Spent the first few hours of the day with Archie Schepp and Horace Parlan. Trouble was interviewing Karen Krog on “This is the Modern World” last evening. The Norwegian artist had recorded extensively with Archie Schepp and soon I’ve meandered off into his world. Beautiful. Schepp can be a honker, but that’s not where its’ at on this majestic collection from 1977, that slowed me down and made me feel.
It can’t but me melancholy. It’s the last day of a vacation. Everything is back to everything tomorrow. I’m not sure I want to go. Everything is nearly caught up. That’s unsettling as well. It’s ephemeral. It’s all about to get demanding again.
My daughter and her friend took to watching “The Life of Brian” this afternoon. I did my best to let them enjoy it with out my Michel Palin imitations. “Well, you did say Jehovah.” “Can we have burritos? Your burritos.” Well, if you put it like that . . . I get ready to ride over to the market and notice that its pouring rain outside. Never begrudge Beijing rain. We always need rain and renewal.
On ride over I notice the guard, one of whom is always standing there underneath an umbrella, is standing there, underneath the umbrella in the cold rain. He salutes and I wave, as always. Turning the corner there is another “guard”, a kid standing in the pines, somewhere between at attention and at ease. He looks miserable. Anyone would be miserable.
Returning with pinto beans and hamburger beef I pull the car over and give the first guy and then the second guy a cup of boiling water I’ve brought them from the café. A neutral beverage, China’s time honored default seemed best. I’m concerned that they may be concerned as to just what it was I offering them as I walk over each time. But they each took the cup gladly. If nothing else it will warm their hands.