voice. "What's the matter?" she asked, a little confused. "It's okay, I'm fine." "But--" "Everything's fine. Really. Even kinda happy. I'll just tell you one thing and ask you one more thing."

"Huh?" she yawned. "I'm calling to tell you that I love you like crazy, like crazy, with all my heart." "At—at four o'clock in the morning?" "Don't make me explain." "I am very touched." "Nonsense." "Really. I was just half asleep. I was having a pretty happy dream when you woke me up." "What dream? Making love? Is there me?" "Yes and no." "Tell me about it." "No!" "Why are you always so mysterious? It's teasing but you don't say it. This is you, but it's business!"

"No." "I always hope that if you can record women's dreams, especially sexual dreams, you will be able to write a successful novel—don't worry about money." "What's the 'other thing' you're calling?" she asked me.She refused to take the bait. "Yes, there is one more thing. Please go and ask Magnus to see if he has left me a message?" "But he was sound asleep—" "Zhengxiang. I know. That's it. You don't have to wake him up. Just ask him if he left a message for his father tonight." Viveka reluctantly went to the child's room, and I waited patiently.

She chuckled and picked up the phone. "He had his eyes closed and he was smiling all over his face," she laughs, "and said 'children are slaves.'" "Excellent. Thanks, bye," I said and hung up, before the operator could ask me for an overtime fee. Yes.That's it.Children are slaves.Magnus' bedtime message to me last night was "We are savages".Where did a six-year-old come up with so many strange words?What the hell does he mean?Was he referring to the children or the family or humanity as a whole?Such profound truths, I wandered down Second Avenue in the clear air thinking about these things.The street is quiet, with the occasional taxi passing by.The night began to be transparent, so clear, even though the street lights were on, I could still see the stars winking at me from the cracks between the roofs of the tall buildings on both sides.

I looked at my watch. 4:10...well...if I happen to be in Bernie's office before lunch...come to think of it, eight full hours to do what I see fit, to think wildly.It seems... I can go to the zoo, but all the animals are still sleeping except the owl.And the bus terminal, the subway, the train station, the day and night food stores - you have to have something to eat in the last place, otherwise it will be difficult.What if Bernie treats me to a big meal--though he doesn't know yet--I don't want to spoil my appetite.Also, it is best to save a few steel coins. "You earn what you save." I convinced myself, while searching my wallet with my fingers, and rummaged in my pockets for any steel coins that fell out.Do the math... When I left home, I took all the money in the family with me, and only left Vivica 5 yuan for emergency money (in case a child got a sudden illness and needed to buy life-saving medicine).That is to say, when I went out, I had a total of 26 yuan, 4 cents and 3 cents on me.Paid 3.50 yuan to live in the YMCA (I know I will regret leaving in a hurry).Oh shit!If I hadn't gone to the YMCA, I would have probably paid a fortune for a good breakfast (although I know I wouldn't spend a dime as long as the money was safe in my pocket, damn me become a bitch). 8 cents and 5 cents for the phone bill... there should be 22 yuan left... 0... 8 cents. As I walked to the city and calculated, my mind was full of economic accounts, and I completely forgot about the surrounding environment.

22 yuan and 8 cents.The money used to buy a pack of cigars has now been upgraded to a week's worth of food.But what is there to be disappointed about?A blip at best, and maybe even Joe Paul Getty lived off counting pennies of fives-perhaps ones-in the early days of his career. 22 yuan and 8 cents - enough for our net expenses, if you don't count the huge amount of bills, debts and installments for buying a house.For the convenience of speaking, let's count him as 23 yuan.You know, Nudelman, on this day, someone would throw that much money at the doorman without lifting an eyelid.Or handing a $20 bill to a poor old guy with a soapy towel in the bathroom of a fancy nightclub.Either light a cigar with it, or even wipe your ass with it.At this time, you are counting your wealth penny by penny.Do you feel like a piece of shit because of it?not at all.This distress is only temporary.In the future, when I become rich one day, I will write about these days when pigs and dogs are not as good as they are full of nostalgia.Vivica and I will reminisce about "the hard times," as Pat and Richard Nixon often recall when he patched car tires at his dad's gas station and Pat was forced to work as a night barman .What the Nixons express in their memories is only the pain of difficult times, but I will stand at a certain height with an emotional smile and look back with nostalgia on the "meaningful" years. At that time, life was very simple and there was no need to worry about trivial things. Don't worry, let alone go to the market to search for tax-free government bonds, try to find ways to evade taxes, or take advantage of loopholes in current fiscal laws.

