each night the same goddamn "adventure" -
more like a f- f- f------ date with an iron
maiden...
lucky for me today came jazz's turn...
and no... nothing associated with
new york city -
some places i just want to remain
postcards other people send me...
some places i'd prefer to visit dressed
in my best black tux and reclining in a coffin...
most places in h'america are like that
for me...
if there was any h'america left for me
to visit? the little towns...
the feeding grip of hardcore americana...
and the rivers... mein gott...
kanoe down the colorado...
see the any sort of fascinating:
ex hic...
and all that... ad hoc...
that would require me to summon
the indian god Boinayel
itching for that cosmopolitan tarantula bite
of an espresso's first sip...
how would i see my later years?
somewhere in the tundra of ol' soviet...
siberia on the foroe islands...
everything tastes better al fresco...
the first time i came across jazz?
my english teacher...
thomas a. burns...
i always add the a. but i don't even know
whether or not he had a middle name...
everyone else seemed to nod off
while inquired further: the sloppy rudder side
of things...
dave brubeck - take five...
the first slice of jazz...
and believe me... i was not very keen
on speaking over the jazz improv.
that my predecessors of the beatnik iconoclasts
would be eager to fornicate upon...
i had, i just had to break from
the shackles of: farting with
a clarinet shoved up my ass...
classical music basis...
no alternative other than prog rock,
satanic metal, grunge...
it came crashing...
a revision of instrumental music
before psychadelic / grunger fab four
instrumentals took to the vogue?
a quintent... where each instrument
was allowed a solo interlude? jazz?! wow!
dave brubeck - take five...
the rest is history...
ben webster - how deep is the ocean -
that sassy sax...
made me feel...
what matthew arnold didn't fell when coming
back from a liszt concert -
freed!
i didn't succumb to a concentrated
bout of envy... i didn't:
upon returning home
'pulled off my coat, flung myself on the sofa,
and wept the bitterest, sweetest tears'...
god, i was looking for that quote
for so long!
this ever recurrent theme of
man contra man envy when it comes
to both entertaining and satiating
female carnal demands...
pet a dog, chew a telegraph braille
message into a f- corncob...
the world of opportunities that secrectly
lie in waiting like a salamander's concept
of light lunch...
after dave brubeck? well... easy...
obviously miles davis...
art blakey & the jazz messangers...
cannonball, coltraine...
ben webster with his insatiable
summit of the lisping / quasi-whispering
sax impromptus: how deep is the ocean?
yusef lateef...
sonny clark, cedric 'im' brooks...
herbie hancock...
for once i felt freed...
cage me, strap me into a latex gimp suit...
put a dildo on my forehead and
tell me to go before the Kotel and headbang
the hell out of ha-shem's godhead
turned into a vagina...
just as long as there's jazz in
the background...
with its conversational overtones...
then narrator doesn't play the puppet master...
when his monologue comes to realise
there's a dialogue happening...
but no clear indicators of exchanging
character study...
chet baker... sonny rollins...
what vivaldi translated from the observations
of the pagans: the country-living folk...
to what the jazz masters asserted
in replicating sparrows in man in
the cosmopolitan environment of
likened conversations over coffee and
the woes of petty sorrows...
how else was a man to feel having been freed
from the shackles of prim tux and clarinet
of centuries age old story:
whether not the bach and his polyphony...
the gregorian chants of celibate
hard-ons / "never seen it coming"...
the revolutionary concept of
a quintet band... where each instrument
is allowed a solo...
and there's no choir of instruments that can't
solo but play in rhythmic sync.,
what was unique to the jazz quintet take
on solo... and what became the concentrated
jerking off of bon jovi mayhem
of the guitar mr. slick summary
of the sort of rock that sold
hair styling products and stadium rock
ticket sales...
me? em...
lost for words.