The Explanation
(for those who require one)

And, of course, that is what all of this is -- all of this: the one song, ever changing, ever reincarnated, that speaks somehow from and to and for that which is ineffable within us and without us, that is both prayer and deliverance, folly and wisdom, that inspires us to dance or smile or simply to go on, senselessly, incomprehensibly, beatifically, in the face of mortality and the truth that our lives are more ill-writ, ill-rhymed and fleeting than any song, except perhaps those songs -- that song, endlesly reincarnated -- born of that truth, be it the moon and June of that truth, or the wordless blue moan, or the rotgut or the elegant poetry of it. That nameless black-hulled ship of Ulysses, that long black train, that Terraplane, that mystery train, that Rocket '88', that Buick 6 -- same journey, same miracle, same end and endlessness."
-- Nick Tosches, Where Dead Voices Gather

The Golden Age of Prurience #24

Office Wife
(by Richard Grant)
(Beacon Books; 1950)

(our thanks to Richard Gibson for this bit of lurid splendor)


swac said...

The thigh's the limit!

Rob said...

Jeez, I could use one like that at my office.

Brent McKee said...

It just has to be said: "Her boss was taking Liberty's and Liberty was just fine with it." (I mean really, is that the cleavage of a woman who doesn't want to be thought of as a slut. Yeah I know, I'm a sexist.)