Five Spice Street

What is the essence of Madam X’s actions? She has nothing to do with the argument I’ve presented. She will never attain so high a realm. In a dark place, she pounced, or he pounced. It makes no difference: it’s meaningless. It has no spiritual value; it has nothing to do with independent consciousness. Nothing’s new. I vote for the opinion that Madam X took the initiative, but there’s nothing wonderful here. All of us women must work for the blackboard newspaper, for it will inaugurate a new era.

Dr. C: I have a unique opinion. I think they scuffled inside the granary because both wanted to be the first to take the offensive. They struggled for the initiative. The result was that they both got what they wanted: they were enraptured.

Wouldn’t any man or woman want to show his or her lust and power? At first, each saw the other as a lion, and himself or herself as an agile hunter. They conceived all kinds of techniques and imagined various difficulties and dangers; then, on a dark cloudy morning, they set out with determination. The whole day, they alternately chased and waited until they were dead tired. Finally, when they were about to run out of patience, they began feeling lightheaded, and the granary was suddenly before them.

Each wanted to be first to occupy this blockhouse, this strategic place for victory. Thus, the lithe, slim-legged Madam X dashed to the front and was the first to enter. The strapping, clumsy Q had a technique, too: he hid outside the granary door and commenced a tactic of attrition. In the dark, they gazed at each other warily with green eyes, neither daring to relax. This standoff must have lasted about three hours. Suddenly, coincidentally, both of them pounced. In the first round, they simply pounced on air. They slipped and fell on their faces, and perhaps Q also lost a tooth. They desisted for about half an hour and then began the second round.

X outflanked him and kept circling inside the granary, planning to make Q faint. Q’s tactic was to remain still. He relied on his sturdy constitution and strength. He guessed that X wouldn’t be able to topple him. He rested for a while and even smoked a cigarette! The moment he finished his cigarette, X tripped him with her slim leg and Q fell. She also slipped into the mud. Q fell on top of her. X had originally wanted to bite him until he bled. God knows why she didn’t, but the two stood up in the same instant and with quivering voices said, ‘‘Let’s take our clothes off!’’ They then hurriedly undressed. The moment of rapture had arrived. They embraced. They were biting and pulling each other’s hair. X pulled out at least five hundred strands of Q’s hair, but I don’t know if they really went all the way or not. That was least important, for they had already fully reaped their joy.

Then, they sat on a sack of grain and began singing a song from their childhood-‘‘The Good Times When School Lets Out.’’ With each line, they gave the other a sharp slap in the face, evidently to beat the time. Beating the time made X’s tender face swell. Q’s face didn’t swell, because it was rough and as rigid as wood. Slapping it actually hurt the joints in X’s hand. In high spirits, they said, ‘‘This is the only way to reach satisfaction. We are the first to experience real, harmonious sex. How pitiful other people are! What do they get from that animal-like intercourse? We really have courage!’’ Then they kissed. While they were kissing, each also tried to bite off the other’s tongue. If it weren’t that both were very agile and pulled back, something unbearably tragic might have occurred.

Dear ones, I’d like to make an argument below about the pleasant sensation of sex. For years, this subject has been steeped in endless fallacies and has become almost completely lost. Even with exceptional efforts, we have discovered only a few of its features. But in the end, it turned out to be nothing but a big joke life has played on us. Sexual joy is something miraculous high in the clouds. Indeed, in the meetings in the dark room, the elites have hinted about it with their lip movements. But that’s irrelevant! This joy is something you can hardly attain; you certainly can’t experience it merely from intercourse. It’s a kind of game: when you almost reach it, it glides away from your body. And so you’re dejected and blame your partner. You’re so angry you jump up and roar: ‘‘Why do we want this damn thing? It’s even harder to catch than the wind or shadows. To catch it you inevitably fall into your own trap and thrash inside it blindly.

Becoming an ascetic would be a lot easier and simpler. This longing makes me suffer to death! Suffer to death! Within six months, I’ll be finished! Fuck the joy-someone has made it up to trick people!’’ Although you’ve stated this decisively, as soon as your sweetheart shows up, you’ll be sniffing around like an old dog again and reveling in the joy.