If I were to make an uneducated guess about L.A.'s relationship with folk and psychedelia, I would say it must be the weather.
I've lived in a good climate, and it bores the hell out of me.
It reminded me of what Dad said after every snail's crawl home fromAlbany when snow hit.It's New York, people. It's winter. We get snow. If you aren't preparedto deal with it, move to Miami.
No one ever remembered a nice day. But no one ever forget the feel of paralyzed fish, the thud of walnut-sized hail against a horse's flank, or the way a superheated wind could turn your eyes to...
The Red Lion was a four-ale bar with a handful of lowbrowed sons of toil who looked as though they...
What could you do? Major Major asked himself again. What could you do with a man who looked you...
Read me back the last line. 'Read me back the last line,' read back the corporal who could take...
Keep in mind that when we talk of a great painting we are not really talking about anything great....
Inscribed on the back was a line from Virgil in Latin: Audentes fortuna juvat. Fortune favors the...
The rain was pattering hypnotically on the plane's exterior.
He wondered often how he would ever recognize the first chill, flush, twinge, ache, belch, sneeze,...
Havermeyer was a lead bombardier who never missed. Yossarian was a lead bombardier who had been...
It isn't even good grammar. What the hell does it mean when they disappear somebody?
