Woman Falls Off Bike. Hardtail Bikes. 14 Inch Boy Bike
Woman Falls Off Bike
- A wife, girlfriend, or lover
- an adult female person (as opposed to a man); "the woman kept house while the man hunted"
- a female person who plays a significant role (wife or mistress or girlfriend) in the life of a particular man; "he was faithful to his woman"
- charwoman: a human female employed to do housework; "the char will clean the carpet"; "I have a woman who comes in four hours a day while I write"
- A female worker or employee
- An adult human female
- The Falls is a 1980 film directed by Peter Greenaway. It was Greenaway's first feature-length film after many years making shorts. It does not have a traditional dramatic narrative; it takes the form of a mock documentary in 92 short parts.
- the petals or sepals of a flower that bend downward (especially the outer perianth of an iris)
- waterfall: a steep descent of the water of a river
- An act of falling or collapsing; a sudden uncontrollable descent
- A controlled act of falling, esp. as a stunt or in martial arts
- A move which pins the opponent's shoulders on the ground for a count of three
- A bicycle or motorcycle
- bicycle: a wheeled vehicle that has two wheels and is moved by foot pedals
- bicycle: ride a bicycle
- motorcycle: a motor vehicle with two wheels and a strong frame
With Empire Falls Richard Russo cements his reputation as one of America’s most compelling and compassionate storytellers.
Miles Roby has been slinging burgers at the Empire Grill for 20 years, a job that cost him his college education and much of his self-respect. What keeps him there? It could be his bright, sensitive daughter Tick, who needs all his help surviving the local high school. Or maybe it’s Janine, Miles’ soon-to-be ex-wife, who’s taken up with a noxiously vain health-club proprietor. Or perhaps it’s the imperious Francine Whiting, who owns everything in town–and seems to believe that “everything” includes Miles himself. In Empire Falls Richard Russo delves deep into the blue-collar heart of America in a work that overflows with hilarity, heartache, and grace.
Like most of Richard Russo's earlier novels, Empire Falls is a tale of blue-collar life, which itself increasingly resembles a kind of high-wire act performed without the benefit of any middle-class safety nets. This time, though, the author has widened his scope, producing a comic and compelling ensemble piece. There is, to be sure, a protagonist: fortysomething Miles Roby, proprietor of the local greasy spoon and the recently divorced father of a teenage daughter. But Russo sets in motion a large cast of secondary characters, drawn from every social stratum of his depressed New England mill town. We meet his ex-wife Janine, his father Max (another of Russo's cantankerous layabouts), and a host of Empire Grill regulars. We're also introduced to Francine Whiting, a manipulative widow who owns half the town--and who takes a perverse pleasure in pointing out Miles's psychological defects.
Miles does indeed have a tendency to take it on the chin. (At one point he alludes to his own "natural propensity for shit-eating.") And his role as Mr. Nice Guy thrusts him into all sorts of clashes with his not-so-nice contemporaries, even as the reader patiently waits for him to blow his top. It would be impossible to summarize Russo's multiple plot lines here. Suffice it to say that he touches on love and marriage, lust and loss and small-town economics, with more than a soupcon of class resentment stirred into the broth. This is, in a sense, an epic of small and large frustrations: "After all, what was the whole wide world but a place for people to yearn for their heart's impossible desires, for those desires to become entrenched in defiance of logic, plausibility, and even the passage of time, as eternal as polished marble." Yet Russo's comedic timing keeps the novel from collapsing into an orgy of breast-beating, and his dialogue alone--snappy and natural and efficiently poignant--is sufficient cause to put Empire Falls on the map. --Bob Brandeis
Man Eating Self
It’s better now. For a long time I was just out there, floating, unmoored, feeling creepy and lost. Then I was diagnosed and my life got better. But of course that makes it sound simple, liking falling off a skateboard without your helmet, or wearing the wrong color helmet. What I mean is, many people diagnosed me. I couldn’t walk into a room without three people coming up and shaking their heads and walking off into a corner to consult. Then one would come back with the diagnosis. Those minutes of waiting were murder. And the feeling of at last having the nightmare come to an end only lasted until I walked into another room and got an entirely different diagnosis from three different people. Then I met Marjorie. Marjorie had made many diagnoses in her life. She said she’d always been attracted to men who needed diagnosing and had taken a natural talent for peering into people’s souls and run with it. I knew when we met that I was in the presence of a natural diagnostician. First, she was wearing a white coat and expensive shoes, but what really made me sense her diagnostic abilities was that she never quite heard anything I said. She calls this defective listening and says it’s the essential tool of the diagnostic professional. Sometimes I only pretend to talk, just move my lips with no words coming out, and this doesn’t seem to slow down her analysis of what’s wrong with me. Before Marjorie there was Beth, who listened to everything I said with such intensity she could quote it back to me verbatim weeks later. I never remembered saying half the things Beth said I said but how can you doubt a woman with eyes that drill holes into the back of your head when you aren’t even in the same room with her. When I was just a little kid, I used to ride bikes with Stephanie, who was the first diagnostician of any real talent I’d met. At that age a good reader of your maladies doesn’t even use language to convey her analysis. She just throws down her bike and huffs off home. I am now in full recovery. The prognosis is good. I will soon be able to eat alone again, which Marjorie says is the first step in leaving treatment. And she says I’m about ready to leave treatment.
