Downtown Diary 

[this story is usually satire]
"The Jazz Singer"

[this story is usually satire]
“The Jazz Singer”
At my usual cafe I ran into Hector, peering through his pince-nez at sheets laid out on his table. I asked him about the papers. “I’m putting the finishing touches on a new book for my publisher Edizione Testa d’Uovo. It’s a collection of photographs called Grotesqueries: The Tree-Trimming Art of the Indianapolis Power and Light Company.” Through the window we saw Rocky the Cat with an Attitude™ and his Feline Front pissing on an Ashcroft Youth they’d cornered. “What’s up with you?” Hector asked as he adjusted his pince-nez. “Nothing really, just thinking about my old lover the jazz singer lately. I remember the first time she sang for me; as she sang I could not help but recall a time when I was camping at McCormick’s Creek State Park and a songbird landed on a branch above my tent and gave a performance that brought tears to my eyes. It was the first time I’d ever heard a songbird. I thought about that while the jazz singer and I sat on my couch last autumn and she sang for me. That memory, the memory of the jazz singer singing for me, has been in my mind a lot lately.” “And?” Hector asked. “Nothing more, I have just been thinking a lot of the time the jazz singer sang for me,” I said. “What do you think this all means?” he asked psychoanalytically. “Er, something about the loss of innocence maybe?” I guessed. Hector removed his pince-nez and placed a monocle in his left eye. “Dear fellow,” he said, “at your age, I think ‘loss of innocence’ is hardly a plausible interpretation!”

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