If I lube my glutes with butter, I can shimmy one cheek into a saxophone bell. For what purpose? To make jazz with my ass—jass.
But how does one manage to make music from a woodwind instrument whose airways are blocked?
First, you need a willing partner, a saxophonist with an open mind. If they lack a normal gag reflex, all the better.
Second, make sure your collaborator is someone who gets it, knows that jass bears more nuance than sound. It’s vital that they know it’s deeper than that—it's about the feeling.
Now, insert the best half of your ass—if you’re vegan, use olive oil. Then your associate inserts the reed, fills up their lungs, plants their lips, and blows.
As Jelly Roll Morton never said nor sang: I'm pickin' up good vibrations.
James Callan’s work has appeared in X-R-A-Y Literary Magazine, Expat Press, Apocalypse Confidential, A Thin Slice of Anxiety, Burial Magazine, and Scaffold Literary Magazine. He is the author of the novels Those Who Remain Quiet and Old Sorcery.