Word: bulbed
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...sweating boatmen by the rivers. Not even a dirty shirt in view. Everything is swept, ordered, prosperous. The happy people of Huhsien county are the last Arcadians. Socialism, as it were, equals Ovid plus electricity. Their sacks of grain bulge like the bellies of good-luck gods. Every bulb of garlic in their fields is the size of a baby's head. Each melon and gourd displays, in its massive and purposeful rotundity, the benefits of collective selfcriticism. Like the bulbous backside of a Cadillac in America 20 years ago, the distended cabbage and the steatopygous turnip are images...
Thomas Alva Edison is placed apart from the mainstream of history. He invented the light bulb and the phonograph, improved the telegraph, telephone and movie projector, and developed a system for distributing electrical power to homes and businesses over broad areas. But most who survey American history view Edison as an eccentric anomaly, and leave his life and work to the historians of wizardry or of science. Conventional histories deal with technological development as though it were an independent force, growing without any influence from the men who in fact produced it. But to ignore an inventor as part...
Worthy's voice is angry; he has things he wants known--powerful ideas and principles which he believes are reducible, once the fight is enjoined, to such small sustaining acts as changing a light bulb in the apartment of a fellow a light bulb in the apartment of a fellow tenant too old to climb a ladder. But he does not bore the reader with his anger. In stead he spins a fascinating personal yearn about the lengthy battle waged by the tenants fo an old rent-controlled walk-up apartment house in the Gramercy Park section of New York...
Sina does believe in participatory art, though, and this exhibit includes four "Touch Bulbs." After the ominous "High Voltage" warnings, signs saying "Please Touch" are refreshing. At first, however, as you touch the bulb, feel a tingle in your hand, hear static, and see lightning-like rays jump out at your hand, the experience is scary...
When she finished there was an awesome void; she shriveled up and disappeared. Gone. The next day's Crimson ran a story about a missing person of unknown identity. Gone was the fanfare, the Hasty Pudding's massive publicity, the flash-bulb impressions. Gone were the front pages of every major newspaper. Gone were our illusions about ourselves and the world. Gone was our mythology. Static...