Word: somehows
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...about AIDS should avoid humor. I felt that some of the writing about AIDS was trying to get into a Borscht-Belt comedy act, that there was a way it was being domesticated and treated as though it were one more phenomenon in the ghastly-but-we'll-somehow-survive-it New York cityscape. I felt that [AIDS] is a scandal and should remain a permanent scandal, and that everything should treat its oddness and unacceptability. There's a certain kind of humor that is used to domesticate the horrible and I didn't want to do that...
...toughest job may be replacing the solar panels -- two 40-ft.-long "wings" that provide power to the telescope. During the full day needed for this task, Thornton and Akers will precisely follow hundreds of steps, using bolts, electrical connectors, Velcro and 84 sq. yds. of plastic. And somehow they must do it all while swathed in their thick space suits -- a condition astronauts jokingly compare with being mummified...
...about, talking to themselves or roaring confrontationally at strangers. An ill-advised glance at a fellow subway passenger leads to threats of mayhem. These are everyday realities in many big American cities, unbearable yet borne, mostly in grim, self-imposed blindness and deafness to what is all around. They somehow become more resistant to willful ignorance when placed on the stage in a play as eerily uninflected as Howard Korder's The Lights and a production as epic and energized as Mark Wing-Davy's at New York City's Lincoln Center. Without preaching, without invective, without...
...games or more six years in a row; it is undefeated in its past 11 bowl games; it gobbles up most opponents like Homer Simpson at an all-you-can-eat restaurant. Yet for years the Seminole team had the reputation of a pigskin bridesmaid because it somehow managed to find a way to lose to those cross-state behemoths at the University of Miami. Even the F.S.U. press book repeats the phrase "can't win the Big One," like a mantra. It's meant ironically but still reveals an open psychic wound...
...marks of my adolescence remain--hand-made calendars marked off in Latin, New Yorker covers I pinned up during my pretentious sophomore year of high school, a hex circle bought on an eighth-grade trip to Amish Country. The smells are the same, somehow--deodorant I used senior year, the wet leaves on the trees by the skylight, the old books I had collected since seventh grade...