jump to navigation

Jascribble and the Station Saxophonist August 20, 2007

Posted by jasmingle in Poetry, Literature, and Performance.

Watched a saxophonist next to Charing Cross Station: look into


Next to the station, the people flowed into position like cogs in a pre-set clock, or- no- more like rivulets of water down a hillside: occassionally straying from the pre-determined route but always returning with a splash to the water below.

Watching Raggyfarmer was like stopping to breathe, zoom vision taking me up close and inside the barrel of his saxaphone, so I felt like I was part of the swell of his cheeks, the rise of his chest.

I don’t think he looked up at me, but amongst the suits and briefcases running, cutting through the stillness between musician and listener, I felt that, as two people standing still, we were rooted, we were safe- for want of a less cheesy comparison, I couldn’t help but think of the end of Titanic, the full brass band playing into the rising water, playing, still playing, until the barrels of the tuba and french horn filled like metal lungs, and everything was silent. There was that same determination to carry on, like noone else noticed that we are all drowning. Perhaps we are…?

Though he probably has socks that are older than me, and neither of us, still in the moment of the longest note, could rearrange the world’s pyramic scheme, it was like we were both rocks on a clifface, surrounded by catapulting lemmings with bluetooth over it’s edge- us beyond the point of plea or persuasion, letting them run into the sea. We know that eventually we will drown.

He looked like the saxaphone was a filter, sucking the clammy shreds of goodness from our coal-dust air, our chemical respiratory romance. I have no such tool, but instead imagine that every smoggy inhalation seeps, osmosic, into my pens’ ink, slowly cleaning me out.



1. Yemisi Blake - August 22, 2007

Hey Jasmine,

Welcome back to the blogosphere, and to wordpress!
Big up RaggyFarmer. I’ve seen this guy under the bridge behind RFH.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: