白噪音(White Noise) (英文版)作者:唐·德里罗(Don DeLillo)-第35章

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　and　the　early　Marilyn　Monroe。　Shot　in　thirty…two　days。　Black　and　white。〃
　　〃Did　you　ever　get　an　erection　from　a　dental　hygienist　rubbing　against　your　arm　while　she　cleaned　your　teeth？〃
　　〃More　times　than　I　can　count。〃
　　〃When　you　bite　dead　skin　off　your　thumb；　do　you　eat　it　or　spit　it　out？〃
　　〃Chew　it　briefly；　then　propel　it　swiftly　from　the　end　of　the　tongue。〃
　　〃Do　you　ever　close　your　eyes；〃　Lasher　said；　〃while　you're　driving　on　a　highway？〃
　　〃I　closed　my　eyes　on　95　North　for　eight　full　seconds。　Eight　seconds　is　my　personal　best。　I've　closed　my　eyes　for　up　to　six　seconds　on　winding　country　roads　but　that's　only　doing　thirty　or　thirty…five。　On　multilane　highways　I　usually　hover　at　seventy　before　I　close　my　eyes。　You　do　this　on　straightaways。　I've　closed　my　eyes　for　up　to　five　seconds　on　straightaways　driving　with　other　people　in　the　car。　You　wait　till　they're　drowsy　is　how　you　do　it。〃
　　Grappa　had　a　round　moist　worried　face。　There　was　something　in　it　of　a　sweet　boy　betrayed。　I　watched　him　light　up　a　cigarette；　shake　out　the　match　and　toss　it　into　Murray's　salad。
　　〃How　much　pleasure　did　you　take　as　a　kid；〃　Lasher　said；　〃in　imagining　yourself　dead？〃
　　〃Never　mind　as　a　kid；〃　Grappa　said。　〃I　still　do　it　all　the　time。　Whenever　I'm　upset　over　something；　I　imagine　all　my　friends；　relatives　and　colleagues　gathered　at　my　bier。　They　are　very；　very　sorry　they　weren't　nicer　to　me　while　I　lived。　Self…pity　is　something　I've　worked　very　hard　to　maintain。　Why　abandon　it　just　because　you　grow　up？　Self…pity　is　something　that　children　are　very　good　at；　which　must　mean　it　is　natural　and　important。　Imagining　yourself　dead　is　the　cheapest；　sleaziest；　most　satisfying　form　of　childish　self…pity。　How　sad　and　remorseful　and　guilty　all　those　people　are；　standing　by　your　great　bronze　coffin。　They　can't　even　look　each　other　in　the　eye　because　they　know　that　the　death　of　this　decent　and　passionate　man　is　the　result　of　a　conspiracy　they　all　took　part　in。　The　coffin　is　banked　with　flowers　and　lined　with　a　napped　fabric　in　salmon　or　peach。　What　wonderful　cross…currents　of　self…pity　and　self…esteem　you　are　able　to　wallow　in；　seeing　yourself　laid　out　in　a　dark　suit　and　tie；　looking　tanned；　fit　and　rested；　as　they　say　of　presidents　after　vacations。　But　there　is　something　even　more　childish　and　satisfying　than　self…pity；　something　that　explains　why　I　try　to　see　myself　dead　on　a　regular　basis；　a　great　fellow　surrounded　by　sniveling　mourners。　It　is　my　way　of　punishing　people　for　thinking　their　own　lives　are　more　important　than　mine。〃
　　Lasher　said　to　Murray；　〃We　ought　to　have　an　official　Day　of　the　Dead。　Like　the　Mexicans。〃
　　〃We　do。　It's　called　Super　Bowl　Week。〃
　　I　didn't　want　to　listen　to　this。　I　had　my　own　dying　to　dwell　upon；　independent　of　fantasies。　Not　that　I　thought　Grappa's　remarks　were　ill…founded。　His　sense　of　conspiracy　aroused　in　me　a　particular　ripple　of　response。　This　is　what　we　forgive　on　our　deathbeds；　not　lovelessness　or　greed。　We　forgive　them　for　their　ability　to　put　themselves　at　a　distance；　to　scheme　in　silence　against　us；　do　us；　effectively；　in。
　　I　watched　Alfonse　reassert　his　bearish　presence　with　a　shoulder…rolling　gesture。　I　took　this　as　a　sign　that　he　was　wanning　up　to　speak。　I　wanted　to　bolt；　make　off　suddenly；　run。
