...Brittany Peters Instructor Wenrich Eng. 121 7 June 2015 Research Narrative “Okay, so I get to wake up today and have another day he doesn’t.”- Dave Grohl, band member of Nirvana What would music have been like in the 1990s without Kurt Cobain? Or maybe the question to ask is, “What would music be like today if Kurt Cobain was alive?” The grunge movement was brought to life by the front man of the band Nirvana, Kurt Cobain (Kurt and Courtney).He was what most believed to be an iconic man in the 1990s for the music genre known as alternative rock/grunge. Kurt Cobain passed away on April 5th, 1994, in his home, when he was only 27 years old (“April 05”). He recently started a family with his wife Courtney Love, who was also a musician in a band called Hole (Kurt and Courtney). Kurt was in and out of rehabilitation centers for his drug addiction, and soon before his death had, what people considered at the time, an accidental overdose in Rome. The day his corpse was found an electrician reports his findings. The police and fire department arrive. Pictures are taken of the scene, and then handed to detectives to enhance the report of the incident that took place on the street of Lake Washington Boulevard. As news spreads of the musician’s tragedy fans gather at his house and a memorial service is performed in his honor (Kurt and Courtney). I now tell you the story of how and when Kurt Donald Cobain’s body was found. An electrician, Gary Smith, from the company Veca Electric...
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...scowled and said actively, “Marek!” then spoke quickly to Krajiek in Bohemian. “She wants me to tell you he won’t hurt nobody, Mrs. Burden. He was born like that. The others are smart. Ambrosch, he make good farmer.” After that eerie moment their father came out of the hole in the bank. He did not wear a hat, and his thick, iron-gray hair was brushed back from his forehead. His hair was very long it swept out behind his ears, and made him look like the old portraits Jim saw in Virginia. Their father was tall and slender, and his bony shoulders stooped, he took a glance at everyone, took his grandmother's hand and bent over it. His eyes were sorrow, and were set back deep beneath his brow, his face was forceful formed, but it looked like ashes. Everything about the old man was in keeping with his magnified manner, he was neatly dressed, beneath his coat he wore a knitted gray vest, a silk scarf of a dark bronze-green, crossed and clutched together by a red coral pin. While Krajiek was interpreting of Mr. Shimerda, Antonia came up to Jim and clutched out her hand coaxingly. In a second they were running up the steep draw side together Yulka was jogging after them. They reached the altitude and could see the gold tree tops, Jim pointed toward them, and Antonia laughed and squeezed his hand. They raced off toward Squaw Creek and did not terminate until the ground itself concluded fell away before them so directly that the next stop would have been out into the treetops. Both of them...
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...THE WAR OF THE WORLDS FINAL WHITE Barré Lyndon December 18, 1951 FADE IN: 1. H. G. WELLS' BOOK We see the colorful cover, then the first page. A VOICE with a Wells-like accent quotes the opening words: VOICE No one would have believed, in the first decades of the twentieth century... DISSOLVE: 2. SPECIAL EFFECT - SKY FULL OF STARS The planet Mars shows just above the spires and roof- tops of a city on the horizon. VOICE (Continuing) ...that human affairs were being watched...
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...Gabriel Garcia Marquez One Hundred Years of Solitude Chapter 1 MANY YEARS LATER as he faced the firing squad, Colonel Aureliano Buendía was to remember that distant afternoon when his father took him to discover ice. At that time Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of a river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point. Every year during the month of March a family of ragged gypsies would set up their tents near the village, and with a great uproar of pipes and kettledrums they would display new inventions. First they brought the magnet. A heavy gypsy with an untamed beard and sparrow hands, who introduced himself as Melquíades, put on a bold public demonstration of what he himself called the eighth wonder of the learned al-chemists of Macedonia. He went from house to house dragging two metal ingots and everybody was amazed to see pots, pans, tongs, and braziers tumble down from their places and beams creak from the desperation of nails and screws trying to emerge, and even objects that had been lost for a long time appeared from where they had been searched for most and went dragging along in turbulent confusion behind Melquíades’ magical irons. “Things have a life of their own,” the gypsy proclaimed with a harsh accent. “It’s simply a matter of waking up their souls.” José...
