A few years ago I saw a foreign movie I loved. It had "book" in the title I believe but for some gawd awful reason I can't remember it. It was Japanese, possible Chinese. Involved the act of writing a book on the human body. The storyline gets a bit morbid as it involves removing someone's skin. It's a love story, and involves revenge. Would anybody happen to know the film, or at least a suggestion on how to find out what it was.

the pillow book?

well, i can definitely say that movie was not The Little Mermaid.

on second thought, it mighta been air bud.

Anxiety said:

Could it have been Lady Vengeance

Anxiety said:

I think that's it, sounds like it from the overviews. It's not that old either, not as old as I thought it was.


Thank You!

THE BOOK OF YOUTH




If God approved of his creature's creation,


He breathed the painted clay-model into life by signing His name





Where is a book before it is born? Does a book grow like a tree?


Who are a book's parents?


Does a book need two parents - a mother and a father?
Can a book be born inside another book?


And where is the parent book of books?


How old does a book have to be before it can give birth to another?
Do young books cry and scream if they are not read or fed ?
Do they pass words with incontinent abandon?
Do they force every random found sentence into their mouths?


This book is past the first flush of youth.
it is a book that is in puberty.


It is hesitating, and from the vantage point of the mature reader, it is both a sad and amusing reminder of the part which is not


always attractive enough to be revisited.


The cover is becoming crisp like the
hardening of wood on a young tree.


Its pagesare pliable and taste a little of salt.
[Edited 4/5/08 13:26pm]

THE AGENDA

Throat:

I want to describe the Body as a Book
A Book as a Body.
And this Body and this Book
Will be the first Volume Of Thirteen Volumes.

Ribcage:

The first bulk of the book is in the torso,
Seat of the lungs
That fan the wind that dries the ink.
Seat of the heart
That pumps the ink
That is always red Before it is black.
The heart and two lungs are held upright,
Close, but not touching neighbours,
Sheltered by the covers of the ribcage,
Watermarked with dark twin punch-hole paper titles.
The breath of inspiration runs amongst them
Drawn down from the air by their shared influence.


Nape to Coccyx:

No function of book or body is singular
If a multiple service can be performed.
So the inspirational air
Shares the same passageway

With salts, words,
Sentences, Sweeteners,Paragraphs.
They all come tumbling down to flutter
onto the ruminating page,
To lie in serried rows like rice-stalks
In afield, or stitches in a tatami,
Patiently awaiting irrigation
By water or by vision
Even if a reader does not appear for a thousand years.


Belly:

The second bulk of the book is in the belly
Factory for the mixing of materials,
A taborato of sorting and threading,
Retaining and Remaindering,
A publishing house in continual flux,
Stamped with the indente chop of the navel,

Seldom idle, Never still,
Sharing space with preparations
For the future with the irony of economy.
Future and Past sharing the same thoroughfare.
Book and body always showing their evolutionary history.


Penis and Scrotum:

I am the very necessary Coda
The tail-piece,.
the ever reproducinEpilogue.
The last dangling paragraph
that is the reason
for the next book's
sprouting.