by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

Jazz Azz a Metaphor

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You can have tone and technique and a lot of other things but without originality, you ain’t really nowhere.

– Lester Young


Ornette was “out”.  He was different.  He ‘couldn’t play’, yet “rewrote the language of jazz” (no small feat in a musical landscape of perpetual innovation (once), and the ethereal dissipation of improvised note bursts nightly, on a ‘moment’s notice’).

* * *

I myself am no musician.  I don’t capably play any instruments … and I’m no authority.  But I do know well and appreciate jazz:  its humor, its sense of chaos, its combustible spontaneity … and above all, its take it or leave it, ‘is what it is’ ethos, too often exploited because, Hey! It’s Jazz!

a (Blue) Noted Passing
Ornette Coleman
1930 - 2015

“L’Esprit de Jazz”, ©Jeff Glovsky

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by Jeff Glovsky, Works in Progress, Writing

Developing Characters

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excerpts from ...

CENTRAL PARK

by Jeff Glovsky

Now my social circle, such as it is, resembles a bit a Fellini ensemble:  Comprised almost entirely of souls I’ve just met up with, there’s this homeless guy I feed sometimes … El Flaco John and Todd Sin Pelo, two sad sacks I revel in at “work”, this outdoor theater …

There’s bright Crystal, lovely!  Eighteen!  Topless!!  Now, two German stewardesses … from night streets, separate outings – Why, on two diverse young evening jaunts!

Karola met and knot-tied with her Corsican Mann down in Mexico City.  She sprekz well, das Spanish … The night we went crazed, after sucking down Fosters (she loves Australian beer, she said, and only sampled French parfum), I caught her peeping my way through a pair of Woodsy lenses.

* * *

Drunk when I met her, and heavy with child.

“Hi, I’m Delphine!” Delphine broadcasts.  “You are?”

“Sit down, Delphine.  Want a beer?”

“I’m Greek!” Delphine shouts, and she plops with a thud on a cat-scratched futon.  “My love, I am hungry!  Have you any cream cheese?”

* * *

There’s a woman on the Upper West Side, loves to dream …

Why, each night, catch her traipsing her mangy hound here, the two of them dressed to the nines, fit to kill!

… And Zorro flicks hair from a flattish sombrero:  a dyed blonde, unruly and posthumous mane.  Her little pooch cries out as well … the two of them begging, imploring attention.

* * *
“You framed, man?  Man, you must be FRAMED!

I yell this to the homeless guy leaping out of the shadows at 78th Street … An empty wooden picture frame is swinging round his neck.

In true form, Ernest cracks with glee.  “I dint do it!  No,” shouts he.

No, “I was FRAMED!” we both yell.


an excerpt from ...

DOING BEING

by Jeff Glovsky

I’m watching Jungle Cali as she screams in with her vipers.  Topless dancers from across the street …

She’s got this kind of jazz patois … Like, everything is straight, you dig?  Like everything is solid, Jack!  Like Wynton put some major foot up, David Sanborn far from sad.

I watch her now though, every night.  She’ll scream in with her vipers when their shifts change, five a.m. … I watch them:  Loud, she’ll scream in, claim their throne, commence to holding court, these vipers, caution to the wind!

She’ll flirt there, shout, caress meat thighs and wink at cabbies, me and all who, damaged, limp across her landscape … Jungle Cali laughs, we’ll cry, and die another year each night.

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DOING BEING


Wolf, howling nighttime, prowled the Upper West, growling and swearing to himself …

He was generally harmless, howling “Wolf”, and kept to the demons within his head … The last time I saw Wolf, he had aged – albeit gracefully, with a little salt and pepper, George Clooney thing going on (short on the sides) … His posture improved … Occasionally, he’d ask me “How’s the Mrs.?” as he howled.

Then I ducked, as he swung a tree branch at me on Christmas Eve in 2010.

Since then, at the holidays, I think of Wolf …

@Jeff Glovsky on Medium ...

Developing Character(s)

by Jeff Glovsky

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Book Reviews, by Jeff Glovsky, Writing

Thoughts Escape …

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R e v i e w s

by Jeff Glovsky

Vitruvius

The Ten Books of Architecture

Not only a book about “architecture”, per se, but a fascinating glimpse into the full scope of city planning, function, design, form and construction which comprise human dwelling. As picture perfect a time (and place) capsule as de Tocqueville, Proust, Joyce, Dostoevsky or Kerouac, the fundamental principles and observations of Vitruvius‘ time (and place) apply today – wherever humans of a civilization dwell together.

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Paulo Coelho

Aleph

I continue to be confounded by the cult of P.C.  His dumbing down and sound-biting of spiritual beliefs across various cultures — his appropriation of these, and regurgitation of defining tenets into (sound)bite-sized pablum and boring, obvious homilies — grows more and more off-putting with each publication.

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Tobias Wolff

This Boy’s Life

Like Arundhati Roy in The God of Small Things, and like Kerouac before them, Tobias Wolff in a way reinvents the language, developing a cadence and certain words and phrasings that become uniquely, identifiably his.  None of the deft flow, though, detracts from the power of this memoir …

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Donald Fagen

Eminent Hipsters

Expecting something vaguely Lennon-esque, going in (along the lines of In His Own Write, perhaps) … or alternately (worst-case scenario), some combination of Bob Dylan’s Tarantula and a crap Steely Dan song (and yes, there are those) … I was pleasantly surprised by several more or less straight-ahead nods to the ’eminent hipsters’ in Don’s early domain …

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Good Reads (and Meh)!

. . .  s o  f a r .

While admittedly not an “avid” reader, I read a little … plus, I know what sounds right, I’m not tone deaf and I know what’s ‘in key’ (though I’ll never be there!) …

so watch this space ^.

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