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 British Rail #1


swac said...

Great, now I'm going to have "With My Little Stick of Blackpool Rock" stuck in my head for the rest of the day.

Richard Gibson said...

Hmmm Blackpool. Can't quite visualise it ever looking half decent I'm afraid. Even this appears to have taken what I am sure was a lot of creative licence in its day.

Chris said...

Like many of our seaside resorts, Blackpool fails to live up to expectations. I've been twice to visit friends nearby. I couldn't imagine the hell of having to stay there for more than one day. Depressing..