My spirits are a little low: why is this? I miss my wife, my home, and Beaton the Wonder Bun. But that's not it, quite. Is it the parade of panhandlers, the young homeless, and (I suspect) junkies on every block? That's part of it. Is it the weather: the constant grey, drizzling embrace of the sky which reaches out to hold the 24th. floor of the Shearaton in a chill snuggle, and accompanies me to the lower levels?
Yes! Of all these factors, the weather is the most dulling. If the sun were shining I would continue to miss Horse, Home and Rabbit but my longing for them would be more readily borne.
In search of a more energising place to enter this diary than Room 2414 I have come down to Robson, main drag of Vancouver, and found both the Starbucks (on opposite corners) utterly unworthy of my patronage. They offer no welcoming tables to sit at with either book or computer, only bars to semi-sit / stand while pumping down the brew. Murchie's is the first place which has allowed me some promise of support, and I am taking my medicine: latte with a Beast Cake of Wonderment and Terror.
My spirits are gently reviving, but not yet in outward-going joyful mode. Devil Disease continues to disrupt the efficient operation of my throat and nasal passages, but has loosened its hold upon my psyche.
News from DGM: the King Crimson 15-month calendar (January 1999 - March 2000) is completed. Pablo Mandel, visiting Argentinian, has been putting this together. David tells me that completing the ProjeKct One and "Cirkus" releases will await my return on November 24th. following Soundscapes on the East Coast.
#2414; 17.34
A gentle and revivifying afternoon of reading, reflection and practice. And I have blown my Wife a kiss goodnight. Off to the sound check at 18.00.
"A beginning is invisible."
