13 Days

That's how long it's been since I've sat at this desk, my brief scheduled appearance last week having been pre-empted by the arrival of the Nasty Cold That Would Not Leave.

I'm now just a hair short of the halfway point in the Tale of Genji. It doesn't surprise me that this is the work I gravitated to during my illness given the superficial resemblances between my lifestyle and that of a Heian lady. As Seidensticker points out in his preface to The gossamer years (his translation of the 蜻蛉日記 Kagerō nikki), although Heian culture is often described as "effeminate", a better characterisation of its leading principle is "inaction". A Heian lady spent most of her time secluded in semi-darkness behind curtains, covered in layers of clothing until she was a "shapeless mass", never walking anywhere except during the occasional pilgrimage to a nearby shrine, and seeing almost no one but the ladies in attendence on her. Is it any wonder that questions of which colour and grade of paper to use for the day's correspondence came to take on an immense importance?

Also, Seidensticker's translation is so smooth and readable and the whole mood of it fits perfectly the dreamlike state of being pumped full of pseudoephedrine for days on end. Some days, however, even opening my eyes seemed too much of a strain and I just sat quietly in the dimness of overcast days and sleepless nights. Thank God for the iPod; some days, it and a call from monshu were the only distraction available.

I'm probably as caught up with LiveJournal as I'm going to get, so if there was some brilliant post of yours that's still begging for an erudite reply from me, then point me to it or forever hold your bitching.