Saturday, February 25, 2006

The result of reading too much Hemmingway, and listening to Eason Chen, "Wo ai ni, hao ai ni, dui bu qi, xie xie, nao zhong zhu zhe ni de lian..."


Title: “And the stars in the night sky laugh at the little people down on earth…”


“And the stars in the night sky laugh at the little people down on earth…”

“I don’t like this story.”

“Why ever not?”

“Don’t know. Don’t like it.”

“That’s the difference between you and me. You either like something or you don’t. No reasons needed. Whereas I-”

“-You. You talk too much,” and with that he leans over, and kisses her.

“What do you mean by that?” she demands right after he releases her.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing can come of nothing.”

“Have you ever been kissed before?”

“Have you ever kissed before?” she retorts.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Just.”

“Why?”

“Don’t know.”

“Fuck you,” and with that, she leans over, and kisses him back passionately. This time, it’s merged with curiosity and ferocity. They are trembling.

“What does that mean?” he asks.

“Nothing. Just like you said.”

“Are you trying to tempt me.”

“Revenge more like it.”

He’s angry and he’s walking away. She’s emotionless. She goes back to her book. He looks at her. He walks back to her.

“What do you mean by this?”

“By what?”

“By THIS. And this and this and this?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t know. You tell me.”

“I don’t know.”

He’s had enough of her. He’ll never have enough. Their prides are just as strong, and they’re lost and they’re together but they’ll never be together. They’re quiet for a little while. He’s standing there, watching her. She’s reading, but really, she isn’t reading.

“I think you’re driving me crazy,” he confesses.

“What did I do?”

“I don’t know.”

“You never know anything.”

“No. I know you’re driving me crazy.”

“You think I’m driving you crazy. I’m not. You’re driving yourself crazy.”

“Maybe.” He hesitates, “Do I drive you crazy?”

“Maybe.”

“Do you love me?”

“I don’t know what love is. Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you’re driving me crazy.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you love me?”

“Must there be a reason to love?”

“Convince me.”

But he really doesn’t know how. He knows that he’s lonely, and when he’s lonely, he thinks of her. But really, he thinks of so many other girls too. But mostly, he thinks of her. And does she ever think of him? Does he ever cross her mind?

“I’ve been struggling. You seem to sit before me like some great goddess, a rainbow that I can see but I cannot touch. You tempt me and you test me. And you know, I can walk away from you. I don’t have to bother with you at all.”

“I never tried to tempt you. I can’t be bothered to even test you.”

“You see. You’re doing it to me again.”

“I think you’re thinking too much.”

“And now I tell you that I love you, and I tell you that you’ve won. You’ve won and I want to be with you and you-”

“What the hell is your problem? I don’t want to win. I don’t want to win you.”

“Then what do you want? What do you want from me?” he’s raising his voice now. Just a little, and he’s desperate, and he’s pathetic.

She pauses, “You don’t love me.”

“How do you know? You don’t know what love is.”

“I can tell,” she says softly.

“You can’t.”

“I can. I can. How have you loved me? When did you love me? Has anything you done ever shown that you love me?”

“I hate you.”

“I thought you said you love me.”

“I do.” He’s devastated, “Do you love me?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can’t we try then?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why? Why are you so quick to say 'No'? Why do you think you know all the answers? You really don’t. You don’t know anything! You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t know-”

“-Are you angry with me?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

He’s fed up. He can’t take it anymore. She’s always asking why. He can never answer her because every time she asks why everything is damaged and destroyed. He is irrational and reasons are ugly truths of reality. He doesn’t want to see them or say them, and she lives in another world altogether.

“I give up on you,” he tells her.

“Okay,” she consents.

She’s cold, and she’s cruel and she’s tired of him but she can never tire of him. He pins his whole world unto her. If she turns back, if she shows him even a bit of affection, if he flirts with her and gets away with it, if he twists her mind the same way she twists his’, then suddenly he is alive and he lives purposefully. Perhaps they feed each other’s self-importance and starvation to ease that painful solitude- what draws them as much as it pulls them away from each other. They need each other, and yet they can’t have each other entirely.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He’s bitter. He’s sad and he’s laughing at himself.

“What for? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” she tells him.

“Are you sad?”

“No. There’s nothing to be sad about,” she hesitates, “I think I hate you too.”

“Oh.” And this time it really hurts, “Oh okay.”

“Bye,” she says.

“Bye.”

7 comments:

Miao said...

Love Hemingway, his short stories are best. Love Eason Chen too, I bought his latest CD (because of the song 'Dui Bu Qi Xie Xie').

Miao said...

Anyway you've been tagged! :) Visit my blog for details >.<

estelwen said...

ehhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh............
ode to morbid pleasure!
*grins*
ok i'm cranky
love ya babe
i always do!

vk (: said...

YAY you're listening to eason chan!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :D :D he's uber rocking, next time i send you his canto songs, wayyyyy wayyy better than his chinese songs :D :D

haha sorry im so enthu abt spreading some eason love <3 <3

debx* said...

nice!! i like their dialogue. kekeke.

Anonymous said...

haa!! that dialouge should save u from unecessary attention from now on. (i hope) haa

qt said...

thats me