Word: puking
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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There are a few living American artists whose latest show one would always feel eager to see. Susan Rothenberg is high on the list. At 42 she has survived the cultural gorge-and-puke of the early '80s, the manic starmaking and the pressure on immature talent -- all due, presumably, to wither in the hangover from the bull market. Rothenberg's anxious but unhurried cast of mind was somehow fortified in the pressure cooker. Her current show at New York City's Sperone Westwater gallery (through Nov. 14) is in some respects her best...
...violent Mad Max movies, sneezes and blows a typhoon. At first it seems a mix of two unsuited masters. And anyone who comes to The Witches of Eastwick expecting a Masterpiece Theatre adaptation will be disappointed, not to say grossed out. Alex wakes up in a bed of snakes; puke spumes as if from a seasick sewer pipe. No problem. Miller and Michael Cristofer have simply chosen to tell the story from coarse Daryl's point of view rather than, as Updike did, from the ironic women's. This is not a movie of compound-complex sentences and nuances...
...please please please please please don't--tell me I'm doing absolutely the right thing with my life. That takes all the fun out of it. Telling me I'm being smart or thoughtful makes me want to puke--or, worse, go into investment banking. It makes me want to work 22 hour days and wear wing-tip shoes...
...cheap red wine contained flotsam from the mouths of three men gathered in a vacant lot in northeast Philadelphia. Moments before, a homeless and dying man named Gary had vomited. The stench and nausea were dulled only by exhaustion and the cold. Gary, wheezing noisily, his lips dripping with puke, was the last to drink from the half-gallon jug of Thunderbird before passing it on, but no one seemed to care. There was no way to avoid the honor of downing the last few drops. It was an offer to share extended by those with nothing, and there...
...cookies and tremulous advice ("Peggy, you know what a penis is -- stay away from it!"). She enjoys vamping Michael the beatnik, sharing a joint in a moonlit meadow as he howls out his Ginsbergian verse ("Sucking pods of bitterness/ In the madhouse of Doctor Dread/ Razor shreds of rat puke fall on my bare arms"). She is even touched by Charlie's perplexed devotion, his doomed itch for pop stardom, his '50s suaveness that plays like '80s nerdity. Youth may be wasted on the young, but Peggy Sue savors it the second time around...