sliding your slippers against the wooden flooring
for the grit, the sand, the rattle, is very much like playing
the jazz drums while shaking the maracas... jazz drummers
with brushes, ever so slightly the sand-timers' expression...
horace silver's sighin' n' cryin'... it's sandy, shaky,
a 40 degree heat  off the isle of Celsius...
boom boom bara boom... ta'dum  ta'dum tapas baked at noon...
i love the all the instruments can break away from their rhythmic
roles and do a solo... everyone is minded, no one is dismissed...
everyone take a part... once the base freed from rhythm,
takes to solo, another instrument takes the leading
role in providing the rhythm, the many
handshakes in jazz, the merchant's ergonomics,
then the piano solos... then the sax,
and then the drums... while some other instrument
takes the lead for the rhythm...
maybe my love of jazz stemmed from
never getting to grips with rap: the deviation
from the puritan practices of poet-speak...
but we're far removed from philosophers...
they can take their comparisons and
arguments elsewhere...
compared to philosophers and novelists...
who **** out a constipated 600 page novels
weaving, constantly weaving...
we're journalists in the ozone layer...
poetry forgot the old grievance with philosophy,
it just said: i attire myself with journalistic ambitions,
that's where i preside, and nowhere else...
indeed, jazz means much more than it did
in the 20th century, in the 21st century we are just
about seeing it's status improved as equal to a Mozart,
adding the spontaneity... forever divorced from
mingling with poetry... because no one would
dare to mash-up a session with Mozart playing
in the background... well, adding the Operas...
no jazzy operatic would ever work, even
with Porgy & Bess...
but still, the sandy rhythm of the drums...
like rain on umbrellas, but in reality like
Sahara dropping on an umbrella in Algiers...
the laziness and fulfilment...
i simply can't despair like some poet
commenting on a Liszt performance...
i love the lazy Caribbean approach...
if it ain't broke, don't fix it...
and if it's broke, allow at least a few days of
fermentation... never be too busy as to later
bust on what life means to only relieve yourself
with a meaning: just work, therefore it works,
life just means work... they've been selling
us the Auschwitz slogan for a long time.
it wasn't a wet crash cymbal, crash or splash as such...
it was the sand-paper scratch of the brush-strokes
on the floor tom and the snare;
as some might consider arithmetic the quantum
physics of the other linear expression of counting -
quantum (a particular source of all our mental
blockages, call the plumbers of our blanks) -
so too the keeping of rhythm as superior against
keeping count... just when the two seemed identical,
keeping rhythm: 1, 1, 1, 1
            rather than keeping count: 1, 2, 3, 4...
came on top... just like 1 x 9 made more intellectual
improvements to sentence the symbols to
that hide & seek of binary (0-0, 1-1, 2-10, 3-11, 4-100, 5-101,
6-110, 7-111, 8-1000)...
keeping rhythm and the original spontaneity,
keeping count and the precursor of pre-ordained script;
i don't see what certain words should become like castles,
with moats and bridges and hot-melt poured on
the attackers... but they have become like castles...
totally deviating access with our request for accessing them...
while other words lie about like pennies on the pavement...
where everyone can pick them up and exploit them...
flick them, make them crowd gathering utensils,
shame that some words ended up so sacred as to be
commonplace in our adventure into ignorance...
while other words became the crowd-pleasing
five loaves of bread and two fish... sure enough
certain words became just that...
other words became elephants... like calculus... or
evolution... it's not that people wouldn't reach a zenith
of sustenance with them, that their stomachs would be
filled... it's that eating such words was impossible...
because they couldn't stomach / digest them...
it was really like trying to eat a whole elephant in one
go, rather than a small portion and freezing the rest...
these days people still try to compete in the eating races,
trying to eat the entire elephant in one go...
and every time they try it, they fail, by simply regurgitating
what they couldn't eat for another person to eat...
given the span of 2000 years from that famous
spectacle of 5000 x 5 x 2....we hardly know whether
1 multiplied by anything will be adequate to satiate us
to have the cement dry and
allow certainty to provide us with established norm,
and the process of forgetting the instigator of
the original idea.