Hi, Nikki, " Gavin said. Ariel didn't even bother looking up from Gavin's neck. "Hey, Gavin, " I said. "I thought that latest STD test came back positive? Ariel's head shot up. Good, I had her attention. I kept my eyes on Gavin. "I'm happy to be wrong though." Ariel pushed herself up off Gavin and stood there. "It's not true, " Gavin said, a disbelieving smile on his face. "I've never even been tested." "I'm out if here, " Ariel said... Gavin shot me a dirty look. "Thanks a lot Nikki." Cole's lips twitched, obviously amused at what had just happened.
Years and years ago, there was a production of The Tempest, out of doors, at an Oxford college on a lawn, which was the stage, and the lawn went back towards the lake in the grounds of the college, and the play began in natural light. But as it developed, and as it became time for Ariel to say his farewell to the world of The Tempest, the evening had started to close in and there was some artificial lighting coming on. And as Ariel uttered his last speech, he turned and he ran across the grass, and he got to the edge of the lake and he just kept running across the top of the water - the producer having thoughtfully provided a kind of walkway an inch beneath the water. And you could see and you could hear the plish, plash as he ran away from you across the top of the lake, until the gloom enveloped him and he disappeared from your view. And as he did so, from the further shore, a firework rocket was ignited, and it went whoosh into the air, and high up there it burst into lots of sparks, and all the sparks went out, and he had gone. When you look up the stage directions, it says, 'Exit Ariel.
Ariel: "Why do such stories always sound so sad? Why can't people part on more amiable terms?" Danny: "Human nature, " he said. "When feelings change and a person is at their most insecure, it's a matter of personal survival, I think. It's not always meant to hurt, but it often does.
Ariel sighed. 'How are you not self-conscious about that?' Kitty chuckled. 'Hey, I got used to it in a hurry, and I kind of like the side perks. I always wanted to ... y'know, be superhuman, do some of the things I've been able to do with this setup.' She curled her tail up to take it in her hands. 'Now I know how the guys feel, having something extra in your pants tends to be awkward after a while.
Don A. Martinez
My mother took my brother and I to a production of 'The Tempest', and it was in this very small - it could have been the basement of a church or a black box. The space was vast, but there were maybe 15 seats in the middle. Ariel came out wearing a nude sparkly thong and spike heels, and the muses had these gossamer see-through gowns on.
We'll go down to the stream behind the house with a bottle of wine and none of our clothes and remind each other that-even in the midst of so much goodness-there are delightful ways to be wicked. And we'll swim and laugh and kiss, and the stars will shine, beautiful and bright, but Ariel will always shine brighter. At least for me.
Ariel may look a lot like Barbie, and her adventure may be limited to romance and over with the wedding bells, but unlike, say, Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty, she's active, brave and determined, the heroine of her own life. She even rescues the prince. And that makes her a rare fish, indeed, in the world of preschool culture.
As Ariel recounted the events of her dream, two magnificent, batlike wings grew from the backs of her shoulders, stretched as if preparing to fly, then retreated back into their host. The sound heard when the wings disappear is the giggling of Alanna, who watched the event much the same way I did, in rapt wonder.
Don A. Martinez
Just because you're into Kate...well, it doesn't necessarily mean you're gay. Although it's okay if you are. But if that's what's worrying you...' Ariel sighed. 'God. It shouldn't be so hard to talk about this stuff. All I'm saying is maybe you're gay and maybe you're not. Maybe you're bi. Or maybe it's totally a Kate thing. Maybe you'd want to be with her whether she was a girl or a boy.' I blinked. I didn't know if what she said made things better or worse.
Beryl, on death: 'No, you should never choose death, but it chooses you. Sometimes you know it's coming, like my mother, and sometimes it takes you by surprise, like my friend Ariel's uncle who got killed in a hunting accident. Sooner or later, we all get chosen, we all get taken from this world into the next. Whether we end up in Heaven or Hell, and what we do with our lives in the meantime-those are the choices we get to make.' - The Enemy's Table
Want to talk third wave feminism, you could cite Ariel Levy and the idea that women have internalized male oppression. Going to spring break at Fort Lauderdale, getting drunk, and flashing your breasts isn't an act of personal empowerment. It's you, so fashioned and programmed by the construct of patriarchal society that you no longer know what's best for yourself. A damsel too dumb to even know she's in distress.
