“You Get A Canoe Later and I’ll Paddle You.”

A short time ago I recorded the Marx Brother’s “Go West.” Last night I put it on.

Watched very little of it. I was in the kitchen, creating.

I listened to the whole of it, perhaps the least well considered of their many films, however. Groucho’s black magic wit, Chico’s backstreet bullshit, Harpo’s Anarchist silence. I missed little, if anything not watching. We do not watch films so much as we listen to them any how.

As I listened I was reminded of how I watched the Marx Brothers when I was young: lying belly down on the shag carpet digging every gag, song and scene with my glass of milk and mom’s cookies. My future, then infinite, misshapedly being formed by my black and white television screen heroes.