I had a very chinese day on wednesday (she says, eyeing her bowl of spaghetti with chopsticks jammed in it). Hmmm…I live in china, so what could have made this day even more chinese than usual? Well, I decided it was the most opportune time to lug 5 couch cushions home on my bike. In the rain. I guess I didn’t have to, but I went for it. I tend to do things more out of novelty these days than out of any overriding practicality. So yes, I needed the couch cushions, but the idea of affixing them to my bike and how difficult it would probably prove to be was ultimately what motivated me into action. It seems to always rain ‘round these parts, so I figured that one rainy day was as good as any to strap a bunch of subtle, orange couch cushions onto the back rack of my bike, with an inappropriately/inconveniently stretchy piece of elasticized rope. Seems like that would be a tough sentence to say if I were going to read it out loud. guess that’s why this is written.
and to top it all off—quite literally—was an oversized blue rain poncho. Making the whole endeavor look dodgy as shit. Maybe that’s why it seemed so distinctly chinese! I should have been smoking and talking on my cell phone too. With my surplus of arms…anyhoo, me pushing my bike in the road, one hand awkwardly twisted behind me, clutching this looming wet blue mass of plastic with bits of orange poking through. This was after I had attempted to actually ride my bike, with said jury-rigged rope fastened around my waist. Perhaps you can imagine how well that worked out. Hence the pushing of the bike. I could only think of my dad as I was attempting all of this. And goddamnit, somehow he would have made it work. He would have been able to ride the bike home, and probably done something else amazing while he was at it. Like rescue someone from a burning building or administer cpr to a random, dying stranger. Because those are things he does on a regular basis…
My apartment is an aged (pronounced a-jed) piece o’ shit. the couch I currently have (that isn’t broken) was one that was brought home from school a while ago. So it had old, gnarly cushions—the color of a heavy smoker’s teeth—with no covers. But a former occupant’s parents were kind enough to steal some airline blankets on their way across the globe, and those had been attempting to serve as bona fide cushion covers. What the fuck? I’ve never really had nice stuff, furniture-wise, and I know I shouldn’t expect new things, but as a 31-year old professional teacher, it was a mite insulting to be awarded this decrepit thing as an excuse for a sofa. College life and the shitty accomodation that accompanied it were things I've tried to put in my past, having picked up this little thing called a career. But this argument seems to fall continually on deaf and/or overly beaurocratic ears.
Not too much other news. It’s a sad day when the most noteworthy life nugget is in reference to couch cushions. sigh. Long day.
Oh yeah! i went to a show on Sunday. Neil halstead played at the traveller bar. I had a very distinct association with him prior to seeing him play. And it had nothing to do with his beard or his music (the latter being exactly what any serious musician wants to hear, I’m sure…) Jules used to work at streetside records back in columbia, mo. So every once in a while she would bring home posters of new albums/artists and whatnot from work. So the sleeping on roads album cover is what I think of when I think of neil halstead. Swishy waves and the bursts of orange. I seem to have found the theme of this post: orange!
It was my friend’s birthday, so we thought we’d have a chillaxed evening with some nice acoustic music. Hangzhou is a pretty foreigner-friendly town, and I assumed that other western peeps would be as eager to see/hear someone real (I seem to lack the words to adequately express my actual sentiment here…) playing as I was. I guess I was wrong. We got to the venue and were the only foreigners there. And I couldn’t imagine how that must have felt. To look out into a crowd of people who all looked the same, in a country where you can’t speak the language. I guess maybe it’s a very concrete, tangible reminder that you’re on the road or something that plants you firmly in a unique, arguably life-affirming time and place. I seem to recall maybe feeling that way when I first got here. And I’d like to think that he felt something comparably positive when he looked down from the stage. But I think it would be different playing in south america or in some non english-speaking european countries. Just because china is so homogenous and closed-off. Somehow only obnoxious pop music has been able to permeate the thick membrane of the country. I just had to say “membrane.” I have a plant cell diagram [planted, ha!] in my head right now. Mitochondrion and cytoplasm and whatnot.
Anyhoo, I had a very acute pang of nostalgia while I was watching this man play a guitar on a stage. There was a part where he forgot the lyrics to one of his songs. And we’re sitting in this bar with lots of wood and it’s quiet and it’s just him up there in front of everyone. And it reminded me of so many times in austin at the hole in the wall with chris playing and forgetting his lyrics. So it was weird to have this very specific time and place in a seemingly long gone past life summoned up by this bearded english man (what can i say, i like beards...)playing an acoustic show in my current chinese hometown. Afterwards we had some drinks with him and the most random thing happened. Someone from the second floor of a now nearly empty bar threw a stool over the railing, hitting neil halstead’s “handler” in the head. So that was…strange. There was a rush to get her some ice. And the dude who pitched the chair was promptly balled out by the bar owner. Bizarre shit. I heard talk of some money exchanging hands too. And I was again reminded of an incident in my past. A pitcher of water smashing on my face at the blue note. The drummer had been waving it around and the handle broke off, sending it in my very precise location. i was bloody and soaked. that’s rock ‘n’ roll.
It was a cool show. A bittersweet reminder of what used to be a big part of my american life.
my friend's birthday last night, but i'm incredibly broke right now. still wanted to see her, but the bar was uber-expensive. i opted for the smuggled beer/whiskey-in-purse option. so i said happy birthday then spent the majority of my time sitting at a nearby bus stop drinking lukewarm cans of beer retrieved from my purse. which actually wasn't nearly as depressing as it sounds...
My school is getting ready to shut down for a month. Taking another sabbatical to chongqing to visit the fam. Then I come back and begin the sweaty, sticky hangzhou summer. I think I’ve got about 3 or 4 more weeks of make-up and arguably straight hair before the humidity begins to sabotage my attempts at beauty. aah, summer.
