[Fall of the Jazz Season] Stanley Kubrick's [Jazz is Hot Again]

Even if we have never enjoyed nor heard them, most can recall the names of Miles Davis, Thelonius Monk, Duke Ellington, Louis Armstrong, Chet Baker and the likes. What too can be injected into the knowledge you may or may not have known, is the shared opiate dreams they all once frequented in dreams. Heroin itself can be blamed for the fall of the decline of the Jazz season.

Stanley Kubrick's [Jazz is Hot Again] can be seen as an idiom, or rather, step upon the already ailing corpse where Jazz lay in utter agony, cries unheard, aid unwilling to be sent. Whatever the obsequious of reasoning, the power and might of Jazz never saw the 80's and Miles Davis's [Kind of Blue] was the sum of what Jazz was, and still might be again, when life again is lived and books again are read.

The weary musician rests after a set, the set in representation is the era where Jazz rose, spread like an unrestrained, uncontrolled ravish upon Swing and Bebop, staining Europe with the scars of having once been the last great hub of an art then, as now, underrated and misunderstood.

[A Second-time Rendezvous] on Christer Stromholm's [Nana]

Who was she? Where'd she come from? At which point did she notice Stromholm and his camera? One can look at the photograph of [Nana] taken in Paris during the 1950's and draw blanks to numerous questions. All that we know, is that Stromholm spotted her, his unquestionable depth of eye, at which time she spotted him and what followed was a photograph of [Nana] captured for all time.

Stromholm was lenient, ubiquitous, a hair-triggered snapper who rarely missed any vision worth pursuing, which again, we are brought full circle to the question as to who she was and why it is that Stromholm felt the need to circle around twice, an act rarely committed due to his very disposition, to revisit this woman?

Were they lovers? Mutual admirers? Him the artist driven and pulled by the compulsive, creative urge and she the whore whose only virtue was a whore's existence? Did she, in this slaggish existence, demand money of Stromholm or allowed him to titillate himself while she enjoyed the beloved intrigue of being notice?

All questions, no solid answers; but what we do have, is [Nana]'s and Stromholm's rendezvous, in black and white record........

[No Rest For the Ticket] on Stanley Kubrick's [Man With a Gun]

"An old man and I fell out,
i'll tell you what it was all about;
he had money and I had none,
& that's the way the noise begun."

It is timeless, since the gun has become an innovation, it has become the leading weapon of criminals in societies the world over, weapons for nations to conquer the next, a source of fear amongst those unarmed. There is predator and there is prey, there too, is the circumstantial predator and the incidental prey; so where then is this line drawn, at which point would we decide to disarm the fearful protecting themselves, which would surely lead to a one-sided slaughter at the hands of criminals who'll surely refuse to be unarmed and or unarmed for long.

Auden, writing in his [The Prolific and the Devourer] stated;

"I and the public know,
what all school children learn,
those to whom evil is done,
do evil in return."

Now we can discuss the vigilante and the vigilante's nearest kin, the fool with a cause, whose taken up arms at the whims of the charismatic man deciding that societies must fight back against the criminals, which in lieu of taking the law into his own hands, hypocritically himself turn criminal.

Kubrick's [Man With a Gun] denotes every thought that may come at the very sight and stare of his photograph, which today, with turn of events (school shootings in America, war in Syria) it is most necessary today, in this 21st century of human time recordings, where we all must gather and take from Kubrick's photography perhaps our next step on how not to only defeat the man with the gun, but rather how to keep this man from deciding that the gun is a necessity initially.

[To Have Met You] a poem

Can we be destined,
both,
to perpetual wildness?
If there are two of us,
you know,
danger from those who aren't
us two,
is inevitable-

-bayonet-led, a chainsaw-finish,
absinthe chaser to save us the
misery of our hidden
existence-


-Dontrell Lovet't

[Honeytrap] a poem

Baby lady,
static & gravy
I lose all taste of metallic
lips to lips
doubtful one,
silly worrisome fun,
expect that & that only,
missing me only causes me
to miss you,
then moreso are we haunted
by an opened door-

-Dontrell Lovet't

[Grounded Cafe] a poem

Out this window,
a brave new world stares
just back over my shoulder-

the Calinis abrade
the view;
not a bad distraction,
sudden glamour, blooming
coquettes, blushed, brushed
beauties, diploids done up so
wonderful, one is obliged
to praise the union of once apart
haploids-

since i've nowhere to go &
nowhere to go is the sole reality,
how grateful one must make of me,
to even get a glimmer past,
proper stolen gems side-
pocketed,
just as anyone else would commit-


-Dontrell Lovet't

[Nothing a'Matter With Old Fashion] on John Coltrane's [I'm Old Fashioned]

It's an abject truth; yesterday passed, today will pass and tomorrow too will join the bygone. In with every step of the passing, there is the physical evidence of aging, aging within flesh, within mine, into a strange, new generation insufficiently warlike and sufficiently influenced by the either-or differentiation.

One doesn't need seven minutes of Coltrane to mention this, one only need to stare out of a window, on any day of their existence and see life for what it is; a dredge, a morass of struggle, a tiresome, bleak obstacle, contoured with plentiful fortune along its every degree of latitude and longitude. But while we are mentioning Coltrane, we'll just allow Coltrane to lecture on the values of cherishing the bygone, even if its solely sentimental, not just a trend taken from the hands of the next, handed down like heirlooms of which the holder has no knowledge as to why or how.

It took my very own aging to under Coltrane, to understand his notes and perhaps too, it may become identical to most who've/who're waking from the 'confidence of youth' trance, when first they begin to fell finally human, the long endured stress placed upon their body now becoming apparent......now, we are in Coltrane's world..and now, we look back to cherish what we took for granted and rejoice at the very erroneous belief of 'Invincibility Relativity,' surrendering to age and change.