The highest recorded voice in a song must be that song Loving You by Minnie Riperton. I heard that every time the high part of the song came around a studio technician had to stab Minnie, because the note can’t be reached without the help of pain or fear. It’s playing in here, and Zijun and I chuckle each time it goes so high and the glasses on the shelves vibrate.
She’s visiting from Taipei to give me some company on this typhoon weekend. The city locked down as the winds and rains approached, and I made the unwise decision to go and buy beer. I got caught in a pre-typhoon rainstorm. After that, confined to my room, we got drunk and listened to music. Friday’s work was cancelled and Saturday’s training was cancelled. If I know one thing it’s that not working is better than working. The typhoon was predictably wet and windy but its Sunday now and the sun is back out, hence our being here.
We’re in this cosy café with shelves of coffee grinders and cakes, stuffed bears and books. It’s almost empty. A young couple have come in. Other than them its just the woman who runs the place and, following the yelping Minnie Riperton, Rod Stewart as our company. I have a Brazilian coffee. It reminds me of many I’ve had in London, with that slightly metallic first taste. It helps with the reading of Joyce. Zijun has bacon, egg, peaches, toast, juice and coffee, all for $100 (£2.20-ish). Dang, that’s what I should have got…
With the typhoon heading over to China, it looks like work on Monday is assured. With that solemn truth sinking in, I listen to Rod Stewart’s timeless advice: Wake up Maggie I think I got something to say to you. Thanks Rod, it’s not just air within that sheepdog skull of yours.