Word: larking
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Taking the Detroit Catholic high school placement test on a lark (my engineer father has always recommended that I keep my options open), I won a partial scholarship to Detroit Catholic Central High School, which was far closer and had many more course offerings than the Lutheran high school I would otherwise have attended. (Catholic Central also had a powerhouse football program.) Though my pastor feared that going to a Catholic school would confuse my Lutheran mind, I enrolled...
...about E may be best served elsewhere. In fact, Aitkenhead takes great pains to avoid describing the physical effects of mdma, and much of the book is about searching for hug drugs rather than actually gulping them. As a travel journal, however, The Promised Land is a nice enough lark. It might not have the rich depth of Charles Nicholl's Borderlines, the hapless humor of William Sutcliffe's Are You Experienced, or the sublime poetry of Burroughs and Allen Ginsberg in their Yage Letters. Still, if you're totally spent on a beach this summer yearning to feel that...
...Happened One Night dances charmingly along the fence between lark and allegory. It is, among other things, a dissertation on what it means to be an American phony. King Westley--"the pill of the century," as Gable says, a cafe society parasite with the face of a small reptile--wants to marry Ellie for her money and in the end accepts a bribe of $100,000 to go away. King's narcissistic autogyro is a sort of 1930s version of the Osprey, or of those personal motor-scooters-of-the-air that the writer James Fallows envisioned...
...Happened One Night dances charmingly along the fence between lark and allegory. It is, among other things, a dissertation on what it means to be an American phony. King Westley--"the pill of the century," as Gable says, a cafe society parasite with the face of a small reptile--wants to marry Ellie for her money and in the end accepts a bribe of $100,000 to go away. King's narcissistic autogyro is a sort of 1930s version of the Osprey, or of those personal motor-scooters-of-the-air that the writer James Fallows envisioned...
...embryo and a still-beating cobra heart ("like an aggressive oyster," he says). For this interview, he escapes from his Upper West Side apartment to a signless Japanese restaurant in the basement of a midtown Manhattan office building. He orders sea urchin roe and clam abductor muscle, smokes nine Lark cigarettes, and points out what he says is a geisha house behind a door without a handle. Chefs know all kinds of cool stuff...