Wednesday, August 28, 2002


I went to the Hoboken Blimpie's off peak the other day, around 3 pm. There's a huge tv there, and unlike a lot of Blimpie's, lots for real plants. After I got my turkey sub, I realized that I was listening to Frank Sinatra. Singing. Talking. Lecturing, even. The owner of the story was playing a vintage early 1960s video tape of Frank, still Manchurian Candidate skinny, singing to a captive audience. The video was in color, that forced 1960s color that seemed to make everything feel shiny and safe. And Frank was explaining to the audience that the highest calling of a singer was to singer a well-written love ballad. He sounded less like a thug, and much, much more like a professor.


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