　　〃In　New　York；〃　he　said；　looking　directly　at　me；　〃people　ask　if　you　have　a　good　internist。　This　is　where　true　power　lies。　The　inner　organs。　Liver；　kidneys；　stomach；　intestines；　pancreas。　Internal　medicine　is　the　magic　brew。　You　acquire　strength　and　charisma　from　a　good　internist　totally　aside　from　the　treatment　he　provides。　People　ask　about　tax　lawyers；　estate　planners；　dope　dealers。　But　it's　the　internist　who　really　matters。　'Who's　your　internist？'　someone　will　say　in　a　challenging　tone。　The　question　implies　that　if　your　internist's　name　is　unfamiliar；　you　are　certain　to　die　of　a　mushroom…shaped　tumor　on　your　pancreas。　You　are　meant　to　feel　inferior　and　doomed　not　just　because　your　inner　organs　may　be　trickling　blood　but　because　you　don't　know　who　to　see　about　it；　how　to　make　contacts；　how　to　make　your　way　in　the　world。　Never　mind　the　military…industrial　plex。　The　real　power　is　wielded　every　day；　in　these　little　challenges　and　intimidations；　by　people　just　like　us。〃
　　I　gulped　down　my　dessert　and　slipped　away　from　the　table。　Outside　I　waited　for　Murray。　When　he　emerged　I　held　his　arm　just…above　the　elbow　and　we　walked　across　campus　like　a　pair　of　European　senior　citizens；　heads　bowed　in　conversation。
　　〃How　do　you　listen　to　that？〃　I　said。　〃Death　and　disease。　Do　they　talk　like　that　all　the　time？〃
　　〃When　I　covered　sports；　I　used　to　get　together　with　the　other　writers　on　the　road。　Hotel　rooms；　planes；　taxis；　restaurants。　There　was　only　one　topic　of　conversation。　Sex　and　death。〃
　　〃That's　two　topics。〃
　　〃You're　right；　Jack。〃
　　〃I　would　hate　to　believe　they　are　inextricably　linked。〃
　　〃It's　just　that　on　the　road　everything　is　linked。　Everything　and　nothing；　to　be　precise。〃
　　We　walked　past　small　mounds　of　melting　snow。
　　〃How　is　your　car　crash　seminar　progressing？〃
　　〃We've　looked　at　hundreds　of　crash　sequences。　Cars　with　cars。　Cars　with　trucks。　Trucks　with　buses。　Motorcycles　with　cars。　Cars　with　helicopters。　Trucks　with　trucks。　My　students　think　these　movies　are　prophetic。　They　mark　the　suicide　wish　of　technology。
　　The　drive　to　suicide；　the　hurtling　rush　to　suicide。〃
　　〃What　do　you　say　to　them？〃
　　〃These　are　mainly　B…movies；　TV　movies；　rural　drive…in　movies。　I　tell　my　students　not　to　look　for　apocalypse　in　such　places。　I　see　these　car　crashes　as　part　of　a　long　tradition　of　American　optimism。　They　are　positive　events；　full　of　the　old　'can…do'　spirit。　Each　car　crash　is　meant　to　be　better　than　the　last。　There　is　a　constant　upgrading　of　tools　and　skills；　a　meeting　of　challenges。　A　director　says；　'I　need　this　flatbed　truck　to　do　a　midair　double　somersault　that　produces　an　orange　ball　of　fire　with　a　thirty…six…foot　diameter；　which　the　cinematographer　will　use　to　light　the　scene。'　I　tell　my　students　if　they　want　to　bring　technology　into　it；　they　have　to　take　this　into　account；　this　tendency　toward　grandiose　deeds；　toward　pursuing　a　dream。〃
　　〃A　dream？　How　do　your　students　reply？〃
　　〃Just　the　way　you　did。　'A　dream？'　All　that　blood　and　glass；　that　screeching　rubber。　What　about　the　sheer　waste；　the　sense　of　a　civilization　in　a　state　of　decay？〃
　　〃What　about　it？〃　I　said。
　　〃I　tell　them　it's　not　decay　they　are　seeing　but　innocence。　The　movie　breaks　away　from　plicated　human　passions　to　show　us　something　elemental；　something　fiery　and　loud　and　head…on。　It's　a　conservative　wish…fulfillment；　a　yearning　for　na？veté。　We　want　to　be　artless　again。　We　want　to　reverse　the　flow　of　experience；　of　worldliness　and　its　responsibilities。　My　students　say；　'Look　at　the　crushed　bodies；　the　severed　limbs。　What　kind　of　innocence　is　this？'〃
　　〃What　do　you　say　to　that？〃
　　〃I　tell　them　they　can't　think　of　a　car　crash　in　a　movie　as　a　violent　act。　It's　a　celebration。　A　reaff？rmation　of　traditional　values　and　beliefs。　I　connect　car　crashes　to　holidays　like　Thanksgiving　and　the　Fourth。　We　don't　mourn　the　dead　or　rejoice　in　miracles。　These　are　days　of　secular　optimism；　of　self…celebration。　We　will　improve；　prosper；　perfect　ourselves。　Watch　any　car　crash　in　any　American　movie。　It　is　a　high…spirited　moment　like　old…fashioned　stunt　flying；　walking　on　wings。　The　people　who　stage　these　crashes　are　able　to　capture　a　lightheartedness；　a　carefree　enjoyment　that　car　crashes　in　foreign　movies　can　never　approach。〃
