I didn’t want to go. I was tired of the idea of luncheons, diplomatic footsie, the whole thing. “It’s history,” Michael said. “You should go.” Oh, god, I thought. History again! I feel like I am surrounded sometimes by history, but okay. I won’t be a hassle. I’ll go and . . . surprise! . . . it was wonderful. A Chinese diplomat talked about going on the Great March; about talking to Mao; about the challenges of running a country where there are billions of people. Amazing. And so poetic when he spoke. “We believe that the American people and the Chinese people are industrious and brave,” he said. Who could ask for anything more? More on the Chinese later. My mind is jumping too fast.
I am reading Jack Kerouac’s On the Road and it is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful! Where has he been all my thirty years? I love it! And last night, Kay and I went out and got stoned and went to Peaches, my favorite record store, and browsed around through the records and ate Mexican food and giggled and laughed and talked about old times and went to see César and Rosalie. Beautiful, incredible movie about two men in love with Rosalie and what they do about it. The acting is incredible. Yves Montand is wonderful. The young artist says to him: “I love Rosalie.” “Since when?” says Montand. “Since always,” says the artist. It was great. Rosalie and the young guy were so honest. Never hedged. Always up front. The only sins seemed to be lying and being ordinary. The French seem to take love as seriously as anything else. They believe it is a reason for tragedy and mayhem of all kinds. Americans don’t. Love is always sort of a giggle in the American movies. Sort of a leer or something. I don’t know. My mind is jumping. No drugs, just excited!
I want to be industrious and brave!