Word: murmuring
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...goodly number of national names, Gregg Allman will be there, as will one of Boston's best very own. The Stompers. Also, make a very special note in your calendars of July 13 REM, with one of the two or three best albums of the year so far, Murmur, under tow is slated...
...book form as the kid who never said anything to anybody except "I don't care" and eventually I don't cared himself into getting gobbled up by a lion. This version, by casting a body-suited women (Linda Hammott) as the doggerel in just the right suggestive murmur, manages to transform this grisly little sage into a sex fable--a counterintuitive and ultimately meaningless exercise. Of course it works that way if you want it to: "Then I will out you, don't I care!" "And you will be inside of me." "I don't care!" "So the lion...
...camera, Donaldson titillates and embarrasses the press corps by shouting out, often within earshot of public figures, the sort of tasteless jokes that other reporters only murmur. Says a former ABC colleague: "People often find him boorish and obnoxious." Admits Donaldson: "I cause myself a lot of trouble with my deportment, and I am less than thrilled about that." Yet Donaldson seems a mascot rather than an outcast among the White House-beat regulars. They are used to his Peck's Bad Boy manner and enjoy his outbursts against the White House staff for manipulating access to the President...
...howling hounds of hell in Timothy Mason's In a Northern Landscape to the title creature in Patrick Tovatt's Bartok As Dog. Feminism, incest and home cooking were other recurrent themes. But on half a dozen occasions one could hear distinctive voices rising above the collective murmur-and, in Kathleen Tolan's A Weekend Near Madison, the unmistakable cry of an infant...
...Leszek" as they affectionately call him, is still the man who has become inextricably linked with the word Solidarity. For three days, hundreds of supporters kept a vigil beneath the second-story window of his apartment block on the outskirts of Gdansk. Suddenly, late in the evening, an excited murmur spread through the milling crowd. Before the convoy of four cars could pull to a stop, it was mobbed by surging onlookers who struck up the chant, "Leszek, Leszek." At the center of the commotion was a familiar figure with a drooping mustache. Looking noticeably more rotund, Walesa...