Fragments of Noir

Monday, 9 November 2015

The flame of it may dwindle to an ember, and the stars forget to shine

And we may see the meadow in December, icy white and crystalline

Midnight Sun

(Mercer/Burke/Hampton)

Ella Fitzgerald

fragments of noir: 'It was one of those hot dry Santa Annas that come down thru the mountain passes and curl your hair and make your nerves jump and your skin itch. On nights like that every booze party ends in a fight. Meek little wives feel the edge of the carving knife and study their husbands' necks. Anything can happen. You can even get a full glass of beer at a cocktail lounge. ............ Red Wind- Raymond Chandler

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