Word: grayness
(lookup in dictionary)
(lookup stats)
Dates: during 2000-2009
Sort By: most recent first
(reverse)
...girl's world out there. Pop music has room only for nymphets. Actresses over 40 are invisible to the movie camera. But the literary world is different. A woman can have a few gray hairs and still count on being published. It's a good thing too, because two of the best writers alive, Annie Proulx and Alice Munro, are well along into their golden years. And they both have new collections of stories that prove golden is the word for what they...
...active ingredients. After the bogus salve was applied, scans showed that nerve activity in the brains of volunteers visibly changed. Regions involved in easing pain became more active, while areas involved in sensing pain quieted down. The expectation of relief seems to be self-fulfilling. Call it mind over gray matter...
Governor Arnold Schwarzenegger pulled up in an SUV outside Mule Creek State Prison in the Sierra foothills. The Governor was in combat mode. Of all the legacies of dysfunction he had inherited from his predecessor, Gray Davis, the situation in the prisons was one of the most flagrant. Big campaign donations from the prison guards' union to Davis had ensured that the guards in 2002 won 34% wage increases over five years, and with overtime many were earning fat salaries; one pulled in more than the state's attorney general. But the work practices of the guards lagged. They seemed...
Such stories raise a basic question: Is the waking life actually worth living--or does it feel like a miserable, gray limbo of red eyes, dragging limbs and foggy thoughts? My own experience with Provigil, which I took for several weeks a few years ago during a season of heavy deadlines, convinced me that simple wakefulness is no replacement for genuine restedness. After two or three 18-hour days of writing, the quality of my work collapsed even as my fingers kept on typing. Though some switch deep inside my brain was stuck on "on," my soul and spirit...
...newsroom is a factory. The desks and walls are industrial gray, the bulletin boards on its walls lined with frayed red construction paper. The long neon bulbs that hang overhead are suspended by a lattice of steel supports that angle down from what appears to be corrugated tin. Like a Pompidou Center minus the art, a network of unabashedly exposed rectangular ducts, pipes of varying thickness, massive red steel columns, and I-beams lined with coffee-mug-size rivets frame the edges of the room...