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 Socialism #5

Appeal to Reason subscription renewal receipt (1907)


Vanwall said...

I've been on holiday for week, and there's a disturbing parallel to this picture - the waitstaff, store clerks, and hotel cleaning workers have almost all been minorities, an obvious case of an un-spoken underclass. I tip well, but does that salve my conscience more than help?

Tom Sutpen said...

I've thought the same thing when I've been in comparable situations . . . and I've yet to get handle on a fully satisfying answer. I can say we're all victims of the same system, and I can say to myself I'd change it if I were in a position to do so, and I'm certain I would; but what does that mean, ultimately.