按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
study back…to…back。 To the left of the door stood a steel bunk bed。 The
furniture supplied was sturdy and simple and included a pair of
lockers； a small coffee table； and some built…in shelves。 Even the most
well…disposed observer would have had trouble calling this setting
poetic。 The shelves of most rooms carried such items as transistor
radios； hairdryers； electric carafes and cookers； instant coffee； tea
bags； sugar cubes； and simple pots and bowls for preparing instant
ramen。 The walls bore pin…ups from girlie magazines or stolen porno
movie posters。 One guy had a photo of pigs mating； but this was a far…
out exception to the usual naked women； girl pop singers or actresses。
Bookshelves on the desks held textbooks； dictionaries and novels。
The filth of these all…male rooms was horrifying。 Mouldy mandarin
skins clung to the bottoms of waste…paper baskets。 Empty cans used
for ashtrays held mounds of cigarette butts； and when these started to
smoulder they'd be doused with coffee or beer and left to give off a
sour stink。 Blackish
grime and bits of indefinable matter clung to all the bowls and dishes
on the shelves； and the fl oors were littered with instant ramen
wrappers and empty beer cans and discarded lids from one thing or
another。 It never occurred to anyone to sweep up and throw these
things in the bin。 Any wind that blew through would raise clouds of
dust。 Each room had its own horrendous smell； but the ponents of
that smell were always the same： sweat； body odour and rubbish。
Dirty clothes would pile up under the beds； and without anyone
bothering to air the mattresses on a regular basis； these sweat …
impregnated pads would give off odours beyond redemption。 In
retrospect； it seems amazing that these shitpiles gave rise to no killer
epidemics。
My room； on the other hand； was as sanitary as a morgue。 The floor
and window were spotless； the mattresses were aired each week； all
pencils stood in the pencil holders； and even the curtains were washed
once a month。 My room…mate was a cleanliness freak。 None of the
others in the dorm believed me when I told them about the curtains。
They didn't know that curtains could be washed。 They believed；
rather； that curtains were semi…permanent parts of the window。
〃There's something wrong with that guy；〃 they'd say； labelling him a
Nazi or a storm trooper。
We didn't even have pin…ups。 No； we had a photo of a canal in
Amsterdam。 I had put up a nude shot； but my room…mate had pulled it
down。 〃Hey； Watanabe；〃 he said； 〃I…I'm not too crazy about this kind
of thing；〃 and up went the canal photo instead。 I wasn't especially
attached to the nude； so I didn't protest。
〃What the hell's that？〃 was the universal reaction to the Amsterdam
photo whenever any of the other guys came to my room。
〃Oh； Storm Trooper likes to wank looking at this；〃 I said。
I meant it as a joke； but they all took me seriously … so seriously that I
began to believe it myself。
Everybody sympathized with me for having Storm Trooper as a room…
mate； but I really wasn't that upset about it。 He left me alone as long as
I kept my area clean； and in fact having him as my room…mate made
things easier for me in many ways。 He did all the cleaning； he took
care of sunning the mattresses； he threw out the rubbish。 He'd give a
sniff and suggest a bath for me if I'd been too busy to wash for a few
days。 He'd even point out when it was time for me to go to the barber's
or trim my nasal hair。 The one thing that bothered me was the way he
would spray clouds of insecticide if he noticed a single fly in the
room； because then I had to take refuge in a neighbouring shitpile。
Storm Trooper was studying geography at a national university。
As he told me the first time we met； 〃I'm studying m…m…maps。〃
〃You like maps？〃 I asked。
〃Yup。 When I graduate； I'm going to work for the Geo graphical
Survey Institute and make m…m…maps。〃
I was impressed by the variety of dreams and goals that life could
offer。 This was one of the very first new impressions I received when I
came to Tokyo for the first time。 The thought struck me that society
needed a few people … just a few … who were interested in and even
passionate about mapmaking。 Odd； though； that someone who wanted
to work for the government's Geographical Survey Institute should
stutter every time he said the word 〃map〃。 Storm Trooper often didn't
stutter at all； except when he pronounced the word 〃map〃； for which it
was a 100 per cent certainty。
〃W what are you studying？〃 he asked me。
〃Drama；〃 I said。
〃Gonna put on plays？〃
〃Nah； just read scripts and do research。 Racine； lonesco； Shakespeare；
stuff like that。〃
He said he had heard of Shakespeare but not the others。 I hardly knew
anything about the others myself； I'd just seen their names in lecture
handouts。
〃You like plays？〃 he asked。
〃Not especially。〃
This confused him； and when he was confused； his stuttering got
worse。 I felt sorry I had done that to him。
〃I could have picked anything；〃 I said。 〃Ethnology； Asian history。 I
just happened to pick drama； that's all；〃 which was not the most
convincing explanation I could have e up with。
〃I don't get it；〃 he said； looking as if he really didn't get it。 〃I like m…
m…maps； so I decided to e to Tokyo and get my parents to s…send
me money so I could study m…m…maps。 But not you； huh？〃
His approach made more sense than mine。 I gave up trying to explain
myself。 Then we drew lots （matchsticks） to choose bunks。 He got the
upper bunk。
Tall； with a crewcut and high cheekbones； he always wore the same
outfit： white shirt； black trousers； black shoes； navy…blue jumper。 To
these he would add a uniform jacket and black briefcase when he went
to his university： a typical right …wing student。 Which is why
everybody called him Storm Trooper。 But in fact he was totally
indifferent to politics。 He wore a uniform because he didn't want to be
bothered choosing clothes。 What interested him were things like
changes in the coastline or the pletion of a new railway tunnel。
Nothing else。 He'd go on for hours once he got started on a subject
like that； until you either ran away or fell asleep。
He was up at six each morning with the strains of 〃May Our Lord's
Reign〃。 Which is to say that that ostentatious flag…raising ritual was
not entirely useless。 He'd get dressed； go to the bathroom and wash his
face … for ever。 I sometimes got the feeling he must be taking out each
tooth and washing it； one at a time。 Back in the room； he would snap
the wrinkles out of his towel and lay it on the radiator to dry； then
return his toothbrush and soap to the shelf。 Finally he'd do radio
callisthenics with the rest of the nation。
I was used to reading late at night and sleeping until eight o'clock； so
even when he started shuffling around the room and exercising； I
remained unconscious … until the part where he started jumping。 He
took his jumping seriously and made the bed bounce every time he hit
the floor。 I stood it for three days because they had told us that
munal life called for a certain degree of resignation； but b