Usually when I wake on Sunday mornings I have dim sum palaces on my mind: piles of jade green vegetables sauteed with shards of garlic, barbecued duck and scallions rolled in delicate pancakes, caramelized pan fried pork dumplings, rich golden custard tarts called dan ta and cup after cup after cup of jasmine tea… and generations of family crowded at eight tops, chatting at a pitch of happiness not heard during the work week.
But this morning all I can think of is getting the hell out of Dodge. And by “Dodge” I mean this sprawling metropolis, which I love, I really love…but sometimes it can be overwhelming. I don’t think it’s the place so much, as what I’m involved in at the moment. All this self-promotion for the novel makes me feel a little, what’s the word? Inward. Not focused on friends and family. More project based, and as a result, as strange as it may seem, a little tongue tied, or tired of my own voice.