There is More Than One Way to Look at the Lower Body
(TIMTOWTDI about the Lower Body)
I genuinely believe in this, even though I also believe
this is only a truism, which can be the same as
"In the end looking is only one standpoint,"
like a mandarin’s square walk.
The differences, I know, may underwrite the same examples for foes.
Three years ago in Shanghai I was with a lady friend in a taxi
stuck on an overbridge that lay itself down
as an exit of a downtown street to an expressway,
and we were talking about the so-called the Lower Body poetry
in terms of what contributes to the pleasure
of reading or writing those representative ones under that category:
The excretory experience or the expression of it? Are they related?
The taxi was constipated in the traffic and I had to open the window
to let in the dirty air which immediately counteracted
the stale fragrance in the taxi and the faint perfume from my companion.
Then, the car revved up and the air howled by.
I said: See? Sheer speed can be a pure raciness, allegro vivace,
but if not for that, we might not feel the same as we do now.
Oh, I adore that woman, for her unadorned wit and her taste for music.
We were going to meet a boy for a supper, who fell one year later
from a cliff into water
at a breathtaking spot, smarter and far more energetic than I.
Years back in Beijing, in a dorm like a pigsty,
one of my classmates joked: Imagine that you drip for half an hour
and think your bladder is voided, but the moment
you tuck your always flaccid penis back, your trousers are wet.
We was so young then that we could still piss near as high as our heads,
and we could not wait in a queue for a pee,
and never felt ashamed to share a urinal,
holding the shafts aiming at a crossfire.
But his words made me shudder as if fully relieved.
That year, we were crazy about Nietzsche,
and euthanasia was heatedly debated,
while we preferred suicide than senility.
He was hit by a car later that year; he escaped his life,
but dropped out of the school.
A month ago he emailed me:
Due to chronic epilepsy, I am now in
"an accelerated pathological mental regression."
The euphemism he said he still understood.
I replied then, and never receive his RE: RE:.
Another year, in a New York downtown clinic,
a thirty-six-aged metrosexual stepped into the restroom
when waiting to collect his HIV test result.
There in front of the urinal stood an old man, shakily
apologizing for having kept him waiting,
and he tried to distract him into a light-hearted banter:
"Sorry that you are made to be patiently polite
even if you naturally cannot,
but when you eventually find that the women
once made you happy
are gone
from your world
one
by one
while you feel relieved
to find that you do not ejaculate any more…"
The metrosexual suddenly realizes that he is rustier
than the grey-headed, and the HIV test, of course,
proves negative and negative he remains toward family life.
He is happier, though, and he even begins to write poems,
exclusively about love, one of which is entitled
"There Is More Than One Way to Do It about the Lower Body."
A peep of it will learn that this is nothing
but a rubber-sheathed truism, which can be just the same as
"In the end doing is only one standpoint."
Sept. 5, 2007
Note: The so-called Lower Body Poetry is a strand of poetry in contemporary Mainland China. This strand chides and dismisses the learned poetry or scholarly / campus poetry as being too high-brow and alienated from the everyday expereince of the ordinary people and promotes a writing that is not "thought out" by the brains (the Upper Body) but lived out by the body (the Lower Body).
看下半身有不止一种方式
我真诚相信这一点哦，不过我也知道这不是什么
真知灼见，简直是陈词滥调，但是我就是相信。
迈着四方步的真理，它的反命题肯定一样合理：
说到底，看，就是一个观点。
其间的不同甚至可以令敌对双方举出相同的事例。
三年前的某日，在上海，我和一个朋友打车去会另一个朋友。
车子穿过了市区繁忙的街道正要拐上一条高速，
我们谈到下半身诗歌，刚好在谈阅读或者写作那样的诗
快感到底出自哪里，是排泄经验的被表达还是表达经验的被排泄？
而这时我们乘搭的出租车堵在高速入口的立交桥前，
犹如便秘；突然，那驾驶员打开了窗户（或许要放屁），
于是车里走味的芳香剂和我同伴那淡淡的香水味
立刻被城市最脏地带的空气压倒在后座。
后来汽车突然加速，空气贴着窗子呼啸而去。
我说：你瞧？仅仅是速度就能构成纯粹的快意，有活力的快板，
要不是刚才堵得难受，我们现在的感觉可就不会如此敏锐。
哦，我很欣赏这个女人，因为她不事雕琢的智慧和对音乐的品味，
而晚上聚餐的那个朋友一年后
从一座悬崖上落入山涧，
在一个令人屏息的风景点，那么洒脱、那么充满活力。
更多年前，在北京，猪窝似的男生宿舍里，
一个同学讲了个笑话，例证什么叫做年老：
你站在那儿滴了半个钟头，以为尿已经撒光，
但是当你刚刚将软不拉沓的老二塞进裤裆，
你就感到那儿热乎乎地湿了一块。
那时我们那般年轻，甚至还能将尿撒到头一样的高度，
我们的小便总是急得无法排队，
我们从不会不好意思
在小便槽里与别人交火。
但是他的话令我全身一抖，好像憋了很久的尿终于撒出。
那年我们正疯狂着尼采，人们首次热烈讨论安乐死，
而我们的信念是宁可自杀也不要老年痴呆。
那年圣诞，他遇到车祸；
捡回了一条命，不过从此辍学。
一个月前，他给我发来一封电邮：
因为长年癫痫，我如今已进入“病理性快速智力早衰”。
这个委婉的说法，他说，他还明白。
我当时就回了信，再也没收到对我回信的回信。
还有一年，在纽约市区的一个诊所，
一个三十六岁的都市酷男
在等着拿艾滋病验血报告的焦躁中
走进厕所。而小便槽前站着一个老头，抖抖活活地，
说抱歉令他久等，
并且试图用轻松的笑话为他分神：
“很抱歉，让你在自然条件不许可的情况下
还得耐心地保持礼貌，
不过当你最终发现
那些曾经令你快活的女人们
一个
又一个
从你的世界中
消失，
这时你才能轻松地
意识到你已经不能真正地射精……”
酷哥突然醒悟，自己已经比这位白头翁更加枯朽，
而艾滋病检验结果，阴性，
但他对家居生活依旧态度阴沉；
他幸福了许多，甚至开始写诗，只写爱情，
其中有一首题为
《搞下半身有不止一种方式》。
一看标题就知道那不过是
带着橡胶套的真话，那意思简直就是：
说到底，搞，就是一个观点。
2007年9月14日
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