桑陌日记（二）

没想到再一次在这里落笔已经是一年以后。在美国人文社科院对面的家，虽是租的，却也住得习惯。去年八月先后去了三个人。今年的我倒没怎么常想着自己是为他们过的。

因为备课又读柏拉图的《斐多》。原来自己什么都不知道。然而书一开就被斐多的话打动。

I certainly found being there an astonishing experience. Although I was witnessing the death of one who was my friend, I had no feeling of pity, for the man appeared happy in both manner and words as he died nobly and without fear, Echecrates, so that it struck me that even in going down to the underworld he was going with the gods' blessing and that he would fare well when he got there, if anyone ever does. That is why I had no feeling of pity, such as would seem natural in my sorrow, nor indeed of pleasure, as we engaged in philosophical discussion as were accustomed to--for our arguments were of that sort--but I had a strange feeling, an unaccustomed mixture of pleasure and pain at the same time as I reflected that he was just about to die. All of us present were affected in much the same way, sometimes laughing, then weeping; especially one of us, Apollodorus--you know the man and his ways. (58e-59a)

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Socrates sat up on the bed, bent his leg and rubbed it with his hand, and as he rubbed he said: "What a strange thing that which men call pleasure seems to be, and how astonishing the relation it has with what is thought to be its opposite, namely pain! [...]"

我记得我还住在东小区的时候，还没有沐浴露这件事情。没有沐浴露和护发素的时代，诗意起来是否因此更方便呢？大概大家不愿承认垃圾的堆砌也可以成为是艺术品吧——为什么不？审美观是亘古不变的吗？既然不是，生生死死，悲悲痛痛，也的确没有什么。

东小区那幢楼有细密过屋瓦的上坡。我推着此生第一辆半成人自行车，疙瘩，疙瘩，疙瘩疙瘩，爬上来。抬头，与三楼那只鹦鹉看对了眼。这是我此生认识的唯一一只真会说人话的鹦鹉。后来它的死也跟《霍乱时期的爱情》中女主前夫那位一般不大光彩。不过除了它，那幢楼，连同它之上的水泥色的天，都更加不出彩。

都找不出什么出彩的，所以眼力不得用。而嗅觉和触觉却被激发得灵敏。没有沐浴露，就用肥皂。有一次肥皂的人工香味竟如此浓厚，我觉得我问到了臭。不是厕所的臭，虽然我洗澡是在厕所洗的。而是一种空乏无味的臭。虽然空乏，却臭得发慌。虽无味，却跟寻常记忆里的人工香味形成强烈反差，仿若世间善恶的反差也不过如此。