Word: primally
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DIED. William Diehl, 81, late-starting novelist who penned popular, mayhem-ridden novels including Sharky's Machine and Primal Fear; in Atlanta. A decorated World War II veteran, he got a job as an obituary writer at the Atlanta Constitution after the war, then became a reporter and freelance photographer. His move into fiction was inspired in part by boredom--he began writing Sharky's Machine, his first novel, at age 50, while serving as a juror. His fast-paced thrillers translated easily to film--Burt Reynolds played the title character in the 1981 adaptation of Sharky's Machine...
...note with Mark Morris’s “Polka.” The dancers execute Morris’s visually exciting choreography with enthusiasm, and the image that Keller and Kenney leave us with—one of all the performers united in a circle, evoking a primal sense of community in their movements—elegantly describes the unity of the show they have bound together thematically...
...you’re The Indy. 5) Get a white/gray wig and be a) Derek C. Bok b) Harvey C. Mansfield c) Michael J. Sandel or d) all of the above. 6) Smear on some duck shit and call yourself the Charles. 7) Go naked and be the allegorical Primal Scream. 8) Cover yourself in red paint and be a piece of buffalo chicken. 9) Get a gray ponytail wig and a ’tude—you’re the pirate man checkout guy at Lamont! 10) Start yelling at passersby and put on a happy face...
...written word or just too damn polite to sexile our suitmates, sex in the stacks is widely recognized as one of the three Harvard must-dos. The hottest trilogy since the The Matrix, sex in Widener—along with peeing on the John Harvard statue and running primal scream—must be accomplished to truly “graduate with honors.” With this kind of exposure, no wonder everyone’s freaking out about the MAC closing. The one thing students may not be too worried about, though, is the possibility of disciplinary consequences...
...minus the pillow fights). Students began to camp out in the library for days on end. This was particularly the case during finals, when Lamont junkies only occasionally left their desks to dash out for foodstuffs, or maybe a much needed shower. The truly hard-core students even brought Primal Scream to the library—a contingent of a dozen or so nudists conga-lined through the third floor. Some promising political careers died that warm spring night. And now that Lamont has a café, we will never have to leave. Our library now serves all fundamental human...