Word: crawlingly
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Mary Jones, 46, knew she was in trouble early last year. "I was having problems going up the stairs," she remembers. "I would go up halfway and then stop and rest for a while or crawl up the rest of the way. Sometimes, just talking, I would be gasping for breath." So the Pittsburgh mother of two, whose history of coronary ailments includes two heart attacks, checked into the city's Allegheny General Hospital to have a bubble, or aneurysm, in her heart's left pumping chamber surgically excised and the tissue repaired...
...biography. Kirkpatrick found that Vidor had saved just about every scrap of paper he had accumulated in his long life--some 200 boxes of letters, manuscripts, Valentine cards, income tax returns--but almost nothing from 1967. The biographer ransacked Vidor's three houses, prying up attic floorboards, prowling through crawl spaces. After three weeks of searching, he found a padlocked strongbox in the garage of Vidor's Beverly Hills guesthouse. With a tire iron he smashed the lock, and there it all was, Vidor's archive on the Taylor murder. Kirkpatrick is a writer whose prose is merely serviceable...
...Halloween Day, 1969. My attacker was some poor idiot tripping on LSD and the spirit of the holiday, and my savior was my mother. I only mention this incident because of the comment I made a few minutes and several blocks later, when my mother caught me trying to crawl into a police...
...School degree candidate Cynthia M. Baker, said she was assaulted in a non-violent manner, but it was "definitely offensive." She said that she was standing in a doorway of Andover Hall when an unidentified man laid down on the ground, and without speaking, started to crawl under her skirt. Baker immediately began "yelling and brandishing an office coffeepot...
...That's nowhere near the half of it. We haven't mentioned the cockroaches that crawl out of a wound in Harry's chest, the sardines that drop from between the legs of his philandering wife, the elephant that sits on his car -- or the wild cinematic verve that alchemizes each comic grotesquerie into images as vivid as a bad trip. But Bliss is no mere catalog of surrealist gross-outs. It yanks astonished laughs from the viewer to ease the way along a modern pilgrim's progress, one that finds salvation in the doggedness of obsessive love. Harry tracks...