jazz wedding

i saw A great day in Harlem. all those jazz folk seem so genuine and loving. i know it was a different era, but it feels like it's now, underground, with all but a few dead. if you miss something deeply it's now. it's just not here. there must be some underground or maybe there's still a community like that, just not for me. not here now but elsewhere.

morphfen. secret heart, what are you made of, what are you so afraid of, what's wrong? let em in to your secret heart. thanks, apologies,  ron sexsmith.

we did go back to make it a party, but it was bleak and a mother and child were huddled blanketed on the beach and on the way back i noticed copp's tags gone and his little belled silence lofted in my mind recalling how he'd been sneaking up on me. how i noticed the silence but not the reason and then david pointed out that he had his tags on the beach the day i added p, the day before i added, y.

party like a funeral.

party with mister, you can be serious and silly both, don't be so uptight, so many obscure rules of behavior!

fun propeller head

watermelon chapeau, whada i know from fashion, i just know what i like. sometimes i mis-like what i know though.

surrender to jazz it's already in you.

what manner bird.