Started to read Albert Camus' The Fall this afternoon: why did I wait so long? The last time I read Camus was 1969 when I was in high school. And truth be told, it was wasted on me. For the past three years I've had an itch to reconnect with this old master, but I was either too tired or too forgetful or too something -- but not now. So before this afternoon's nap (I was up until 3:15 am last night finishing another novel) I took in the opening chapter and can't wait to return later this evening.
It is hot and humid in Montreal today so we've postponed our long walk until evening. There is a hipster place I want to check out to get my wild ass mane of hair trimmed - it has become completely bushy and beyond control in the humidity - and I have a craving for Indian food. So, we'll stroll Mont Royale to St. Laurent and search for a Quebecois terrasse pour un dîner tardif à l'extérieur.
Bass practice was satisfying today, too. And after chromatic reading drills and walking bass exercises I wrapped it up playing along with Herbie Hancock, Ron Carter and Freddie Hubbard on "Cantaloupe Island."
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