Word: somehows
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...With Lust, Caution Lee is charting new territory, trading Brokeback's Ansel Adams vistas for oppressive World War II Shanghai. But Lust, Caution shares with that film a mournful, elegiac tone. "It's this idea of repressed or impossible love," Lee says. "I find that yearning attractive. Somehow, it's my observation of the grand illusion of love: you can never acquire it, or attain it, or describe it. So the more difficult or elusive it is - or in this case, the more twisted - that becomes very attractive to me in making a movie...
...drinking.” Zounds! Dios mio! What a revelation! How narrow-minded our focus has been! Have you ever been to a super Euro-club where there is an open bar where no one is drinking but everyone has dilated pupils and is covered in sweat and somehow has energy to dance all night? Clearly, Pilbeam thinks that is what a Harvard party should be like, and Daisy be damned, I agree with...
...heaven, a near normal person again; I could root for the home team while celebrating their canine incompetence. And this experience forged a generation of Mets fans: we were simply happy to be there, aesthetically tuned to each new depredation, grateful for the occasional win. And totally shocked when, somehow, the Metsies suddenly got good and won the World Series in 1969. There was another flash in the 1980s, though the 1986 World Series victory seemed more attributable to the rapacious karma of the vanquished Red Sox. Several hopeful seasons followed, but eventually the Mets fell back into their hammock...
...more of a second-half team.” If Harvard turns it on in the second half of its season—the Ivy League slate, that is—like it has been doing in the second part of games, it may somehow be true that the best is yet to come. —Staff writer Julia R. Senior can be reached at jrsenior@fas.harvard.edu...
...Center themselves - in 1989; or how they'd watched CNN and felt that something awful was happening and called their husbands at work - in Chicago. If we're honest, we'll admit that many of us have those stories ourselves. We cling to them, in a slightly undignified but somehow understandable wish to feel connected to the defining event of our time. To share in the plot line, just as we shared in the grief, to be part of something bigger than ourselves...