Word: fleshly
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...naps between appearances, disdains pressing the flesh and finds the business of vote getting "unbearable." But when the normally taciturn Yitzhak Shamir mounts a campaign podium, he plays the crowd's emotions with the precision of an acupuncturist. "I heard about the problems that you are struggling with every day, the stones and the Molotov cocktails," he shouts at 800 Likud loyalists gathered in a shopping mall on the northern outskirts of Jerusalem. As his lips produce the sound, his fists become the fury, chopping the air and pounding the lectern. "Those who are trying to throw...
...announced that "the novels of Susan Sontag are self- indulgent, overrated crap." Sarandon was so surprised -- Who was talking literature? -- that it took a few scenes before she hit the pitch back: "I think Susan Sontag is brilliant!" So there. Alerted by friends to this great debate, the flesh-and-blood Sontag left Bull Durham off her must-see list. She well remembered watching a French-Canadian film, The Decline of the American Empire, a few years ago. In that one, a plump Casanova confides that the woman he most wants to sleep with is . . . Susan Sontag...
Last Notes from Home adds flesh to the fictive narrator of the two earlier books. Literally. "The dude I call Exley," as the writer refers to his hero, stands 5 ft. 10 in. and occasionally balloons up to 180 lbs., thanks to the metabolism of aging, innumerable beers and a quart or so of liquor a day. He still lives in his native upstate New York, where he keeps his mother company in her house. When he learns that his older brother William, a retired colonel in the U.S. Army, is dying of cancer in Hawaii, Exley hops a plane...
...pastels and oil paintings of nudes that he made, at the height of his powers, in the 1880s and '90s. Their bodies are radiant, worked almost to a thick crust of pastel matte and blooming with myriad strokes within their tough winding contours. But they are also mechanisms of flesh and bone, all joints, protuberances, hollows, neither "personalities" nor pinups. (One sees why Duchamp, inventor of the mechanical bride, adored and copied Degas...
...Thailand has certainly been industrious in marketing its smiles. By now, 77 companies offer hill-tribe treks in Chiangmai alone, and Pattaya, a quiet fishing village just two decades ago, is a bloated red-light area studded with 256 hotels. Indeed, the metaphor of selling out is given flesh by the embarrassing statistics of Thailand's sex trade: perhaps 250,000 women in Bangkok alone respond to the siren call of a business that goes hand-in-hand with tourism. And the get-rich-quick promise that tourists embody has also led to shadier enterprises: Thailand is already famous...