My Papa’s Waltz

images.jpgI am enjoying another month of somewhat light reading. I can’t simply say “light reading” because I am encountering twisted or barely-conceivable plot elements, putrid and gory dead bodies, cockroaches, and an occasional virgin or two. One pleasure I find is references to Los Angeles, whether by a struggling script writer or a grizzled homicide detective.

I left Los Angeles in 1968 but have nurtured a nostalgia for the city since the early ’50s. I have admitted this before when discussing the Philip Marlowe stories. I was born so I could experience the Los Angeles of ’30s and ’40s just as that world was slipping away. My college years at the university, my struggles of (too) early marriage, and a 1950 MG TD with the doors tied together by a frayed rope and a rag-top permanently fixed in the down position, gave me further insight into the city. My most vivid image: riding in that MG down Wilshire Boulevard in a misty rain with an large umbrella held over my head.

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The Final Issue Is Big and Fat and Full of Goodies

TH80-Cover-800x1029Some time around the Y2K scramble my daughter gifted me with a copy of Tin House Magazine: Issue 11 if I recall. Since then I have acquired and buried one wife, experienced one pesky stroke, gained a son-in-law and two delightful grand-children, read a few books, received social security, surrendered my driver’s license, and moved to northern Florida (certainly apostacy for a Southern California boy).

I filled in those earlier issues of Tin House and have several shelves next to my bed dedicated to all twenty years of the publication.

Sad to see it go.

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Nocturnals: Conjunctions 72

CONJUNCTIONS:72
Nocturnals
Spring 2019
Edited by Bradford Morrow

Conj72cvrFNL-frntNight shrouds, but also illuminates. It is a time of meditation and celebration, but also of madness and grief. Nighttime is marked by loss and soul-searching, sweet dreams and grisly nightmares. Whether under a full moon or new, the night is a time of prayer and murder, of love, hate, and epiphany. A cascade of contradictories, night is sometimes restful, sometimes restive. Dread, loneliness, and dislocation are often intensified in the darkness of night, but the mind may also be set free during the hours in which Edgar Allan Poe’s “sable divinity” reigns. Whether awake or asleep, we spend half our lives during the night, lives that are often very different during the day.

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In What Furnace Was Thy Brain?

If you consider yourself empty and distraught trying to survive without a steady diet of classic films and the artistic thrust of black and white films with wartime credentials, and especially if you are still in mourning for the Filmstruck cable channel, I highly recommend taking a peek at the new Criterion channel that just premiered.

I have been thoroughly enjoying a wonderful sampling of Columbia noir films from the 1950s. One selection was Murder By Contract, starring a young and hairy Vince Edwards.

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