Ying-Ying here, which you’d think would be an easy name to remember, but in eighth grade I received a card addressed to “Ying Yang.” Former (corrupt) congressman Duke Cunningham once asked me if I was “the Ying of it,” which made no sense to me as I wasn’t alive in the seventies. And although I wished the universe operated symmetrically, what y’all are thinking of  is the “yin yang” (sans “g”).

I guess the actual “yin of it” is that I’m a student at the most sprawling university in NYC where I’m studying music, which is probably the basis for at least half my woes. It has long been speculated that somewhere within me there is a novel.  This blog is an attempt to dig for it, and I guess it’s a useful life thickener as well.

There will be excessive use of the second person and at times it will get depressingly stream of consciousness.  You have my condolences.


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