A Storyless Story (un-proofread)

(1) You told me that I owe you a story.

A story about me and myself.

I said I have no secret. My story is a story about life without secret. No, it should be the story itself. The story about me is that my life has no secret. This is my story. I have no intention of being tricky or pretentious. There is no trick at all. The secret of my life is I have no secret, at this age, at this point. And that is the secret of my life. With all these, I have told you everything.

You asked me to explain but there is no explanation. You will understand. I believe, you will, you do. It's all about timing. You are on your path in your labyrinth, with you own pace, own rhyme. You might well understood that you're my mystics. The omni-mystics. I'm sure you'll know one day, you will. And there is no clue. Oh, maybe there is some. Like what happens in The Fountain, the gorgeous movie we both addicted to.

And thus I promised that I will write a story. A story about the clue to my secret, a secret without any secret at all. I can never express how glad I am for meeting you, just like you could never realise how scary you're to me. Not because of anything but only the importance. The importance of the important. You passed by my importance, and start digging the land to put down root, as if you'll become a tree in the Big Fish. The giant in Big Fish.

It's always scary, even though I really am merry. And thus I promised that I will write a story. A story of the secretless secret. As a cleverest reader you may have already recognized that a necessary void would be inevitable in that story. No matter what the plot is and how the narrative goes, there would definitely be a void, lies between the secretless secret. The void, like Keller's depth, like the non-ontological sexual differences taught by Irigaray, is the beautiful darkness inside my bone that dark enough to see your light. It's like the blackhole/cave inside my body, being veiled with the other lips, that both you and I always want to penetrate.

The void is my scare and my sacred happiness. It is windy and shinny tho dark. Nixie is the echo of the void. She call it mystery. This word probably too melodramatic. You better offer your most generous understanding that for Nixie, mystery is nothing but the wonderland ever.

Okay, let's go back to the story. As far as we can know, all about this story is, it's a story with a void. We can hear Nixie, the echo of the void.

"Let there be mystery," Nixie said.

And that is where everything began.


(2) Questioning of Asking

Heidegger said every questioner ask questions that lead to an expected answer. Because one could never ask a question without knowing that direction of the answer. And thus, every questioner had set the tone for its question & answer.

People ask because they want to hear back. All inquiry is directional. Surprising, the question came out from the void of our story is never about answering. There is never inquiries from the void. All questions are for question's own sake. It works like resonance, going nowhere.

No destination.

She asks not because she want to know.

Sometime she asks, even though she knows the answer would not be pleasurable or even harmful. Listen, my cleverest reader, it's not as ridiculous as you think. The flying of Nixie might help you to understand. Nixie flies as she flies. It's her being and becoming. Merely flying. The importance of soaring lies in soaring itself. The questions from the void is the void's own essence. The essence of its own becoming. Without any destination.

In the void, there are mixture of dread and peace. If you wish, the Judea-Christian imagery of heaven and hell may fit into it. The mixture of heaven and hell. They both functioning at every single moment, together. Nixie sleeps while she creates. She asks question while she indulges in her dreams. And those question marks flowing in the void, like seeds, scattered everywhere. Not waiting for blossoms but resting, being dominated by this power of sleepiness in this restless void.



(3) Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind