Word: smells
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...PAXTON: MORNING AGAIN (Elektra). This is folk without folksiness. Paxton's trimmings may sometimes be countrified or traditional, but in this, his fourth LP, his essence emerges as urban and contemporary. When he writes a talking blues, it is about pot-smoking platoons in Viet Nam who smell "like midnight on St. Marks Place" (in Manhattan's hippie East Village). Appropriately, style and melody take second place in his songs to the compressed sophistication of his lyrics. Somewhat world-weary and very world-wary, they capsule the Paxton mixture of soft sympathies and hard ironies. Among the best...
...mind with "her most definitive organ," according to Norman Mailer (one of Them), and just as the womb is conservative, nutritive, claustrophobic, feminine influence is antithetical to energy and thought. "Let's get out of here," a Harvard student said to a girl he visited in her dorm. "The smell of women paralyzes...
Enjoy, Enjoy. But what the tourist will remember most is the outgoing joy of Mexico City. It has life, richness and plenty of spice, like the food. The smell of cooking corn meal is pervasive and tempting, although street vendors of tacos and enchiladas are best avoided. But the beer is nearly sublime -and it or bottled water makes the saf est drinking. Mexican specialties like ceviche (marinated raw fish), huachi-nango (red snapper) and caldo tlalpeño (piquant chicken soup) are worth the visit. Reservations, whether for a restaurant típico...
...streets and earn a decent living. Moviehippies are often surprisingly well-fed (as are, coincidentally, most actors), generally overdressed, spend inordinate amounts of time talking about flowers, don't (the lucky devils) take amphetamines, and in more serious films lean toward sexual perversion, destroy at random, and smell...
...loose in America itself? He was so heartily sick of listening to the tyranny of soul music, so bored with Negroes triumphantly late for appointments, so depressed with Black inhumanity to Black in Biafra, so weary of being sounded in the subways by black eyes, so despairing of the smell of booze and pot and used-up hope in bloodshot eyes of Negroes bombed at noon, that he must have become in some secret part of his flesh a closet Republican-how else account for his inner 'Yeah man, yeah, go' when fat and flatulent old Republicans...