A Jew in Roppongi  

saxyjazzman 55M
26 posts
8/18/2005 10:28 am

Last Read:
3/5/2006 9:27 pm

A Jew in Roppongi

Tonight, after the first set, I'm sitting in the Mini-Stop minding my own, in walks Paul Mangle the brother from New York, jazz guitarist, would-be singer, wondering why I didn't return his call. Every time it's about, "Hey, man let me get this sequence from you, do you have that George Benson tune, blah-de-blah?" Comes over to my house and cops my stuff with no let up, 10 or 15 songs that I downloaded and arranged myself. I'm a sweetie, giving it all away plus coffee. Hey, I’m fucking Jerry McGuire. , I LOVE black people.

And he kicks my ass scale-wise, But I get tired of it and don't always answer his calls.

Now it's friendly banter.

"Hey, you boys fighting each other now," he says, talking about Israelis evicting themselves from the Gaza Strip.

"Yeah, well."

So that "Living Inside My Love" track you gave me - it's fucked up. I got embarrassed on stage. People laughing at me.

"Woah, sorry."

"Look, you got to bring me down another version tomorrow."

"You got a spare MD." (I'm supposed to supply the sequence AND the mini-disk?)

“Now you’re being Jewish on my ass. Man, everywhere, Jewish people are disliked, why is that?”

I cannot believe this shit. I am displeased. I reach in the computer and pull beautiful speech in defense of the Jews by Thomas Macaulay, spoken to the English Parliament in 1833, just before it finally voted to give Jews full rights under British law.

Paul’s not on the same page.

“Man, Jews are greedy.”

This is the guy who got maybe 40 of my sequences for free. A guy who chases pussy like every one is his last meal. Who is getting ready to leave his wife and daughter so he can be “free.” George Benson’s pal. Thought he was mine.

I call him ignorant. He understands European history like I understand Chick Corea’s chord progressions (not). I am talking shit loud in the Mini-Mart. I am on fire. “I see your true, colors, motherfucker,” I say, and I’m out the door.

Over at Minsk Club, I pout out my woes to Darth, my goateed, wolfish Macedonian bartender buddy. He sets me up a free beer and starts in on how Jews weren’t the only ones who died in the Holocaust. Shit. Everybody’s got a gripe tonight. I can’t walk out of THERE because he’s like my SOURCE, if you know what I mean, and actually, I’m not that comfortable with the exclusionary spirit of Jews and their Holocaust memorials anyway. Me and Darth are on the same page. We hate religion, hate nationalism.

A pretty European girl comes over to sit next to me. She’s Czech. He’s Macedonian. Behind the bar, a cool French Canadian. Now they’re all screaming at each other about who invented schools. Czechs are better, Macedonians are better. It’s a comedy. I ask her her name. It’s Eve. Perfect.

“Look,” I point out. All these wars and nationalism are all rooted in the male psyche, territorialism, you know.”

“Men are smarter than women,” offers Darth.

A few references to the suppression of the Goddess by the pre-Christian Greeks and Jews and I am IN with Eve. I seal it by reminding them that the entire American economy is based on an invention by her people: the check.

I gotta run off for my last set. Sweetie didn’t even know I was saxyjazzman. Called for me to come back as I was leaving.

Outside my club, Nigerians Phillip and Ken (whom I’d unloaded on too) are laughing good-naturedly at me.

“My people get shit ten times as much as yours,” says Phillip. Ken happens to drop this bracelet. He picks it off the street, a string of what looks like tiny white teeth. “Emi gave this to me,” an Israeli girl who has to stroke drunk salarymen’s dicks in their club. What a world. I hold it up in my hand.

It looks like teeth. “My grandmother’s teeth are in Auschwitz. My grandfather’s teeth are there too. He was a dentist. That’s ironic, huh?” The boys are silent.

“Look,” I add, “there was this experiment in the 60’s. Psychologists tied an expansion measure around the penises of a group of homophobes and a group that claimed no hatred of gays. Then they showed them gay porno movies. The homophobes’ dicks got measurably bigger. That’s called projection. My guitarist is a greedy guy, so he calls the Jews greedy. We’re all a little afraid of what’s inside us. Especially guys. Hey, love you, man”

Last stage: Spain, Stand By Me, a Spyro Gyra tune, and the Doobie’s Long Train Running. (Nailed Spain to the wall.)

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