Word: glares
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...awful lot of foreplanning going on. I mean, it was 5:30---5:30!---on a Monday---a Monday!---evening. And everyone---everyone!---I knew had dinner plans. They may not have been interesting ones, but they existed nonetheless. And me? I was sitting under the blaring glare of the Crimson's fluorescent lights, alone and hungry...
...ride back to civilization that never comes. Then a peddler appears. He tells Xiu Xiu that pretty girls like her are using their wiles with party officials to get sent back to the city. Why, he will put in a word to them. Dazzled by the glare of his promise in this long night of isolation, Xiu Xiu surrenders to him. And then to rougher strangers, all in the hope of getting a pass home. Without money or connections, she asks, "What's a girl to do?" The cute girl is a broken woman now, a soldier's trophy...
Nicolas Cage is one great chameleon of an actor, and this can mainly be credited to his eyes--those large, lidless, doe-like numbers that can be used for the most yearning, soulful stare (Leaving Las Vegas, City of Angels) or hardened into a psychotic glare (Face/Off, Snake Eyes). Cage, a ritualistically intense actor, has a penchant for going over the top, but in 8MM he adeptly handles the scope of his emotions. Initially playing Wells as a tightly coiled individual, Cage lets his rage build slowly, finally allowing it to boil over as the horrors he witnesses become...
...presidential campaign, but Broaddrick has always refused to talk. In March 1998 she was referred to as Jane Doe No. 5 in Paula Jones' sexual-harassment case, having earlier submitted an affidavit denying the "rumors and stories" surrounding herself and Clinton. (She now says she wanted to avoid the glare of publicity.) She recanted that affidavit in an interview last year with Ken Starr's investigators, but would not describe details of the alleged attack. Starr made little mention of her in his report to Congress, saying her account was inconclusive. But during impeachment proceedings, her story was made available...
Branded for Life. Perhaps after a few years, the whole thing would blow over. I could get a job where the boss didn't suspiciously glare at me if I commented about how much I hate neon-colored paper. I could eat in the smoking section of a restaurant without having a waiter usher me out, saying, "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've been instructed to never let you light an open flame in this establishment." My mother would start talking to me again. I could become successful, maybe even famous. But even if I won the Pulitzer...