Word: club
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...South of the Border, West of the Sun, 1992 Like Bergman and Oe, Murakami never tires of his archetypes - in this case the lovelorn, middle-aged male loner. In this tale of lost innocence, a jazz-club owner approaching his 40s reunites with his elusive childhood sweetheart...
...Eizo Matsumura, a photographer who has known Murakami since his jazz-club years, tells a story of that voice. Due to a hearing difficulty, Matsumura usually needs to read lips in conversation, except with close relatives and friends, but he can hear Murakami perfectly. "I don't know how to explain it," he says. "Maybe it's the vibrations, maybe it's something else." It almost seems too perfectly poetic, like something out of, well, a Murakami story, but the joy that rises in Matsumura's face can't be faked. "I can hear his voice," he says. "I always...
...posh Shinjuku crab restaurant, five twentysomethings surround Noboru Koyama, 60-year-old CEO of Tokyo cleaning company Musashino. Koyama looks at his watch - it's 8:30 p.m. - and announces that the party is moving: "O.K.," Koyama says briskly, "we'll do hotel bar, sushi, drag-queen show, hostess club, in that order." The young salarymen, who volunteered to spend Saturday night with their boss, gasp. "We're going...
...legislators from the anti-Syrian ruling coalition of Prime Minister Fouad Siniora. And the government comfortably won one of those seats - the one formerly occupied by the late Walid Eido, a Sunni member of parliament who was killed in June by a bomb set next to his favorite beach club. But holding Eido's seat wasn't much of a challenge: He had represented a strong Sunni Muslim district in West Beirut where support for Siniora is strong. The bombshell came in the majority Christian district known as the Metn in the mountains just north of Beirut: There, former President...
...friends, we slip back into regional accents we've spent years trying to exorcise--redneck recidivism--or embroider our speech with the kind of epic profanity more common to 19th century lobstermen. (That's the bad habit I revert to around my friends, all of whom swear like Friars Club roastmasters...