About

It’s been years since I last wrote a self-introduction here, and this time it seems like the thrill of starting a blog from scratch is long gone.

As the lines go:

If only life stayed as fresh as that first glimpse,
Then why should the autumn wind stir sadness with a painted fan?
How easily an old friend’s heart can change,
And then they blame the heart for being fickle all along.1

Over the years I have come to see that poems of repulture like this don’t even have to be about people. When I turn inward and weigh myself against this illusory, drifting cyberspace, I am, it seems, much the same: ever ready to write fervent, prettified lines, ever longing to meet those who seem alike but are really walking different path.

It’s really pointless right? I used to live much too hypocritically. Now all I want is a lighter heart going forward, and to tend my own little corner well—that will be more than enough. Work well, live earnestly, and let this place just be a diary.

Jan. 2026 Under Qomolangma

- - - - - - - - -The Archived (Old "About" page, written in May 2022) -- - - - - - - - -

Greetings to you,

In the spirit of clarity, let it be known that this site diverges from the customary congregations of blog sites, where authors oft align with collectives of programmers and the like. I just find solace in filling these pages — penning down thoughts that bear the semblance of notes or perhaps more fittingly, memos to oneself — without any further, intentionalities, I should say. I hereby beseech your indulgence should you encounter any inaccuracies within these "technical" musings — with many thanks.

Back in China, people oft perceive folks with a temperament like mine through a lens of socialisation-phobia (or maybe "trepidation", just to be fair). I would say my place on the spectrum brushes close to what some might label as autistic tendencies. Sorry for any possible offenses but, that is me.

Yet the hand of friendship I extend remains warm to those few who I count as kindred spirits. And should the threads of fate weave a connexion between us, a bond of that scarce "kindredity" that I have in hand, know that I would hold a deep-seated gratitude. I thank you for alighting upon my little corner of the internet; and earnestly hope I can cater to any inquiries you might have.

Days have crept away in this petty pace for I don't know how long, and this about-page I have edited for I don't know how many times — a soliloquy of someone who messed up his own life for a long time? Or a ceaseless endeavour by which one quenches his seemingly unsatiable voidness? I don't know. It just feels, phenomenologically, right, to do both of the preceding. And this is how I did them. Thank you again for reading through it all, it's already way better than most of the times when I have paid my heart to do something, or to someone; and it's constituted my last confidence in myself. Love you all.

Warm regards,

Jiajun

May the cards lay out a straight

all from your command

That's the way it is

Shine light into darkness

Lasa, China, Summer of 2022, at my best times

May it never be gone.

  1. Nalan Xingde, "Magnolia Flower: Imitating an Ancient Poem of Final Parting, for a Friend" ↩︎