Word: cloudless
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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Palm trees and pink stucco houses, flat blue cloudless skies and wide curving roads, the warm, salty smell of the ocean--home. Yes, I've returned to Southern California where the only bricks are adobe, where the weather is easy to predict and where the sights and sounds are comfortable and familiar...
After jamming the remaining sweaters in boxes, dragging down the last bag of trash that had accumulated over the past year, I fled; I fled from the constant gray drizzle, the looming brick and threatening deadlines that define Harvard to the palm trees, cloudless skies and pink stucco that are La-La Land, Los Angeles, home. A compilation of luck and lack of planning landed me a job as a production assistant in the business Los Angeles is renowned for worldwide--the movie...
...with a week left, Bill Clinton knows where he's going on election night. He'll be heading to Little Rock, where the theme song four years ago on election night was Don't Stop (Thinking About Tomorrow), played over and over, all through the cold, cloudless, starry night, until tomorrow came...
...their worst in violent bursts and spasms. Droughts are different. They have no discernible beginning; no one wakes up of a morning, looks out a window and says, "Uh-oh, here comes a long dry spell." Droughts seem deceptively serene, no more threatening than an endless expanse of blue, cloudless sky. They unfold in slow motion, a tempo ill suited to daily headlines and TV-news reports. Covering one is like sitting around watching the grass not grow. In The Grapes of Wrath, his 1939 novel about the Depression-era Dust Bowl, John Steinbeck captured the idling, hallucinatory rhythm...
...here they were on a fine October morning in Winterset, Iowa-cloudless sky, heatless sun, a soft breeze rustling leaves that had turned to perfectly photogenic reds and golds. Beresford was gone; Streep was present; Eastwood was directing as well as co-starring; the script was finally right and so was today's pretty location, through which an aged Francesca was supposed to wander distraught (she has just learned that her long-ago three-day lover has died). As Eastwood ambled over to discuss the day's first shot with his longtime cinematographer, Jack Green, he was heard to murmur...