Word: neatness
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...have my students not long suspected that all these neat listings are my own ceremonial reassurances? Could it be that only the privileged can afford a life cycle? Maybe my charts, these skeptics say, are a reasonably approximate guide to the study of life, but they can also be used to deny what is obvious, namely, that many adults are defined by the very fact that the playfulness of the stages has gone out of them--and not only the poor...but also the fortunate ones who are given so much deprived of all leeway it has paralyzed them...
...needed to know. Instead we drove through the drizzle to Teterboro, a town with ten inhabitants, an efficient (as we would discover) police force, and a busy, private-commercial airport with 15,000 employees. That morning, it seemed, all 15,000 had called in sick. Little airplanes squatted in neat rows, roped to the tarmac to brace against the wind. A flag flapped and clanked above us. Nothing stirred on the runway, or in our parking lot, or by the hangars. We hoisted our packs, draped our ponchos over them and set off through what had become a downpour...
Unlike Annie and Alvy, Diane and Woody still see each other constantly, and Woody continues to show all his scripts to her. If she says something is "neat," the most exalted word of praise in her vocabulary, he is convinced that it is good. When her two sisters also applied "neat" to the script of Annie Hall, he knew he had a winner...
...RELAXED Alan Rudolph eased his slim frame into the booth of a Cambridge restaurant and opened up a press get-together by brimming an empty beer glass with a local label. Sporting a neat beard and looking like a handsome Paul Simon without the emerging pate, Rudolph gazed out at the assembled journalists with all the aplomb of a seasoned schlepper of the talk show-press conference circuit who knows that this time around, he's got something special to market. And so it is with the 32-year old director; in Rudolph's case however, his heady success...
...personality to personality has... distorted our understanding of the purpose of the city. The city is the instrument of impersonal life, the mold in which diversity and complexity of persons, interests and tastes become available as social experience. The fear of impersonality is breaking that mold. In their nice, neat gardens, people speak of the horrors of London or New York; here in Highgate or Scarsdale, one knows one's neighbors; true, not much happens, but life is safe. It is retribalization...