① Joe? Paul? Getty (1892-1976): American businessman. 22 yuan and 8 cents.Tell me, Bernie, if you come to the YMCA for a night and throw them $3.50, do you still think about it eight hours later? "3.5 yuan?" Bernie laughed. "You mean 350,000, don't you?" "Yes. Yes." I laughed too. "Of course. I got that hapless decimal point wrong. I used to be a mathematician, believe it or not, Bernie? Well, we're just missing a few digits, a few zeros between friends." What does a few zeros matter?" I scolded, then laughed wildly, and took out 21 yuan, 80 cents, and 5 cents from my pocket. "We're ignoring the number 23, Bernie. 23 thousand, of course. Where did they go? A hoax?" I muttered loudly past a cop who had been watching me a block away.How is this going.Had he never seen anyone talking to himself?Poor guy, he must have been on the street for the first time right out of police school.Keep him on the street for a fortnight and he'll have a good chat with his baton.

21 yuan, 80 cents and 5 cents.Another seven hours to kill.Bernie, today either you paid or I got scammed.Seven hours... no, six and a half hours... so fast... six hours left... I'm in a daze from lack of sleep, I don't know where to go, but I can realize that my feet are pulling me Taken to lower Manhattan, picking my way through the tangled feet of drunks dozing in storefronts, I haven't figured out my schedule for the day yet.Bowen Li ①.This is where my father brought me and my brother Walter to give us a realism education. "Look," said Pa, pointing to the sleepy drunks, "if you don't do your homework, this is what you'll end up with. Live in the slums!" This terrified Walter, scared him Work hard until you get into graduate school and get your doctorate.I got the opposite impression, that these snoring creatures would not have the stress and worry of my father.They don't pay rent, don't have to deal with their immediate superiors, can always sleep well, and - despite their poverty - don't have to toil 12 hours a day, four days a week, or suffer day and night from the fear that their printing company will break When will the machine be completely damaged.Oh shit!How am I always such a smart fool?Shouldn't I be terrified like Walter and go all the way to get my Ph.D.?As long as I have a little bit of fear, maybe I will succeed.Maybe even do a postdoc.Today would be as secure and rich as my scientist friends, but miserable.I was quite different, insecure, poor, but happy.Being poor is romantic, isn't it?Ah not bad.Those days without a penny were the happiest time for me and Vivica.We were genuinely in love while we were barely making ends meet.We are like a pair of pack bulls, carrying our burden together.Never speak angry words, never shed tears, persevere, have no regrets, be diligent and thrifty, and be kind to others.This is who we were then.Friendly, courteous, thoughtful, docile - everything a Boy Scout or a dog should be and we were.

