A
friend sent me this Youtube link this morning. We’re both New Yorkers in exile and the hazy photo alone
stimulates something mournful, evocative, beyond reach. The music sets a time to the photo and
with a bit of looking I believe it is from a session, which Alice Coltrane did
with Joe Henderson from his 1973 album “Elements.” Like the Elements mall in Kowloon, there is a song for each
of the four. The link is playing
“Earth.” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UpZJ_LQ4CFg
This same friend when he had been here in Beijing about 18
months ago, had chosen a song “Journey in Satchidananda” by Alice Coltrane with
Pharaoh Sanders from her eponymous album of 1970, as the first track for a mix
he put together that afternoon at a party we were hosting. It fills the air so gently, and the
sound of Cecil McBee’s acoustic bass seems to permeate the walls, as it makes
its way around, slowly deliberately.
All this to say I never gave much thought otherwise to Alice
Coltrane. I have a number of
albums, with where she appears her husband, like “John Coltrane, Live at the
Village Vanguard, Again,” that are among my favorite of (as they say at KPOO in
SF) Saint John Coltrane’s work. I
think I’d heard a few subsequent albums, after JC’s death sniffed out a sruti
box and tablas and figured it was fusion detour I wasn’t interested in pursuing. If I’m honest I probably didn’t give
her full due as an individual because of some latent, sexist nonsense that
presumed she was getting a free ride on her husband’s hagiography. What a nice morning it’s been unpacking and disposing of that
misperception.
I was up late last night, trying to do work. This is rarely productive. My brain slows to quarter time, if I’m
sedentary at that hour. But it was
Saturday night and I was with my western mind, perhaps thinking that sipping
wine, listening to music, trying to work, was my late Saturday night due. Oh, but I live in China. And today, unfortunately is one of
those Sunday’s the authorities have seen fit to repossess. So first thing this morning, about four
and a half hours after lying down, I stirred and checked the clock and with
more than a bit of hesitation, I was up with my routine: meditation, exercise,
get the ladies up. And knowing it
was Sunday, the effort was literally half-hearted.
My little one was up early. I think this is a good sign. I think it’s healthy if your body is fundamentally perplexed
when the government steals your Sunday.
I complained about it with the guards at the gym. They seemed amused, as if I were
arriving at the epiphany of a fifth grader. Practically, the world around me is behaving as if this were
Monday. But Monday is a drag, with
its own special rhythm and I maintain that tomorrow, is Monday.
And indeed, it seemed that everyone was confused. More good signs, perhaps. My older daughter complained when I
returned from the gym that I was late.
I had deputized her little sister who was apparently unsuccessful at
rousing anyone on time. But this
was secondary. My wife had just cut
her thumb, slicing toast. Get a band-aid. There in the drawer over there. The older one was yelling it’s time to
go. The younger one, who’d been up
for hours now, still wasn’t ready to leave.
“Can you please drive fast baba?” “Um, yes.” I
punched on “Prefuse 73” which I’ve written about here on DustyBrine said, sounding
ever so old: “this is some of the best hip hop, best rhyming I’ve heard in
years.” The entrance to the school was backed up for a few hundred yards.
Let’s just park here and walk.
The older one, who’s LATE,
gets up and out in a flash and I follow her quickly. On autopilot, I lock the car doors with a flick of the finger and strut off swiftly,
and then realize about five seconds later that I’ve actually locked the younger
one in the car. Oh dear. She’s crying.
I’m apologizing and laughing, and rubbing her back the whole walk down
to the entrance.
Walking back two parents have grazed one another’s car. This is necessarily a nightmare and
will invariably take them hours to sort out. Is it just me or is everyone truly frazzled this morning, 心乱如麻[1], rushing,
disoriented, looking for the other half of our weekend?
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