September 16, 2008

...And All That Jazz




Golden Gate Bridge, 1999.



Himself:

Herself: The doc said I was in great shape all the while burning off a couple of spots and referring me to a Podiatrist for my feet and back to the finger guy for my finger. I do the bloodwork when we get back as they forgot to mention that I had to be fasting. My BP was marvelous even after a pot of coffee. I spent a bit of the afternoon dusting then it was dinner by the bay.

Oooooooo: The “Service Engine Soon” light came on as I started home from the doc’s. I emailed G, he said it wasn’t really important. When he came home he told me all about it while pulling off the gas cap, turning around the “O” ring, putting the gas cap back on, climbing in and pumping the gas three times to “reset the codes on older GM products,” and sure enough it was fixed. Temporarily. We need a new gas cap. At a dealer, that would have cost $100.00 bucks.

Food: Green beans, half a chicken salad sandwich, dinner out? Salad.
Thanks to Carrie, I found myself talking to CD’s as I dusted them. Many are old friends…..Miles Davis with his sweet notes carrying me away for years, Errol Garner groaning to his thumping was me at age 18. I was shocked into silence by the condition of Chet Bakers face near the end of his life, I finished the work in a far less joking fashion.

Jazz fit me well when I was younger. Sometimes monotonously I would play one side repeated until even today the notes of much of the music are remembered deep within me. I’d paint for hours to Stan Getz or Cal Tadjer as the music filled the rooms and melded with the long pulls on the constant cigarettes, with the dry gentleness of the wine and the urgency of the drugs.

Somehow I let go of music, perhaps when my years of beyond loud music contributed to my tintinitus and I could no longer hear it. I’ll be trying with these smooth notes on our trip. Hoping that a background of jazz will move the world by the car windows a little faster.


Fingers of fog reaching inland, 1999 trip north.

2 comments:

  1. I used to also listen to one side of a record at nauseum. It was as though the music became a part of my existence. I like your description of the power of jazz.

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  2. I liked that piece too. It was done nicely I thought. Mellow. Like good jazz ............

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