①Bowenli: A street in New York, with many cheap hotels and low-grade bars. "Walk a little more, walk a few more streets." Two feet dragged me tirelessly along the east side of Chinatown, and the air was still filled with the smell of mushroom and spicy chicken from last night.Leaving Chinatown, wow, lo and behold, I looked up and suddenly saw a huge artwork woven with steel wire hanging from a stone tower. Brooklyn Bridge!As I raised my head to gaze at the familiar spectacular curve that plunged into the darkness suddenly, forgotten memories flooded my mind like a flood of opened gates.Brooklyn, I say, in this pre-dawn darkness it's like a lone car on a curving road, its red taillights fly across to the other bank, and the lights of Brooklyn on that side are alluring flickering like a picture of a whore. King County.It was here that I thrived as a promising 13-year-old black market veteran, illegally selling firecrackers while others were in the sought-after diamond and drug businesses.I was crafty back then, let me tell you.I started so brilliantly that I should have gone to Saigon or Beirut, or at least as an elevator inspector who got rich on ill-gotten fortunes. Yes.Brooklyn Bridge.The sleepy brain is still wandering.It's here that I often run back and forth between classrooms at the Brooklyn Tech School.People at school were busy making me an electronics amnesiac; I used to come to the bridge to clear my head so I could delve further into calculus, quantum mechanics, and field equations; I used to walk the sidewalks here, eating On this section of the bridge, I stare down at the dry sandwiches that my mother finished her mission, as the tugboats pulling the garbage boats cut through the oil slicks and floating garbage.autumn.winter.spring.In any case, it was better to linger here than to stay on the green-painted cement lawn of the technical school.That's right, the East River is like a big cesspool.But to me it smells of sea water, compared with the sweaty smell of thousands of tool-making engineers in the school building, which in those happy days was the Gillette razor blade factory.Razor blades!For the second time tonight, I counted, thinking as I climbed up the first long curved suspension cable, holding the bag in one hand to balance on the smooth wire.As a child I was as nimble as a goat that can climb mountains. It was still dark, and I climbed up with ease.Alternate lighting and shadows accompanied me upwards, and the suspension cable became steeper and steeper, and I climbed and climbed.stop for a while.catch my breath.The smell of seaweed and salt water mingled with the smell of foreign passenger ships and freighters in the air.up.up.up again.This is where I belong, I should sign up here instead of the YMCA, and save that precious $3.50.I unbuckled my belt, tied my bag around my waist, and started the real ascent, since this part of the cable is almost vertical.Brooklyn Bridge, I sang in a trance, more than a hundred meters below, a car bumped forward on the road.Further down, there was a tugboat sailing, it was as small as a toy boat, with faint lights on the bow and stern, and it was chugging along the ice-floating river.A cold wind blew across the water, and it whizzed through the suspension cables, stiffening my hair and turning me into an African Hottentot. "Uragula Nimbalumba," I whispered to the bridge, telling it that an old friend was climbing up. up.up.I climb like a limp cat on a cool steel cable.I am a jungle leopard, a lynx, and the last ape.what!Let the vigilante come here if they still want to have meetings.Let them find a place for their stately bent oak table, if they can. up.up.up.I continued to climb upwards, like Spider-Man, Batman, and Wonder Woman incarnate; like Captain Marvel, Superman, Rancher Ron, and Malcolm X. ①Look, Ma, it's me, your son, Reed Ryder, Roy Roger, Finney.Autry and Ronald Reagan, all in one quick and fearless man.Aren't you proud of me now?Dad, I never told you because I was sworn to secrecy, but the real reason I never got a Ph.D. was—you never knew—that in real life I was just a novice.I pretend to be a person with a good temper but not a strong business. In fact, I am busy as hell, busy saving people, busy helping girls struggling in pain, and busy rewriting vulgar pornographic novels. ① These people are supermen and heroes in cartoons or comics. Suddenly, before I could say "Shazaam", I stretched out and touched the stone wall parapet of the hanging tower, and at the same time found-as if it was made for me- There was a small recess, like a nest recessed into the wall, just big enough to hold a thin ape-man. ① Shazaam: Children's slang, used in spells when things suddenly appear or disappear. I climbed in to escape the wind, and sat down firmly between the two walls. I felt very warm here; no man's land, the end of the world.From my undiscovered vantage point, I could see the coast east of the city at a glance, distinguishing the lights of Manhattan, the lights of Williamsburg, and even the Queensborough Bridge.On the other side I could see Staten Island and the Verrazzano Fjords, and to the northwest it was still dark but starting to light up a bit.I bet I can see the cliffs of New Jersey.Xinlexi ②. ②Xinlexi: The protagonist’s joking name for New Jersey. I leaned back to light a cigar, looked at the scenery under my feet, and found that "Holy Lord's Temple" was marked on the roof not far away in dazzling large characters.I took a deep breath and thought, heaven on earth.In the dark, I watched the cigarette butt light up and go dark, I held it in my hand on impulse, and then threw it far into the night sky, as it tumbled and fell, all kinds of weird thoughts came into my mind, and the cigarette butt was about to fall And the wind blows it up... Dear Lord of heaven, I beg you, I have faith in this moment, let Bernie, my savior, let me go.If you just help me this time, I will never hit a child again, I will always stay sober, I will never flirt again, I will love others, and I will respect and cherish my neighbors.Thank you Lord, Amen. "Believe it or not, if God is in control of our lives," Viveka said last week, "then you, or us, must be doing something wrong." "God is a superstition," Leaf said, meaning that God was invented because people were afraid. "A lot of dead people live here," Magnus said with great insight.We passed a mile-long cemetery on our drive back to Goobsville. …For a few minutes, I dozed off and opened my eyes to the delight of a pale blue sky.An orange ribbon burns over Brooklyn.I was content, even smug.I felt the pulse of life, heard the alarm clocks all over the city go off like the continuous roar of cannons, and realized that millions of mumbled people were stretching and yawning like cozy little hamsters in a Turn over in a box.Sleepily they scratched their armpits, their bellies, their flaky hair. Another day. At 