This is the third of four extracts from my writing chosen by Sascha Feinstein to illustrate his interview with me which appeared in the Summer, 2017 issue of the journal, Brilliant Corners.
The first shot had struck her in the chest, close to the heart, the second had shredded part of her jaw, torn her face apart …
Finally, in the living room, he burrowed through the shelves of albums and CDs, searching, not for something calming, consoling, nothing that might trigger a memory, happy or sad, but this: the Eric Dolphy/Booker Little Quintet Live at the Five Spot, New York, 16 July 1961. Track three. “Aggression.” Sixteen minutes and forty seconds.
Resnick in the middle of the room, listening, slowly racking up the volume.
Louder, then louder.
Still listening.
By the time it reaches Dolphy’s solo, the bass clarinet screaming, squawking, keening – the sound so fierce, so intense – he is no longer capable of thought, just feeling.
Fists clenched tight, absorbing the music’s anger, he takes it for his own: this stuttering expression of anger and pain.
from Darkness, Darkness, 2014
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