　　〃Look　past　the　violence。〃
　　〃Exactly。　Look　past　the　violence；　Jack。　There　is　a　wonderful　brimming　spirit　of　innocence　and　fun。〃
　　29
　　Babette　and　I　moved　down　the　wide　aisle；　each　with　a　gleaming　cart。　We　passed　a　family　shopping　in　sign　language。　I　kept　seeing　colored　lights。
　　〃How　do　you　feel？〃　she　said。
　　〃I'm　fine。　I　feel　good。　How　are　you？〃
　　〃Why　don't　you　have　a　checkup？　Wouldn't　you　feel　better　if　you　found　out　nothing　was　there？〃
　　〃I've　had　two　checkups。　Nothing　is　there。〃
　　〃What　did　Dr。　Chakravarty　say？〃
　　〃What　could　he　say？〃
　　〃He　speaks　English　beautifully。　I　love　to　hear　him　speak。〃
　　〃Not　as　much　as　he　loves　to　speak。〃
　　〃What　do　you　mean　he　loves　to　speak？　Do　you　mean　he　takes　every　possible　opportunity　to　speak？　He's　a　doctor。　He　has　to　speak。　In　a　very　real　sense　you　are　paying　him　to　speak。　Do　you　mean　he　flaunts　his　beautiful　English？　He　rubs　your　face　in　it？〃
　　〃We　need　some　Class　Plus。〃
　　〃Don't　leave　me　alone；〃　she　said。
　　〃I'm　just　going　to　aisle　five。〃
　　〃I　don't　want　to　be　alone；　Jack。　I　believe　you　know　that。〃
　　〃We're　going　to　e　through　this　thing　all　right；〃　I　said。　〃Maybe　stronger　than　ever。　We're　determined　to　be　well。　Babette　is　not　a　neurotic　person。　She　is　strong；　healthy；　outgoing；　affirmative。　She　says　yes　to　things。　This　is　the　point　of　Babette。〃
　　We　stayed　together　in　the　aisles　and　at　the　checkout。　Babette　bought　three　tabloids　for　her　next　session　with　Old　Man　Treadwell。　We　read　them　together　as　we　waited　on　line。　Then　we　went　together　to　the　car；　loaded　the　merchandise；　sat　very　close　to　each　other　as　I　drove　home。
　　〃Except　for　my　eyes；〃　I　said。
　　〃What　do　you　mean？〃
　　〃Chakravarty　thinks　I　ought　to　see　an　eye　man。〃
　　〃Is　it　the　colored　spots　again？〃
　　〃Yes。〃
　　〃Stop　wearing　those　dark　glasses。〃
　　〃I　can't　teach　Hitler　without　them。〃
　　〃Why　not？〃
　　〃I　need　them；　that's　all。〃
　　〃They're　stupid；　they're　useless。〃
　　〃I've　built　a　career；〃　I　said。　〃I　may　not　understand　all　the　elements　involved　but　this　is　all　the　more　reason　not　to　tamper。〃
　　The　déjà　vu　crisis　centers　closed　down。　The　hotline　was　quietly　discontinued。　People　seemed　on　the　verge　of　forgetting。　I　could　hardly　blame　them　even　if　I　felt　abandoned　to　a　certain　extent；　left　holding　the　bag。
　　I　went　faithfully　to　German　lessons。　I　began　to　work　with　my　teacher　on　things　I　might　say　in　weling　delegates　to　the　Hitler　conference；　still　a　number　of　weeks　off。　The　windows　were　totally　blocked　by　furniture　and　debris。　Howard　Dunlop　sat　in　the　middle　of　the　room；　his　oval　face　floating　in　sixty　watts　of　dusty　light。　I　began　to　suspect　I　was　the　only　person　he　ever　talked　to。　I　also　began　to　suspect　he　needed　me　more　than　I　needed　him。　A　disconcerting　and　terrible　thought。
　　There　was　a　German…language　book　on　a　ruined　table　near　the　door。　The　title　was　lettered　in　black　in　a　thick　heavy　ominous　typeface：　Das　Aegyptische　Todtenbuch。
　　〃What's　that？〃　I　said。
　　〃The　Egyptian　Book　of　the　Dead；〃　he　whispered。　〃A　best…seller　in　Germany。〃
　　Every　so　often；　when　Denise　wasn't　home；　I　wandered　into　her　room。　I　picked　up　things；　put　them　down；　looked　behind　a　curtain；　glanced　into　an　open　drawer；　stuck　my　foot　under　the　bed　and　felt　around。　Absentminded　browsing。
　　Babette　listened　to　talk　radio。
　　I　started　throwing　things　away。　Things　in　the　top　and　bottom　of　my　closet；　things　in　boxes　in　the　basement　and　attic。　I　threw　away　correspondence；　old　paperbacks；　magazines　I'd　been　saving　to　read；　pencils　that　needed　sharpening。　I　threw　away　tennis　shoes；　sweat　socks；　gloves　with　ragged　fingers；　old　belts　and　neckties。　I　came　upon　stacks　of　student　reports；　broken　rods　for　the　seats　o