Chapter 2 one of the notes

I have lived a life of shame. For me, the so-called human life is elusive.Because I was born in the countryside of Northeast China, the first time I saw a train was when I grew up.I climbed up and down the overpass at the railway station, completely unaware that the overpass was erected to facilitate people to cross the railway tracks. On the contrary, I thought that its complex structure was just to make the station into a fun and fashionable foreign playground. facility.I have been thinking this way for a long time.Going up and down the overpass seems to me rather an otherworldly playful game, and I even consider it the most understanding of the services of the railways.Later, when I found out that it was just a very practical ladder erected for the convenience of passengers crossing the railway tracks, I couldn't help being very disappointed.

In addition, when I was a child, when I saw the subway in a small book, I also thought that its design was not out of practical needs, but because of another more fun purpose: that is, instead of taking a vehicle on the ground, it is more fun to ride. The underground vehicles are even more ingenious and interesting. Since childhood, I have been sickly and often bedridden.I always lay there and think: These sheets, pillowcases, quilt covers, all boring decorations.It wasn't until I was about 20 years old that I suddenly realized that they were just practical things.So I can't help feeling dejected at human thriftiness.

Also, I don't know what it's like to be hungry.This is not intentional to show off that he grew up in a wealthy family with no worries about food and clothing.I'm not saying that in that silly shallow sense, it's just that I really don't know anything about what it feels like to be "hungry".Maybe it's a little strange for me to say this, but even if my stomach is empty, I really don't notice it.When I was in elementary and middle school, once I came home from school, people around me would say, "Oh, I must be hungry. We've all had similar experiences. Come home from school." That kind of hunger is really killing people. How about some sweet natto? There are cakes and bread at home.” And I only cared about giving play to my innate pleasing disposition while murmuring “ I'm hungry, I'm hungry" while stuffing ten grains of sweet natto into his mouth.Because of this, I have no idea what the so-called "hunger pang" feels like.

Of course, I also ate a lot, but I don't remember a single time when I was hungry.I eat things that look exotic, things that look luxurious.And when I go to other people's houses, I will swallow the food served by the host even if it is difficult.In my opinion as a child, nothing was more painful than eating at home. At my home in the countryside, when dining, there are about ten members of the whole family, and everyone sits in two rows.As the youngest child, of course I sat in the farthest seat.The dining room was a little dark, and when I was having lunch, I saw a dozen people chewing rice in silence, and that scene always made me shudder.In addition, this is an old-fashioned old-fashioned family, so the dishes served on the table are almost the same every time. It is impossible to expect any rare delicacies or luxurious seafood, so that I am full of fear of the meal time.I sat on the end mat in that dark room, shivering with cold.I forcefully stuffed the food into my mouth bit by bit, and kept thinking: "Why do people eat three meals a day? Everyone eats with a serious face, and it seems to be a kind of ritual. The whole family eats three meals a day. Meals, gathered in a dark room within the specified time, sitting side by side in an orderly manner, no matter whether you have an appetite or not, you have to chew silently, while bending your body and burying your head, like It's like praying to the gods who live in the house."

"If you don't eat, you'll starve to death" sounded like a nasty threat to my ears.This kind of superstition (even today, I still think it is a superstition) has always brought me anxiety and fear. "Because people starve to death if they don't eat, they have to work and they have to eat"—in my opinion, there is no more obscure and threatening statement than this sentence. In short, it means that I am still baffled by the business of human beings.My view of happiness is completely incompatible with that of everyone in the world, which makes me deeply disturbed, and because of this anxiety, I toss and turn every night, moan endlessly, and even go crazy.Am I happy?To be honest, although I have been called a happy person since I was a child, I always fall into a state of mind in hell, and think that those who say I am happy are much happier than me. It cannot be compared with them.