How can she create with all your negative energy?" "Yeah, man. You're bringing us down." "This is about as low as it gets, " Ariel said. "Where did you get those ridiculous black berets?" Moth adjusted his recently donned beatnik attire. "This is what the hip cats wear , daddy-o." "Can you dig it?" Cobweb stroked a few wisps of fake chin hair, while the others nodded and snapped their fingers.
Today the Israeli government continues seizures of Palestinian land for settlements, military incursions into surrounding countries and denial of the right of Palestinians expelled by terror to return. Ariel Sharon, Israel's prime minister, is a war criminal who should be in prison, not in office. Israel's own Kahan commission found that Sharon shared responsibility for the Sabra and Shatila massacres.
The next day brought more visitors. Sarah was eating a simple luncheon with Charis, Ariel, and Guinevere and was experiencing for the first time in her life the pleasure of talking freely with other girls she trusted. It wasn't that they talked about anything of importance. Indeed, most of their conversation was hopelessly trivial- Mordecai would have shaken his head sadly over such frivolity, Sarah reflected with an inward smile. But to talk so openly, and to laugh so unrestrainedly, was somehow far more significant than any single thing that was said.
Interestingly, this speech by Prospero does not contrast the unreality of the stage with the solid, flesh-and-blood existence of real men and women. On the contrary, it seizes on the flimsiness of dramatic characters as a metaphor for the fleeting, fantasy-ridden quality of actual human lives. It is we who are made of dreams, not just such figments of Shakespeare's imagination as Ariel and Caliban. The cloud-capped towers and gorgeous palaces of this earth are mere stage scenery after all.
The collar had restrained his winds but not killed them. They uncoiled from behind the shadows, ready to surround her, to lift her up, to carry her away with only Ariel's silk-clad arms wrapped about her to keep her from falling. Spirare, they whispered to her like an incantation. Breathe us in. Bertie didn't mean to, but she inhaled, and everything inside her was a spring morning, a rose opening its petals to the sun, the light coming through the wavering glass of an old, diamond-paned window. Tendrils of wind reached for Bertie with a coaxing hand. Release him, and he will love you.
At the happy ending of the Tempest, Prospero brings the kind back togeter with his son, and finds Miranda's true love and punishes the bad duke and frees Ariel and becomes a duke himself again. Everyone - except Caliban - is happy, and everyone is forgiven, and everyone is fine, and they all sail away on calm seas. Happy endings. That's how it is in Shakespeare. But Shakespeare was wrong. Sometimes there isn't a Prospero to make everything fine again. And sometimes the quality of mercy is strained.
Ariel looked at her then, instead of the sky, instead of the horizon that surely beckoned to him. 'Out of a thousand different winds, I think I can resist nine hundred and ninety-nine of them. Now she was the one unable to swallow. 'And the last one?' "That one wrenches the beating heart from my chest, the blood from my veins, the marrow from my bones.' Grasping her hand, he brought it up to his face and rubbed it against his cheek. Pain radiated from his pale skin, from his eyes, from his lips when they grazed her knuckles. 'You've two birds to do your bidding, my fair huntress, but I want you to choose me, to love me above all others, to make the pain in my soul worthwhile... or I would be free of you.
After I was in Idaho, I started to ask my personal Angel, which I believe mine to be Archangel Ariel for a vision of my past life. Before I had a chance to barely finish the sentence, I saw a terrifying image. I saw an Indian woman from the knees down wearing loose pants, running in terror from someone or something. A great fear came over me so strong, I had to stop the image, and almost started shaking. When you remember past life events, you have what they call Cellular Memory. So the fear that I felt was me reliving that moment
It is time to remind Sharon that the star of David belongs to all Jews, not to his repulsive Government. His actions are staining the star of David with blood. The Jewish people, whose gifts to civilised discourse include Einstein and Epstein, Mendelssohn and Mahler, Sergei Eisenstein and Billy Wilder, are now symbolised throughout the world by the blustering bully Ariel Sharon, a war criminal implicated in the murder of Palestinians at the Sabra and Shatila camps and now involved in killing Palestinians once again.
