I tried to head to bed early. I had my standing call at 2:00PM China time
to rise and shine for. I wrote my
colleague who miraculously reminded me that I’d missed the memo: this week’s call’s been cancelled. Oddly, I still rose just before 2:00AM, and
pinged one or two people to confirm.
It’s confirmed.
I ride left or I
ride right. Yesterday had been a
southernly ride down to Phillies Bridge Road.
That’s the point I usually mark as sufficiently far to justify a turn
around. Today I rode up the other way to the Walkill River crossing by Route
7. The ride through the woods as one
approaches the old iron bridge are particularly beautiful. There is one big tree I stop and look at
every time. I think it’s an oak. It must be at least three hundred years old,
this remarkable pre-Revolutionary War tree.
I had Brahms
“Sonatas for Violins” on, playing out of my phone in the pocket of my wool vest
from Gilgit. I cannot listen to him
without thinking of a quote by Ludwig Wittgenstein: “Even in Brahms I can begin
to hear the noise of machinery.” Like so
many things Wittgenstein wrote I don’t claim to understand the suggestion as he
might and yet it sticks and can’t but place Brahms in some imaginary, fragile
place between the romantic era and the Gatling gun, the shop factory.
“What do you want
for dinner?” “Korean.” Did I need to ask? We have tried one Korean restaurant that is a
thirty mile drive to the west in Pine Bush.
Tonight I suggest I pick her up and we head to Newburgh to try “Seoul
Kitchen.” And I met her and we punched
in the address to Waze. It directed us
along, all the way to Beacon. There is
no Seoul Kitchen in Beacon. Don’t let it
happen to you! So we carried on to
Liberty Street in Newburgh. A polite
young hipster took our order. The older
Korean woman behind the counter came and explained that she could provide soy
sauce for her kimchi dumplings, but it wasn’t necessary. And we were thrilled. The food was splendid. I’d come here again.
Friday 10/18/19
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