Daily Archives: April 8, 2020

jazz slang

“Real real good to see you down in New Orleans, yeah. Real reet.”

“*Well*, Marty. We’re not *going* to New Orleans as it turns out. We’re avoiding that boat, that dream.”

“Real reet, yeah.” Then bass voiced Marty stops talking to actually listen to The Man.

“Marty Marty Marty,” The Man starts again. “You should have never left Legos to make the new album. You’re not *black* enough, and I know a thing about black. Why you’re — you’re about as black as White Elvis, and that’s not much.” He points to his wig, perhaps still covering the ant saliva from before.

“Listen,” responded Marty, realizing his own hair is really the only black thing about him.

“Yes, good. Arkansas we’re at and Arkansas we’ll stay. The boat and the stream remain empty, devoid of content.” The Mann then stares at the bar. “And what about this setting? So shallow. Where’s the actual bar with a bartender and all.” He takes another swallow of Jack Daniels in disgust. If only all this were a dream.

“Silly love songs.”

“Yeah. Those too.”

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name

After the successful gig, SEAN “Green” Penn and The Mann, owner of New Orleans Blues Little Rock for the moment, got as close to the pool table and the spread out map of Arkansas upon it as play would allow. They mapped out a strategy.

“I say we head for Formosa next, you know, the LOST island. Right up here.” The Mann pointed a little north of Little Rock, or as close as his pointing finger could get.

“How about Mountainburg?” SEAN countered, indicating west. “In the mountains–”

“Ozark, I know. Too dangerous,” The Mann opined. “Too many moonshiners. They’ll want us to stay more and that’ll be it. *Stuck*.” He sticks his finger on the pool table, like it’s glued there. He leaves it for about 3 seconds before removing to enhance the Elmer effect.

“What about Kate?” SEAN then spoke.

“What *about* Kate?” The Mann quickly followed, looking at SEAN’s eastward pointing finger this time. Close to the Mississippi River and Mississippi state leading to New Orleans. Can’t take the chance there either. Current could take them. He told this to SEAN.

“Well…” he said, heaving a resigned sigh. “Better just stay here a spell, then. This (he waves his arms around) Little Rock.”

“We could increase the Rock. Make it bigger. Would that help?”

Would it help? SEAN didn’t know right off.

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Knew

“Shoot girl. You shouldn’t be smoking in here. And why do you want to go to New York City anyway? There’s nothing but trouble there.”

“Because it’s in the–”

SEAN “Green” Penn swung toward her while interrupting. “*Don’t* say contract. I don’t want to hear about no contract.” SEAN knew he had the appearance of a white child to Marsha “Pink” Krakow, about the same size and also color as herself but a boy instead of a girl. He was indeed “Green,” the grocer’s kid originally from Kraken but now living down on Southside Bay in a houseboat.

“Why not? You signed one too.”

“I did *not* sign a contract.”

“But… you *showed* it to me.”

“I,” and SEAN rapped the table in front of him with an index finger to punctuated, “signed a piece of paper, girl. *Piece* of *paper*.” He sat back, looking at her, gauging her reaction to this truth. They stared at each other for a while, as if exchanging information through their eyes. And perhaps they were.

“Baloney,” she finally uttered to break the tension. “Hogwash. You just don’t want to go to New Orleans.” She threw up her arms in exasperation, and then he did too.

“Who said *anything* about New *Orleans*? We were *talking* about New York, and how to cross Arthur Kill to get there.” But then he remembered as Marsha “Pink” Krakow before him kept shaking her head. He was already *there*. In a bar that plays the Blues.

Or was it Little Rock.

Turns out the bar plays blues and a little rock. And it was in Little Rock. SEAN “Green” Penn was the main act tonight. He had yet to meet Pink. Or Olive. It was 5 years in the past. He only had 5 years to make this right, 5 years to make this right, 5 years to make this right…

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03 of ’em

“Who *are* you?” Marsha asked.

“My name is Jane. But you can call me Olive. Olive Green. I’m really just a kid beneath it all. Like you.”

“So I see.” She looked at the contract again before her on the table. With all the information.

“Sign… just there.” She pointed.

—–

June Bug Jane had found her nest egg in Paradise. “Olive Green Pink”!

Two more contracts to create and she’s done.

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