Over three decades at ten past ten
his shtick still sticks, a moustachioed
smile to greet after the prised lid.
It was surreal anyone bereft of
calling it what it is – a real absurdity –
regurgitates having heard some
other gush on experiencing an
experience: a contemporary yapper’s
embalmed, received apocalypse
spoken like someone also dead.
So much lost over the years – the wow of
real surprise in life, or a drooping clock.
From today’s Guardian: ‘Experts who exhumed the body of Salvador Dali to collect samples for use in a paternity claim have revealed that the enigmatic artist’s trademark moustache still graces his face almost three decades after he died.’
NB Later today: this ISN’T surreal, but I think uncanny – I’m watching a programme on the 1967 NFL Championship Game between the Dallas Cowboys and the Green Bay Packers. It was dubbed The Ice Bowl because of the freezing temperature where, taking in the wind chill factor, it averaged -38 degrees centigrade.
A variety of players and others provide running commentaries on the game and conditions, and one, Lance Rentzel, a Dallas Cowboy Receiver, is describing the fans’ breath as ‘frozen vapour’ so ‘prevalent’ it was hard to see them in the stands [a nice slice of nostalgic hyperbole, but we get the picture, especially as there is footage!].
He then says – and this is the uncanny link to this posting of mine today – ‘it was really a kind of surrealistic Salvador Dali type of ambience’.