Word: ants
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...souls and no voices to God's ear." Barely out of rompers herself, Kate must care for her younger brother. Later, she is forced to tend a baby sister so her brother can run off to play: "While he, the grasshopper, sang and danced, I, the ant, sat demurely rocking the carriage. He was in the full sun, I in the shade; he was young...
...successful cartel, says any definition, must be able to control production and thereby set prices in good and bad times. The failure of OPEC to do that now makes it a sort of fair-weather cartel, strong in the late 1970s when the world's economies were buoy ant and had high demand for its oil, but weak now when Europe and the U.S. are less dependent upon its energy...
...hook and peacock herl wrapped in between," writes Carter. "Later I tied a few of them and the pattern proved to be surprisingly effective, both in the riffles and in the smooth water, even at times when the all-black Spruce Creek Special or the redoubtable Black Ant would not work in the meadow pools." Says Fly Fisherman Editor John Randolph of Carter's prose: "He got everything in there. He speaks the language of fly fishing...
...first play, Tennessee, by Romulus Linney, a frontier family arrives at its recently-acquired shack ("We're here, ain't we?") and the father, a weatherbeaten, Abe Lincolnish icon of American spirit, makes long, slow speeches about how he "growed up crawlin' on a dirt floor like a goddamned ant" and now that the war's over he's gonna harness these here fifty acres; his wife stands awkwardly on the porch and pulls at her shawl (for the entire play, in fact); and his well-rouged son chimes in about cutting the brush over yonder. Then a badly made...
That's it. The play lasts an hour. The point? That there's no escape? That you can move and move and never reach your "Tennessee"? That you'll always be an ant on a goddamn dirt floor if that's what you make it? Or is it always a dirt floor, no matter how you deceive yourself? Beats me, but there's no drama in the play. Linney writes aimless, graceless dialogue and has no sense of shape--or else the piece would be a fifth as long--and his characters are thin or non-existent. Director Brian Smiar...