Friday, March 03, 2006

Solitude

這天,談起Solitude和Loneliness。

我記得禁不住和你提起村上春樹在短篇小說裡提到的,那幅室內的畫,我不理會已說過多少次,仍是再將那看得女主角垂淚的熨斗靜物斗室圖畫,那不知何時不知哪處扭曲了的圖象,重述出來。

但我真能重述嗎?

假如Loneliness是一種你想找人陪伴的無力感,一種令你不得不找東西填塞卻又愈填愈空虛的空虛,那麼Solitude是否便是你處於峰頂,處於荒原,處於井底的獨然呢?高處不勝寒,前不見古人,後不見來者,面對四周無形的壓力,面對那深深存在同時是荒謬/疏離/陌生的感覺?

獨然的你,不同於周遭,無論你用凸起或凹下作圖象譬喻,無論能量是外放(積極)或內塌(消極),正因為這種差異,你不得不感覺到那壓力,那同一性向你施加的壓力。

可是,村上的Solitude並不是這樣啊,我嘗試這樣想像,表面看不出來的扭曲,然後你突然破空一刀,有甚麼在空中被刺破了,流出了嘔心的膿液。

是《象的消失》吧--每天都到動物園看象,然後象和護理員消失了,在消失前的一天,如常去看象的敘事者發現了一點異樣,只是一點,一點一般不易察覺的扭曲和差異。在與女子的約會中,敘事者禁不住和她提起這有點無聊的事,之後大家便沒有,亦不可能再見了。

有甚麼東西從那破口流了出來,彷彿在岩層的斷裂接口,複合性呈現了,看見的人轉過臉去,他/她不忍,或者厭惡。

我立即想起一位同志如何在家人圍坐晚飯的時候向大家交代自己的性傾向;就在大家最沒防備的一刻,大家傳著菜談著閒話之際,他突然冒出一句:你們知的,我是Gay。

沒有停頓,沒有詑異,晚飯如常進行,大家好像沒有聽見,也好像真的一早知曉,他把事情做完了。

藝術家透過創作,把內臟咳至露出體外,大家都別過臉去,大家都沒有看見,整全因而在大家的視而不見下到位,藝術家把事做完了。

那醜陋,那被厭惡的,那邪毒,那扭曲,那令整全成為整全的一切,因破裂而被掃到鏡後的一切,便在大家看不見的眼皮底下,訕笑我們的膚淺。

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6 Comments:

At 12:02 PM, Blogger Skybird 鳥飛 said...

潛行者,tag中你說五件瘀事呢. hehehehehhee....:p

 
At 2:05 AM, Blogger 潛行者 said...

五件瘀事:

1 在聖地牙哥動物園公廁,如廁時旁邊的男人說欣賞我雙腳,並向我顯示腹肌,示範如何鍛練出這等身材,我一直和他聊了二十分鐘,直到他叫我脫下褲子展示腿肌,我才意識到他所求,遲鈍得要死!

2 住南丫島時,一次拿垃圾到村口棄置,走到村口,忽然發覺胯下涼涼的,低頭一看,才發覺貪方便只穿內褲便跑了出來,陽具不慎從褲邊滑出, 幸好沒人看見......

3 一次聚會,又是貪方便,穿著睡衣,在上邊結了領帶被上外套便出席,主人問我為何穿睡衣來,我硬著頭皮說是新款襯衣......

4 有一次摟著一個女子, 不知何解說了另一人的名字, 問題是: 那另一人我很清楚對之毫無愛慾, 但當然已水清唔清也

5 住南丫島時, 常放狗兒自行外出遊玩, 自己在屋內工作, 一次聽見氣槍聲和狗吠, 外出看過究竟, 發現狗兒滿嘴鮮血, 便以為牠被外來頑童用氣槍打傷了, 一邊罵人一邊抱牠回家治傷, 回到家發覺牠一點傷也沒有, 原來是牠咬傷了隣家飼養的雞隻, 本來要興問罪之師的, 倒過來要向人賠錢了事

 
At 3:24 PM, Blogger Skybird 鳥飛 said...

hahahahahahah

1) 好 搞笑啊, 真係驚險, 搞唔好,佢強你 咁唔知點解救. :P


請問可否轉貼在我的blog上呢 ?

 
At 12:15 PM, Blogger 潛行者 said...

送多一件瘀事(買五送一):
6 狗兒月經到, 由於是大狗, 所以買了人用的衛生巾給牠, 一天晚上拿牠用過的一大堆衛生巾倒垃圾, 順便放狗, 在村口路上遇上野狗, 狗兒狂性大發, 為了控制牠, 手上的垃圾倒了一地都是, 恰好兩部車子經過, 我便要在司機等待和車頭燈照耀下把那些衛生巾一一拾回......
#鳥飛, 你轉貼到你那邊時可將這第六件換掉第五件

 
At 11:01 AM, Blogger Skybird 鳥飛 said...

好, 一於咁話. !!

 
At 2:23 AM, Blogger 潛行者 said...

On Solitude

We talked about solitude and loneliness.

I just couldn't help mentioning the painting of THAT room in one of the short stories in All God's Children Can Dance by Haruki Murakami. I kept on mentioning it, no matter how many times, especially on representing THOSE images, having already been distorted in some place at some time, which led the heroine spontaneously shed her tears.

But did I really represent it?

If loneliness is the kind of feeling of helplessness that you want to have someone accompanying you to get rid of but soon find out it is the kind of emptiness that always not being filled up with, then solitude may be THAT singularity when you stand up high or stay in the wasteland or the bottom of a well. There is not anyone before/in front of you, nor anyone after/behind. There is invisible pressure all around. It is absurd. It is alienated. It is strange.

You are the ONE, not like the surroundings. You may be the convex point but oncave much likely. Your energy would radiate out and treated as positive but most probably it vanishes gradually, being interpreted negative. Difference offers pressure. Pressure of identification.

However, Murakami's solitude is different. I tried to imagine: it is the hiddened distortion and then you strike out suddenly. Something in midair is broken. Something disgusting is vomited.

In The Elephant Vanishes, the kitchen-appliance salesman went to the zoo to watch the elephant everyday, and then the elephant disappeared. He remembered later that he observed something strange had occurred on the elephant the day before the disappearance. Something different and something twisted. He mentioned the insignificant event when he dated with a girl and he knew right from that moment that they would not see each other any more. And they did.

Something drains out from THAT broken point. Like the exposed rock layers, the complexity appears. People see it and turn around. They cannot bear it or it disgusts them.

Perhaps the best way of revealing secrets to the family is putting it on the table while all are present enjoying their dinner. When all are vulnerable, you just tell them, "You know,...... "

No pause. No amaze. The dinner goes on as if no confession has made or they really have known it. The work is done.

The artist vomted and exposed her viscera. We turned our heads around as if we did not see it. Totality came when seeing but not looking. And the artist got her works done.

 

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