Friday, November 7, 2008

Drive In Movies


The Creature From the Black Lagoon (1954)

“I'm livin' in shame”
—The Supremes,
“I’m Living in Shame”

Shame is like a rose—a deep dark red blushing rose—yes Shame is like a rose—you know like Gertrude Stein’s rose—the Rose that’s a Rose that’s a Rose—and that Rose was my Rose all the way—the Rose that was a Rose that was a Rose—that’s the way it is with Roses—and that’s the way it is with Shame—there’s many kinds of Shame—as many kinds of Shame as there are shades of Red—shades of moody Mauve—shades of Lipstick Scarlet—shades of pouty Puce—shades of ravishing Ruby—all the shades of blushing shameless Shame—the kind of Shame you get to eventually know so well—the kind of Shame that knows you better than you know myself…The kind of Shame that comes down out of the Shameless Drive In Night Sky—the kind of Shame that’s Moody & Ultra-Blue out there in the Sticks—the Shameless Angel of the Drive In Night—the Drive In Angel of Shame who gives you what you want—Descending from the Starry Night Sky your personal cute Monster of the Id—disguised as a Normal Human Being during the Day—but at Night turning into The Creature From the Black Lagoon—especially on Saturday Nights—during Double Creature Feature Movies—there at the Snake Pit Drive In…

I Married a Monster From Outer Space (1958)
“Ain't too proud to beg, sweet darlin—
Please don't leave me girl, don't you go”
—The Temptations,
“Aint Too Proud To Beg”

The shameless Shame that has no Face—the shameless Shame that has No Name—the shameless Shame that only Smirks—the shameless Shame that doesn’t waste any Time—the sullen Telepathic Shame that reads your Mind—the kind of lanky butch naked Shame you can’t help staring at during Intermission—eating your hot-dog & sipping your Orange Crush…The kind of Arrogant Shame that knocks at your window—the shameless Shame that has Power over you—the shameful Shame on your face—when he says his Girlfriend won’t put out—opening the door & getting in—making your knees weak as you slide down on your Master—getting him off in a Divine Intermission Quickie—the Angel of Shame teaching you what you already know—the shameless Angel of Shame—turning you into Who You Really Are…The Prince of Shame who’s Always There—like The Invisble Man—shameless Shiva of Shame—pulling back thru Time—all your pusillanimous Pastlives in a single gulp—the Deep Secret Scarlet Ruby Red Rose Bud that’s you to Bloom—the shy little Rosebud—that makes Orson Welles kick the Bucket—the kind of Shame always niggling in the back of your mind—your Chicken Innocence so full of prissy Pride—so Proud of yourself & full of Lies—so Hoity-Toity & above it all—until the Weekend comes around—and then
Summer and Smoke (1961)
“Stop! In the Name of Love—
Before you break my Heart!!!”
—The Supremes,
“Stop! In the Name of Love"
I’m like poor Alma in Summer and Smoke—poor Geraldine Page the nice innocent Minister’s daughter—in love with no-good Laurence Harvey the rude rowdy Playboy—along with Una Merkel always insidiously hovering around in the tacky background—hen-pecking me with my Closet Case guilt—haunting me & making me feel guilty about everything—until finally one lonely night in the Sunken Garden—Earl Holliman the young Traveling Salesman shows up—and then suddenly Alma doesn’t care anymore…It’s Shame she wants—and it’s shameless Shame she gets—beyond tacky Pride & prissy Prejudice—it’s pure unadulterated Shame she gets—that’s how Alma’s Angel of Shame treats her—simply shamelessly—and she loves it—it’s about Time her pulsating pussy says—as they both make up for Lost Time…Earl Holliman making Alma sigh & moan—making her Blush in Shame all night long—Deep down there under the fragrant Forsythia bushes—way down deep there in the dark Sunken Garden—deep down there in the Deep Dark Dingle—where the gushing rushing gurgling Fountain of Youth—shamelessly squirts, oozes & comes—deep inside Alma all the way…

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