Word: palmful
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Dates: during 1970-1979
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...under tarpaulins... "Car shrouded in fancy expensive designed tarpolian (I knew a truckdriver pronounced it "tarpolian") to keep soots of no-soot Malibu from falling on a new simonize job as owner who is a two-dollar-an-hour carpenter snoozes in house with wife and TV, all under palm trees for nothing, in the cemeterial California night.... In Idaho three crosses where the cars crashed," wrote Kerouac, but you must read the rest of his introduction. The pictures are pure existential moments, complex images, not pretty, but reflecting something in each case which shouts with mysterious intensity, in another...
Spiro T. Agnew is a tough man to upstage-even on a golf course. True to form, the Vice President stole Act I at the $140,000 Bob Hope Desert Classic in Palm Springs with a dramatic pair of tee shots, both of which sliced into the gallery, causing something of a stir. But the closing curtain and encore went to an equally renowned performer: Arnold Palmer. In the kind of cliffhanging finish for which he is famous, Palmer coolly rammed home an 18-ft. putt on the first hole of a sudden-death play-off last week to defeat...
...commercial, at least it's not supposed to look like one. Henry stands in front of you with his eyes closed, breathing deeply and steadily, while you examine his body for possible kinks in his muscles and joints. Each time you find such a spot, you place your open palm on it, so that your partner will know to draw his breath from there and undo the knot...
Cradled in the crook of his arm or clutched tightly in his palm, the camera is his constant companion. At any instant, any place, Henri Cartier-Bresson may suddenly lift his battered Leica to eye level, click the shutter and return instantly to whatever he was doing before what he calls "the decisive moment." Capturing such moments-usually joy, sadness, love, a memory reflected in a face or posture-has been Cartier-Bresson's life and profession for more than three decades. He has become the master of the documentary photograph...
...make comparisons. Were the Gucci shoes and the Lilly sportcoat as expressive as the proud fisherman's beard and straw hat? And the weaver and the crazy woman-was their squabble the same as a joust of honking between a Mercedes and a Bentley? No, emphatically, no. Not Palm Beach: this extravagance could not have the same depth as the simple, slow, island rituals. The islanders' foibles had communicated their self-knowledge. Here, I felt that the foilbes denied that knowledge. Or was I just too culture-shocked to see through a veneer...