ROCK AND ROLL
He didn’t want to cover Big Railroad Blues because his favorite porno featured the song while two women did the deed. He complained that I never had enough toilet paper in my bathroom. When we’d take a break to smoke and drink, he’d sit on the edge of his stand-up bass, a French model over a hundred years old, which he paid 15 grand for. The seams started to split, and that was it, repair was necessary. We went out drinking, full of vanity and lies, imagining our band ruling the world. It was more about liquor and drugs and fantasy. Rock and roll is like that, though we were, in actuality, a folk-blues project. He insisted on a female accompaniment – some chick bartender he had the hots for. She told me she loved my songs. Held my arm traversing the street after practice. The guy, he didn’t dig that. Drank too much, blathered foolishly, insulted our server at the bistro before refusing to tip. All the while pawing at our new singer like a ravenous dog. When he went to relieve himself she confided to me that at her bar, he was a sort of fool that the clientele considered the equivalent of a town drunk. But boy could he play the stand-up bass, a saving grace (till I heard it on tape).
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Jay Passer's work has appeared in print and online since the 1980's. He makes a living as a cook. Two chapbooks of his poetry are due out in 2012.
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