Eat. Mother. Write. Read.
What is P i l l o w b o o k?
- an art-house movie directed by Peter Greenaway wherein we learn that Ewan MacGregor has charms other than his dimples.
- a Kama Sutra-ish tome that has a kinky reputation, probably involving geishas and a fetish or two. (Um, NO. That would be shunga. Minus the geishas.)
- a compilation of jottings by an insomniac, about how to fall back asleep. (Very possibly.)
By turns cranky, sublime, opinionated, sensual, witty, hushed, harsh, refined, and acutely observant in her writing, she aspired to capture life’s transient beauty through sharply etched brief notes, in the spirit of mono no awaré.
I admire her voice and economy of style, her ability to write freely with no concessions to commercial considerations. I’m an American of Chinese descent, and I often need to remind myself that despite the long and vexatious relationship between China and Japan, neither culture is purely good nor bad.
Shonagon was a minimalist. But me, I’m a bit more prolix. And the sheaf of paper next to my pillow is a laptop with a glowing light that sometimes sleeps on the bed next to me, when I’ve stolen one too many hours from my own sleep to write something that needs writing.
This is my P i l l o w b o o k.
Where am I?
I live and dream in the city of Angels.
All the places I’ve lived, in rough chronological order:
Port Jefferson Station, NY;
San Francisco, CA;
San Mateo, CA;
Los Angeles, CA.