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Death loves a mystery. Death can’t get started. Death in high heels. Death makes the world go ’round. Death in a Class A uniform. Death at the Dakota. Death your magic spell is everywhere. Death is here to stay. Death goes to the movies. Death is marching on. Death travels to Samarra. Death and his pal destruction. Death loves to kiss you good night. Death makes your heart grow fonder. Death dislikes magazines. Death only has eyes for you. Death is back in town. Whatever Death wants, Death gets. Death is where you find it. Death in the rain, Death in a blue dress, Death in Havana. Death on the golden sands. Death says “hi” to Bunky. Death and taxes, Death and taters, Death in Texas. Death to intelligence. Death to bad art. Death is a little bit of heaven. Death in Venice. Death in Des Moines. Death makes a deal. Death is a bitch. Death is a bastard. Death makes a lot of sense. Death fears no man. Death is a consumer, a sap and a sucker. Death goes along singing a song. Death on a pale horse. Death hates all religions. Death don’t like ugly. Death can’t run in the mud. Death bes not proud. Death likes to hone his craft. Death walked right in. Death gets that old feeling. Death don’t want no peas and rice and coconut oil. Death he’s got no bananas. Death eats antipasto twice. Death needs killin’. Death and modern English usage make a great team. Death sends a little gift of roses. Death couldn’t have done it without the guys. Death and the end of the novel in love. Death and history. Death and love, and fun at the county fair. Death goes to the country. Death don’t get around much anymore. Death takes a course in creative writing. Death walks the dog and rocks the cradle. Death in grey flannel. Death marching marching on the burning sands. Death in Central Park. Death in love with love. Death gazes long into the mirror. Death bids farewell to the old gang. Death enters the sweepstakes, plays the lottery, bets a saw on a long shot, draws to an inside straight, and craps out over and over again. Death is pissed off. Death loses all the time. Death boils bagels. Death fries eggs. Death discovers girls. Death discovers boys. Death will hump anything. Death is gay sort of. Death in Glocca Morra. Death invents a couple new diseases. Death loves to tango. Death returns to the South. Death in the French Quarter, in Brownsville, in Dyker Heights, in Ozone Park, in Tottenville, in the pool and ocean, river and creek. Death takes away the sweet. Death plays a kazoo. Death chewin’ on a cracker. Death don’t give a fuck about you or me or anybody else, or all arrogance of earthen riches.
—Gilbert Sorrentino, of Brooklyn (1929-2006), from Lunar Follies (2005)

Along with Max Roach, Joe Maneri—of I believe Bushwick— was the greatest and most original jazz musician and composer to come from Brooklyn.* This video doesn’t quite show that, nor Joe’s ability to tear off blazing klezmer and greek wedding band solos like a cross between Lester Young, Dave Tarras, Anton Webern and Aeschylus but those who saw Joe live know his overflowing genius. — Willis Still Sunsweet, The Music Director

* Long-time Fort Greene resident Cecil Taylor, a Maneri admirer and all-around American arts and literature hero, must be counted among the awesome too but Cecil didn’t grow up here.  We hope, of course, Cecil stays forever.

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