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 #621

Debbie Reynolds and Edith Head


Flynn D said...

You are Eddie Fisher. You have a choice: your perky 1950's wife or the swirlingly sexy, violet-eyed Liz Taylor.

twister said...

It might've been the perky Debbie Reynolds knew how to rock a boat better than the sultry E. Taylor.

Now for something completely different:

Flynn D said...

Listen to the Liz Taylor of the late 1940's and early 1950's. I like to think the way she used her voice was not a learned or practiced actor's trick but was a natural expression of her burgeoning and totally refreshing sexuality.

pang5 said...

Wasn't Ms. Head the one who stole the credit for the fantastic frocks Hepburn chose to wear in Breakfast at Tiffany's?