No Jazz World Ever
Don’t be embarrassed. What a beautiful, glistening wound. Shhh!!! Don’t cry! Don’t cry, okay? Stop crying, please. It’s not going to get you what you want. Lay…
Grammophone
The sack had arrived a week ago. Inconspicuous, wrapped in burlap, smelling faintly of Chanel No. 5. Left on the doorstep of his Bronx apartment. He’d almost…
Fatigue in E Flat
The smoke of cigarettes slipped between hushed voices and gentle clinks, punctuated by the splashing of liquid upon glass. He inhaled the atmosphere, tasting…
La Vie en Rose
It was a hot June afternoon and the sweat rolled off his back. To try and relieve the heat boiling off of him, he opened the window. A cool, patchy breeze blew…
Life of a Jazz Musician
Smoke is a disgusting thing. Especially when you are breathing it in after it was already in someone else’s mouth. But what can you do, you’re a jazz musician…