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

Broadcasters #83

Malcolm Muggeridge


Marc said...

really captures the satyr in the old boy - and the rascally quality -

Kreisler said...

Malcolm Muggeridge was probably the last nationally recognised intellectual in the UK. I can't think of a similar figure since he died who could be parodied on mainstream TV and everybody would know the object of ridicule. Perhaps he was responsible for the decline of the species.

Jozephus said...

Muggs! Great pic. Like any other self-confessed, egghead...he could go too far with the Pessimism juice...but some of the things he wrote definitely could hit one right in the heart, past historical snobbery (a.k.a. 'the present always perceives truth most accurately'-fallacy), spiritual deadness posing as insightful, inane sentimentality posing as true compassion, and hedonism posing as profound. Thanks again.