Word: lose
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...cover photograph was left out," the correction box stated contritely, but not too contritely: the next line reminded readers that there were, in fact, rocket launchers of a similar type in Africa. Oh well, heck guys, I mean, as long as the idea's the same, don't lose a minute's sleep over...
...federal government started building a national highway web, and if Twentieth-Century America is left with no obvious direction in which to grow, you cannot stop Twentieth-Century Americans from going anyway, getting into big cars and getting buzzed and plunging into the interstate highway system to lose their identities in rivers of metal and asphalt that hold out the promise of something new and exciting, always just off the next exit, just past the next Howard Johnson's, just after the next interchange. Such is the lure of the road in America. Such was the mirage we chased...
...this time, we had been on the road more than 20 hours, had gone through several Cokes apiece and had started on a bottle of No-Doz. But in spite of the caffeine in our blood, we started to lose touch. As I passed a tractor-trailer near Jacksonville my eyelids forced their way shut, and I dreamed that a giant copy of a history course syllabus was sailing down the road behind me, trailing our Pontiac. I awoke some three inches from a guard rail. Namo drove for a while after that, but he, too, insisted on taking split...
...after a few successive nights the flashing lights and thumping bass of a disco make the club-hopper feel more like a soldier in the trenches at Chateau-Thierry in 1917 than a happy vacationer in Florida in the spring of 1978. After a while, the beer started to lose its tang, the rebel yells started to sound strained, and the blond, tanned 30-year-olds lounging at beachside bars started to look like desperate characters. The mirage was fading...
...focus on the love affair dulls the political statement of Coming Home. The movie starts to lose its grip on you after about the first hour, but it is nevertheless an excellent film. Perhaps its problems lie in the fact that there were too many cooks. Gilbert and Fonda took their original idea to the then untried scenarist Nancy Dowd, who has since won critical acclaim for her original screenplay of Slapshot. Over a year later, Dowd came up with a long, ultimately unusable screenplay. Next they approached Waldo Salt, an Oscar winner for Midnight Cowboy, who ended up writing...