I even think that I am burdened with ten disasters, and even if I entrust any one of them to others, it will kill him. I can't figure it out anyway.The nature and extent of other people's troubles are mysteries beyond my grasp.The distress of practicality, the distress that can be wiped out simply by eating, perhaps this is the most intense pain, and it is the Avici Hell that is tragic enough to make the ten disasters I listed seem insignificant.But I don't know anything about it.Despite this, they are able to avoid suicide, avoid madness, talk about politics, and continue to struggle with life without despair and perseverance.Aren't they painless?They make themselves a complete egoist, and take everything for granted. When did they ever doubt themselves?In this way, isn't it very relaxing?However, the so-called people are not all so, and lead to meet?I really don't get it...maybe a good night's sleep leads to a refreshed morning?What did they dream about at night?What are they thinking about while walking slowly?Is it money?It can't be just that, right?Although I have heard that "man lives to eat", I have never heard of "man lives for money".No, maybe... no, I can't get the hang of even that. ...The more I think about it, the more confused I become, and the final result is to be firmly grasped by the anxiety and fear of "I am the only one who is different".I can't talk to people, what to say, how to say, I don't know.

Here, I thought of a trick, which is to play funny characters to make people laugh. This is my last courtship to man.Although I am full of fear of humans, I can't give up on humans.Moreover, I rely on the thin thread of laughter to maintain a trace of connection with human beings.On the surface I keep putting on a smile, but in my heart I am serving human beings desperately, sweating profusely. Since I was a child, I have never known what my family thinks about every day and how they struggle to survive.I was just so terrified of the septum that I couldn't stand it, so I had to play a funny role to make me laugh.That is to say, I have become a child who does not tell the truth to please and behave without knowing it.

Just take a look at the photos I took with my family at that time, and you will find that everyone else has a serious face, but I am the only one who always tilts his head and laughs inexplicably.In fact, this is also my childish and pathetic way of laughing. Also, no matter what my family members say to me, I never talk back.Their reproaches in a few words seemed to me like a bolt from the blue, driving me almost crazy. How can we talk about arguing with reason?I even think that those blaming words are the "truth" of the world that will never change. It's just that I don't have the strength to practice that "truth", so I can't get along with people.Because of this, I can neither fight nor justify myself.Once someone speaks ill of me, I feel that I have misunderstood the meaning of others, and I can only bear the attack silently, but I feel a kind of frenzied fear when I am introverted.

No matter who you are, if you are condemned or scolded by others, you will not feel happy.But I found in people's angry faces a more terrifying animal nature than lions, crocodiles, and giant dragons.Usually they always hide this animal nature, but once they meet a certain opportunity, they will be like those gentle cows resting on the grass, suddenly flicking their tails and killing the gadfly on their belly, revealing their human nature. this nature.Seeing this scene, I can't help but feel horrified.But once I think that this nature is also one of the qualifications for human beings to survive, I can only feel sincere despair for myself.

I have always been afraid of human beings, and trembling because of this fear, and I have no confidence in the words and deeds of myself as a member of human beings, so I have to hide the troubles of being alone in a small box in my chest, and put my mental depression and Allergies shuts himself up, pretends to be an innocent and optimistic appearance, and turns himself into a funny and funny freak step by step. Anything goes, as long as it makes them laugh.That way, even if I'm outside of what they call "life," I won't attract their attention.All in all, don't obstruct their view.I am "nothing", I am "wind", I am "empty".Thoughts like these piled up unabated, and I could only amuse my family members with funny performances, and even desperately provided the service of funny clowns in front of the servants and maids who were more incomprehensible and terrifying than the family members.

