tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2840267469201344530.post3220068496278552794..comments2023-11-05T01:52:12.815-07:00Comments on FRANKENSTEIN1959: Misty Mother Fog In A Dead Chicago DreamWayne Allen Salleehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17199261942617339556noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2840267469201344530.post-7928448700100422842007-11-22T13:46:00.000-07:002007-11-22T13:46:00.000-07:00That picture of you with the hair and the suit mak...That picture of you with the hair and the suit makes me think you could have called it "Gigolo Nights," Wayne. <BR/><BR/>I like the term "Iceberg Memories." Sid's right. We should all use it. <BR/><BR/>Some beautiful writing here, particularly the closing section. Very fine.Charles Gramlichhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02052592247572253641noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2840267469201344530.post-18439868482936947852007-11-22T08:24:00.000-07:002007-11-22T08:24:00.000-07:00"The makings of a poet. No, I'm afraid I'm like th..."The makings of a poet. No, I'm afraid I'm like the guy who is always panhandling for a smoke. He hasn't even got the makings. He's got only the habit. I couldn't touch what I tried to tell you just now. I just stammered. That's the best I'll ever do. I mean, if I live. Well, it will be faithful realism, at least. Stammering is the native eloquence of us fog people." <BR/><BR/>Eugene O'Neill, <I>Long Day's Journey into Night</I>Michael Fountain: Blood for Inkhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05636180492565972504noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2840267469201344530.post-84584649143644951212007-11-22T07:11:00.000-07:002007-11-22T07:11:00.000-07:00Memories are weird. I have always been fascinated ...Memories are weird. I have always been fascinated by those who have great recall. Guy like Kerouac (whose friends called him "memory babe"). My own ability to remember stuff is--even to me--fractured and strange. Iceberg memories are in there, too.<BR/><BR/>The photos are excellent. You've posted some darned good ones the past few blogs. I really like the one from the advert with the chick walking barefoot toward the stack of flats.<BR/><BR/>Speaking of memories...something keeps bugging the shit out of me and I keep forgetting to ask:<BR/><BR/>What was the name of "the Elvis band" you talk about? Or was it "The Elvis Band"?James Robert Smithhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17281049641681225389noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2840267469201344530.post-73354606439512107852007-11-22T05:23:00.000-07:002007-11-22T05:23:00.000-07:00That is a great term, iceberg memories. We should ...That is a great term, iceberg memories. We should all use it to make it ubiquitous.<BR/><BR/>Talk of the 8-track brings up my memory of a portable player my dad borrowed from his employer while I was sick one time. We had one crappy cassette which oddly I can't remember.<BR/><BR/>The thing I liked about 8-tracks was that they'd play over and over and over w/out you having to flip them.<BR/><BR/>I had an 8-track in my first car and Billy Joel's "Glass Houses" which I played all the summer after high school as I drove around town with things blasting like: "You may be right/I may be crazy/but it just lunatic you're lookin' for..."<BR/><BR/>Guess I'm lucky I didn't get killed with that soundtrack.Sidneyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/16284680909152676159noreply@blogger.com