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

Artists in Action #660

Jean Harlow and William Powell have a snack.


Brent McKee said...

They were also an item.

elversodeluniverso said...


mister muleboy said...

They were an item, weren't they?

I'm reminded of the comment often linked to the Beatles, or Elvis: women wanted to screw them, and men wanted to be them.

Well, I'd certainly like to screw her and be him.

When they were alive, mind you. . . .

Hubba Hubba

mister muleboy said...

That may be the first time I've ever used the word screw as a synonym for sex; I always prefer "ball."

Something about the period in the photo had me using a new word.