Word: blurred
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...closed with "Land Of a Thousand Dances" in a burst of strobe-light flashes, but unfortunately without the finishing touch. The climax of most shows (as at the Summerthing gig) features Ike shooting a cloud of fog from a fire extinguisher across the strobe-lit stage, swirling through the blur of Tina and the Ikettes...
...mind of an admiring son. a father has no first and last name. He is simply "my father." Few boys, however, maintain that specialized vision into their manhood. Their fathers' frailties, their faults and even their humdrum similarity to every father anywhere soon begin to blur the individual image. But for Philip Kunhardt, in this recollection of his years with Father, the memories of the boy needed no later adjustment by the grown man. Indeed, Kunhardt, now 42, still remembers his father with such unalloyed love that nowhere in the book does he think to refer...
...speak of the dog days, as they did in more innocent years when the "long hot summer" had not yet assumed ominous overtones. Always barring some sudden eruption, the U.S. is once again in an estival moment of lassitude and languishing spirits. Classic enmities and provincial disputes seem to blur in the sweltering July sun. Pitcher Denny McLain is back in Tiger Stadium. Richard Nixon played host last week to a reunion of his Whittier College class of '34. Leigh Steinberg, the moderate new student-body president at protest-prone Berkeley, said he opposes the Viet...
That really did it for Roger. He lost his remaining sensory connection-the blur extending as if from his mind out along the nerves to his eyes themselves. It was Spring then, and flowers were beginning to bloom, but if Roger was aware of them, it was only as a new blur, a distraction peculiar to the Spring. When he speaks, it is of his loneliness. He talks about girls, out there in the blur, hopelessly beyond approach. I see him shaking and picking at his skin, rapping out ten-minute long sentences. They are built like castles, but always...
...walked through the streets of this city which I had never seen before. After marching most of the route, we came in sight of a great blur of light. All that we could see was the brightness attacking our eyes, and we were told that it was the White House. So those of us who were live people had to shout the name on the card around each of our necks. I felt very angry now. I yelled as loudly as I was able to, but inside, Richard Nixon was probably snoring...