Word: balding
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Then there are the classics. Interested? What's the matter, are you trying to get educated or something? It's true, of course, that this weekend offers two landmark works of twentieth-century drama (Ionesco's brilliantly wacky, Theatre-of-the-Absurd The Bald Soprano and Beckett's masterpiece of nihilism and humanity, Waiting for Godot), but wouldn't you really rather indulge in a little anarchy? If you insist, the Ionesco is at the B.A.G. Lunchtime Theater (267-7196), today, Friday and next Wednesday at 12:10 and 1:10 p.m.; the Beckett is at the Boston Arts Group...
Barefoot, in an orange safran robe and with a short pony tail dangling from an otherwise bald head, a Hare Krishna devotee seems out of place opening the large oak door of a sober Victorian brownstone house on Commonwealth Ave. in Boston. Krishna devotees are commonly seen chanting and dancing on New York's Fifth Ave., or asking for donations in Harvard Square dressed in Santa suits around Christmas time. But this devotee stands on the threshold of Boston's Temple of the International Society for Krishna Consciousness (ISKCON), three blocks from the Ritz-Carlton...
...lowering her head so that he can give it a last swipe with his brush. A small, wren-colored woman, a stylist, darts up, makes an odd little ducking gesture that may be obeisance, and slips a bracelet on the racing sloop's left arm. Photographer Seltzer, a big, bald, hard-looking man, lies on his belly, chest soothed by a pillow, and begins to talk in the style parodied in Blow-Up: "Good, good, wonderful, great...
Ionesco is a leading figure of the "Theater of the Absurd" and the author of such internationally produced plays as "The Bald Soprano," "Rhonoceros," "Exit the King" and "The Killer...
Having no expert to call on (they must all be out LOVING today) I'll just hazard my own guess: Hallmark's LOVE was conceived on a Manhattan subway car by a fat, bald, 35-year-old greeting card writer with thick glasses, a perspiring brow, a poster of Cheryl Tiegs on his closet door and a conscience burdened by the same aboriginal sins Alexander Portnoy complained about. In other words, the Grinch may have stolen Christmas, but somebody is trying to pervert Valentine...