Word: misfitting
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...from The SantaLand Diaries, a prickly extended sketch about working at Macy's as a Christmas elf. A book contract for a collection of essays followed. In Holidays on Ice, Barrel Fever and Naked, Sedaris found a persona and a groove as a chain-smoking, movie-obsessed, gay misfit who got dark laughs from his mother's bout with cancer, from a painful sojourn at a nudist colony and from his fumbled sexual awakening at summer camp. "What are you," screams a counselor in I Like Guys, "a bunch of goddamned faggots who can't make your beds?" Sedaris writes...
DIED. POUL ANDERSON, 74, award-winning writer of science fiction and fantasy; of prostate cancer; in Orinda, Calif. A self-described "total social misfit," Anderson escaped high school angst by immersing himself in books. He began writing his own stories and in college sold his first one, Tomorrow's Children, about the consequences of the atom bomb. Of his prolific output--which included such novels as Tau Zero and The Boat of a Million Years--his wife said, "We lost count after...
...whole range of appliances--TVs, VCRs, stereos, satellite dishes, what have you--instead of just one. It will also handle devices from any manufacturer. Since my apartment is practically a museum for obscure, obsolete and otherwise obstreperous electronics, I need a remote that can whip a whole houseful of misfit gadgets into shape, kind of like Lee Marvin in The Dirty Dozen. I set out to find...
...deal with the inherently human condition of isolation. Rose, a poverty stricken, single woman, combines Blanche DuBois’ hysteria with Laura Wingfield’s loneliness, resulting in an intense, needy amalgam of insecurity and neurosis. Cliff (David L. Skeist ’02), her male counterpart, a misfit truck driver, is a kind of wannabe Marlon Brando who demonstrates his manly virility through his brusque, to-the-point language and pontificating monologues...
...Topanga Canyon; British Columbia) and one small child finally to arrive at my destination. I was not disappointed. The San Francisco Bay Area was more than a breathtakingly beautiful place; it was a state of mind--the edge of the culture as well as the continent--that embraced the misfit, dreamer, bohemian, gay, artist, hippie, rabble-rouser types who had been flocking there in successive waves since the Gold Rush and in whose company I counted myself. My first digs were in a feminist communal household on Potrero Hill, where we shared meals, child care and feelings for a grand...