In summer, I actually put on a bright red sweater over my bathrobe and walked up and down the corridor, making my family laugh, even my stern elder brother couldn't help laughing: "Hey, Ah Ye, that kind of dress is inappropriate!" His tone was full of infinite love and compassion.Yeah, no matter what, I'm not one of those weirdos who don't know the weather and run around wrapped in a sweater on a hot day.In fact, I wrapped my sister's leggings around my arms, leaving them protruding from the cuffs of the bathrobe, so that others could see that I was wearing a sweater. My father had a lot of business in Tokyo, so he bought a villa in Sakuragicho, Ueno, and spent most of the month there.When I return home, I always bring back a lot of gifts for the people in the family, even relatives and cousins.This seems to be a big hobby of my father.One time, on the eve of going to Beijing, the father called the children into the living room, asked each child with a smile what gift he should bring when he came back next time, and wrote the answers of the children in the notepad one by one. superior.It is still very rare for a father to be so affectionate to his children. "Where's Ye Zang?" When asked by my father, I was immediately speechless. Once someone asks me what I want, I don't want anything at that moment.Whatever it is, there can't be anything that makes me happy—the thought suddenly crossed my mind.At the same time, as long as it is something that others give me, no matter how unsuitable it is to my taste, I cannot refuse it.I can’t say I hate things that I hate, but the same is true for things I like. It’s like stealing with fear. I just chew a bitter taste and struggle with indescribable fear.In short, I don't even have the strength to choose between liking and loathing.It seemed to me, years later, that this character was an important factor in what I myself called a "career of disgrace." Seeing that I was silent and shy, my father had an unhappy look on his face and said: "Do you still want a book?... In the shopping street in Asakusa, there is a kind of lion for sale, which is the kind of lion dance performed in the first month. Regardless of the size, it is suitable for children to wear on their bodies. You don’t want to Want a mother?" Once people ask me "Don't you want it?" I'm at the end of my wits, and I can no longer give a funny answer or anything.The amusing buffoon is by now a vain name. "It's better to book." The eldest brother said with a serious expression. "Really?" Father looked disappointed, and closed the notepad with a "snap" without even writing it down. What a miserable failure!I actually annoyed my father.The father's revenge must have been terrible.If you don't think of a way right now, isn't it irreversible?That night, I lay in bed shivering and thinking, then I tiptoed up and walked to the living room.I came to the table where my father put the notepad just now, opened the drawer, took out the notepad, flipped it open, found the page where the gift was recorded, wrote "lion dance" with a pencil, and then went back to sleep.For the lion in the lion dance, I can't bring up the slightest desire, but I would rather say that the book is better.But I realized that my father deliberately gave me that kind of lion. In order to cater to my father's will and regain his favor, I dared to take risks late at night and slipped into the living room quietly. Sure enough, my unorthodox means had the expected resounding success.Soon, my father returned from Tokyo.I heard the father say loudly to the mother in the child's room: "In the toy shop of the store, I opened the notepad and saw, hey, it said "lion dance". That's not my handwriting. Then who wrote it? I thought about it, and finally guessed Come out. It turned out to be a prank by that kid Ye Zang. This kid, when I asked him, he just kept laughing and kept silent, but afterwards he wanted the lion so badly. What a strange child. Pretend to know nothing, but write it down sternly. If you really want it so much, just tell me? So, I couldn’t bear it in the toy store. Stop laughing. Quickly call Ye Zang to me." I summoned the servants and maids into the room, and let one of the servants play wildly on the keys of the piano (although this is the remote country, this house is equipped with almost all the furniture).Along with the messy tune, I danced an Indian dance for them to watch, which made everyone laugh.The second brother turned on the spotlight and took pictures of my Indian dance.When the photo was developed, I saw a small sparrow from the seam of my loincloth (the loincloth was just a piece of calico furoshih).Immediately, this caused the whole hall to burst into laughter.Perhaps this can also be called an outside success. Every month I ordered no less than ten new juvenile magazines, and in addition, I also mail-ordered various books from Tokyo and read them silently.So, I am quite familiar with Dr. Mechalakchara and Dr. Namonja.And he is also quite proficient in ghost stories, storytelling, comic dialogue, and Edo jokes.As a result, I was often able to tell hilarious jokes with a serious face that made my family laugh. However, woohoo, school! At school I also began to be respected by everyone. The very idea of ​​being "respected" terrifies me.I have defined the state of being respectable as follows: to deceive others with near perfection, and then to be found out by some all-wise and all-powerful being, and finally exposed, forced to make a public fool, so that it is more embarrassing than death. embarrassment.Even if the respect of others has been earned by deceit, there is no doubt that someone knows the truth of it.Soon, that person must tell others.What about the anger and revenge when people find out they've been duped?Even a little imagination can't help but make the hair stand on end. I was popular at school not so much because I was born into a wealthy family, but because I benefited from what is called "smartness", as the saying goes.I was weak and sick since I was a child, and I often took a month or two out of school, and even stayed in bed for a school year.Even so, I dragged