by Xingjian Gao
Girl:
I don’t want to waste any more time on this subject. I don’t want to know your name either, it’s useless to me. And don’t bother making up a fake name and then forget about it in short order. When it’s over, it’s over.
Man:
But we’ve just begun, how could it be over so soon? Now that you’ve agreed that a name isn’t important and that it’s a real burden, let’s get to the important part: between you and me…
Girl:
Between a man and a woman? How interesting!
Man:
The whole thing would become more pure, and the relationship more sincere and more real, don’t you think?
(Monk completes a handstand and takes away one hand, but he fails again just when it looks as if he is going to succeed. He exits dejected.)
Girl:
You really can’t get it.
Man:
(Quite Interested.) Get what?
Girl:
Impossible, it’s impossible. I mean, a woman’s heart.
Man:
If I guessed right, you’re talking about love, aren’t you? That of course is a very delicate subject.
Girl:
I’m talking about emotion, which you can’t possibly understand.
Man:
Try me, you never know.
Girl:
How?
Man:
Between you and me—
Girl:
We’ve tried that before.
Man:
Try again. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just try again.
Girl:
(On guard.) No, you can never have it, you can never have anything!
Man:
Just now I was too rushed, really.
Girl:
(Smiles coldly.) You’re always in a rush.
Man:
(Somewhat repentant.) Can I make it up to you in any way?
Girl:
Don’t think that because you’ve had a lot of women…You don’t know women, you’ll never be loved, it’s in your destiny.
(Girl turns around. Monk enters carrying a wooden stick. He looks around for something.)
Man:
(Sarcastically.) What’s love? Try to explain it to me.
Girl:
It can’t be explained.
Man:
There’s no harm in trying.
Girl:
There are things you can explain, and there are things you can’t. Don’t you know that?
Man:
Of course I do, but I still want to know about love.
Girl:
What a fool!
Man:
Then go find yourself someone who isn’t.
Girl:
Aren’t we discussing something? And the topic is love?
Man:
We just made love, do we have to discuss it too?
Girl:
Isn’t it true that you like to discuss all kinds of things?
Man:
Well, go find someone that you can discuss with and discuss them all you want!
Girl:
Why are you so hotheaded?
(Monk finally finds a spot and tries very carefully to stand the stick up on the floor. But once he removes his hand, the stick falls and he at once grabs it and holds on to it. He turns to find another spot.
Man looks at Monk and can’t help feeling a bit depressed.)
Girl:
Answer me, are you or are you not a philosopher?
Man:
Philosophy can go to hell.
Girl:
You’re such an overgrown kid. (Embraces his head.) Be careful, I’m beginning to like you.
Man:
Isn’t that nice?
Girl:
It’s very dangerous.
Man:
(Gets away from her.) Why?
Girl:
Dangerous for you and for me.
Man:
As far as I’m concerned, if you want to stay then stay, you won’t be in my way. I’ve got everything here, a bathroom, a kitchen, a bedroom and a bed, of course, there’s only one bed, but there’s everything that a woman needs.
Girl:
Do you have shampoo, make-up and a night gown too?
Man:
Yes, if you need them, except underwear, you know, everyone is a different size. Make yourself at home, as a matter of fact, I won’t mind if you treat this place like your own home—
Girl:
As long as none of your girlfriends is coming?
Man:
At least none is coming right now. You can stay as long as you like, it’s free. When you want to eat something, just go to the fridge and help yourself, and don’t bother to pay me.
Girl:
I can’t stay with a man all the time.
Man:
There’s no need to. Anyway, if you want to go, it’ll be very simple.
Girl:
And very cheap.
Man:
I’m doing this out of good will, you can stay if you don’t have anywhere else to go, that is, if you really want to stay.
Girl:
Thanks, I don’t live off men, so you don’t have to worry about that.
Man:
I’m not worrying. I can even give you a key, just leave it behind when you go.
Girl:
Do you entertain women like this all the time?
Man:
Not all the time, only sometimes, it’s the same with any other single man, there’s nothing unusual about it.
Girl:
What’s unusual is—Is there anything that’s unusual about you?
Man:
Well, I do have a strange habit. I can’t stand people shaving their armpits in front of me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not against hair or anything. We’re born with it, and it’s natural and it can be very exciting. And of course, I have no objection to a woman dressing herself up.
Girl:
For me, I can’t stand anyone snoring beside me.
Man:
Fortunately I’m not that old yet, well, at least I haven’t noticed it, and no women have left me because of it.
Girl:
Why did they leave you then?
Man:
It’s very simple, either I couldn’t stand them or they couldn’t stand me.
