Water Chesnuts and Cold Potatoes

You know when you eat a water chestnut and it tastes like dirt but in a satisfying way? Well I've been eating metaphorical water chestnuts all week. Recently, jazz has been like that for me. I'm not in the mood to listen but I still listen. Because it's satisfying and it's the only thing I've got.

I think it started tasting like dirt when earlier this week I was listening to a piece and the ending had become predictable, dragged out, melancholy, uninspired and unoriginal. Like cold mashed potatoes with an oily gravy poured over them.

If jazz can be said to be conversational then this conversation was dwindling, contrived and full of words that you say when there's nothing left to say. Just like this entry.