scruta

I took you off the shelf and flipped through you quickly
I swear I saw something in the pages
Dark, deep and intriguing
A note? A secret? An error?
A confession?
I’ve been reading through you ever since
Looking for it

From all sides, from all heights, everyone throughout the world converges to catch a glimpse of you. On the pavement, through the cracks of buildings, they witness your golden glow. Others see you only briefly from their highrise conference rooms as you sink lower into pink. Others climb to the heights to behold even that final purple and blue of you as you fade slowly into the shining neon of the night.

Here I am, ever chasing you, ever trying to see you from every angle, ever staring even as your lingering radiance flashes in my eyes, threatening to blind me.

[Ferret arrives at the address on the card after working his way though a long residential lane. The apartment is on the 7th floor of a walk-up. He feels himself sweating in the heat and humidity of the late Shanghai summer. By all accounts, it’s just another apartment. The door is a nondescript gray-green metal slab with grating in the middle, allowing someone to open it and see who’s there. This small door opens and Ferret sees a Chinese man in his 50’s looking at him.]

Cai Xin
Yes?

Ferret
你是蔡鑫吗？
Are you Cai Xin?

Cai Xin
Yes, I am. Please speak in English. It’ll be faster that way.

[Cai Xin speaks American English without a trace of an accent. He opens the door for Ferret.]

Ferret
Hello.

Cai Xin
Hi. Come in.

[Ferret walks into the apartment. Cai Xin motions for him to take off his shoes. Ferret does so and puts on slippers that he provides. The living room is immaculate. All white walls give way to spotless floors of real ceramic tile with patterns in blue and white. It’s like walking on dinner plates. Ferret notices that every single one is different. There’s a black leather sofa with two identical floor lamps on each end. Adorning the top of each lamp is a giant red lantern for a lampshade. In front of the sofa is a table made of dozens of pieces of restored, antique rosewood. Behind the sofa is a classical Chinese calligraphic picture. Above it, there is a projector. It says 谈以可, or read from left to right 可以谈 － “One can speak”. Cai Xin motions to the sofa.]

Cai Xin
Please, have a seat.

Ferret
Okay.

[Ferret sits down. Cai Xin takes out a set of keys and puts them down on the table.]

Cai Xin
These are for you.

Ferret
I’m sorry?

Cai Xin
For returning the book.

Ferret
The book?

Cai Xin
The notebook. You don’t remember?

Ferret
I do. It was a while ago.

Cai Xin
Yes.

Ferret
You’ve been waiting this whole time?

Cai Xin
I’ve been living here waiting for you.

Ferret
Waiting for me?

Cai Xin
Yes.

Ferret
And now what?

Cai Xin
Now, I’m free to go.

Ferret
I don’t understand. I don’t need an apartment.

Cai Xin
I’m not here to rent you the apartment.

Ferret
What is this about?

Cai Xin
You are to become the new caretaker.

Ferret
Caretaker?

Cai Xin
Yes, you will be the one that watches the house.

Ferret
Well, what if I don’t want to take it?

Cai Xin
I advise you to take it.

[After giving his advice, Cai Xin looks at Ferret blankly, then allows a strange smile to creep up across his face.]

Ferret
Can I look at the rest of the place?

Cai Xin
Of course.

[Ferret gets up and walks through the living room to the kitchen. It’s small, but perfect, complete with marble counter tops and even a dishwasher, a luxury for Shanghai. Best of all, to the left of the kitchen there is a door which leads out directly to the rooftop. A deck has been laid down on it complete with patio furniture. Behind it is a stunning view of Xujiahui and Shanghai’s western skyline.]

Ferret
Quite a kitchen.

Cai Xin
It’s manageable. You don’t have any allergies, I hope.

Ferret
No.

Cai Xin
Good. Food will be delivered to you. Do you cook?

Ferret
Sometimes.

Cai Xin
Ah. I see. Well, then cooked food can be arranged.

Ferret
What? The house comes with food?

Cai Xin
All that you require is provided.

[Ferret walks out of the kitchen and Cai Xin follows. Ferret speaks as he walks into the bathroom full of bamboo, ceramic and glass. A skylight is embedded in the sloping ceiling above the shower. Natural afternoon light fills the room.]

Ferret
I don’t understand. This seems like a job.

Cai Xin
You could see it that way.

Ferret
But I don’t understand. I wasn’t even interviewed.

Cai Xin
Of course you were. You were given a task, and you completed it.

Ferret
What?

Cai Xin
There were others. But none of them made it this far.

Ferret
Other people got the call?

Cai Xin
And the package.

Ferret
And returned it?

Cai Xin
Only two of you returned it.

Ferret
What happened to the other one?

Cai Xin
I’m not sure what happened to her.

Ferret
Her?

Cai Xin
Yes. Is that strange?

Ferret
No. No, I guess not. I mean. I don’t know. What sort of qualifications do you need to be a caretaker?

Cai Xin
I don’t know. I’m just a caretaker.

Ferret
Just the caretaker?

Cai Xin
Yes. I was informed of the process for finding a replacement, but I know little else.

Ferret
Well, do you think you did a good job?

Cai Xin
Maybe. I can’t say.

[Ferret walks into the bedroom. It’s quite spacious. The low bed is also made of reclaimed wood. Expensive cotton sheets cover the bed. Wide floor to ceiling windows look out over the rooftops of the neighboring lane houses to the south. The other wall is dominated by a pair of sliding closet doors. There’s a large writing desk in the corner with a single desk lamp in it, an art deco antique. The walls are white. Nothing hangs on them.]

Ferret
It does look very nice.

Cai Xin
Yes.

Ferret
Who owns this place?

Cai Xin
I don’t know.

