It's Jazz & Journals Baby
It’s Jazz and Journals, Baby
MacArthur Park Is Getting a Little Softer
Jurassic Magic #2—yes, that Jurassic Magic, the one that feels like a secret held together by cold brew, tape, and divine timing—is hosting something new. Something low-volume but high-resonance. It’s called Jazz and Journals, and it’s exactly what it sounds like, if what it sounds like is a public invitation to slow the hell down.
Set to unfold in the middle of MacArthur Park’s bright chaos, Jazz and Journals isn’t a concert, and it’s not a writing workshop. It’s a daytime drift. It’s a room full of folding chairs and sharp pencils, iced drinks and brass notes hanging midair. It’s what happens when a trumpet player who doesn’t believe in Plan Bs finds a space that doesn’t need one.
Dylan Quint will be there, of course—bringing his horn, his whole chest, and probably that same iced tea he’s been holding in every story anyone’s written about him. He doesn’t care for stagecraft. He’s not trying to sell you anything. “I just want people to have a room to exist in,” he says. “And music that lets them stay there.”
He’s not exaggerating. The idea is simple: live jazz played soft and strange, notebooks laid open without agenda, an afternoon that doesn’t pretend to solve your life but does give it room to breathe. If Jurassic Magic 2 has always felt like a place that encourages you to pause, this event might be the full stop.
You can come alone. You can bring a friend. You can wear sunglasses indoors and write about your ex in the margins of a crossword puzzle. You can do nothing at all except listen to Dylan bend sound into feeling while the sun rolls through the windows and the park outside keeps doing what it always does—buzzing, blazing, being Los Angeles.
There will be no RSVP, no headliner, no merch table. Just open tables. Just air and sound and the kind of stillness you don’t have to earn.
Because it’s Jazz and Journals, baby. And if you’ve made it this far into the week, you probably deserve it.