But life is beautiful, Sariel!' Gabriel said, trying to convince him. 'Watch the sunrise sometime lying in the scented flowers of the field, or the shooting stars at the end of summer! Read a couple of really exciting books or lose yourself in the unselfconscious smiles of children. Have a swim in a clear mountain lake or take a run among trees clothed in autumn colours. If you can see the good in Earth, your own existence will become the richer for it!' 'That all sounds very well and good, but you haven't convinced me, ' the deep-voiced angel murmured and Ariel laughed. 'My friend, Gabriel was very gently trying to suggest that you should fall in love and that will better dispose you to the world!
HOW MANY SONGS Y'ALL GOT? WHAT'S THE NAME OF YOUR BLOCK? WHERE'D YOU GET THAT GOOD POT? HOW YOU FEEL ABOUT THE COP? DO YOU EAT MEAT? DID YOUR COUSIN MAKE THIS BEAT? WHAT YOU GOT ON YOUR FEET? ARE YOU RESPECTED IN THE STREETS? HOW OLD ARE YOU? ARE YOU AN MC CANNIBAL? HOW FAR WILL THE RAMS GO? WHY THEY CALL YOU HANNIBAL? WHY THEY CALL YOU LESUS? PLEASE COULD YOU LEAD US FOOD FOR THOUGHT WOULD YOU WALK, TALK & FEED US? HOW IS HEAVEN JUNIOR? ASH, CACHE, LITTLE LISA, BUBBLES, JAKI, CHANELLE & TRE KING REAL OR KEITH, KELSEY, ARIEL KEVON, KAM TIGHT AS THEY ALL KNEW THEY WERE SWELL SHANN LIKE BLOW USE YOUR THIRD TO GROW THIS JUST A SMALL LESSON JUST TO LET YOU KNOW FO' SHOW & IF THE SHOE FITS WEAR IT SUCKER AND IF THEY SHOOT THEN YOU'SE A NOSY MOTHERFUCKE
Hitherto, the Palestinians had been relatively immune to this Allahu Akhbar style. I thought this was a hugely retrograde development. I said as much to Edward. To reprint Nazi propaganda and to make a theocratic claim to Spanish soil was to be a protofascist and a supporter of 'Caliphate' imperialism: it had nothing at all to do with the mistreatment of the Palestinians. Once again, he did not exactly disagree. But he was anxious to emphasize that the Israelis had often encouraged Hamas as a foil against Fatah and the PLO. This I had known since seeing the burning out of leftist Palestinians by Muslim mobs in Gaza as early as 1981. Yet once again, it seemed Edward could only condemn Islamism if it could somehow be blamed on either Israel or the United States or the West, and not as a thing in itself. He sometimes employed the same sort of knight's move when discussing other Arabist movements, excoriating Saddam Hussein's Ba'ath Party, for example, mainly because it had once enjoyed the support of the CIA. But when Saddam was really being attacked, as in the case of his use of chemical weapons on noncombatants at Halabja, Edward gave second-hand currency to the falsified story that it had 'really' been the Iranians who had done it. If that didn't work, well, hadn't the United States sold Saddam the weaponry in the first place? Finally, and always-and this question wasn't automatically discredited by being a change of subject-what about Israel's unwanted and ugly rule over more and more millions of non-Jews? I evolved a test for this mentality, which I applied to more people than Edward. What would, or did, the relevant person say when the United States intervened to stop the massacres and dispossessions in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Kosovo? Here were two majority-Muslim territories and populations being vilely mistreated by Orthodox and Catholic Christians. There was no oil in the region. The state interests of Israel were not involved (indeed, Ariel Sharon publicly opposed the return of the Kosovar refugees to their homes on the grounds that it set an alarming-I want to say 'unsettling'-precedent). The usual national-security 'hawks, ' like Henry Kissinger, were also strongly opposed to the mission. One evening at Edward's apartment, with the other guest being the mercurial, courageous Azmi Bishara, then one of the more distinguished Arab members of the Israeli parliament, I was finally able to leave the arguing to someone else. Bishara [... ] was quite shocked that Edward would not lend public support to Clinton for finally doing the right thing in the Balkans. Why was he being so stubborn? I had begun by then-belatedly you may say-to guess. Rather like our then-friend Noam Chomsky, Edward in the final instance believed that if the United States was doing something, then that thing could not by definition be a moral or ethical action.