Word: sadnesses
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Dates: during 1960-1969
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...East Room were 220 kids from ten to 19, mostly the sons and daughters of Administration officials, ambassadors and chiefs of diplomatic missions. Jazzman Paul Winter, 23, clutched his alto sax, gave three foot beats, and led his sextet into Bells and Horns, The Ballad of the Sad Young Men and Pony Express. The style was somewhere between Dixieland and progressive, and it seemed to bewilder some of the young folks. But it really sent Jackie. Afterward she confided to Pianist Warren Bernhardt: "I could hardly keep from wiggling around like you on the piano bench." Said she to Leader...
Quouquou often reminds me of other beloved cinematic innovators, such as the great Basque director Urethra Farrebique and her sad, clever husband Max Weber. For Quouquou does not force us to "sap life with art," as Antoine Sibile has put it in a recent issue of Les Fesses. He does not force us, in fact, he lets the whole religious force of his thought sweep over us. And, like a heaven sent storm, even the bilge it leaves in the scuppers of our mind is full of salt. A description of one scene should be enough to prove my point...
Dimitri, summering at Yalta, meets Anna, a sad-faced beauty who promenades every day along the quay with her little white spitz, Ralph. Dimitri has a wife, a pince-nezed intellectual, back in Moscow; Anna's husband is a foppish flunky in Saratov. As they become friends and lovers, Anna's unhappiness and self-recrimination grow stronger: Dimitri at length returns to Moscow to face the winter and his wife's domineering. Then, aboard a tram one day, he sees a little white dog go scampering through the snowy streets...
...short stories are about defeats. This may be because men's defeats outnumber their victories, or because writers are afraid of wives and waiters, or merely because defeats are lonely and short stories must be limited to a few characters. Some of the author's realizations are sad, but some are not, and the uncertainty is welcome...
Nixon's performance at his last press conference was in addition something of an apology; for by blaming everybody, he could only be blaming himself. But his sin was of presumption, not slander. Hiss's apparently generous statement on television Sunday night was really a sad assent to this judgment. He and Nixon's other victims fell to a desperate incompetent; for Nixon never understood politics until it had found...