Its everywhere in our daily lives—sometimes elegant, other times shabby, but generally ubiquitous. How often do we stop to examine and contemplate its form and style?
She was dressed in a red cowboy shirt and jeans, and she looked tired to me. We were on a wide avenue where it was foggy, and there were shopping centers and drive-ins and car lots. A few cars had their headlights on, and Arlene stared out the window at the fog.
Arlene stared a moment out the window and touched the corner of her mouth with her fingernail and smoothed something away.
I was already married to him, then, of course. You think they will? We turned onto the street where the jail was. Some bars were farther on, and the bus station.
At the end of the street was the courthouse. I watched him up in the rearview; he looked down at Cherry and shook his head as if it amazed him. Though I know Cherry thought she was being nice.
We understand each other. And he widened his eyes at her. The jail was a half block ahead of us. It was a tall modern building built on the back of the old stone courthouse. Two people were standing in the little front yard looking up at a window.
A station wagon was parked on the street in front. The fog had begun to burn away now. I wanted to get it out of sight. I wanted Bobby out of the car then.
I have had my troubles, but I am not a person who likes violence or guns. I pulled over to the curb in front of the jail, behind the brown station wagon.
I looked at Arlene, but she was staring straight ahead. I know she wanted Bobby gone, too. And he grabbed his plastic string bag. None of us moved in the car. I could see out the window into the little jailyard.
Two Indians were sitting in plastic chairs outside the double doors. A man in a gray uniform stepped out the door and said something to them, and one got up and went inside. There was a large, red-faced woman standing on the grass, staring at our car. It was cool out, and I could smell the sour pulp-mill smell being held in the fog, and I could hear a car laying rubber on another street.
She reached over and kissed him. He was waiting for Bobby, I was sure of that. Bobby got out and stood up on the curb. He looked around and shivered. He looked cold and I felt bad for him.
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But I would be glad when he was gone and I could live a normal life again.The leading trait in his character was meanness; and if there were any other element in his nature, it was made subject to this.
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Sons and Lovers ends my pers It was a surprisingly sensational read for me, especially since earlier this year, I gave myself a classics challenge: to read and re-read a few classics just for the sake of it; erase the disdain of forced-readings in high school, college and grad school; read just for how it makes me feel, not because everyone.
Autoethnography on Manhattan Drag. William Rossi that’s your drag. Also, drag is random gay men in dresses, who are debatably beautiful, dancing to Kylie Minogue,” expressed Giovanni Palandrani, my roommate/drag performer. The particles dispense further and become invisible to the naked eye.
“Should I do a red or a nude lip?” he.