Divorce Year's Note
Wen 丨 Yu Xiuhua
I remember the day exactly, like a fluttering red Fuji apple growing on the branches of the day. Based on this date, I will also think of the day of marriage, just tomorrow, it is also a coincidence.
The real good days and the illusory good days are linked together, and the ridicule of life is also full of good intentions. The date of marriage is deliberately chosen, and the day of divorce is like a card of playing cards that is casually turned over, but it is comforting.
Today is a sunny day, the sun spirit of the gloomy for several days came out alive, I hung the clothes that I had washed for several days in the atrium: four clothes, three of which were given to me by others who did not want to wear them, and one that I bought on Taobao a few years ago, and when I wore it, it always fell down. My clothes are now enough to knock them all out, but I haven't.
Likes to use one thing to the point where it can't be used. Marriage was a toilet that could not be used many years ago, but it is used today.
The crumpled pieces of clothing were like four people who had known each other for many years hanging on a cane at the same time, and the wind blew in through the back door, and they touched each other in disgust and then bounced away, as if provoking each other's obscurity. But if I wear them on my body, they are a thin layer, and the obscurity enters my body, of course, the obscurity that enters the body is also light, and the skin's tolerance and consolation make them gentle and calm.
Well, there's wind. About three levels, rubbing a loud sound on the camphor tree outside the back door. Sparrows fell everywhere: on the roof ridge, on the chimney; on the eaves, in the yard.
I couldn't tell if the sparrow in the yard a few days was the one from yesterday. There was a gentle and bright light in their little eyes, but they didn't let me stare at them. At this time, if a few kittens roll into the yard, they will hula and fly up the eaves.
A few kittens are a few months older, and when they are older, their mothers are gone: perhaps the big cats have hidden to avoid their feeding entanglements: it used to love them so much, licking their hair little by little, but the milk in its body could not support the kittens that had grown up, and the helpless mother hid.
The villagers are renovating the house that has just been built. The new countryside has gathered all the people of a village in this place, and people who could not see for many days can now see it every day. There was a clanging sound from time to time, the occasional sound of firecrackers, some people had moved in, some were still renovating.
My yard, which has been silent for 40 years, will never be as silent again: the disappearance of a true countryside begins with joy.
My ex-husband also has a house here, not far from my house. His house hadn't been renovated, and he hadn't come home. We've been married for 20 years, I don't know if he ever treated my home as his home, and now the house I bought for him with my royalties is just his own, he should make it his home.
If it weren't for my parents' repeated persuasion, I wouldn't have bought him a house in the village. This Sichuanese, who is thousands of kilometers away from me, should go back thousands of kilometers away.
In this life, I have never had any dreams, nor have I hope for life. If you have to say one, it's divorce. The best thing about these years of luck and glory is divorce.
Originally, divorce was an ordinary household chore, but in the operation of fate, it was magnified and put in front of people. People say I get divorced when I'm famous and ungrateful.
There's nothing to argue about, people want to watch my life.
I always look at the people who are talking to me with pity, do they take life seriously? Of course I may not be serious enough, but I have since entered a way of life that I like, and yes, I like this quiet day without quarrels and without suspicion: the day of being alone.
The midday sun shone in my room, under my bed: Xiao Bai slept there. Xiao Bai was a rabbit, given to me by a friend during the Spring Festival, when it was still a small and timid. Now it seems to be the owner of this home: go out to play whenever you want, and come back to sleep whenever you want.
This is my simple daily life: no dreams, no plans; sometimes I wonder about Dickinson, an American poetess, who used to live a life similar to mine? Did she live her whole life in such small pieces and in such small pieces of joy?
But she was luckier than I was that she hadn't been married for 20 years and hadn't increased her hatred for others and herself because of marriage. But on this day, at this moment, I didn't have the slightest hatred, my heart was warm, calm, and forgave by God.
There are many misfortunes in the world, and marriage is one of them. But there is no way for anyone to put an end to this misfortune. Chinese marriages, from ancient times, had only a simple purpose: reproduction. But if it is just reproduction, the problem is solved.
From the time man burns the first fire, the human spirit rises like a flame, and man produces pleasure in the process of physical contact, and this pleasure is love. And the requirements for reproduction are very low, it has almost no requirements for love. But love is an unavoidable thing.
Two unavoidable things collide, and tragedy must arise.
The long 20-year marriage has given me plenty of time to examine it. Where does the entrenched door-to-door pair come from: economic? Spiritual? The pace at which two people grow in the process of getting along? The most basic: physical, physical?
Now I feel that marriage does need to be right, the economy is secondary, and this can complement each other. (Love can't do nothing but be a figment).) But there is no way for the spiritual one to complement each other: two people work in the fields, one says the wildflowers are beautiful, the other says he is sentimental, which is not easy to do.
We always try to reconcile the inconsistencies of ideas, and this seems to have a way, because there is not much need for ideas to live a life. What about the body?
The body is important, and a disabled wife will make her husband feel very faceless: the original freshness disappears quickly, and life pokes straight in front of people, without giving people time to breathe. Disability is an unavoidable problem, and the problems it brings are also unavoidable.
Marriage is the closest distance between two people, without distance there is no ideal. And marriage is needed ideally.
And the ideal is not a kind of obstacle to whom? Sometimes dissecting myself and others makes me dislike it. But I don't know what life can do other than to create doubts.
One thing affects different people differently: for some men, maybe just throwing off an old piece of clothing. For a woman, she just got rid of a system, and the air she breathed was different from before.
At least I am. I don't know if saying some big, inappropriate thanks to these things seems sincere. At this time, only a small piece of sunlight remained on the bed.
I wish there was someone in the world who would make me desperate to sleep with him.
One of the male poets I liked at that time was "dug into the corner" by a beautiful and young female poet (of course, I can't be sure of the truth of this matter, nor can I be sure of the truth of my liking for him, I sadly find that the men I like are impatient, and I am even more sad to find that I can't break the spell).
I don't know who to blame, but in the end I hate myself, hate my own ugliness and disability, and this cycle makes me walk sadly in the world: every mundane man can't like me, it's a failure.
So another male poet came. Later I joked: You see how much I love you, so many people ask who I want to sleep with, and I don't shake you out. Now that I think about it, I'm sorry for him and didn't let him be famous with me.
The real reason may be that I want to sleep with him but just talk, this feeling is not funny later, it has become very precious, and now I am his distant sister, he is my relative, I have not met, and I do not want to meet.
What I'm trying to say is that by the time I really believe in him, go to sleep with your poem is on fire, but it really has nothing to do with anyone, including myself, and I'm really disappointed.
I really wish there was someone in the world who would make me desperate to sleep with him.
Excerpted from 丨 Yu Xiuhua's "Gratuitous Joy"
Illustration 丨 Stills from the movie "The Shaky World"