Re: Jazz music and tough guy fiction
It was raining, a dirty night in a dirty city. Somewhere downtown, a guy was beating someone. Somewhere downtown, a woman was putting a gat in her purse on her way to one last date. Somewhere across the city. a guy was pulling out a flick knife, and another guy was shoving drugs into the boot of his car to make that big score.
Me? I was sipping a long Jack Daniels while listening to Bix Beidferbecke on the electric victrola. I remember my granddad having one of the old windup ones and the wax cylinders. The shellac discs were much cleaner, and I could hear Bix's notes vibrating cleanly. One clean thing in a dirty city. I toasted Bix. Wherever he was.
"Ö Times change, and so must IÖ we all change. When you think about it, we are all different people, all through our lives and thatís okay, thatís good! You've gotta keep moving, so long as you remember all the people that you used to be."