Girl:
May I ask why couldn’t they stand you?
Man:
I like eating raw garlic.
Girl:
It shouldn’t be much of a problem, as long as you brush your teeth afterwards.
Man:
Another thing is probably that I don’t have patience, and I just can’t stand neurotic behaviour.
Girl:
Well, there’s no woman who isn’t neurotic.
Man:
And you too?
Girl:
It depends on the person and the time. (Silence.) What else shall we talk about?
Man:
(Scrutinizing her.) Are you still at school? I’m just asking. What I mean is, you’re so young.
Girl:
You want to see my diploma or something? Are you planning to hire me?
Man:
Come to think of it, I might. But how shall I put it, I can’t afford to pay you.
Girl:
I don’t want to be a maid to wait on people, I don’t do cleaning, and I hate washing dishes.
Man:
I don’t entertain at home much, unless it’s some young girl like you. What I mean to say is, sometimes I do need to use the desk at night. If you’re still at school and you’ve got homework to do, there could be a slight problem.
Girl:
Do you write? Are you a writer?
Man:
(Hurriedly.) No, we’re living in an age of women writers, every woman likes to write something. All men’s books have already been written. And when men write about women it’s just not as realistic as women writing about th
emselves.
Girl:
Do you read only books written by women?
Man:
Not necessarily. I’ve read some. As for women writing about men…How shall I put it?…
Girl:
Too exciting? Or too neurotic?
Man:
Too sissyish. I don’t mean to criticize, let’s leave criticism to the critics, it’s their job. What I mean is, women don’t understand men, just as men don’t understand women.
Girl:
If I were to write about men—
Man:
They’d all be bastards?
Girl:
Not necessarily.
Man:
Even worse than bastards?
Girl:
They don’t even qualify, they’d just be cowards.
Man:
(Hesitantly.) Actually, it’d be quite interesting if you were to write like that. Have you written anything yet?
Girl:
I want to write, but I know I’ll never be a writer.
Man:
Whoever writes is a writer, you don’t need a diploma to be one. It’s as simple as that.
Girl:
But who’s going to support me? I’ve got to pay my rent first, you know.
Man:
Of course, you can’t live on writing. Nowadays writing has become a luxury and an extravagant habit.
Girl:
You seem to like literature, don’t you? Do you prefer poetry or fiction?
Man:
Why just poetry or fiction? Only women read those nowadays. Oh, I beg your pardon, what I mean is—
Girl:
Why apologize? (Teasing him.) I’m no poet and I can’t write fiction, I’m not any of those, I’m just a woman.
Man:
Thank God for that. These days men are always busy earning money and making deals. On weekends? Well, they either have business engagements or they can’t wait to go away with their girlfriends. Only women can afford to have the leisure and the time to read.
Girl:
Not all women read, they’re also busy living. We only live once, don’t you think?
Man:
I know. Nowadays, anyone who writes a book has to read it himself.
Girl:
You don’t look like a businessman. Tell me, do you write books just for yourself to read?
Man:
I don’t have the luxury. Once in a while, I’ll take a look at the books other people have written.
Girl:
May I ask what kind of books do you read?
Man:
Books on politics.
Girl:
Wow! Are you a politician? Are you involved in politics in any way?
Man:
Thank God no, I think it’s better to leave the politicians alone.
Girl:
Then why do you still read about politics then?
Man:
I only read political memoirs.
Girl:
Then you must be studying history, right?
Man:
Not exactly studying. I only want to see how the politicians can lie with a straight face, cheat on one another, swindle, and play with public opinion as if it were a card game. And you know, they’ll only let out a little bit of truth in their memoirs after they’ve been kicked out. And like you said, we only live once, right? So don’t let them take you for a ride.
Girl:
Please don’t talk to me about politics. All men like politics, ‘cause they want to show people they have the talent and the intelligence to run the ship of the state.
Man:
Relax, it’s more interesting to talk about women when you’re with a woman.
Girl:
You’ve got to know how, otherwise you’ll just make a real pest of yourself.
Man:
Of course, flirting is an art, or the art of living even. It’s a lot more interesting than playing cards. Cards are dead and people are living creatures, and they’re all different from one another, don’t you think?
Girl:
Are you done yet?
Man Yes.
(Monk finally manages to stand the stick up. Man and Girl both look at him.)
Girl:
What else shall we talk about?
Man:
We’ll keep on talking about women of course.
Girl:
Generally, or shall we pick a specific one?
Man:
Why don’t you talk about yourself? I want to get to know you, but please don’t mention that India thing again.
