Word: darkeness
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...this mutual mudslinging and image-making is unusual only in degree, and under ordinary circumstances if would be quite funny--if we weren't talking about a race whose winner is certain to be considered at least a dark-house candidate for the White House...
...warm Carnegie acoustics, which can shelter a whispering flute and accommodate a thunderous fortissimo, the Berliners showed off the strengths that have made them the class of world-class ensembles. First there are the string sections, violins, violas, cellos and basses, which play together as one, producing a dark, creamy sound unsurpassed in lushness and sheer beauty. The brasses gleam like the finest gold, with especially choice nuggets among the horns. And there are the woodwinds, blending their highly distinctive sounds together like expert chamber musicians. In concert, the Berlin Philharmonic becomes a single instrument, devised by a craftsman...
...robes. I did his duds like a dowser. . .And it came to me he must have swallowed it. See,' Mills says, and he raises his arms still higher, bringing his palms together in which [his victim's] bowels slosh, collision and shift like so much damp, dark, swollen seaweed beneath his offering, the surgical, amputate bribegold steaming like carrots in soup...
...string. His loyalty extends in many directions: to his overstuffed, imperfect house ("I like it about fifty percent more than I did when the bank owned part of it"); to his clothes (many of his 19 socks do not match) and even to memory loss ("My favorite color is dark green, but I forget why"). Rooney has a misplaced fealty to conglomerated America as well. "If the bank doesn't know me by name," he writes, "the feeling's mutual, because I don't know my bank's name any more, either. It usually changes before...
...family was a moral institution. The speed and power of the things. The style. The freedom they bestowed. Kerouac and Agee rhapsodized about the great American road, the arteries of the body politic. Kids made love in their cars and made love to them, in spite of a few dark heretics like Social Critic John Keats (The Insolent Chariots), who warned that someone was about to shoot the beast, and Robert Lowell, who, in the poem "Skunk Hour," tied cars to the sickness of the nation. On the whole, in the late '50s the U.S. would sooner have driven...