Word: moons
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...last decade wonder if the New Woman's movement may not be merely another sociological entertainment that will subside presently, like student riots, leaving Mother, if not Gloria Steinem, home to stir the pudding on the stove while Norman Mailer rushes off to cover the next moon shot...
...commentators nightly huddled together with nothing to say, waiting for Press Secretary Ziegler to bail them out once again with another vapid press release praising the Chinese hospitality the analogy of the week award was given to one clever reporter who thought that China was more intriguing than the moon. But every one agreed that Erik Sevareid topped it with his continuous mane mutterings that the Chinese educational system was calculated to destroy the minds of Chinese youth. (Sound familiar?) But the Nixons did try to show their appreciation Pat Nixon, dutifully fulfilled her material duties by falling in love...
CALIFORNIA was the last stop for those pushing West. On they came, dreamers, and drifters, the ones who just couldn't make it somewhere else, the men who had watched too many trains go by and the little girls who had spent too many nights gazing at the moon. On they came, running, arms outstretched--and pulled up short at the sea. They had to stop--they weren't lemmings, after all--and most found, to their bewilderment, that things were about the same here, at the far western edge of the continent, as they had been back...
...Angeles. Set by the sea, it was ringed and scored by hills, pitted with valleys, scaled with patches of desert. Its vegetation was alarmingly bizarre: palm trees reared up jaggedly, scruffy heads balancing precariously on long puny trunks; huge crepe-y hibiscus opened scentless blooms like red mouths; moon-pale magnolia flowers mingled their perfume with that of bougainvillea growing in thick purple mats over whitewashed walls--sickly sweet, heavy, overpowering. Disasters plagued the place: in summer, the hillsides grew dry as dust and would explode in flames, the fires often raging for days; in winter, rain came in torrents...
...night and on film, the huge painted sky shadowing Twentieth's "Western Town" (a sky which, by day, seems absurdly naive in its patent fakery) loses its hard edges and seems to soar up into the "real" sky. Its splashes of white cloud float free, lit by a moon whose own reality you cannot feel sure...