myself to school in a rickshaw, still recovering from a serious illness, and took the exam at the end of the school year. Little did I know that I outperformed everyone in my class.Even when I was in good health, I didn't work hard. Even if I went to school, I just kept drawing cartoons during the get out of class time, and then showed them to the students in the class during the break, and explained them to them. Make them laugh out loud.In the composition class, I tried to write some funny stories, even if I was reminded by the teacher, I still wrote them correctly.Because I know that the teacher is secretly enjoying reading my funny stories.One day, as usual, I described a certain embarrassing experience of mine in a particularly bleak tone.That was on my way to Tokyo with my mother, and I used the spittoon on the aisle of the train carriage as a urinal and urinated in it (in fact, when I went to Tokyo, I didn’t know that it was a spittoon. Ugly, but deliberately doing this to show off the innocence and ignorance of children).I am convinced that such a way of writing will definitely make the teacher laugh.So I quietly followed behind the teacher who was walking towards the teachers' lounge.I saw that as soon as the teacher came out of the classroom, he picked out my composition from the compositions of the classmates in the class, and started to read it while walking through the corridor.He secretly smiled "chichi", and soon walked into the teachers' lounge.Maybe he had already finished reading it, but he blushed and laughed loudly, urging other teachers to read it immediately.Seeing this situation, I couldn't help being satisfied. Mischievous pranks. I've managed to get people to see this as "just a naughty prank".I managed to escape from respectable fear.All the subjects on the report card are 10 points, only the conduct is either 7 points or 6 points, which has become one of the jokes in the family. In fact, I'm essentially the antithesis of that kind of mischievousness.At that time, I was instigated by servants and maids to do deplorable deeds.To this day I think that to do that to a child is undoubtedly the ugliest and most despicable crime that can be committed by a human being.But I endured it all the same, and had the feeling that I had discovered another quality of being human.I can only smile weakly.If I had the habit of telling the truth, perhaps I would be able to tell my parents their crimes without fear, but it is impossible for me to fully understand my own parents.I don't count on that kind of "appeal to people" at all.Whether it is appealing to father or mother, whether to appeal to the police, or to the government, is it not finally defeated by the strong words of those who know the world? Injustice is bound to exist.This is an obvious fact.It is futile to appeal to people.So I remained silent on the real thing, silently enduring that I had no choice but to continue playing the comical role. Some people may laugh and say: "What, isn't it distrust of human beings? Hey, when did you become a Christian?" In fact, in my opinion, distrust of human beings is not necessarily directly related to the path of religion. connected.Including those who laughed at me, don't people all doubt each other, forget about Yahweh and everything else, and live as if nothing happened?I remember when I was a child, a famous person from the political party my father belonged to came to our town to give a speech, and the male servant took me to the theater to attend the lecture.The audience was densely packed, and I saw the faces of everyone in town who was close to my father.This excites me.After the speech, the audience walked home in groups of threes and fours along the snowy night road.He was talking nonsense about whether the speech will be held or not, and the voice of a person who had a close relationship with his father was also mixed in.The so-called "comrades" commented in almost angry tones about my father's botched opening remarks, that famous person's speech was so cloudy that it didn't make sense, and so on.What was even more exasperating was that those people actually turned into my house, walked into the living room, and said to my father with a look of sincere joy on their faces that the speech tonight was really a great success.Even when Mother asked the menservants how tonight's presentation was going to be, they replied nonchalantly, "It was so much fun." And the very same menservants who were just now on their way home sighed, "No Nothing more boring than a speech meeting." And this is just one trivial example.Human life abounds in examples of undisguised and thus clear and open-minded mutual distrust of deceiving each other and yet surprisingly invulnerable, or even as if unaware of the deception. yes.I'm not too interested in things like cheating on each other, though.Even myself, relying on being a jerk to trick people all day long.It is impossible for me to have much interest in that kind of textbook justice and morality.In my opinion, it is those who deceive each other, but live cleanly and cheerfully, or those who have the confidence to live cleanly and cheerfully, are incomprehensible.People didn't end up teaching me the magic of it either.Maybe after understanding those wonderful truths, I won't be so afraid of human beings anymore, and I don't have to desperately provide amusing services.Perhaps there is no need to stand against people's lives and experience the pain of hell every night.In short, I did not complain to anyone about the heinous crimes committed by those male and female servants, not because of my distrust of human beings, and certainly not because of the influence of Christianity, but because people are closed to me, Ye Zang. Because of the shell of reputation.Because even my parents show me their puzzling parts from time to time. However, many women relied on their instincts to smell the loneliness that I could not appeal to anyone, so that many years later, this became one of the various inducements for me to be taken advantage of by women. That is to say, in the eyes of women, I am a man who can keep love secrets.