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 Life and Times of the American Motel #15


Shalimar Motel (Wildwood, NJ)

6 comments :

estiv said...

If only reality had such lovely colors so neatly composed.

Gerard Saylor said...

That is a fantastic photo.

Tommy O'C said...

Idyllic.

Christopher said...

ah..so relaxing.. a night swim and a good nights sleep

marietta said...

A nice foto ,very claen,but the most amerik.motels have sometimes a weird empty ambience.This remins me on the paintings of Edward Hopper.

Bob said...

I remember "The Beachcomber" in Pompano. It was this pink stucco and white concrete lattice job on Ocean Blvd. The owners were retirees from Milwaukee, and they had a house right on the beach.

Each suite had two bedrooms, and a kitchenette. There was maid who was a Haitian refugee and practiced voodoo. She once sprinkled corn on me yelled at me. "Make sure you be'gwine t'church, an'lissen to yer mudder an'fadder!"

I was only eight, so it made a great impression.

At lunch, we used to walk across the canal to this awesome deli. I didn't know there was anything else to Florida, and I didn't care.