Sort of Shivery
Sometimes, life just kind of hangs. I have all sorts of work I should be doing, school work mainly, but for the life of me, none of it matters enough for me to work on right now. Going through my head, and playing on winamp, is 'Riders on the Storm', and "House of the Rising Sun" making me feel like I should be sitting in a smokey west coast bar from the '40's, drinking scotch and watching the rain fall.
I have been thinking of that sort ot noir beauty allot lately. Watching rain fall like tears and the smoke rise like a listless snake off the end of a cigarette - maybe it comes from the fact I grew up with the same heros as those children from the 30's and 40's ... the Shadow, and Sam Spade. Now I listen to Rouge's Gallery every night on tape, and dream dreams of flat foot beat cops, gumshoe detectives, and platinum blonds who are both innocent and evil.
There in the world of the PI, good shone through even the filth that covered the underworld he lived in, either from choise or necessity. Making ends meet from case to case, the occasional case which paid for far more than it should, most other cases not paying at all. There is a quiet, beautiful nobility about the noir detective's life.
Perhapse, it is that nobility I am longing for within myself, if not a cigarette and a shot of cheep scotch.
Sometimes, life just kind of hangs. I have all sorts of work I should be doing, school work mainly, but for the life of me, none of it matters enough for me to work on right now. Going through my head, and playing on winamp, is 'Riders on the Storm', and "House of the Rising Sun" making me feel like I should be sitting in a smokey west coast bar from the '40's, drinking scotch and watching the rain fall.
I have been thinking of that sort ot noir beauty allot lately. Watching rain fall like tears and the smoke rise like a listless snake off the end of a cigarette - maybe it comes from the fact I grew up with the same heros as those children from the 30's and 40's ... the Shadow, and Sam Spade. Now I listen to Rouge's Gallery every night on tape, and dream dreams of flat foot beat cops, gumshoe detectives, and platinum blonds who are both innocent and evil.
There in the world of the PI, good shone through even the filth that covered the underworld he lived in, either from choise or necessity. Making ends meet from case to case, the occasional case which paid for far more than it should, most other cases not paying at all. There is a quiet, beautiful nobility about the noir detective's life.
Perhapse, it is that nobility I am longing for within myself, if not a cigarette and a shot of cheep scotch.
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