That Night, His Bodily Fluids Sprayed All Over Me (XVII)
2006/12/24 14:34:29
XVII
[7:09:34] 【XX】 to XXX: Free tonight?
[7:10:25] XXX to 【XX】: Yes.
[7:11:27] 【XX】 to XXX: Beast?
[7:12:25] XXX to 【XX】: Yes.
[7:12:54] 【XX】 to XXX: Professor?
[7:12:59] XXX to 【XX】: Yes.
[7:13:37] 【XX】 to XXX: What time do you go home?
[7:13:48] XXX to 【XX】: I can stay out.
[7:14:03] 【XX】 to XXX: Anything else you need to know before we meet?
[7:14:17] XXX to 【XX】: If I may be so bold—what do you do? You're staying in the first and currently only five-star hotel in all of Wuhan. You're so young. What exactly do you do?
[7:14:18] 【XX】 to XXX: Does that really matter?!
[7:15:07] XXX to 【XX】: No.
[7:15:23] 【XX】 to XXX: A game of soaring on the edge of a blade.
[7:16:32] XXX to 【XX】: I don't understand.
[7:16:49] 【XX】 to XXX: The blade—not a blade. Resting at any moment, yet spinning at any moment. Without rules, without end.
[7:16:59] XXX to 【XX】: Can you tell me about you and the blade?
[7:17:10] 【XX】 to XXX: The blade has no story. The blade is lighter than a dream. From the deepest trench of the Pacific to the absolute peak of Everest, the blade traces its path—without rules, without end—and corpses fly.
[7:17:41] XXX to 【XX】: And then?
[7:17:46] 【XX】 to XXX: Dueling—it cannot stop. To stop means death. The blade chases behind every person. No one can be faster than the blade. Touch it, and you die. To soar on the blade's edge, the only way to avoid the blade is—to hurl others toward the blade!
[7:18:23] XXX to 【XX】: Treading on others' corpses, wading through others' blood to advance—isn't that too despicable?
[7:18:24] 【XX】 to XXX: That is the only rule in this game between people and the blade. Every participant must voluntarily abide by it. Here, death is the greatest despicability; here, being alive is the only nobility. Every evening as the sun sets, the game pauses. Corpses paint the violet sky—the most magnificent sight in this world. And the blade continues to be honed on the devil's fangs. Every night, the sound of that honing cuts across the sky's desolate starfield—the most resplendent dream in this world.
[7:18:51] XXX to 【XX】: And during the day?
[7:19:03] 【XX】 to XXX: During the day, there is only carnage, only corpses. People die every day.
[7:19:41] XXX to 【XX】: You—you just walked out from among the corpses?
[7:20:05] 【XX】 to XXX: Yes.
[7:20:27] XXX to 【XX】: Hands covered in blood?
[7:20:30] 【XX】 to XXX: Yes.
[7:21:11] XXX to 【XX】: Someone else's blood?
[7:21:16] 【XX】 to XXX: Yes.
[7:21:49] XXX to 【XX】: Don't you find it cruel?
[7:21:55] 【XX】 to XXX: No.
[176:16:15] XXX to 【XX】: Just because these are the rules of the game, and everyone must voluntarily abide by them?
[7:16:24] 【XX】 to XXX: Yes.
[7:16:33] XXX to 【XX】: Have you ever had a moment closest to death?
[7:16:41] 【XX】 to XXX: Death comes at any moment. Every instant is death. Death has no appointed hour; every moment is the moment closest to death. It was a duel at the absolute peak of Everest. No one could know who would last till the end. In this game between people and the blade, there are no names—names are unnecessary; there is no faith—faith is unnecessary. There is only ever oneself and another, two people. Any "other" is always merely a symbol in the game. Oneself and the other—only when one falls can the other survive. Two people—one must fall. The other's death is one's only survival. And the other never truly dies. As long as the game continues, there are always new others becoming the other—those others who likewise must hurl their others toward the blade that is without rules, without end. And who is oneself? Oneself is merely the other's other. The game has no self—only others.
[7:16:54] XXX to 【XX】: Up to now, the one who fell was always the other?
[7:23:14] 【XX】 to XXX: Once you fall, you no longer exist.
[7:23:47] XXX to 【XX】: Is this interesting?
[7:24:16] 【XX】 to XXX: Not interesting.
[7:25:03] XXX to 【XX】: Then why do it?
[7:25:04] 【XX】 to XXX: Doing it is the point. There is nowhere to escape.
(To be continued)
Comments
缠中说禅 2006/12/24 14:58:31
Christmas for those who Christmas, not Christmas for those who don't. Outside the window, those dozens of pigeons are still flying. The thinly iced water surface reflects grey-yellow tree shadows. Beijing's December snow still has not arrived.
Going offline. Goodbye.
缠中说禅 2006/12/24 14:52:55
Christmas—this ID has no interest anymore. The poem below, which this ID posted earlier, can serve as a seasonal offering.
The sky separated from the sea
Lightning, storms, and snow
Three angels told
the birth of sun, moon, and stars
Eve, copulating wildly with Adam
God-ing the chaos of blood and seed
Creation, God was created
The created god seduced the serpent
The apple tree bloomed with skulls
Drifting down, transforming infinity
The eternal seventh day
Paradise lost its paradise
Triangle, a group from the realm of Light and Sound
The Messiah's shroud
The ice peaks of the Himalayas
Soaring, the magic carpet of Jerusalem
Cross-shaped patterns
Three angels searching for the tulku
Push open the door of Mary
Blood, blooming like roses
The sky, rainbow body
Resurrecting through death
Everest's eternal ice and snow
The Big Dipper, spread across the sky