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

August 30, 1906


Joan Blondell, the patron Goddess of this blog and once one of the most aggressively hot women to step before a camera, was born on this day in 1906 . . . and, yes, that would make her 100 years old. Among other things, we here at If Charlie Parker Was a Gunslinger . . . would ask all of you in honor of this day to do your damndest to locate a print of the molten, rumored-to-have-been-destroyed 1933 film Convention City before all memory of its long whispered, sordid wonder has faded from the mists of recollection.

(how's that for purple prose)

Many thanks to David Hudson and Green Cine Daily for including an item on this event (otherwise I would never have known).

1 comment :

Vanwall said...

An inspired little series! Saint Joan can save my soul any day! If anyone did, she embodied the soul of Hollywood, especially the the soft, bouncy bits. ;-)