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...DaenerysDAENERYS In this city of splendors, Dany had expected the House of the Undying Ones to be the most splendid of all, but she emerged from her palanquin to behold a grey and ancient ruin. Long and low, without towers or windows, it coiled like a stone serpent through a grove of black-barked trees whose inky blue leaves made the stuff of the sorcerous drink the Qartheen called shade of the evening. No other buildings stood near. Black tiles covered the palace roof, many fallen or broken; the mortar between the stones was dry and crumbling. She understood now why Xaro Xhoan Daxos called it the Palace of Dust. Even Drogon seemed disquieted by the sight of it. The black dragon hissed, smoke seeping out between his sharp teeth. “Blood of my blood,” Jhogo said in Dothraki, “this is an evil place, a haunt of ghosts and maegi. See how it drinks the morning sun? Let us go before it drinks us as well.” Ser Jorah Mormont came up beside them. “What power can they have if they live in that?” “Heed the wisdom of those who love you best,” said Xaro Xhoan Daxos, lounging inside the palanquin. “Warlocks are bitter creatures who eat dust and drink of shadows. They will give you naught. They have naught to give.” Aggo put a hand on his arakh. “Khaleesi, it is said that many go into the Palace of Dust, but few come out.” “It is said,” Jhogo agreed. “We are blood of your blood,” said Aggo, “sworn to live and die as you do. Let us walk with you in this dark place, to...
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...Bienvenido Santos: The Day The Dancers Came AS soon as Fil woke up, he noticed a whiteness outside, quite unusual for the November mornings they had been having. That fall, Chicago was sandman's town, sleepy valley, drowsy gray, slumberous mistiness from sunup till noon when the clouds drifted away in cauliflower clusters and suddenly it was evening. The lights shone on the avenues like soiled lamps centuries old and the skyscrapers became monsters with a thousand sore eyes. Now there was a brightness in the air land Fil knew what it was and he shouted, "Snow! It's snowing!" Tony, who slept in the adjoining room, was awakened. "What's that?" he asked. "It's snowing," Fil said, smiling to himself as if he had ordered this and was satisfied with the prompt delivery. "Oh, they'll love this, they'll love this." "Who'll love that?" Tony asked, his voice raised in annoyance. "The dancers, of course," Fil answered. "They're arriving today. Maybe they've already arrived. They'll walk in the snow and love it. Their first snow, I'm sure." "How do you know it wasn't snowing in New York while they were there?" Tony asked. "Snow in New York in early November?" Fil said. "Are you crazy?" "Who's crazy?" Tony replied. "Ever since you heard of those dancers from the Philippines, you've been acting nuts. Loco. As if they're coming here just for you. Tony chuckled. Hearing him, Fil blushed, realizing that he had, indeed, been acting too eager, but Tony had said it. It felt that way--as...
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...critical theory today critical theory today A Us e r - F r i e n d l y G u i d e S E C O N D E D I T I O N L O I S T Y S O N New York London Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business Routledge Taylor & Francis Group 270 Madison Avenue New York, NY 10016 Routledge Taylor & Francis Group 2 Park Square Milton Park, Abingdon Oxon OX14 4RN © 2006 by Lois Tyson Routledge is an imprint of Taylor & Francis Group, an Informa business Printed in the United States of America on acid‑free paper 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 International Standard Book Number‑10: 0‑415‑97410‑0 (Softcover) 0‑415‑97409‑7 (Hardcover) International Standard Book Number‑13: 978‑0‑415‑97410‑3 (Softcover) 978‑0‑415‑97409‑7 (Hardcover) No part of this book may be reprinted, reproduced, transmitted, or utilized in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying, microfilming, and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the publishers. Trademark Notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. Library of Congress Cataloging‑in‑Publication Data Tyson, Lois, 1950‑ Critical theory today : a user‑friendly guide / Lois Tyson.‑‑ 2nd ed. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN 0‑415‑97409‑7 (hb) ‑‑ ISBN 0‑415‑97410‑0 (pb) 1. Criticism...
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...The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald Download free eBooks of classic literature, books and novels at Planet eBook. Subscribe to our free eBooks blog and email newsletter. Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry ‘Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!’ —THOMAS PARKE D’INVILLIERS The Great Gatsby Chapter 1 I n my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’ He didn’t say any more but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon—for the intimate revelations of young men or at least...