Ferret
You don’t know?

Cai Xin
I have my guesses.

Ferret
Well, do I have to keep to any schedule?

Cai Xin
You are allowed to come and go freely. I was recently more confined because I was waiting for a replacement.

Ferret
Well, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.

Cai Xin
It’s quite alright. I knew that it might take a while.

Ferret
So, if I decide to become the caretaker, then will I have to find someone else if I want to stop being the caretaker?

Cai Xin
I don’t know.

Ferret
You’re just the caretaker, right?

Cai Xin
Exactly.

[The two laugh awkwardly.]

Cai Xin
I can guarantee one thing.

Ferret
What’s that?

Cai Xin
You will not be bored.

[Ferret looks at the afternoon sun setting through the floor to ceiling window in the bedroom. It enchants him.]

Cai Xin
There’s a folder with information about the house. Phone numbers. Maintenance schedules, etc. I’ll get it for you. You can read it as I pack up.

Ferret
Okay.

Every day life sends you another invitation,

And you hem and haw over it,

But you always take it in the end.

It’s too good a party to pass up.

A meeting on new instant noodles

Sky high conference room

Windows glass open on the sky

For a gaze that lingers towards towers

All around and popping out

Appearing suddenly out of a grey grey mist

As if painted in negative on parchment

Centuries, centuries ago

 

For nothing is new

These new noodles, new towers, new sights

All enveloped, all wrapped in the great all

 

Talk in the conference room continues

The mist rolls in, covering everything

As part of Mr Xi’s current China Dream campaign, I’ve seen a lot of these kinds of poems plastered all over the subways.

Here’s an interesting one:

 

《中国·向上》

大树郁葱葱

壮我时代风

容聚天地气

吐纳五岳峰。

好日子，

中国向上，

乾坤在握中！

“China Rising”

The great tree grows lush and green

Strong in the winds of our age

Uniting the power of heaven and earth

Breathing the air upon China’s great peaks.

These are good days,

China is rising

The world is within our grasp!

+++

What a difference stopping to read these poems makes! You’d think it’s just some silly stuff about trees, but no, it’s a tree that’s going to take over the world. Whoa.

[Shanghai has just come out of one the gray, rainy abysses that often descend upon it. Now the sky is shining with a new resilience, bringing new light to its citizenry. Full of this radiance, many are prompted to do something out of the ordinary. Ferret sits outside a coffee shop and goes through his wallet. He finds the card that he’d been given so long ago.]

蔡鑫

Cai Xin

物流经理

Logistics Manager

淮海中路1285弄23号7层

Floor 7, Building 23, 1285 Huaihai Middle Road

[There is no other information on the card. It’s been a while, but Ferret figures he might as well try and get his reward. He could use the cash. Plus, it’s stopped raining and he’s optimistic, ready for an adventure. A quick search on google maps reveals that 1285 is near the Changshu Lu Metro Station. It looks like a long residential lane. The name on the card is rather strange.]

蔡鑫

Cài  Xīn

[It’s pronounced the same way as the word 菜心, a type of vegetable. Who would have such a name? Ferret decides it’s time to find out.]

It occurs to me that a proper education should fundamentally do two things: 1) help you figure out the life you want to live and 2) give you the knowledge you need to live that life.

I’m not really sure any institution can do all of this, or if there is any one that really wants to.

I’ve tried many times to tell myself what poetry is, but perhaps it’s a momentary possession of the mind. I’ve gotten to this point when I can feel a poem coming on, the way some epileptics talk about seeing coronas, or neurotics sense waves of panic building. My thoughts ramp up a notch and words begin forming in my mind, ideas and words together. I see structures, contours of the poem forming. Next thing I know, I’m already writing the poem in my head. It’s then I know I need to find a notebook, a computer, anything that will let me get it all down. It’s like the way someone having a fit reaches for their medication.

Of course the analogy doesn’t quite fit. I choose to engage with these sudden fits. I try to get them to happen more. I’ll sit quietly over a cup of coffee waiting for them to happen. And when they do I’ll pursue them to the end. Then nothing gives me more pleasure. In this sense, the whole process is more like having an orgasm.

Still, poetry isn’t as productive as sex and most poets I’ve met would agree that a good lay is way better than writing a good poem. (Although they might say otherwise in certain company.)

The thing about poetry is that it wastes time. It is the ultimate waste of time. At least with screwing you have the potential to get more people, fall in love, whatever. With poetry all you get is more poetry. More words to make more words. And don’t tell me that poetry is made to inspire. Perhaps it does for people who are non-poets: scientists, politicians, business moguls. You know, people who actually do something. But let’s be clear. For poets, if poetry is inspiring, it’s just the inspiration to write more poetry. We continue to make poetry because we just like doing it. It’s our way. Inspiration for inspiration’s sake. Fits for the sake of fits.

I’m in a terrible dream. Undifferentiated, pale faces are pursuing me. These men and women turn into devils with dark raspy voices and eyes of burning fire. Unidentified hounds of my past call out: Failure! Nothing! Pathetic nothing!

They are coming. They are coming for me.

I wake up in my darkened room, lit only by the low lights of the electronics charging around me. The lilt of the rain outside enters into the silence.  My heart is pounding. I’m gasping for breath. For a moment, I’m not sure whether the devils are real or not. I look around my room in panic.

Then I tell myself that the real devils don’t appear in dreams. They aren’t mystical beings. They aren’t even figments of the imagination. They’re daywalkers, smiling widely, shaking hands, kissing babies, supposedly saving us all. But deep down they know, and we do too, that they’re only out to save themselves. And we let them betray us.

They aren’t here, I think. They aren’t here.

I fall back asleep.