and all the sheets drift jazz” by Julia in her bed

Sunday September 2, 2018
10:51pm
5 minutes
Bad Boy’s Slut Song
Nick Comilla

I told him I didn’t like jazz. Said the music made
my brain feel like a loaf of bread left sitting. He wanted to convince me that there is some good jazz. He said he knows the kind I’m talking about: elevator, supermarket. I said yeah but it disrupts me on a cellular level when it’s bad. I don’t trust people who say they like jazz. Like why.
He told me he liked jazz and I would have to stop generalizing. Like do you leave someone over jazz? As in can’t support someone who loves it or can’t be with someone if they can’t get with it?

“and all the sheets drift jazz” by Sasha at her kitchen table

Sunday September 2, 2018
8:10pm
5 minutes
Bad Boy’s Slut Song
Nick Comilla

Raymond plays jazz at the Rex on Sunday afternoons. I’m there because Nicola likes to go, not because I really care about jazz. But Raymond does something to a trumpet that I can’t quite articulate. He shows us how music can be, who we can be, what a wild heart actually looks like. The rest of us are fakers. I used to play, but I got tired of staying out late and having the schmooze and kiss ass and all the rest of it. Raymond doesn’t play those games. He plays his set, drinks a cranberry soda at the bar, chats a bit with the regulars, and then walks home. He doesn’t make a big deal about it. He’s just living his life.