.Inner Monologue While Listening to Live Jazz.

Oh man, good for me. Look at me! I am listening to jazz.

Here I am, just taking in the moment. Fully present. Just me and the music.

Yup yup yup yup yup. Completely immersed. Thinking about nothing else.

The rhythm. The musicality. The syncopation.

Is that the right word? “Syncopation”? That’s a jazz thing?

Sync-o-pate sync-o-pate sync-o-pate.

One thing’s for sure: I am not on my phone right now.

I don’t even know how many minutes it’s been since I looked at my phone.

Because I am too busy listening to this song.

Is it a song?

Does it have to have words to be a song?

Maybe it’s a piece?

That’d be kinda pretentious. This isn’t a museum.

I mean it’s “ART.” No one is saying this isn’t art.

But it’s not Van Gogh. You can’t listen to a Van Gogh.

Is that insensitive? He cut off one ear. But he still had another one.

Oh, you know what? I bet they call it a “tune.”

Man, jazz guys are so cool.

That bass player is rockin’ that flat cap.

I don’t think I could pull that off.

Maybe if I carried a bass with me people would buy it.

How does he get that thing around?

Does he take it on the subway?

If he did, he could say, “SHOWTIME!” That’d be a fun little joke.

In the bass community, is it just generally accepted that you have to have a car?

If you’re a jazz player and you run into another one, do you give each other tips as a show of solidarity?

I’m so glad I have the attention span to appreciate this music.

Not everyone could sit here and just totally let go of themselves like I’m currently doing.

Especially not in my generation.

Honestly, I feel kinda bad for people my age.

Constantly distracted. Unable to appreciate what’s happening directly in front of them.

Not me!

I’m an old soul.

Are we still on the first song?

Sorry—first tune?

You know what? Doesn’t matter.

I got nowhere to be but here.

Does the library close at ten or eleven?

Well, what difference does it make?

I’m just gonna leave whenever the show’s over anyway.

I mean, I guess if I know when the library closes, and the show goes late, then I can have a backup plan ready so I don’t waste any time googling.

I’ll look it up between the sets.

Is a group of “tunes” a “set”?

How come jazz shows don’t have playbills?

Oh, wait, everyone’s clapping. Was that a solo just now?

How do they decide how long the solos go?

I bet there are some guys who are, like, notorious for going way too long.

And it’s like, are they showboats or are they geniuses?

It can be difficult to tell the difference.

Like Airplane. Now that was a movie.

Denzel Washington is hot!

I really liked La La Land and Babylon, but I totally zoned out during First Man.

It just feels like such a waste of time for everybody involved when you go see art and you suddenly realize your mind has been wandering the whole time thinking about a bunch of bullshit.

Whoa, the saxophone player has a flute now!

I wonder if he’s seen Anchorman.

He probably gets that all the time.

“You stay classy, San Diego.” Hilarious.

Why don’t they make mid-budget studio comedies anymore?

What is Judd Apatow doing to nurture the next generation of comedy directors?

Who made Blockers? I liked Blockers.

Oh, here comes the end of the tune.

🎵Da daaa, da daaaa, DA da daaaaa! 🎵


So good.

I’m so glad I’m here right now.

How long was that, an hour?

Let me check.

Twelve minutes.

You know what? There’s a whole lot of city out there.

I should be spontaneous and leave right now.

Off to the library I go.

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