一整本小说, 可以写的只发生在一天的故事. 一整面画作, 也往往有一大半的空白. 而那些我们刻骨铭心的留恋, 回想起来, 原来也只是生命中, 匆匆划过的星星点点.

Week 1: Davante Adam’s coming out party

It was mid September when we reconnected. After over three months of lockdown and complete isolation, I emerged from the utter speechless dreadfulness out of my cocoon, overweight, light-sensitive and borderline unconscious. Like a bear out of hibernation, I was regaining my motor skills, vocal skills and…mating skills. I can’t wait to talk to someone, ideally, someone whom I lost a long time ago and whom I hope to reconnect after hitting the big red reset button known as COVID. I was hoping everyone’s lost a step in conversational capability and would ignore my nature awkwardness. I was hoping everyone’s eager to reconnect and would neglect their uncomfortable past with me. And certainly I was hoping a reset, a fresh start, and new connections, just like everyone else was —— We were all semi-freed from the coop that locked us up for a little too long.

As expected, maybe exceedingly so, the initial conversation was effortless. We haven’t talked in two, two and a half years. A lot’s changed. Easy small talk back and forth. Her being single again helped too —— What a dreadful relationship that was; everyone rooted against it. It was…a pleasant surprise to be honest. I almost forgot about her and never expected anything out of our shared anxiety over relationships, climate and the inevitable collapse of human society. It was just good to talk to her. It was just good to talk to anybody.

Week 2: Terry McLaurin > Larry Fitzgerald

有一天他问我看不看橄榄球. 我说每个礼拜天都会看. 他又问我玩不玩Fantasy Football. 我说一直想玩的. 他说那么巧, 那来帮我打理球队吧. 彼时我正从赌球的泥沼里慢慢爬出来, 想着玩点有点刺激但又不至于伤财伤身的娱乐. 我喜欢看球, 喜欢研究球员和球队, Fantasy 正是帮我戒毒的不二选择. 于是二话不说, 花了一个下午看了规则, 听了几档节目, 了解了基本的策略, 就开始像模像样的经营起球队来了. 那时候赛季已经开始, 比过一轮了. 他的阵容是电脑按照排名和评分自动选的, 也不需要大改. 第一场比赛得分很高, 可惜不走运几分败给了更强劲的对手. 我看了别的队伍的阵容, 觉得也都这样, 于是信心满满的期待下一场比赛.

“哎 我发现周围还蛮少人看橄榄球的”
“那你怎么会玩这个”
“同事有组织, 也算是团建的一种吧, 虽然懂的人也不多”
“今年第一次吗”
“去年开始的. 你别小看我 我可是冠军呢”
“哟 这么厉害 你都有谁”
“McCaffery, Kittle跟Lamar”
“归归, 那不是躺赢”
“是不是很有压力 今年也要夺冠”
“放心…我是专家…”

Week 3: The end of Big Ben

我盯着他的眼睛, 欲言又止.
“你知不知道, 你的眼睛是世界上独一无二的”
“哪有. 你看过很多人的眼睛那”
“当然. 眼睛真的是心灵的窗口,看眼识人”
“那她们都是什么样的”
“金钱之人, 眼里便有金光; 想象之人, 眼里有五色的海豚; 执着之人, 眼里看得到笔直的旗杆; 焦虑之人, 眼里有模糊的重影; 而欲望之人, 眼里能看到仙人掌”
“仙人掌是什么鬼东西”
“沙漠里有三根仙人掌, 一根长的, 一根粗的, 一根带绒毛, 你喜欢哪一个”
“都挺恶心的. 绒毛的吧, 如果非要说”
“你看你就并非欲望之人”
“那你说我是个什么人”
“你的眼里是一片天空, 干净的, 微蓝的天空. 你是无垢之人.”
“得了吧, 我那是傻…”
“无垢的人, 世间罕有. 也因为无垢, 便会像唐僧一般的吸引着世间俗世的人们. 都想尝一口, 都想脱胎换骨.”
“……”
“那你读过这么多人,有没有看过自己的,有没有想过自己是个什么人”
“我都撇开脸斜着眼, 我是一个逃避之人”
“我也是一头鸵鸟 喜欢把头埋起来”
“那我们一起埋. 一人一个坑, 核弹来了都不理”

Week 4: Where’s my RB1 ?

一路无话. 两个人都疲倦了, 静静享受夜晚的空洞. 到了家门口, 停下车, 车厢的灯倏尔亮起, 有些刺眼.
“把灯关掉可好”
“你这样说我会忍不住的” — 男人都喜欢听到这句话, 和说话之人那样迷乱的语气
“…就想在眯一会眼在起”
“Survey Monkey…Survey Monkey…Survey Monkey”
“唔? 你在催眠吗”
“我在感受着世界的荒唐”
“那关猴子什么事”
“猴子, 就是荒唐”
“走了”

从他家门口一出来, 是一个左拐的路口. 路对面的大楼上亮着灯写着Survey Monkey. 每次晚上在这里等红绿灯的时候, 我就盯着它看. 周围一点声音也没有. 一辆车也没有. 路灯是红的. 写字楼是黄的. 楼上的标语也是黄的. 偌大如砖头的楼里, 每天人们来来往往, 忙碌着出问卷, 接受问卷, 提交问卷, 统计问卷. 大楼的前面, 有人驻足等着绿灯, 毫无意义的来回往返于没有可能的相交的两个圆圈. 这样的世界可不是荒唐透顶.