scruta

[FERRET is on his way home on a Sunday night. After spending a cab ride to his corner trying to explain to the cabdriver why Shanghainese girls are tricky (i.e. their families want to control you), he takes the last block on foot to collect his thoughts before writing a composition. Just as he comes to the gate of his compound, he sees a lone shoe strewn in the middle of the sidewalk, poking out of the shadows of a poorly lit corner. As he walks closer to it, he hears rustling and heaving from the shadows. He turns and makes out the form of two people struggling in the dark. One is clearly bigger than the other, dominating the situation, forcing itself upon the other. Soon his eyes adjust, and the shadows become clearer. It’s a man and woman. His mind races: What is this? Rape? Passion? A joke? He stares at them for a moment, then decides he’ll ask the woman if she’s okay, but before he can call out to her, she speaks assuredly, for his benefit as much as the shadowy man’s:]

WOMAN

 让你通我。

I’ll let you inside of me.

[FERRET looks for a second more, and decides that everything is okay. Strange, but okay. As he returns to his apartment he thinks about China, the country where people blush at the mention of sex and make love in dark corners.]

There are many choices in life, many numbered and plentiful!

They sit underneath your tounge longing to be called. They stick to the back of your eyelids waiting to be lit.

Pick one. Throw away the others. They’ll be swallowed, turned to dark places where no one can see.

Perhaps it goes like this:

Passion is the thief who accosts you in the night, suddenly, and without warning.

Love is the one who robs you in broad daylight, in front of witnesses gasping, “You let it happen. You let it happen.”

What these onlookers don’t know is that you let it happen because you were in shock. It was the same person who robbed you in the night.

I don’t believe in vampires anymore, but I still think there are people trying to suck the life out of me. And if I let them do it enough, I’ll become one of them too.

[FERRET and WEASEL are sitting, waiting to get a seat at a small, yet well known hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Shanghai. WEASEL starts gawking through the window at a waitress working in the restaurant next door.]

WEASEL

Man, she’s not bad.

FERRET

Mmm. The one in the red checkered dress thingy?

WEASEL

Yeah. But, damn girl. You’re only workin’ for 1500RMB a month! [1500RMB = approximately $220]

FERRET

What are you talking about?

WEASEL

Look at the sign in the window!

[FERRET and WEASEL begin to inspect a sign placed in the window. It reads:

招聘

服务员（女）

月薪1500元

包吃　包住

有服务经验1600元

Wanted

Waitstaff (Female)

Monthly Salary 1500RMB

Includes room and board

1600RMB if you have experience ]

FERRET

Well, at least she gets free room and board.

WEASEL

Yeah, that’s true. Hmm… and that extra 100RMB for experience.

FERRET

Yeah.

WEASEL

She’s looking at us now.

FERRET

Yeah, a deer in the headlights.

[FERRET imagines they’ve been having this conversation:]

THE GIRL

那个老外在盯我啊！

Those foreigners are looking at me.

WAITRESS

他们在找女朋友，而且觉得你好性感哦！

They’re looking for girlfriends, and they think you’re damn sexy.

THE GIRL

他们工资多少？

How much money do they make?

WAITRESS

他们是年青的，所以只是一百万。

They’re young, so only a million.

THE GIRL

没有。他们有那么多钱的话，为什么去旁边吃饭？

No way. If they had that much money, why are they going next door to eat?

WAITRESS

旁边餐厅很有名。

The restaurant next door is famous.

THE GIRL

没有这么有名。

Not that famous.

WAITRESS

哈哈，他们在看着招聘。

Haha, they’re looking at the job listing.

[THE WAITRESS notices that THE GIRL isn’t listening.]

干吗？

What are you doing?

THE GIRL

他们很有钱，可是他们的脸有寂寞的样子。

They have lots of money, but they’ve got this lonely look on their faces.

[THE GIRL looks at them, fascinated as FERRET and WEASEL discuss the sign, unsure of what to make of them. Suddenly, they are looking at her looking at them. Her co-worker urges her on.]

WAITRESS

交男朋友吧！

Get yourself a boyfriend!

[THE GIRL is confused and doesn’t know what to do. A deer in the headlights.]

Callipygian

Gewgaw

(Check out more of these gewgawed dudes here!)

There’s this place in my heart. A house, really. It’s constantly under construction, and every woman I’ve ever loved has a room, and she is free to do with it whatever she wants. Most of the time the rooms are vacant. Although every once in a while I find a message written on the walls, or an article of clothing haphazardly lying on the floor.  The writing is always in a language I do not understand, and the article of clothing never bears any resemblance to anything I would have known her to wear. These vestiges are fresh, but I don’t understand them. I’m not sure if I can, or if I want to, but still I go walking through my house and see them.

This is how old lovers live in your heart.

I looked at this picture of you and I was full of envy.

The sun was so full, streaking through the sky.

The clouds were so soft, dancing in the rays.

The trees were so proud, grasping for the mist.

The grass was so high, waving in the wind.

The flowers were so sweet, curtained in the grass.

I should have envied you for being there with them…

(But I didn’t. I envied them for being there with you.)

Heh! Is this really the key to happiness? Not thinking about whether you are happy or not? Eliminating the question entirely?

How strange life is! Holding something closest to our hearts when we think about it least…

…Our thoughts are like limbs, too. Extensions of ourselves. Although they are functional, we are only aware of them when we want to be.

I had a dream recently where I was the axeman for two senior executives at a fortune 500 company, a henchman who always said “yes,” a lackey greasing the floors of their throne-rooms, making them less accessible to the usurpers and the gadflies; in short, I was someone terribly consumed with regret.

And so we sat in their office playing Russian Roulette.

I was compelled to play because a secret had been leaked. I’d failed to do my job. One of us would take the blame. As I played a few rounds I realized that they had conspired against me, as I helped them conspire against others. So I shot one with the only bullet I had; the other fled.

He found a place in the Bahamas though he was legally dead.

I ran a little bit, but then stopped at a fast food restaurant and just sat there, waiting for them to come for me. They’d triumphantly tout the apprehension of a petty thug from the underground attempting to extort money. And oh, I’d extorted, but so much more. That’s when I thought:

I needed to be caught. I deserved the punishments that I got.

When I awoke in the morning, I spent a long time looking in the mirror, wanting to know more how I saw myself behind my eyes, worried that maybe I was loosing the ability to choose what was right, or worse, that I couldn’t tell what was right and what was wrong.