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 American Fantasy #37


Flickhead said...

Honor House Products in Lynbrook was located at the back-end of the building which housed Col-Pal Press, my employer (and printer of my fanzine, Magick Theatre) during most of the 80s. Col-Pal was named after co-owners Colonna and Palumbo.

By the time Col-Pal hired me, Honor House had ceased operation, though there were still cartons of their garbage stacked high in the farthest corners of the warehouse, and I found boxes of printer's negatives of their ads directly across from my work area. When I stumbled across that little treasure trove, I stayed late one night and checked out each and every one.

Everything was eventually trashed when the original owners retired. They sold the building to a corporate hustler named Ira Kirschenbaum, who brought in his own staff, informed me to my face that I was "obsolete" and made my life hell until I quit. He didn't want to lay me off, for then I'd be eligible for unemployment benefits. With any luck, my prayers have since been answered and the bastard died a slow death from AIDS or cancer or both. With my luck, though, he's probably still spinning his webs and making others miserable as we speak.

Too bad, because the original owners were a decent group of people who'd do anything to keep their staff happy.

Ira's Col-Pal eventually relocated to the lower-taxed town of Oceanside, while the abandoned Lynbrook building is probably still vacant.

squajo said...

Oooo. Color AND Black and White!

Daryl said...

Hate to break it to you Flickhead, but it looks like he's still kicking.

Flickhead said...

IT'S ALIVE!!!!!!

Fred said...

When I was a kid, my dad's first office was in Lynbrook, near Flickhead's warehouse.

rookgaroo said...

"Honor" House, my ass. I want my $6.98+75 cents back.