Word: acrosse
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...presidential campaign, is filled with just such pearls of political wisdom. Over the course of a whirlwind narrative, the book offers telling glimpses into the ill-fated McCain/Palin presidential run, including the dysfunctional dynamic between the two halves of the ticket. Eisenstadt also drops juicy quotes from key players across the political and journalistic spectrum, giving us access to meetings, manipulations and machinations that took place behind the scenes of the Republican ticket...
Ultimately, then, “I Am Martin Eisenstadt” is a cautionary tale. It warns against media outlets that prefer a sensationalist story to an accurate one, and about writers across the political blogosphere who are often too willing to believe the worst about their opponents without the slightest bit of charitable skepticism. It is a story that should be comic for its implausibility—and is unsettling because...
When choreographer Mark Morris rehearses in his studio, he looks like he is conducting an orchestra. Walking across the wooden floor with a brown shawl wrapped around his shoulders and New Balance sneakers on his feet, Morris points first to the piano, then to the dancers. A musical scale falls, then one of the dancers falls too; but the two movements don’t echo, they come together...
...mother too had been excited that night, spreading maps over the dining room table, commenting on our route. When she was in her 20s she had driven to California with a friend. They came across a rowdy biker rally in Sturgis, North Dakota, and my favorite part of the story is the motel itself that was like a biker paradise: bikers at the pool, tattooed and lounging, with girlfriends, wives and kids. They were still there when she left to get on the road in the morning. You see, traveling is my one inheritance...
...distant future I’d have to get a job that, unless I became a teacher like my parents, would involve a sprinkled dribble of vacation days. Not enough time to circle the country, like my mother had, or to traverse a continent across the sea, the act my father had repeated for so many summers...