YuHeng's blog

Woke up. 
Fixed the fridge
Ate
Cooked but did not cook
the products didn't form
a dog came
he played
I barked 
We went to the dog park
He played more
I read and rested
Each day continues 
like a sluggish tempo
Adagio
some days, legato 
some times, Andante and suddenly Largo
then its all slugs
its all about the slugs from then on
how far one travels
without losing slime
heat
the black tar
on which a slug can manifest
whiten, 
Melt
like a thin film of grease,
smoking, 
the wok  
black tar--
and in goes the salt. 

Grandma serves the dish. Fried slugs. Not escargot. The pope does not eat fish. But the law mandates it. 
 
I saw Sartre today. Naeous. Sartre under the slow stupor of the sun.
The image before the dog
Sartre
Sartre without glasses
Sartre with the big bulb eye like a gold fish
A gold fish looks like a bulldog. French or English english. 
Anyhow. 
A bulldog does not remind one of Sartre

If I do not write "I woke up," is it assumed? Do I just go to bed and sleep, awaken, and sleep... without the interference of dreams at all? 
What if 
I forgot to sleep
And I always wake up
Then, someone wakes up 
And remembers me
To have a coffee 
Or perhaps to eat because one has to eat
But I didn't sleep, and I don't know how to tell them 
I don't remember them
Who
The sleeper
The who?
The musicians
The what?
No
Do i know them.