On fire for fireworks, self-possessed guys in swimsuits, San Diego gals try Phoenix in August, behind nudism, native San Diegan man and women reflect on teen beach years
The faint sound through the earphones is like the buzz of a mosquito on the other side of the room when you're trying to sleep. It nags at your attention, keeping you alert. Then, when you pass over a chunk of metal, it’s as if the mosquito has entered your ear, but it’s bigger than a mosquito — a mosquito hawk. Yet for you it’s a happy sound.
By Stephen Dobyns, July 1, 1999
Kevin Brueckner: “The most dangerous firework ever made is a sparkler!"
For the past few days, Americans in other cities have been flocking to stands and stores and roadside tents, where they've been loading up on fireworks. Even in Santa Ana and Buena Park and El Centro, people have been stocking up on sparklers and snakes and smoke pots.
HEY, LADIES! Let's hear it for men! Give a shout-out now to the body masculine! Here's to five o'clock shadows, Adam's apples, square jaws, and rough skin. To testosterone, to the Y chromosome, to the stereotypically "stronger" sex. To lats, six-packs, thighs, hams, calves, tri's, bi's, and pecs. Now, you ask me, the male physicality wasn't built for aesthetics. Those angles and edges, the purely functional proportions: men's bods are too utilitarian, at least for my taste.
By Geoff Bouvier, July 1, 2004
Some of them are walking dogs — small, easily cooled dogs without a lot of hair.
Traveler, consider our Phoenix. An hour away by air, this flat, posh suburb of Greater L.A. is your finest summer vacation bargain. For the price of a bad weekend in a tacky Pacific Beach motel, you can live it up in style at one of Arizona’s finest resorts and rent a Cadillac into the bargain.
“Butts and buttes,” I thought, suddenly seeing at a distance a fat, totally naked, out-of-shape 'man in a white floppy hat — my first customer, not buying — walking at a rather fast clip in the other, the gay direction of the beach. Meanwhile, I walked down to test the water (56°, the surfers had judged with scarily accurate authority). Black’s, in terms of both water temperature and sun, is never stultifyingly hot or murderously cold.
By Alexander Theroux, June 13, 1996
Two girls stretched out to the left compare the shades of tan on their stomachs.
Who might be at the beach that day? What did someone who had been at the beach the day before say to someone else who had been at the beach that day? Who is supposedly having a party that night, who supposedly knows the person having the party, and who probably going to the party has a car with an empty seat in it?
“Someone 30 years from now could sample it, knowing it’s purely original”
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Coinshooters at Pacific Beach are just part of it
On fire for fireworks, self-possessed guys in swimsuits, San Diego gals try Phoenix in August, behind nudism, native San Diegan man and women reflect on teen beach years
On fire for fireworks, self-possessed guys in swimsuits, San Diego gals try Phoenix in August, behind nudism, native San Diegan man and women reflect on teen beach years
On fire for fireworks, self-possessed guys in swimsuits, San Diego gals try Phoenix in August, behind nudism, native San Diegan man and women reflect on teen beach years
The faint sound through the earphones is like the buzz of a mosquito on the other side of the room when you're trying to sleep. It nags at your attention, keeping you alert. Then, when you pass over a chunk of metal, it’s as if the mosquito has entered your ear, but it’s bigger than a mosquito — a mosquito hawk. Yet for you it’s a happy sound.
By Stephen Dobyns, July 1, 1999
Kevin Brueckner: “The most dangerous firework ever made is a sparkler!"
For the past few days, Americans in other cities have been flocking to stands and stores and roadside tents, where they've been loading up on fireworks. Even in Santa Ana and Buena Park and El Centro, people have been stocking up on sparklers and snakes and smoke pots.
HEY, LADIES! Let's hear it for men! Give a shout-out now to the body masculine! Here's to five o'clock shadows, Adam's apples, square jaws, and rough skin. To testosterone, to the Y chromosome, to the stereotypically "stronger" sex. To lats, six-packs, thighs, hams, calves, tri's, bi's, and pecs. Now, you ask me, the male physicality wasn't built for aesthetics. Those angles and edges, the purely functional proportions: men's bods are too utilitarian, at least for my taste.
By Geoff Bouvier, July 1, 2004
Some of them are walking dogs — small, easily cooled dogs without a lot of hair.
Traveler, consider our Phoenix. An hour away by air, this flat, posh suburb of Greater L.A. is your finest summer vacation bargain. For the price of a bad weekend in a tacky Pacific Beach motel, you can live it up in style at one of Arizona’s finest resorts and rent a Cadillac into the bargain.
“Butts and buttes,” I thought, suddenly seeing at a distance a fat, totally naked, out-of-shape 'man in a white floppy hat — my first customer, not buying — walking at a rather fast clip in the other, the gay direction of the beach. Meanwhile, I walked down to test the water (56°, the surfers had judged with scarily accurate authority). Black’s, in terms of both water temperature and sun, is never stultifyingly hot or murderously cold.
By Alexander Theroux, June 13, 1996
Two girls stretched out to the left compare the shades of tan on their stomachs.
Who might be at the beach that day? What did someone who had been at the beach the day before say to someone else who had been at the beach that day? Who is supposedly having a party that night, who supposedly knows the person having the party, and who probably going to the party has a car with an empty seat in it?