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 Art of Cinema #124

The Canary Murder Case
(Malcolm St. Clair; 1929)


Bob Keser said...

I hate that, when hands start emerging from A's! No wonder she looks surprised.

Tom Sutpen said...

I have a rejoinder to that . . . but this is a family blog.

swac said...

Something about Louise sitting on her C?

Weird...I have a Munch calendar up in my kitchen, and for some reason April is The Scream month.

Bob Keser said...

Well, that's quite a big C she's sitting on, isn't it? Clever girl, though, concealing her pearls in her laptop!

Tom Sutpen said...

You know, if I didn't know what fine upstanding gentlemen you two were, I'd start to think there was some sort of ribald subtext to this exchange.