jazz festival

Two nights ago, ben and tracy, the Australian couple at work, composed of an overweight and mean-hearted girl and a tall skinny and usually witty guy, had their sayonara party. I could never figure out what it is he sees in her, as she has no outstanding good qualities, besides her proficiency for belching in the office. The party was at Big Brother's, the big American-owned sandwich shop in town that all the gaijin love to go to. Ironically, almost half of our students were there to celebrate too. Well, in reality, only the ones ben and tracy approved of, and this included some characters as well as some people who i liked as well. As soon as i walked in, one middle-aged student named Kyouko grabbed me and demanded that i sit next to her. The table was composed solely of students, and their speech was both rapid and mercilessly colloquial, but i managed to pick out some words to try and understand. When Kyouko realized i could speak a bit, she wouldn't stop chatting excitedly, so speedily that i often needed to remind her to slow down. It is funny how the personality of someone changes when they are allowed to speak their native tongue. Many of the students were much more cheerful and talkative, as was to be expected, and this made me eager to contribute and listen. After this obnoxiously loud and lively affair, i told some students i had to leave to go to the jazz festival i had a ticket for, which i bought from my boss. His fiance works in a jazz bar and was interestingly the singer at the first bar we went to. Two students, Kyouko and Noriko, joined me and they bought tickets at the door. After the first show, where i met my boss Calvin, they decided to head home, but expressed their excitement and joy at having spent the night with such a wild and crazy gaijin such as myself. Calvin and i then proceeded onwards and stopped at two more bars to see some shows there before we eventually retired to the gaijin karaoke bar where the "afterparty" was held. The first performance was a band composed of Calvin's fiance who played saxophone and sang, a trumpet, keyboard, electric guitar, drums, bass, and bass saxophone. The music they played was good and pretty standard for this sort of affair. The second bar was a smaller venue--this time a singer with guitar, electric guitar, piano, and drums. The singer was a middle-aged man who sang in Japanese to a variety of interesting tunes, ranging from rockabilly to calypso. The third and final performance was the most impressive. The singer was a too-pretty 20-something boy with a dyed blond perm and a loose shirt hanging over his tall and thin body. Needless to say, his singing was extraordinary, and he even did some improvisational skat, smacking his chest to get the sounds out of his throat. The piano player and drummer were evidently artists as well as musicians, and i say this because unfortunately, all musicians are not artists. These musicians, especially the pianist, could speak through their music, in a language that is impossible to articulate in words, and that is just as impossible to receive in a language able to be articulated. The drummer was dressed like a "sarariman" (salary man in japanese-english, which means white collar-worker) with a faint moustache. It was funny to see the stereotypical image of a Japanese businessman rocking away on the drums like a madman during his solos. After all this at the karaoke bar, i sang until my throat was hoarse and i sounded like crap, and got home late. Nothing eventful happened here, as usual, except that an extremely drunk and insane Japanese woman crept up behind me and sunk her teeth into my shoulder, then proceeded to hump my leg like a dog. After the pain subsided, i told her i was a married man, and she bent over, nearly falling to the floor, and whispered in my ear, "It's okay. It's okaaay...", and trailed off with a spacy look in her eyes.
Onward!