Word: bedfuls
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Director Joe Swanberg went to bed in Austin, Texas, last Friday evening excited about the world premiere of his new movie, Alexander the Last, the following night at the South by Southwest Film Conference and Festival. But by the time he woke up - still more than 12 hours ahead of the debut - his inbox was already flooded with e-mails from colleagues in New York City, Los Angeles and Chicago, congratulating him on the movie they had just finished watching and the reviews they had read in the New York Times, Entertainment Weekly and the New Yorker. Within a single...
...proud Radcliffe resident, I’ll be the first to say it: Quad life is rough. Roll out of bed two minutes late for class? You’re already 20 minutes late, shuttle time. Want to schedule a meeting in your neighborhood? Just try to get friends to venture north and watch as their faces contort in disbelief. Have an hour between classes? Two hours? Three? You’ll be spending a good amount of time playing the “is it worth it?” game in your head and probably miss the shuttle...
...wasn’t the physical building that drew me; it was the people. To be honest, the affair began the same day I moved to the Quad. After an evening of bacchanalian revelry with my Meese friends, I jaunted to Dunster and slept in a makeshift bed on the suite’s floor. This recurred the next two nights. Soon I was like a crossbreed of a bag lady and walk-of-shamer. Every other day or so, I would trudge back to the Quad with a gym bag stuffed full of laundry, returning with a fresh supply...
...buzz on Monday afternoon in the newsroom of the Seattle Post-Intelligencer was not the usual cacophony of clacking keys, phone interviews and news meetings. Instead, it was the sound of reporters putting to bed their final stories, sifting through receipts to prepare their final expense reports, feeding years of reporting notes into an industrial-size shredding bin and tidying away the mementos of their P-I careers in cardboard boxes. Some were on the phone, of course, but this time, they were the story that others were writing. "Hey," said business reporter Dan Richman to a colleague...
...aware at all times of the other viewers and their widows. Focus on one screen does not shut out the others. As the viewer absorbs one tale, images from neighboring stories flicker in and out of his sight. The artifacts from one life—a bed, a photograph, a shot of the salt mines—encroach on the account of another. At times, sounds from the big screen break into the widow’s monologue. So while the widows speak of empty houses and long days spent in solitude, they are never alone in Varda?...