12.11
Bredonobourgh.
The Minx was off at 05.30 for her gigs in the North. Here, first thing over the road I…
II...
… to World HQ for morning reading…
To the right of the computer table…
… an oil by George Arthur Fripp (Victorian landscape watercolours)...
Clearly, a close family resemblance.
Back for lunch I…
II...
… and to the gym. A call from the Minx re: The Humans’ upcoming work in England.
Trouser-sorting: this mundane entry should convince anyone, generous enough with their time to visit this Diary, that Fripp is clearly now not-only well-past his sell-by date, but that his dotage…
dot·age/ˈdōtij/
Noun: The period of life in which a person is old and weak. The state of having the intellect impaired, esp. through old age; senility.
… has turned up at the front door to claim its purchase upon his wit and sensibilities. While not quite able to refute this presumption, trouser-sorting represents for me an important qualitative shift: catching-up, ordering and organizing my life. Being On The Road is a functional condition: the life of the touring, working player is what is done. But more than this, it is a way of thinking that pervades and permeates all the other parts of who and what we are. Now, living the life of (mostly) one very busy man rather than two very busy men, if my trousers need sorting, then this is to be addressed; rather than put aside for when back from the next adventure. In practice, in the internalized approach to all things, this abbreviates to put aside forever. Forever has now arrived. The trousers are being sorted.
Back to World HQ for e-flurrying, then chiropody. Home for an evening practising.
Bredonobourgh.
The Minx was off at 05.30 for her gigs in the North. Here, first thing over the road I…
II...
… to World HQ for morning reading…
To the right of the computer table…
… an oil by George Arthur Fripp (Victorian landscape watercolours)...
Clearly, a close family resemblance.
Back for lunch I…
II...
… and to the gym. A call from the Minx re: The Humans’ upcoming work in England.
Trouser-sorting: this mundane entry should convince anyone, generous enough with their time to visit this Diary, that Fripp is clearly now not-only well-past his sell-by date, but that his dotage…
dot·age/ˈdōtij/
Noun: The period of life in which a person is old and weak. The state of having the intellect impaired, esp. through old age; senility.
… has turned up at the front door to claim its purchase upon his wit and sensibilities. While not quite able to refute this presumption, trouser-sorting represents for me an important qualitative shift: catching-up, ordering and organizing my life. Being On The Road is a functional condition: the life of the touring, working player is what is done. But more than this, it is a way of thinking that pervades and permeates all the other parts of who and what we are. Now, living the life of (mostly) one very busy man rather than two very busy men, if my trousers need sorting, then this is to be addressed; rather than put aside for when back from the next adventure. In practice, in the internalized approach to all things, this abbreviates to put aside forever. Forever has now arrived. The trousers are being sorted.
Back to World HQ for e-flurrying, then chiropody. Home for an evening practising.
