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

Seminal Image #926

The Roaring Twenties
(Raoul Walsh; 1939)


Vanwall said...

Panama Smith: "He's dead."
Cop: "Well, who is this guy?"
Panama Smith: "This is Eddie Bartlett."
Cop: "Well, how're you hooked up with him?"
Panama Smith: "I could never figure it out."
Cop: "What was his business?"
Panama Smith: "He used to be a big shot."

One of the greatest last lines ever.

Cagney's Eddie Bartlett has one helluva death spiral - it was a dance into a chalk outline, like he couldn't resist a few fancy steps on his way to sit at the right hand of the Lord, I guess.

Christopher said...

better 'n Schemer Burns's..
I always liked Priscila Lane..she was plain and a sexy way..

Tommy O'C said...

Come to me, my melancholy Priscilla baby...