as i await the late show, the other late show and even that latest of late shows…

my late show in shades of gray, more like it.
tonight it will be preston sturges’ “the miracle of morgan’s creek
it concerns a girl (betty hutton) who cons a bank clerk (eddie bracken)…never mind –
the above link starts with this question; “how was this movie ever made?”
and if you ever see this film, learn more about preston sturges. all of the best directors who can make you laugh took their cues from this guy, most notably the Coen brothers and if you’re a betty hutton fan, this is among her best work.
it’s twisted for a world war two film.
very twisted.
i’ve hidden from the plummeting temperatures going downstairs occasionally to see how quiet business is and for getting one final squat from maxx.
the coziness of the store makes me wonder why i live up here. i think drew will be moving into the corporate office located above the stage and behind the multicolored umbrella. it was where i fear to tread these past times since ….oh, never mind.
let’s just say, it’s where i would nap while getting the place together the first years i was here and when buddy would sneak into the store from the backyard, before christening him with the name formally, climbing onto my chest and join me in the world of dreams.
i would awaken with him fast asleep and would wait till he’d stirr before petting him and saying,”hey there buddy. how are you?”
after about a year of this, he decided on staying. that’s when i stopped calling him “buddy” and he became “buddy”.
there is the ever-slightest difference.
maybe that’s why i generally refer to him, especially out here in the world of “notes,” as “my buddy, buddy.”
interesting how i read the observer a few days ago and get signals that citigroup is on the severest of slippery slopes. can you imagine citibank in the tank?
can you see what’s being said about that bailout money sent to bank of america and all of that slimey undiscovered Merrill Lynch debt and how all of that bailout money is drowning in a sea of question marks? i saw those pink-faced, shifty-eyed old-time white boys shaking hands from “file footage” and couldn’t help but detect a glint in the eye of one of them that there was a lizard underneath the brooks brothers label. i’d say by now that other weasly-shifty six-foot pile of smart-ass has befallen a similar fate, and so he goes too, sparking unspeakable horror in electroglints of “whatthafuck?” on an atomic level, the last earthly memory of a spine being torn just behind and below their harddrives, the electrons sparking from the dawn of the universe answering “gotchashitheel” the guttural delight of another lizard who gets his lunch (think of percy, the angel from “it’s a wonderful life” – just go a little bloodier and more sinister but with the same amount of unabashed joy); an infinitely-small bridge to what you might take with you when you either check out, like those people who have those important appointments to keep or be checked out by illness, crime, circumstance or those incredibly little teeth that tear and shred and grind into dust.
it’s the sigh of release or the gnash of terror that heads you into the eternity of altered biscuit tins or the universe of interesting shoe styles that might have you drifting past the eighth-electro-plasma-ocean of the ninth-dimension or the thereabouts of such, where you might hear singing, laughing or screeches from other greedhound-lunches-made-suits.
and if you’re quick enough, you might be able to glance behind you and see those con-artist-grifting lizards at rest.
there’s an untold amount of incredibleness available to an untold amount of atoms and molecules and strings and quarks and whatever-have-yous once we reclaim the universe or vice-versa, something we’re all guaranteed here, like it or not.

so i will walk maxx and get some popcorn. the miracle begins in fifteen minutes.
in the meantime ….

About stephen trimboli

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