Word: wet
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Dates: during 2000-2009
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...Parker, was processed and pasteurized into a nice young man who went Hollywood (and Vegas) almost as soon as he became a star. Jerry Lee, who had and would tolerate no image-makeover Svengali, wore the musk of venereal danger, styled himself as a reckless teen girl's wet dream and her mom's nightmare. As Memphis native Michael Bane said of Lewis in another terrific Tosches book - "Country: The Twisted Roots of Rock 'n' Roll" - "He made Elvis acceptable. Elvis tried to be good.... But Jerry Lee was always a shitkicker." His nickname was 'The Killer,' and who knows...
...they much care for air--at least not the way they're said to. Reports had it that they can live on land for up to three days, but the best they usually seem to manage is several hours under wet burlap in open markets where they're sold for their flesh. On dry land under a sunny sky, they fricassee fast. And while snakeheads have indeed popped up in half a dozen states besides Maryland, they've done so in modest numbers. Florida reported a single pair of river snakeheads near Orlando in 2001; Massachusetts encountered a single specimen...
...never know. And who can blame us? There's nothing like a salty sea story to remind us how solidly appealing dry land really is. For all his talk of the ocean and its cosmic mysteries, after six months on a whaleboat even Melville jumped ship, trading his cold, wet hammock for a warm, tropical beach--and, surely, a good book...
Where I live, in the Yaak, a wet foggy jungle, I have been searching all this spring for the sighting or the tracks of one mother bear and her offspring, on a mountain that is scheduled to be logged hard in the name of "fuels reduction," to theoretically reduce fire danger. I belong to a local pro-roadless group called the Yaak Valley Forest Council, which would like to see the fuels reduced on this mountain but in a way that would leave all the living green trees still standing. Last year many people saw the tracks of the bear...
...hurry out into the forest, searching. After a few hours, I discover a set of fresh bear tracks. The bear is just ahead of me and is moving slowly, unconcerned, though the wind is not in my favor. Trees are snapping all around me under the heavy load of wet snow, a sound like occasional artillery in some newly announced or perhaps ancient and ongoing war. But I am not asking for the return of 100,000 grizzlies to the American wilderness, I'm looking for just one bear. The snow is so deep that I can't positively identify...