Word: fifteene
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...fervor that in the triptych you mention, I would feel like a robber between two Christs. Quite a cheerful robber, though. On Hemingway:...I read him for the first time in the early forties, something about bells, balls, bulls, and loathed, it. Comparing youthful expectations with elderly realities: At fifteen I visualized myself as a world-famous author of seventy with a mane of wavy white hair. Today I am practically bald. On his position "in the world of letters:" Jolly good view from up here...
...shelter sign. No ceremony, no circumstance, no introduction. There are four songs to warm up, Quadrophenia, then three more songs. The warm-ups are a smattering of history. And they are run off like copies--"Can't Explain," "Summertime Blues," "My Wife," and "My Generation." Their essence is a fifteen second repetition of those windmill chords Townshend has made famous. They succeed like calisthenics--Daltry twirls his mike, Townshend does his splits, Moon acts like a three year old, Entwhistle does nothing, and the audience sits on its hands...
...watch the wind take them. Her mother, Dona Rosa, invites you in for coffee and sweet breads that she bought from one of the two tiny stores and that Isac and his brother, bakers and sons of a baker, made one morning. Dona Rosa tells you of her fifteen-year-old son who went to live with an aunt in another town and got a fourteen-year-old girl pregnant because "he had to sleep in the same room with her." They married and separated. "Divorce is too expensive...Children are a heavy burden. Each one brings fresh trouble...
Guadalupe Cruz is the oldest grandmother in town. She is Don Leonardo's grandmother. There has never been a happy moment in her life. Her husband died fifteen years ago, and her son died eight months ago. She doesn't get on with her daughter-in-law next door. She invites you into her dark room and hands you some tiny nuts to eat. A grandchild or great-grandchild swings in a makeshift hammock attached to the ceiling over...
...wallet to make sure it's still there. This unspeakable insult to the cinema and to the India it depicts has all the imaginative variety of a Hare Krishna marathon in Harvard Square, and the P.T. Barnum mentality lately put to profitable use by a noted fifteen-year old mob leader who drives a Rolls-Royce. Never has the search for eternal cosmic wisdom been so short (an hour and a half), seemed so long (an eternity), and revealed so little...