Word: fleshly
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...Like many other comedians, Richie was the little kid with the big sassy mouth in a tough neighborhood. Pryor has minted much comic revenue from images of his youth: the whorehouse his grandmother ran, his father's satyric appetite, his own early awakening to the pleasures of the flesh, the sniper fire of racism. Some of this currency is counterfeit (his family, as he says in Sunset Strip, was not poor), but all is dross for his alchemist's mind...
...technical aspects of the production also are traditionally appealing, with one major exception: Kitri-Dulcinea's and Basilio's matching flesh-colored tutu and tights. Perhaps the implications of youthful physicality would have been lost if the lovers had worn blue or green or burgundy, but certainly Nureyev and Mouis would have looked a lot better. No great matter--through: the red-and-black costumes worn by the matadors and their women in Acts I and III, and the gaudy, raggle--taggle gypsy outfits of Act II, are stylish and sportive...
There was a pol's callus on his palm and advice to young flesh-pressers on his lips: "Hit in close, deep, where they can feel it. Connect first, before they do. That's the way to make them feel the power." To a heckling crowd he showed one finger. The tough-guy style was not inconsistent with the physical man, built like a truck battery with a constant charge of direct current. Those around him learned to keep their distance. Persico describes relationships clearly signaling that one did not work for Rockefeller but served him. There were...
...downhill a racer is to hear the wind rushing by so fast it screams. To be a downhill racer is to know there are only 218 centimeters of fiberglass between mortal flesh and the earth whipping past at 75mph. To be a downhill racer is to use all your strength and concentration to reach skiing's outer limits. And only one women at Harvard can tell you what it's like...
...more than a white mask facing a black one. I see two pictures of the soul and spirit--if you will have it straight. In our flesh-and-blood existence I think we are pictures of something. So I see a picture, and a picture. Race has no bearing on it. I see Spofford Mitchell and Sally Sathers, two separatenesses, two separate and ignorant intelligences. One is staring at the other with terror, and the man is filled with a staggering passion to break through, in the only way he can conceive of breaking through--a sexual crash into release...