I’ll tell you a story about a Jazzman I once knew. Played a trumpet, played it quite well. Played it good enough he kept doing it, played it well enough he didn’t do anything else. Didn’t play it well enough that he wasn’t ever going to become what he wanted to become. Though he didn’t know what that was. Figured he’d fall into something. Something better. And in this story the Jazzman walks up to a nice lady and says hey lady. Lady says hey, Jazzman says hey lady let me ask you a question. Lady says what’s that question you’re gonna ask me, the Jazzman says I’m gonna ask you, can I buy you a drink. Lady says sure you can ask me that question, the Jazzman says hey lady, lady says yeah, Jazzman says hey lady can I buy you a drink, lady says no way. Jazzman says, why lady, why can’t I buy you a drink. Lady says, I know what you gonna do man, you gonna buy me a drink, then you gonna get up there and play that trumpet, then you gonna come down from that stage and you gonna buy me another. Jazzman says, yeah. She says, then another, then we gets to talkin’. Yeah. Then we go back to my place, it’s right upstairs don’t you know, and we make some jazz up there. Jazzman says, yeah lady, since you gonna put it so succinct, that’s what I’m gonna do. She says, no way then Jazzman I aint interested, but you can buy me a drink. Jazzman buys her a drink. A whiskey sour, with an egg-yolk. For fertility. Jazzman gets up an’ plays his trumpet like he’s inflating an octopus through a hollowed-out wine-glass and when he gets down, he goes and sits next to the nice lady. He says lady, I see your drink’s all gone, I’ll get you another one. Lady says sure why not, make it a single-malt, neat. Jazzman orders two. Soon they get to talking. Soon they get to walking to her place. Right upstairs. Soon she’s a frog, and he’s a scorpion catching a ride on her back, across the river. Half way across the river, he stings her. She says what’d you go and do that for, now we’re both gonna die. Jazzman says, you shoulda known better baby, I’m a scorpion.
Jazzman we thought you was a wolf ‘n shit!
Published: May 12, 2010Posted in: Mortality


This brings to mind my high school brass teacher who later ended up in prison for touching young female students.
Why the fuck would it bring that to mind? Oh, I know, because you’re a dumb ass.