Word: skies
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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Unless, that is, your industry of choice is holding talks called, "Fallen Sky." Today, the Shorenstein Center at the Kennedy School hosted New York Times media columnist David Carr, a man who knows a thing or two about rock bottom, to discuss the future of the journalism industry in the middle of the financial free fall...
...time, Kepler's supernova shone almost as brightly as Venus for several weeks. The bright light that those first observers recorded had traveled for 13,000 years to reach them. The light from Venus, however, takes only a few minutes to reach us. We look out into the night sky and record an impression of what is out there and we are inclined to think that that is how it is now, at this moment. Yet that now is made up of many nows, overlaid to make what we take to be a record of some event in the life...
...narrative is a staccato rhythm of choppy vignettes that are potent in isolation but awkward as a whole. The even-handed treatment of tainted youth is juxtaposed with sappy, trite religious experiences that crop up randomly with little justification. God is “an old black man with sky-bright eyes who smiled at everyone as though he’d seen all of them as children once.” Dressed as a janitor on a bus, he says, “Come with me,” but Joon refuses. Joon’s transient lifestyle provides...
...surprising that the genre of their music is self-described as “Naturalismo.” With “Tight Knit” Vetiver is leaving the dark, comfortable environs of the forest and setting off into the new territory of the night sky. The result is a less consistently redolent and distinctive but more exciting and sociable collection of songs than we have heard from Vetiver before. Bandleader and songwriter Andy Cabic plays all of the instruments on many of the tracks, and without any of the clearly discernible collaborations of previous Vetiver records?...
...greeted them with gifts of bread, plates of food, coffee and a liter of some unrecognizable brand of soda. As the town folk retreated to their homes, dusk gave way to night and only the outlines of the wind-blown palm trees could be seen swaying against the starry sky of the moonless night. Amador and Iglesias, whom I had been talking to moments earlier in the dark, were suddenly snoring in their hammocks. I sat in the back of pickup truck trying not to smell like vampire bait and hoping I wasn't in charge of the hunt...