jazz, love, and the pursuit of adolescent sadness

In rehearsal the other day I admitted that if I was on my death bed and picking out music from my life, there wouldn't be all that much jazz. Granted I've devoted quite a lot of my life to studying, playing and writing this music. But it has not been the soundtrack of my life with the people most important to me. Listening to jazz makes me want to go practice. It doesn't remind me of any pretty girls and it doesn't make me want to drive around town, smoke cigarettes, and be sad for reasons I can't articulate. I think that's what I really want anyways.