The Pillow Book Page #2

Beautiful photographs.

And you don't get paid

because you owe me.

This is where I begin

to do the writing.

I'm now going to be the pen,

not just the paper.

I could help you.

I think not.

Why not?

What's wrong with me?

Because you are from Kyoto,

and you're young.

And your handwriting

is illegible.

Besides, your skin

does not make a good paper.

Watch.

You see? In my diary,

I called you "the blotter. "

Hoki the blotter.

I could help you.

I think not.

Why not?

You're none too smart

with compliments.

let me try.

Let me try.

hoki set off at dawn for

a foreign language bookshop...

In Kowloon city in a street

full of restaurants.

He finally gave the packet

to some doorman.

"we feel that we are unable

to consider...

"publication

of this material.

It's not worth the paper

it's written on. "

So they're not satisfied

with the quality of the paper.

Perhaps it's not

Japanese enough.

Try writing on me.

Seduce him.

I met Jerome in the cafe typo...

And asked him for the services

of a translator.

He gave me a choice

of six languages.

They had increased by two.

I talked to him

and I flattered him,

And I admired all the books

he had yet to write.

you have to sign here.

our first transaction

was strictly financial.

He wanted to pay the bill

but had no money.

He offered to write a check

but had no checkbook.

I volunteered the palm

of my hand.

If I could not seduce

the publisher,

Then perhaps I could seduce

the publisher's lover.

His writing,

in so many languages,

Made me a signpost pointing

east, west, north and south.

I had shoes in German,

stockings in French,

Gloves in Hebrew,

a hat with a veil in Italian.

He only kept me naked where I was

most accustomed to wear clothes.

Shut up.

Go away. Go away.

I would like to honor my

father by becoming a writer.

I could help.

I could learn

new languages...

To make you

understood...

All over the world.

When god made

his first human being-

He painted in the eyes.

And lips.

And the sex.

And when god approved

of his creation-

He was obliged

to sign his name.

There are so many publishers in

the world. Why worry about this one?

I have my reasons.

I suspect it's because

he rejected you so swiftly,

And few people, if any,

have ever done that.

Perhaps.

But... If you're so determined

to be published by him,

The publisher who rejects

you and who loves me...

Then I have a plan.

I could be your messenger.

You could write on me.

And with your permission and, of

course, your blessing, I could, um-

Pay your publishing friend

a visit?

A sacrifice?

But not without pleasure

for you?

Perhaps.

You could be jealous?

Vtamo?

It's worked. He won't

let me go. Wait for me.

He's thinking

of an edition of 3,000...

If there are more, and there

will be more, won't there?

I'll see you this evening.

Wait for me here.

Hey, you are enjoying

it too much.

But with your permission. And only

according to the quality of the writing.

If you don't hurry it along,

I'll be looking for someone else.

You dare.

He's making me wait.

buy some new paper.

Don't get so upset.

you could use me.

Give me two more of these and some

more of this and some stuff for him.

You could have babies.

They're not bad-looking ladies. I

need some skin, two meters and a half.

Sorry?

Back and front.

I could give you

three and a half.

True, but the quality of the paper would

not attract my fastidious publisher.

Jerome! Jerome.

Jerome!

Jerome!

Jerome!

I need you both.

Come with me?

I really do.

It's like wild kingdom.

All right, you're gonna like

this one. This one's funny.

Okay. There are these two lesbians,

all right? And one says to the other-

Oh, keep going. Keep

going. It felt good.

It felt good,

I swear to god.

You know something? If

you had a pair of tits-

Hey, you know something? They

got a song about you in America.

You know what it's called?

It's called "the hokey pokey. "

You get it?

"the hokey pokey. "

Ready? you put your right foot

in you put your right foot out

your put your right foot in

and you shake it all about

you do the hokey pokey. You turn your

- oh!

Hello. Sorry.

Americans always say

they have nothing to hide.

I can see that's true.

Look what I got here?

It is a menu.

It's a menu to my very own

restaurant. So you come on in.

No, get off! Come on in. And you've known

me a long time. I'll let you in free.

Moo goo gai pan

and all that stuff.

You wanna come in?

How 'bout a little kiss? How 'bout you

kiss me in the hay? How does that sound?

love me a long time, baby,

love me a long-

Nagiko? C'est moi.

C'est Jerome.

Nagiko?

Nagiko!

Nagiko-

Nagiko! Nagiko!

I know you're there!

Let me in!

Don't play games!

I know you're there!

Nagiko!

I met your friend.

I met your fat friend.

He was nice, huh?

Was he nice?

He was covered in my paint!

My paint for my body!

Nagiko! Nagiko!

Nagiko! Nagiko!

Oh, my god! What have I

done? What have I done?

I'll make it-

make it up!

please let me in!

I love you, Nagiko.

I love you.

Talk to me.

Nagiko!

Please!

I won't play games.

let me in!

Let me in!

let me in!

Hoki, why won't

she talk to me?

Nagiko, why won't she

talk to me? I don't know.

What do you mean, you don't

know? Have you seen her?

When did

you last see her?

Oi.

Whiskey.

Uh, whiskey.

She comes here, you know,

to pick up her clients.

She almost lives here.

The waiters are

all pimps.

She makes sure

they are very smooth-skinned.

You know?

Between the legs?

Her maid usually washes them...

With lemon juice

to make their skin soft...

And smooth.

But you could scare her.

You are a writer,

Like in Romeo and Juliet.

Shakespeare?

Jerome? Jerome?

Jerome?

Jerome? Jerome?

I'm sorry.

We can start again

from where we left off.

I was angry.

You deceived me...

With a man I detest, with a

man who blackmailed my father.

But... We can

revenge him.

We need to work.

Jerome.

Jerome?

Jerome! Jerome!

Jerome!

Jerome!

Jerome always wanted

to be foreign,

Though not

necessarily oriental.

English wasn't enough

for him.

He'd never have made

a writer.

He didn't have

enough imagination.

Jerome was dyslexic

until he was 12,

Before it became

fashionable.

And he broke every pair

of glasses I gave him.

He hated wearing glasses.

He was very good

at breaking things,

Especially relationships,

just like his father.

His father was a catholic convert,

always experimenting with faith.

We called our first son Paul

and our second Jerome...

After his father's confessor,

who was a Jesuit in Singapore.

Jerome never liked me.

He preferred my sister,

A little fool who was

excited by modern literature.

All swear words and scatology,

before it became fashionable.

I hear you're fashionable.

I suppose that's

what excited Jerome.

we burned an effigy

of Jeromes car.

We didn't burn his books.

They were too damp.

I burned my books...

And my clothes

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