[…] tattoo parlors that had sprung up in the general vicinity of 17th Street and Atlantic Boulevard, Virginia Beach, was surprisingly clean. All those images of bead curtains and silver-studded leather, of peeling wallpaper and […]
[…] He bent to scoop sand into both hands and let it trickle like fine salt to the beach. He rested on his haunches; his white hair seemed like a shaded lamp at dusk, the […]
Dialogue 20.4 (Winter 1987): 75–122
Buerger outlines the history of the endowment ceremony but does not share anything that he has covenanted not to divulge.
Give me faces and streets . . . People, endless, screaming, with strong voices, passions, pageants, Manhattan crowds, with their turbulent musical chorus, Manhattan faces and eyes forever for me. Whitman If you like fresh air, […]
[…] before, but Hawaii brings out strange things in people. So we’ve become The Jogging Widows of Hukilau Beach. While the rising sun bleeds gold onto the ocean, we jog barefoot. We are long, lean, […]
[…] returned to New York later that spring and took up residence in the East Village of lower Manhattan. At least that is where the census showed Tom living within two years. By then there […]
[…] were all married or living away from home, she liked to take long drives alone to the beach. “My therapy,” she told Robert, half-jokingly. She loved the winding drive through Via de Dios Canyon […]
[…] to be hip or square? Well, why not go outside? I, too, am a sun lover—was a beach bum in my day—but I also know the narcotic effect of sunshine. I’ll lose them to […]
[…] beak, and chirped tentatively into the gray and somber dawn. By the time we got to Long Beach and picked up Mr. Meyers, the grumbling of early morning traffic had already begun. As we […]
[…] blue of the expanse of endless water on a sunny day, the smooth, almost-white sand of the beaches against which the incoming waves curled and frothed, she wanted to throw out her arms and […]