7:30, people left their homes and hurried on their way, and the cars on the bridge bumped and bumped all the way.From our rickety helicopter we could see all the motionless park paths, streets and alleys.The price of cabbage skyrocketed, resulting in severe gasoline shortages.Electricity is out because all the power companies in the city are on strike that is out of control.The mayor has gone crazy lately, walking around the house in socks and tennis shoes, and pulling out the few remaining hairs on his head.The government official had just appeared on TV declaring a state of emergency, a state of riot, and a state of solidarity with angry goldfish eyes.Things haven't improved as far as the weather is concerned.Forecasts call for poor visibility, low employment and low productivity.In the afternoon, the temperature will drop, the air pressure will drop, and people's backs will bend even more.Gale winds will blow from the east and hot air will come from the south.As for tomorrow, the weather forecast says there will be no problem, a policy of low pressure driving across the world will make our incomes lower and our lives more miserable in the near future. O New York, the kingdom of broken dreams and syphilis.On a morning like this one, the red sun rising from a line of brown smoke over eastern New Jersey almost makes you want to live here.Yes.Here it is.You belong here, on this bridge, where you direct traffic and create little chaos. Twelve years, why did I hide myself deep in the jungle of Goobsville like a monk?To act, this is not only Liv's strong desire but also my need.How could a man who had crossed the Atlantic Ocean, admired the naked breasts of dark-skinned girls, traveled on camels across several continents, roamed in Asia, and ventured in Africa, be willing to bury himself in the beautiful ancient Boswell?Goobsville.what!Do you want to know why?Because it's less normal than being gay.This time the vigilante will be right--give it to them, madder than--Oh Lord!Why do you think so!I patted my forehead.I'm a stupid, paltry ungrateful person, and vigilantes want to help me, and offer me a fruitful brainstorming solution to my problem on the tray.Not as crazy as a doorknob, not as crazy as—but, of course!This time the nose-pickers and beard-twisters inspired me: Further develop your insanity, they say.Be completely thorough.Announce to the world that you are crazy.Put a full-page ad in Time magazine if necessary, foaming at the mouth and lashing your ankles.Stick out your tongue like a midget.Roll your eyeballs to reveal white eyeballs as white as marble.awesome!Just like the real thing! "I need to find a phone quickly." I muttered, packed up my things and climbed up the steel cable again - the biting cold wind welcomes me... down.down.Downwards, I slid down cautiously. When I approached the road, the motorcade on the bridge was stopping and going. I finally jumped to the ground, and my feet were numb from the impact of the sudden landing.I jumped up from the ground, picked up my small bag and ran down the bridge until I reached a phone.If survival doesn't belong in the first aid program, what does? 411.Inquiry.I got this extraordinary number with lightning speed, my heart was beating violently, and my mind was thinking about the profound truths I realized from the simple reality.Although his fingers were frozen, he dialed the phone impatiently and with difficulty.What you put in is 10 points of steel, and what you get will be good luck. "Hello? Social Security for the Unemployed? I'm calling the family of a friend who just got schizophrenic. No, no. Friend. Yes. Nice guy, just less normal than a gay-" You know what I mean. Haha. Can you tell me what the conditions are for receiving the Incapacity Supplement?" Such a condition, I laughed.I folded my arms and happily waltzed down the streets of Lower Manhattan.My friend - the guy whose systems crashed - will fail a sanitation check in a dizzying color test.Simply put - in order for the same apparently troubled friend to be able to receive the grant - to be eligible for the grant he must have a doctor's note that he cannot Participate in work.Ha ha.If I know him well enough, I believe he would have preferred "longer time".Now that our friend knows about the "medical condition requirement for insurance," all that remains to do is to lock himself up in the Goobsville Psychiatric Asylum.Pure formalities.a piece of cake.Just look at him -- you don't even need to list ailments -- and they'll be on their knees begging him to accept a grant check.What did Freud say about the proximity of neurosis to a fertile imagination?I'm an amazing actor.For the only time in my life everything fits the bill. Social security system, I shook my head doubtfully.It is different from the social welfare system.For years I've been throwing money into the golden treasury.Today I just want to borrow a little of my money until things get better.How many years?Well, ten years.There's still three full hours until lunch with Uncle Bernie, but why should we fight over such little things as time?All in all, why has it become so virtuous?Other countries have very generous programs to help artists in need, but the only difference between our country and them is that our government "supports the arts" without realizing its charitable significance. It was full daylight, and on this colorful and joyful morning, I suddenly realized that now—this very moment—I was standing at a turning point in my life.Financial statistics are skyrocketing, and I'm personally very optimistic.In an instant I experienced a complete recovery of myself.I will no longer be forced to live a condescending life of pennies.I no longer live in low-end hotels because of financial constraints, go hungry, and live on relief from charity.Goodbye, pasta.You're welcome, mince pie.Every kid will have a new ten-speed bike.Vivica will revel in consumer art.As for myself, I'd just lean back - somewhere in sunny Ness or Kayniss - and watch the kids play in the waves.I'm going to be slathering on Juicy Sunscreen like the tanned person in the painting.My teeth will all be filled, my panties will be sewn together, and my heart disease and cancer will be cured.I shall live like a king, drink only the finest wines, sip aperitifs before meals, and wear handmade linen suits.It's all good, just ask Bernie to advance some of the money to keep me going until those checks come flooding in, and it doesn't take much to tide me over before the payroll rolls in.Pooh!I whistled, jumped up and kicked my heels, feeling like I was on top of the world.This time I will be rejuvenated and return to Goublesville with a new look.My luck is so thick that maybe the Soskies will open a can of peas full of botulism.Leave them to their own weekend meals.There are wonderful possibilities of non-specificity in this world, and of course anything can happen.