Word: bellowing
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...with an internet connection in every seat Take a Hike Destinations to restore your sense of wonder longship through Lerwick's streets. Behind them, cannibals with necklaces of fake teeth, pirates and fat ballerinas were among the nearly 900 guisers: men in costume bearing flaming torches whose deep voices bellow out over the brass band, "Let us ne'er forget the race,/ Who bravely fought and died./ Who never filled a craven's grave,/ But ruled the foaming tide." No women take part, but with so many of the torchbearers opting to wear dresses, the festival has earned the moniker...
...There’s no need to schlep your homework-ridden self down Mass Ave., freeze in line for half an hour, pay $20 dollars, and then press yourself up against the drunk, smelly, orange-bearded guy bouncing around next to you who isn’t afraid to bellow lyrics out louder than the guy on stage. Some argue that true innovation is born in concert. Maybe that’s true, but it’s an innovation I find myself more and more willing to sacrifice. Maybe it’s the schoolwork, or maybe it?...
Norman Mailer defends his invitation of Secretary of State George Shultz as E.L. Doctorow and Nadine Gordimer counterattack. Germany's Günter Grass squares off against Nobel Laureate Saul Bellow, and some 800 delegates from more than 40 countries try to imagine "The Imagination of the State...
Among the many rewards of the congress was the chance for unknowns to meet such lions as Nobel Prizewinners Bellow, Czeslaw Milosz and Claude Simon as well as Playwright Arthur Miller and International PEN President Per Wästberg. They mingled in places as dissimilar as hotel coffee shops and the 34-room apartment of Saul Steinberg, the takeover artist. There was also a party at Gracie Mansion, where Mayor Edward Koch and Poet Allen Ginsberg hummed a mantra, and a wall-to-wall reception in the vast Egyptian wing of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Milling around the reconstructed Temple...
That piece must be found very quickly; the column is due tonight. Meanwhile, more facts crowd the study door like extras on a movie set, peer in, cry, "Use me!" Guatemala, Mr. T, a new novel by Bellow; Dow Jones goes down, Columbia goes up. Say hey, Willie McCovey, you made it too. Nice hat, Mrs. Gorbachev. Hold it, please. I have to think. Didn't I read something by Octavio Paz that fits in here? Or was it Pia Zadora? Where is my authoritative, I've-studied-this-for-years lead sentence? Please, God, let me discover...