Rain Walk.

I woke up at midmorning and it was still dark. The rain made the day a sort of Charlie-Parker-gloomy. And so I went with it.
And it was wonderful.
I went for a walk in the forest, barefoot and open minded, then spent the rest of the day alone with the record player, drifting in and out of sleep and various states of mind.
There is something terribly romantic, I think, about Parker's story; car crash, morphine addiction, drops out, alcohol and heroin, musical genius, best friend is his complete opposite, dies at 34 watching Tommy Dorsey on television.
There's something beautiful and ironic there. Near death all his life, and still Bird lives.