Word: dead
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...dated college men. "But if somebody doesn't look as if they have a disease, you don't use condoms." One of her friends, Lenna, a Berkeley freshman, complains about phone calls from her mother demanding "no oral or anal sex, and once you get it, you're dead." Students admit hearing about AIDS daily, but to most of them it is simply not a personal problem. Though herpes is still a campus concern, condoms are generally considered an inconvenience. A few students are apprehensive about the future, however. Paul, 21, a business major at UCLA, figures that...
...around the time of Burgess's second birthday, his mother and older sister died of Spanish influenza. His father, on a furlough from the British army, walked into his Manchester lodgings on a horrid scene: "I, apparently, was chuckling in my cot while my mother and sister lay dead on a bed in the same room." At the end of Little Wilson and Big God, on a Christmas holiday in 1959, the author is told that he has an inoperable brain tumor and a year to live...
...Carnegie Hall, the ceiling above the stage was ripped open to accommodate ventilation and lights. The hole was masked by canvas panels and curtains, which may actually have enhanced the hall's warmth by soaking up excessive high frequencies. But the first dozen or so rows lay in a dead spot, and an unsettling echo off the back walls was noticeable in loud, brassy passages. Despite its reputation, Carnegie was not quite as good as Boston's jewel and the Grosser Musikvereinsaal in Vienna, or newer spaces such as the Philharmonie in Berlin and Symphony Hall in Salt Lake City...
...renovation has eliminated the dead spots and the echo, although the subway trains still announce their passage. The removal of the drapery has revealed the full sweep of the proscenium arch, giving the hall a more vivid visual configuration, but it also reinforces psychologically the impression of acoustical brilliance. Although the cramped old lobby has been transformed into a gracious entrance flanked by twin grand staircases, entering and leaving the hall is more than ever a contact sport...
...enlightened moviemakers for a half-century. It's not that nobody did it better, but that everybody did it his way. Everybody still does. Almost seven years after his death, Hitchcock's bluff majesty continues to influence and intimidate all those who would make crime pictures. The master is dead; long live the mystery film -- but in his portly shadow. He is the ghost of thrillers past and thrillers yet to come, and he haunts his successors as surely as Mother Bates kept spooking poor Norman...