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...Ok. First, I just want to say that I think it is so cool that you guys have this awesome forum. I’ve never had a good reason to post in it before, but, well, I’m in Mr. McMurtry’s 10th grade honors English class (go me), and our half-year fiction project is due just before winter break, which is coming up. Ok. So, before you read this, you should know that I already asked Mr. McMurtry if I could write my fiction project in an experimental science fiction style and make lots of horrible, malicious, false, and hateful blood libels against the Mormons, and he asked what I had in mind, and I told him that I thought it could be cool to write a story that consisted entirely of a War between Mormons and Scientologists and Atheist Texan Cowboys in the Future, and he said that would be fine. I knew he’d let me do it, as his homosexuality is a well known fact to the student body, and therefore his concomitant openness to avant-guard art and literature and experimentation and stuff like that. Not like the other English teacher, Ms. Nichols, who is the sort of totally sexless spinster that makes her students write poems about Jesus, which I’m pretty sure is fucking illegal, although I’m sure nobody in this hick town cares. God and Football, all the way. Ok, so, then I didn’t do any work on it at all until last night. We had to do a one-page outline a few weeks ago, which is so stupid, so I did it on the bus and I have no idea what I wrote, so last night I just started over from scratch...
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...The Great Gatsby By F. Scott Fitzgerald Download free eBooks of classic literature, books and novels at Planet eBook. Subscribe to our free eBooks blog and email newsletter. Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her; If you can bounce high, bounce for her too, Till she cry ‘Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover, I must have you!’ —THOMAS PARKE D’INVILLIERS The Great Gatsby Chapter 1 I n my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since. ‘Whenever you feel like criticizing any one,’ he told me, ‘just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.’ He didn’t say any more but we’ve always been unusually communicative in a reserved way, and I understood that he meant a great deal more than that. In consequence I’m inclined to reserve all judgments, a habit that has opened up many curious natures to me and also made me the victim of not a few veteran bores. The abnormal mind is quick to detect and attach itself to this quality when it appears in a normal person, and so it came about that in college I was unjustly accused of being a politician, because I was privy to the secret griefs of wild, unknown men. Most of the confidences were unsought—frequently I have feigned sleep, preoccupation, or a hostile levity when I realized by some unmistakable sign that an intimate revelation was quivering on the horizon—for the intimate...
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...THE POWER OF SIX BOOK TWO OF THE LORIEN LEGACIES PITTACUS LORE Contents Cover Title Page Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Chapter Thirty-One Chapter Thirty-Two Chapter Thirty-Three About the Author Also by Pittacus Lore Credits Copyright About the Publisher THE EVENTS IN THIS BOOK ARE REAL. NAMES AND PLACES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE LORIEN SIX, WHO REMAIN IN HIDING. OTHER CIVILIZATIONS DO EXIST. SOME OF THEM SEEK TO DESTROY YOU. Chapter One MY NAME IS MARINA, AS OF THE SEA, BUT I WASN’T called that until much later. In the beginning I was known merely as Seven, one of the nine surviving Garde from the planet Lorien, the fate of which was, and still is, left in our hands. Those of us who aren’t lost. Those of us still alive. I was six when we landed. When the ship jolted to a halt on Earth, even at my young age I sensed how much was at stake for us—nine Cêpan, nine Garde— and that our only chance waited for us here. We had entered the planet’s atmosphere in the midst of a storm of our own creation, and as our feet...
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...A FAREWELL TO ARMS BOOK ONE 1 In the late summer of that year we lived in a house in a village that looked across the river and the plain to the mountains. In the bed of the river there were pebbles and boulders, dry and white in the sun, and the water was clear and swiftly moving and blue in the channels. Troops went by the house and down the road and the dust they raised powdered the leaves of the trees. The trunks of the trees too were dusty and the leaves fell early that year and we saw the troops marching along the road and the dust rising and leaves, stirred by the breeze, falling and the soldiers marching and afterward the road bare and white except for the leaves. The plain was rich with crops; there were many orchards of fruit trees and beyond the plain the mountains were brown and bare. There was fighting in the mountains and at night we could see the flashes from the artillery. In the dark it was like summer lightning, but the nights were cool and there was not the feeling of a storm coming. Sometimes in the dark we heard the troops marching under the window and guns going past pulled by motortractors. There was much traffic at night and many mules on the roads with boxes of ammunition on each side of their packsaddles and gray motor trucks that carried men, and other trucks with loads covered with canvas that moved slower in the traffic. There were big guns too that passed in the day drawn by tractors, the long barrels of the guns covered with...
