Asemic Cinema: Run-A-Way Bus

Welcome to the Asemic Cinema, where opening  shots& titles tell a different story from the one passing before your eyes. This week’s classic comes from a time & place that once was/will be.  It is a re-write of  The Runaway Bus (1954), a British Mystery-Comedy – please note that the sub-titles have been deconstructed to find alternative meaning.


Conversation finds

travellers seeking motion

commotion in lines.


Notification of Executive Orders: Very Nice, Very Nice


A point of view can be a dangerous luxury when substituted for insight and understanding.

Marshall McLuhan


People who have made no attempt to educate themselves live in a kind of dissolving phantasmagoria of the world, that is, they completely forget what happened last Tuesday. A politician can promise them anything, and they will not remember later what he has promised.”


In 1961, The National Film Board of Canada produced Arthur Lipsett‘s first film, Very Nice, Very Nice. It looks behind the business-as-usual face we put on life and shows anxieties we want to forget. It is made of dozens of pictures that seem familiar, with fragments of speech heard in passing. It evokes a world swamped with information and imagery but barren of meaning and filled with longing.

We become what we behold. We shape our tools and then our tools shape us.

Marshall McLuhan



We drive into the future using only our rearview mirror.

Marshall McLuhan

Those Cherry Blossom Midnight Tuxedo Blues


The Three Sister Moons laughed down on The City of Baj’Haii as Geo-Grange Safaris, private investigator to the Hash Tag Celebrities, entered The Hemophiliac’s Intersection – where the blues hounds go to bleed. The club was packed as usual – Monday through Saturday were all a haze of blues days at this spot. The crowds would have shown up Sunday, but you could never find the club on that day, except in Octember, which was a month and a half away.

Up on stage the ghost/psy-loop of Patsy Cline was doing a duet with Big Charlie Freelance Husky-Paw. They were singing The Cherry Blossom Midnight Tuxedo Blues. Paw was wailing it out, while he flicked those keys – it was all piano stairs up. Patsy’s voice haunted everyone’s heart.


So, we burned the desire for happiness,

headed to the pillows,

starting from the place

we started in every morning.


Behold the past,

the past participle of yesterday,

weeping on our shoulders.


A cold castle in protest,

Hungry with assumptions,

Let’s make misfortune smile

at our midnight kisses –

thought those embraces

may always be more unhappy anyhow.

Just a different name

for –

those Cherry Blossom Midnight Tuxedo Blues.


Geo-Grange saw Spider-Sally Fourth standing by the bar. He nodded his head in the private investigator’s direction as they made eye contact. Making his way over to Spider-Sally, Geo-Grange saw others that he was acquainted with, TBH Night, Tallow & Wick, Drum-Yeller Alberta, and Diddley Squatter. All souls looking for the blues to bleed out their sorrows and forgotten dreams.



“Wondered when you would show up. Sorry to hear about, Pluto, Chowder-head Mic loved that dog.” Spider-Sally Fourth shifted on the stool as he put down his drink – the usual Spiced Ripple Metafisika. They all applauded as the song came to an end. Spider-Sally’s jade holograph gown showed off his mega-form, his legs going from here to fading memory. His steel grey optics flashed neon mauve as he took in Geo-Grange, “So whodunit this time ?”

“Still pulling it apart. Maybe The Butler.”

“Thought he uploaded.”

“Always the residual echo. Besides, I think something took out The Embassy.”

“Leaving a famous founder, as an understanding of his majestic understatement ?….. That sounds harsh. Besides, I never cared for semantic waltz fandangos . I hope it is the last two leaves that falls at Moon-rise – the Ohm Monger is still a safe bet, even though at least a little titlist in my opinion!”




Geo-Grange looked carefully at Spider-Sally Fourth. His response was emotional, even for him under the circumstances, always had a soft spot for pets & pet owners, especially dog owners. As he mulled this, he sipped his drink, Moose Mile Vodka, and let the song drift in his ear from the stage .

Didn’t you ask in those 70s,

whose stars are far away from my pillow?

Well, I am tired now.

I will return to you on any day

that it snows in the desert of your desire.


Sang my heart out

with a torrent of dry tears,

when the branches clung to evening.


I will live without your love –

Home is found in the sky –

may you rest in that large crowd

of narrow schemes –

promises made of broken pavement.

Oh how I miss your frozen eyes,

and frosted kisses.


As Geo-Grange turned to look at Spider-Sally, an incandescent ripple spread out over the patrons at the bar. Mezo-cinq Tract, professional photo-bomber, shouted out his birth code and fell over – dead by drowning. Water gushed out from his now pale blue lips. A very small purple catfish flopped about in the thin pool of water – not part of the regular menu. Spider-Sally Fourth was nowhere to be seen. Through the growing murmurs, the sound of a barking dog. Pluto was sitting on stage next to the body of Drum-Yeller Alberta. 

Note: Spider Sally Fourth Composition derived from photograph by Josue Bieri on Unsplash.  If anyone can not get the tune for one of the songs feature in this narrative out of their head, please contact us and let everyone know what it sounds like.