Crackle, Crackle Dry Heat

Heading up the familiar elevated highway road from Ren Min Guang Chang up to Hong Qiao Airport.  There is a warm blanket of humidity pressing down on the city in ever direction. Even where the view is not obscured by clouds the blue sky is difficult to make out.  I miss the crackle, crackle dry heat of Egypt where it was one-hundred-and-seven-degrees and any bead of sweat that materialized immediately evaporated from your skin.  Yes, my pale skin wouldn’t last long in that glare but I’d take it in a minute over the moist summer heat of New York or Shanghai.  No wonder the head of the Egyptian pantheon was the sun god Ra. 

Heading up to Beijing today.  I haven’t been home since we all made our way over to the Beijing airport for the midnight flight to Cairo.  I have a collection of Robert’s prints and I’d like to choose one or two to have prepared for framing.  My teaching is done. The grading remains but it won’t be too arduous for this class. This will really be the first week since I when I can properly catch up on things.  And there is a lot to reckon with. 

Had the first Damned album on at the gym this morning.  I was going from member to member and appreciating their contributions and in particular Rat Scabies, the drummer who sounded for all the world like Keith Moon on a few of his ferocious rolls.  Spotify prompted me and reluctantly let them drive with for a bit with what they called “classic Punk” which I would have curated differently, more narrowly, but it’s not bad to suddenly be listening to things I wouldn’t have otherwise put on, like the Stooges “T.V. Eye” or X’ “Los Angeles.”  That album wasn’t a favorite and in an alphabetized collection it had the last place on the shelf.  I remember my mom was angry at me when I was fourteen.  I’d broken her bottle of perfume and it had spilled all over the bathroom.  I told her it was an accident.  She slammed my X album against the wall and told me the same. 

I bought one tee-shirt at Karnak that had a a whole lot of densely written hieroglyphics on it.  Lost it.  Must have been that drawer in the hotel in Luxor.  Had a pair of those nifty new apple earbuds.  Lost em’.  Must have been that Uber ride out to my sister’s from Grand Central in NYC.  Was in the middle of a great collection of  Isaac Babel's’ work.  Don’t have it.  Must have left it on the stool, in the bathroom at my mom’s place.   Conscious of all these missing pieces as I head home. Reaching, I'm glad to have my wallet, phone and passport, right where they ought to be.

Monday, 7/22/19