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...PROLOGUE Fortress of the Light Pedron Niall's aged gaze wandered about his private audience chamber, but dark eyes hazed with thought saw nothing. Tattered wall hangings, once battle banners of the enemies of his youth, faded into dark wood paneling laid over stone walls, thick even here in the heart of the Fortress of the Light. The single chair in the room heavy, high-backed, and almost a throne - was as invisible to him as the few scattered tables that completed the furnishings. Even the white-cloaked man kneeling with barely restrained eagerness on the great sunburst set in the wide planks of the floor had vanished from Niall's mind for the moment, though few would have dismissed him so lightly. Jaret Byar had been given time to wash before being brought to Niall, but both his helmet and his breastplate were dulled from travel and battered from use. Dark, deep-set eyes shone with a feverish, urgent light in a face that seemed to have had every spare scrap of flesh boiled away. He wore no sword - none was allowed in Niall's presence - but he seemed poised on the edge of violence, like a hound awaiting the loosing of the leash. Twin fires on long hearths at either end of the room held off the late winter cold. It was a plain, soldier's room, really, everything well made but nothing extravagant except for the sunburst. Furnishings came to the audience chamber of the Lord Captain Commander of the Children of the Light with the man who rose to the office; the...
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...T H E S I M P L E PAT H T O C O O K I N G L I K E A P R O , L E A R NING ANY THING, AND LIVING THE GOOD LIFE TIMOTHY FERRIS S Published by Houghton Mi in Harcourt Boston | New York 2012 Produced by 49316_CH00_FM_p001t015_092012_NB.indd 3 9/25/12 10:27 AM 49316_CH00_FM_p001t015_092012_NB.indd 4 9/25/12 10:27 AM PUBLISHER’S DISCLAIMER The material in this book is for informational purposes only. Since each individual situation is unique, you should use proper discretion, in consultation with a health-care practitioner, before undertaking the diet and exercise techniques described in this book. The author and publisher expressly disclaim responsibility for any adverse e ects that may result from the use or application of the information contained in this book. NOTICE ON FOOD HANDLING This book is about cooking; it’s not a food processing and handling manual. I strongly encourage you to read and follow the established safe food processing and handling guidelines available through the USDA, FDA, and Department of Health and Human Services, including: foodsafety.gov fsis.usda.gov fda.gov/food/foodsafety NOTICE ON INTERNET RESOURCES My full curriculum is within the covers of this book. For those of you who want to “go beyond” in your research, I have provided links to Internet resources. My team and I have worked to check that these links are accurate and point to resources available when this book was released for publication. But Internet resources...
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...The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas A Penn State Electronic Classics Series Publication The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas is a publication of the Pennsylvania State University. This Portable Document file is furnished free and without any charge of any kind. Any person using this document file, for any purpose, and in any way does so at his or her own risk. Neither the Pennsylvania State University nor Jim Manis, Faculty Editor, nor anyone associated with the Pennsylvania State University assumes any responsibility for the material contained within the document or for the file as an electronic transmission, in any way. The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas, the Pennsylvania State University, Electronic Classics Series, Jim Manis, Faculty Editor, Hazleton, PA 18201-1291 is a Portable Document File produced as part of an ongoing student publication project to bring classical works of literature, in English, to free and easy access of those wishing to make use of them. Cover Design: Jim Manis; sketch of Dumas in 1869, French artist Copyright © 2000 The Pennsylvania State University The Pennsylvania State University is an equal opportunity university. Alexandre Dumas The Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas [Pere] AUTHOR’S PREFACE IN WHICH IT IS PROVED that, notwithstanding their names’ ending in os and is, the heroes of the story which we are about to have the honor to relate to our readers have nothing mythological about them. A short time ago...
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