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Jazz Boyfriend

September 16, 2010
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I feel you, girl.  I once balked at a third? fourth? date with a guy because he became Mr. Jazz when we went to hear the god awful “music.”  Squinty eyes, head bobbing in a meaningful way that saved dolphins caught in tuna nets and taught ESL to inmates, sucked-in cheeks, pursed lips that demonstrated a love and gentle understanding of humanity, one eyebrow arched left, one eyebrow furrowed right, tapping fingers to beats that vibrated in parts of his soul he didn’t know existed, passionate yet constrained collarbone glistening from beneath his open button-down shirt in the flicker of a red-glass candle.

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3 Comments leave one →
  1. Travis permalink
    September 23, 2010 11:57 AM

    Have you been reading Saul Bellow lately? The second sentence reminds me of him.

    • September 23, 2010 2:43 PM

      He he, no I haven’t. Unless Saul Bellow is actually the author of Anne Frank’s Diary.

      I actually thought of you when I posted this, and our CD swap days; you tried so hard to sway me with your Art Blakely and the Messengers [did I get the name right?] and all the other Blues or Jazz discs… I tried to like them, really I did.

      • Travis permalink
        September 24, 2010 5:13 PM

        :-)) What a coincidence, the posting also reminded me of your reaction to the jazz CDs I gave you! Hey, at least you gave them a try.

        Your description of a jazz freak guy is very funny. When I was in undergrad and taking music appreciation, there was this guy who was always in the listening room pretty much doing just what you describe while listening to Coltrane or Mingus. Even the music majors thought he was a bit over the top.

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