Girl:
You wouldn’t believe me if I did.
Man:
Have you been feeding me lies?
Girl:
Haven’t you lied before? Haven’t you ever cheated on your wife? Don’t lie to me!
Man:
Of course I did, I never said I was a saint.
Girl:
Exactly. You know why women cheat? It’s only because they’ve learned the tricks from men first.
Man:
You mean people cheat on you all the time?
Girl:
Cheating is a form of self-defence.
Man:
Does that include cheating on oneself?
Girl:
Everyone cheats, otherwise it’d be impossible to live.
Man:
You seem to be living quite painfully, don’t you?
Girl:
Everyone’s in pain. You don’t look like you’re too happy yourself.
Man:
Can’t you change the way you talk?
Girl:
How? How should I change it? C’mon, tell me.
Man:
You’re always so defensive, it’s so hard to talk to you.
Girl:
The same here. It’s really tiring talking to you.
Man:
You’re like that too. Now I’ve got a headache.
Girl:
(Somewhat sympathetic.) Come on, let’s change to a lighter subject, something that’ll cheer us up.
(Having completed his previous stunt, Monk rubs his hands and starts to become enthusiastic again. He takes out an egg from inside his robe and tries to stand the egg on the tip of the stick.)
Man:
What else shall we talk about? Something in praise of women or what? But everything that has to be said has been said already, there’s really nothing new left to say any more. Perhaps I should say that you’re young and beautiful? That you’re charming and attractive? Or that you’re sexy? By the way, these are not empty words, and they’re not meant to flatter you or to make you feel good, they’re all true.
Girl:
My dear, you seem to be more lovely when you’re not using your brain. For once can’t you just honestly talk about yourself? Tell me, how do you spend your time?
Man:
You mean right now?
Girl:
Yes, at this very moment—
Man:
Make love, if someone’s willing.
Girl:
What if there’s nobody around? Then what would you do?
Man:
I dream, when I’m doing nothing I always dream. Dreams are more real than reality itself, they’re closer to the self. Don’t you think so? (Lights a candle.)
Girl:
Me too, I dream almost every day. Tell me about your dreams.
Man:
One day, I dreamt that I was sinking into the ground, my whole body was trapped deep inside, there were two extremely high walls on either side of me, or should I say huge crags, no matter how hard I tried I just couldn’t climb over them and get out…What are you laughing at?
Girl:
You made it all up, you’re only thinking about women.
Man:
You can’t really tell what happens in your dream, can you? If you’re dreaming things happen in no particular order and you’re confused, when you wake up and t
ry to talk about it, you’d simply lay it on and fabricate, or you’d deceive yourself, and later when you tell your dream to somebody, you’d add on your own fantasies for self-gratification. In a dream, you’re only living in your feelings at the time, that’s all. (Looks at Monk.) There’s no plot, just narration.
(The egg falls from the tip of the stick onto the ground. Monk takes another egg from inside his robe and tries patiently to stand it on the tip of the stick again.
Girl smiles surreptitiously.)
Man:
It’s just wishful thinking trying to tell a dream.
Girl:
You’re an idiot.
Man:
That’s right. You’re you only when you’re dreaming.
Girl:
(Steps back to inspect him.) Are you saying that at this very moment you aren’t real?
Man:
Who cares if I’m real or not? You’re only concerned with how you feel, right? Only feelings can be real.
Girl:
Now you’re beginning to scare me.
Man:
You weren’t scared when that Indian guy raped you, and you’re telling me that you’re scared now? (Walking closer to her.)
Girl:
Don’t even try, I’m going.
Man:
You’re not going anywhere.
Girl:
Don’t try to intimidate me.
Man:
Just playing. You get scared easily when we play for real.
Girl:
Because it’s not fun.
Man:
Well then, why don’t you tell me how we should play?
Girl:
It’s got to be more relaxing, more cheerful. But you just keep annoying people.
Man:
All right. Whatever you say, I’m game. Tell me, how do you want to play?
(Puts down the candlestick.)
(Again the egg falls and rolls on the ground. Monk takes out a third egg from inside his robe. He rubs it in his palms and then places it on the tip of the stick.)
Girl:
Fine. Take off your clothes for me, take them all off! That’s what you want, right?
(Monk turns his head as if to take a glance at them.)
Girl:
I can’t stand your bathrobe, don’t you think it’s ugly? It makes me sick!
(Monk turns back his head to continue with his task.
Man takes off his bathrobe and throw it on the ground.)
Man:
Okay, now it’s your turn.
Girl:
Can’t you put it more gently?
Man:
How?