One of the best quotes of 20th-century American literature. Tremendously evocative, not a single superfluous word, packed with tough-sounding consonants -- and anyone who's been through a Santa Ana can testify it does indeed "make your nerves jump and your skin itch."

You know, the kind of wind that feels like weasels ripped my flesh...

> Tremendously evocative, not a single superfluous
> word, packed with tough-sounding consonants --

...And preposterous fuckdirt from start to finish.

Amy, Welch called bullshit on this years ago.

PS Eric- Love that.

And besides, the air photographed by Gregg above is the coolest, moistest gas the Los Angeles Basin can host— January after a rainshower.

January in Los Angeles is the finest month in the United States.

The light is always that color. It has something to do with the shallow celestial declination for the orbital sweep of the solar locus for this geographic corner of relative (magnetic) polar latitude as measured against the ecliptic; because as we all know, the planets sweep equal areas in equal time.

So days are only about eight and half hours long... But it's 4 in the afternoon the whole day!

Golden… cleansing… Spiritual.

Everybody gets laid.

It gets cold, though... So you'll have to wear your good wool sport coat. Chicks dig it though, so nottaprob.

My January's better than your January.

Sorry about the fuck dup links. You saw what I was getting at, right? It's all about the plane of the penumbral ellipse during conjunction at the Los Angeles meridian (a.k.a. Wilshire)... I was trying not to get too technical.

(This is what it's like where you are now.)

(Har!)

Sometimes wool, sometimes camelhair… But always an electrifying exemplar of masculine deportment.

Joke.

You little fucker, get your feet off my coffee table. Pull your pants up, tuck your shirt in, turn your hat around and go get a goddam job.

Of course you were the reason for that post, Crid, you Frankophile. I doubt anyone else got it.

One of my favorite Chandler like lines is "the guy at the end of the bar, whose girlfriend ripped his heart out and mailed it to lonely town."

PS- We have a similar type of wind here in North Idaho, called "Chinooks". You can go to sleep with two or three feet of snow on the ground and wake up with no snow in sight.

One of my all time favorite songs: (David Byrne)

Mojique sees his village from a nearby hill
Mojique thinks of days before Americans came
He sees the foreigners in growing numbers
He sees the foreigners in fancy houses
He thinks of days that he can still remember...now.
Mojique holds a package in his quivering hands
Mojique sends the package to the American man
Softly he glides along the streets and alleys
Up comes the wind that makes them run for cover
He feels the time is surely now or never...more.
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
(Come to)
Drive them away
Drive them away.
Mojique buys equipment in the market place
Mojique plants devices in the free trade zone
He feels the wind is lifting up his people
He calls the wind to guide him on his mission
He knows his friend the wind is always standing...by.
Mojique smells the wind that comes from far away
Mojique waits for news in a quiet place
He feels the presence of the wind around him
He feels the power of the past behind him
He has the knowledge of the wind to guide him...on.
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
The dust in my head
The dust in my head
The wind in my heart
The wind in my heart
(Come to)
Drive them away
Drive them away.

Dood... I've linked it before, but that record has one of my favorite solos.

[A.] It's acoustic. There are only a handful of acoustic pieces in his 60-album catalog, all of the wonderful.

[B.] It warmly and guilelessly returns the comedy song from a brief intellectual discursion.

[C.] It's short, but fucking impossible to play with human fingers.

It cracks me up to think of him in the studio, casually dropping that in there like he was snuffing out a cigarette. 'OK guys, let's finish the track and get to lunch, I have a big afternoon planned for you....'

This is bad.

When you so proudly name your social protest after a term of warfare, why should the taxpayers have to give you $30K just because you had to go home and wash your face with soap?

I don't know what a Welch is, but after Sylmar in 71 the LA Times and other sources and everyone talked about earthquake weather.

Mostly to debunk it of course, but the point is that Angelenos did talk about earthquake weather.

Here's a discussion about it '87 including a comment it originated in LA in the early 1900s.

http://articles.latimes.com/1987-10-03/news/mn-2929_1_los-angeles-earthquake

Everybody Loves Raymond Chandler.

Thanks, Amy. It's my new noircom.