Back
in the back of the plane. May be
here a while . There was a foul rain this morning that started before dawn.
Torrents of rain slamming against the thirteenth floor windows. Once upon a time I might have been
thankful for my crops or worried about the leak in the roof. My immediate concern hearing rain out
the window in Shenzhen is that all flights will be delayed. Speeding out the sun cleared, but I was completely set on the idea of lateness, so I
was quite surprised when the lady told me the plane had already landed and that
it would depart on time.
“Really?” I even joked with
the gal as she processed my ticket.
“Why I would have thought on a day like this . . . “ She laughed. “I know.” I
smiled back.
An hour or so later I’m sitting here on the wet tarmac. When I boarded the plane there was no
rain. Now it’s pouring down. As happens, 天雨路滑[1]. I’m
all about safety first but it sure does seem to happen her every damn time it
rains in China. I don’t seem to
think of it as an automatic on-time-departure tragedy if I see rain in the
US. OK, torrential downpours,
hurricanes, blizzards? We won’t be
leaving. But, just rain? And
rather than be considerate and in order to save money that would otherwise be
needed if we were able to wait outside we are herded in, buckled up and told we
aren’t going anywhere, anytime soon, once again. There isn’t one available, but if there was a straight
shot high-speed train from here to Beijing that took, say, nine hours. I would strongly consider it next time. They have chargers.
The monitors are down.
The entertainment is up.
We’ll try to keep you settled in with our happy situation comedy starring
doe-eyed boys and pouty minxes. Oh
look, someone is frowning. The thoughtful
folks at Shenzhen Airlines have decided to publically broadcast the soundtrack
as well. Audible, very. Frightening but for my headphones. Hank
Jones “Odd Number” is faking and falling just as it ought to. I was going to say the drummer is
incredible and rave about how I would have to look up this fascinating and new
name. Rather it is, Max
Roach. No surprise he dazzles each
time. I should take a mental note
to dig deeper into all of his work when I’m back on the ground.
This morning after hours of work, I had on Jef Gilson whom I
was lead to through a friend’s detour with Lloyd Miller and his Oriental
Jazz. The album of his I had on, as
I was returning from the shower this morning was turned up high as the laptop
would take. It sounded like
someone’s thoughtful 1950 ‘arkestral’ spaceship repair process on a pod catty-corner
to Sun Ra’s lot. Diving, swinging
almost these atonal melodies hooked and locked in a way that made you want to
raise an eyebrow and dip your chin. Even the goofy,
big-enough-for-seven-people-suite with its faux Napoleonic detail felt cool
with Jef Gilson on.
Born in Guebwiller in 1926 the French pianist, composer,
arranger and big band leader has three albums profiled up on Rdio, which appear
to be latter day collections as they all have the same approximate
packaging. I didn’t sync it
to my phone and I’m not on line now so I don’t remember the tunes name nor can
I discern the years when they were recorded. I’ll add when I land.
The playful alternate take of "Inca Chant" was recorded in 1969 and sounds like Gong might have been popping by when it was recorded.
One minor tragedy passed with a short, vexing duration of
only twenty-five minutes or so. I
am completely in love with my Patrick Leigh Fermor book “Between the Water and
the Trees” and thoughtful, I managed to leave it, I discovered as I reached
for it on the plane, back in the hotel bathroom where I’d been reading it. These auto-upgrade rooms are often
cavernous with vast tracks of dead space and multiple toilets. Easy
it is to double check and still over look some forgotten corner; he pleaded
feebly. I called Starwood, they
called the hotel for me and sure enough they have it and will send on. All’s well.
Meanwhile I had a fabulous ride out to the airport with a
guy from Harbin who loved to talk politics and international relations. It really is a different ride with the
standard Shenzhen cabbie from, say, Hunan. I realized that these days, I think
I already know what will transpire and I’m defensive of my time so I don’t
bother to talk to people. Time was
when it was the greatest language lab going and then you get soft and you get
old and into habits. This guy, Mr.
Geng, was spirited and thoughtful and it was great to get into it with
him. One thing he stated, I’ll tell
you about before my battery runs out.
He made the point, and is probably bandied about in the Chinese press
all the time and not necessarily Mr. Geng’s IP, that the current world order reflects “San Guo” aka “The Romance of the Three Kingdoms;” with Russia,
China and The United States, representing the three, sparing, territories.
This raises a few immediate questions: Who gets to be Liu Bei, the hero and
the traditional true claimant to the Han throne? “China. Who
else?.” Grinning I asked, “Then who
gets to be . . . " the arch villain who wins through ruthlessness and indeed,
historically was the victor, “Cao Cao”?
“You Americans, of course”
“I see. Who is your Kong
Ming then?” You need a ZhuGe
Liang, badly. Is that the
technology prowess of We Chat?” No
person came to his mind and at this point his metaphor began to collapse a bit
because there was no one that sang out as a Lord Guan, leader of unimpeachable
courage and honor either. Perhaps
a wee bit of the forever furious and indomitable Zhang Fei? But certainly no current leader fits
that bill, though the lads in the navy at the outer-islands strategy department
may have his poster on the wall.
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