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

They Were Collaborators #381

Three hardcore Carousel Club strippers (and their boss)


Vanwall said...

The dark armpit of Dallas, with one of its lesser demons and his contract players. I seem to remember they weren't just strippers, more like joy girls for the outtatown conventioneers looking for some strange - the Carousel Club was the place to go if you were in town for a 'Boys game. Not that I would know anything about that personally. Maybe he was just looking for fame, but he'd've been better off with Candy Barr headlining.

Tommy O'C said...

Jack Ruby, we hardly knew ye...