London Blues

On this coffee stained morning jazzing D’Indy up I hear London awaking outside my window  her syrens wailing the footsteps down the stairs in Turnpike Lane station as the quavers I’m swinging up da-d-da-d-da I love syncopation I do believe jazz is a state of mind and so is London and I start thinking if you talk that big bitch of a city you must use no commas no full stops no exclamation question direction marks just the flow of her concrete river as a Coltrane solo and her insane phrasing that da-d-da-d-da all day all night I feel hunger for words physical desire for the letters to mingle and melt and burn and blow up in my head in my heart this city talks through us moves through us we are her she is us and really there is no sense in trying to make sense you don’t always have to say something just say it it will and won’t mean anything and it does not matter like when you are telling a story and you know not where you’re going but some people will follow be sure some people will listen will they understand sometimes I think it doesn’t really matter I just want to say say say t-ta-t-ta-t-t-t-talk like Jeff  ‘Tain’ Watts I still remember that night at the Barbican when I converted to Marsalis I walked into Foyles last night and Fitzgerald greeted me from a shelf his faded black and white picture stating Babylon Revisited and I say shit he knows and how could I think he might not know and I remember those hours on trains bullets shot in the stomach of the Capital reading The Great Gatsby sometimes crying sometimes laughing about it if I really think of it I remember nothing of that book and it’s one of my favourite and isn’t that a bit sad to forget what we read what we’ve known those we loved we once thought the universe could not breathe carry on was defined by that word that look that name those lips and then one day you wake up bam and really who was that and you have to catch the train anyway so make sure you get on the right line which will surely be disrupted this weekend and Transport for London apologizes for any delays without knowing I was late for my own birth so really it’s a hopeless cause time time t-t-t-time we all run after hours minutes the clock arms strangle us but I love clocks if I had money I’d buy 19th century ones but then if I’d money I’d turn my life into a 19th century no 15th no BC no shit no n-n-n-no you see I have way too many passions too many moods too much life inside me but the clocks yes clocks are quite ridiculous that is why I love them there is something so naive about them they carry on in their illusion with such elegance I’m often thinking about elegance these days I am fascinated by this concept maybe ’cause I feel I have none whatsoever or maybe I do and I don’t even know but then what is it exactly I guess it must be something in your guts and a state of mind as jazz as London ah London London London you might as well call it Heartbreak Hotel would you believe I met another one he goes and tells me about his marriage his depression but he survived and I think why the fuck are you telling me this you don’t even know me and most of all how do I always find these human wrecks I must be some kind of lighthouse in the desert of their insanity but man I’m tired of listening to these stories on Saturday I felt so empty a ghost among ghosts one of them Babylonians all I could think of doing was wearing my heels my Yves Saint Laurent perfume my nicest earrings my nicest dress my daily dose of Mingus Mingus Mingus and go out to breathe the city to breathe myself to breathe life and for once for only a fraction of a second I thought you’re hot girl you are so beautiful ’cause no matter how many times they slap and punch and stab you your heart is warm and you still smile and you have seen things people are scared to name and then I felt I wanted to laugh so loud and I did alone in the street ’cause I was happy happy to be how and who I am not sick like them I go out and celebrate myself and think you’re it girl you’re at it on it you’re the shit girl and when they will hear you it will be BOOM you bet though for now you sit in your dirty black coat on this dirty tube seat and you feel hungry and you dream of revolutions and the man opposite you loves your broken shoes and he doesn’t want to say somehow somewhere I’m getting mine and shit I’m afraid I’m so scared I feel so cold and lonely sometimes and I love them who have the guts to be afraid there is no room for weakness nowadays but weakness is the heart of us the lungs of us I won’t be strong if I’m not weak and fragile and terrified but I’m losing the point now which is no point at all and to be honest at times I think it is wrong to expect anything which is anything other than nothing and this is reminding me of that warm up we used to at Uni at the beginning of each lesson and surely this must be the effect that the Mingus-Fitzgerald conjunction has on me this morning and yes of course Joyce I wonder if one day I’ll be brave enough I mean I think you can only measure your courage if you get through the first 100 pages of Ulysses then call yourself a hero but yes it’s good sometimes to talk and say nothing ’cause too often I speak and they do not understand anyway so that was good you all a pleasure to play in this city tonight but please now everybody shut up! it’s Miles’ solo.

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