The Lost Notes by Diz

By Jason Disley

The Lost Notes by Diz is a modern odyssey of an artist who is in search of much more than just a meaning to his life. It's about the past, present and the future. It's about experience, it's about fate, and the lives that guide him to new places, both real and imaginary. With a mixture of different mediums a tale is woven from extracts and vignettes of a life recorded on paper. Notes that were thought missing, reveal a journey of companionship, love and loss with a touch of music here and there. Diz and his trumpet go with the flow, never knowing what will happen when Jazz and the request of a dead rock star combine.
“If Jack Kerouac and Carlos Castaneda went on a road trip together, you would probably wind up with something not dissimilar to The Lost Notes. A beguiling transatlantic tale of jazz, spiritualism and Jim Morrison ” Claire Mahoney, Detail magazine

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Dec 10, 2023
• ISBN: 9781446644355

Book preview

Introduction

This book that you now hold in your hands is not your run of the mill type of tale. It is essentially a collection of vignettes that make up a creative record of the life of a man known as Diz. Taken from scraps of paper- post-it notes, scribbles on the backs of envelopes, journals and so on. All pulled together and meticulously edited so as to provide an insight that is to be seen to be believed. All these notes have been written over the years, and since the autumn of 2000 where it begins. What you will find, and appears here, between the covers is something that helps to make up an interesting study. The notes reveal a tale, entries that are creative expressions. Telling the story in a manner – which at times, reveals a musician’s madness, and a Poets heart. Is it all a mysterious projection? Is this based on real events?

Covering a range of topics. Some that are obvious, and some that remain to be discovered as separate narratives build – they reveal a tale of illusion, delusion, and anxieties.

Hallucinations, and time shifts. Cinematic moments that have never been revealed before. The Lost Notes are exactly that. Can you find the truth hidden within? Or is it a wild goose chase? Is this life charmed or cursed? Read on, enjoy the trip and experience vicariously the life of Diz a young man destined to go places and experience many remarkable things. All brought together using a liberal amount of artistic license, whilst he continues a search for something that is seemingly forever out of reach.

"Must be going mad

Saw a Magpie Sitting on a Sheep’s back.

It was black.

It looked quite sad.

Its eyes glimmered with hope

Then it flew away.

It’s bleating fading

Into the distance

The Magpie pecked at a puddle as the sun glinted on the surface.

The sheep was long gone."

Anonymous

                Extract #1

I dream of freedom, I dream of wisdom, and I dream of a life worth living. You could, quite simply say, I’m a dreamer. But, aren’t we all? Perhaps I am a little more of a dreamer than others. I don’t know about you, but I am sick of my life at the moment. This God-awful job, serving punters, who despite being sat at a table, and are therefore at a lower altitude to you when you are serving them – still manage to look down their noses at you, and make you feel that your role in the big scheme of things is so much more menial than theirs. I know there is so, so much more to – to, life than this!

Diz was moaning to Lisa, in his usual long – winded way. His somewhat educated manner of speaking belied his working-class background. Lisa just nodded in agreement, trying to tune out his whining. She just polished the knives, dipping them in hot water, before buffing them up to a shine that was sharper than the actual blades. They both worked in an American style restaurant. One of those kinds of places where the walls were plastered with cheesy American signs; advertising beer, soap, sewing machines and national parks, alongside black and white photos of the bygone Hollywood era of the Forties and Fifties. There were pictures of stars like, Bogart, Bergmann, Monroe, Flyn, Brando, Dean Martin, Sinatra and Bing. To add to this eclectic mix of signs, posters and pictures- there were also musical instruments, parts of classic American cars, Native Indian artefacts and sports memorabilia. The whole shebang on this restaurant’s walls was actually an advert for the American Dream, or at least what the proprietor hoped. Its purpose was to supply a slice of authentic Yankee Style in the North West of England.  The irony being that any place across the Pond would shrink from such a confused un – artistic display as this.  However, each of these items stirred images of a life, that Diz so wanted to experience. Every day he was confronted with these images. His young, (and then) fragile mind took this bombardment, allowing for his fantasies to spread like a Cancer through the very core of his soul.

On this particular morning, when he was having, what to Lisa, had become a regular occurrence, one of his whinges, the Duty Manager, a hulk of a man called Kirk, walked in. He overheard Diz, and immediately tore into him.

YOU UNGRATEFUL LITTLE...! I’M SICK TO DEATH OF YOUR ATTITUDE. YOU’D BETTER BUCK YOUR IDEAS UP OR-OR-YOU’RE OUTTA HERE! he shouted. His face turning a deep crimson colour, with the anger that raged through him. Obviously, Kirk was in a bad mood, and his unprofessional outburst to Diz’s whining came as a shock to both Lisa and the unhappy young man who dreamed of being a musician, or a writer.

YOU CAN STICK YOUR STINKING JOB! I DON’T GET PAID ENOUGH TO BE TREATED LIKE THIS! I QUIT!

Replied the immediately affronted boy.

Lisa watched on in surprise at this outburst, and stood with her mouth open, as she watched Diz rip off his uniform baseball cap, and apron, before throwing them to the ground, and thundering out of the restaurant into the kitchen. Where he then continued, stomping through the Still area to the rear of the building, to where the staff changing rooms were. 

In the changing room, another poster confronted him. A poster that showed a picture of a handsome looking fellow, who is leaning on a wall, on a San Francisco street corner at night. The legend on it said "Even Jack Kerouac wore khaki!"  It was an advertising poster for a trendy clothes company. But it wasn’t the clothes that interested Diz. It was the man. Seeing that face looking at him, made his anger fade a little. Then and there – he decided what he would do.  He would Shoot the Breeze and go to America. Maybe, life would offer him the dreams that he so craved? He grabbed his jacket, looked at his reflection in the mirror, and smiled a grim smile at himself. He was taking a risk – but it was one that could be worth it.  Even, if he did not succeed, he would know that he had at least tried. He turned away from the mirror and poster and opened the back door to the building and found Lisa waiting for him outside.

"Kirk wants to see