YuHeng's blog

Woke up under the gaze of the black curtains

Could not fall back asleep. Woke up by the sound of a dog

It came. I made breakfast

Then coffee

I ate. From then on, not much. Not much till now. Now, I’m writing.

But I don’t want to write. And there’s not much to write to be honest. I don’t feel like writing. And I don’t feel like doing much either. I don’t mind just doing nothing. But to do nothing is to do something. Because its the same old paradox that if I ever do something, whether that is something itself or nothing, I am by default, doing something. So, it is impossible for me to do nothing. I prefer to stare at nothing than to even read, though reading has brought upon all the fouls of understanding nothing. Damn Cage. He injected the idea in my head like an immunization. I am bound to produce all the antibiotics against the ignorance of not comprehending nothingness. I produce a nausea, a distaste for those who smear at the voluptuousness of emptiness. And as I came upon this line by Bei Dao, ‘hurry a lion into the cage of music,’ I can only think of Cage who hurried me into the cage of sound–of nothingness as Debussy says: “music is thesilence between notes.” And so, I happen to only stare at the gaps between notes, objects, things, that all things begin to evade me, and I miss nothing because nothing encounters me. And for a few months, no, maybe a few night ago, this was the loneliness that descended on K. OH but I know that only Cage will bring the key to the cage. But only the soundless key on the piano sheets, dog-eared like the dog that I’m accompanying. A Pomeranian. Ah that hum-drum 4/4 pattern, he will drone you to sleep and become a part of you, emerging, penetrating, and forgetting that the people, names, kingdoms of which you a part, all belong to the past.

And so, I’m here typing this, having just used the washroom, cleaned up the dishes, and finally finished my breakfast, which by now, has become lunch.