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
9 comments:
the ever smooth dapper Gent..
He was such a pratt.
What a great photo. I would have never recognized him.
Terrible actor, even worse left arm spin bowler.
Happy Halloween, Boris!
i once heard alistair cooke saying that the first time he drove through pasadena he saw a cricket match going on and karloff was bowling
great actor. Frankenstein's monster was James Dean with stitches and electrodes
I can't understand why you describe the subject as Boris Karloff when it plainly is Abe Vigoda. . . .
"I must stop Christmas from coming, somehow!"
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