Stranger in my own skin.jpg
DPS Assignment: Strangers
I admit, it's not immediately obvious how this fits the 'stranger' assignment but the word stranger totally sums up how I feel in my skin today. I woke up this morning (with plans to take photos of myself with a stranger out in the street) but then I discovered that the god of skin conditions had decided that it was my lucky day to develop a whole load of new psoriasis over yet another new place on my body. There is nothing more likely to wipe the smile off my face than to find that the skin I have woken up in is so utterly different from the skin in which I went to sleep - my body has literally morphed into that of a stranger over night. First I itch myself raw, then I cover myself in cream and then I spend the day dreaming of being able to rip my skin off. But today, I decided to try and record my frustration with my camera hoping that sharing it will somehow help. Luckily the only permanent and public signs of psoriasis are my elbows and knees, everything else lies under cover of clothes and the psoriasis on my face thankfully only flares up when I'm really stressed. When I first developed it back in 2002 I used to get embarrassed when strangers would come up to me and ask if I'd fallen off my bike. I usually say no and try and explain what it is - but I am beginning to think that saying 'yes, it was a terrible fall' will save them the embarrassment and save me another explanation. But given you now know that I've not fallen off my bike, I guess I should explain what psoriasis is for those who don't know. Psoriasis is a skin condition that is not catching and is basically an over-production of skin cells which often leads to scaly and red patches of skin, usually in parts of the body where the skin is close to the bone. Here you can see me modeling my elbow and belly button psoriasis, and if you're really keen you can see a little bit by the side of my nose. So, has my attempt at therapy via photography helped me? Well, at least I've not been able to itch while I wrote this!!!
woman falls off bike
Liam Neeson (Batman Begins, Star Wars: Episode 1 "The Phantom Menace" ) and Pierce Brosnan (Bond movies, The Thomas Crown Affair) star in this epic chase and primal battle set in the breathtaking landscape of the West. The civil war has ended but Colonel Morsman Carver (Neeson) is on one final mission: to kill Gideon (Brosnan) no matter what it takes. Launched by a gunshot and propelled by rage, the relentless pursuit takes them both far from the comforts and codes of civilization, into the bloodiest recesses of their own souls. Also starring Academy Award® winner Anjelica Huston and Angie Harmon. It's been five years since the end of the American Civil War. Somewhere deep within the snowy mountains of the American West a lone figure - Gideon (Brosnan) sits in front of a fire, lost in thought. Abruptly, he is pulled out of his reverie by the echo of a Henry rifle and a bullet puffing into the snow inches from his head. Instantly Gideon calculates his one chance of survival. To leave everything he owns and run for the cover. And so begins the thrilling account of Colonel Morsman Carver's (Neeson) terrible revenge - to hunt down and kill Gideon, no matter what it takes. There will be many men dead before these two meet face to face, and only then will Carver fully comprehend the full cost of his undertaking. Launched by a gunshot and propelled by rage, the relentless pursuit will take them both far from the comforts and codes of civilization and into the unforgiving wilderness.
A great-looking, well-acted Western in the old-school tradition, Seraphim Falls is definitely worth a look for fans of the genre. There's nothing really new here (which explains why it played only briefly in theaters), and more than a few critics noted its obvious similarities to Clint Eastwood's classic The Outlaw Josey Wales. Still, you have to admire director and cowriter David Von Ancken (a 10-year TV veteran making his feature debut) for delivering an engrossing post-Civil War revenge story (cowritten with Abby Everett Jacques) that isn't hobbled by its overly familiar plotting. Blessed by the exquisite cinematography of John Toll (whose credits include The Thin Red Line, Almost Famous and The Last Samurai) and bolstered by a lush but unobtrusive score by Harry Gregson-Williams, this prestigious production begins very well indeed, with a wintry manhunt in the Ruby Mountains of Nevada, circa 1868. Former Union captain Gideon (Pierce Brosnan) is being tracked by a seemingly brutal pursuer named Carver (Liam Neeson) whose four-man posse (including veteran character actors Ed Lauter and Michael Wincott) is soon reduced to two.
As the manhunt continues, Brosnan and Neeson make the most of minimal dialogue, and flashbacks give us hints about the tragic event that set this plot in motion. It's a simple, elemental tale of justice in the wilderness, with occasional quirks like a snake-oil vendor (Anjelica Huston) who appears literally out of nowhere, and a top-hatted Indian (Wes Studi) who gives the film a slight, mystical air of mystery. And while a more daring director might have opted for a more powerful visual style, there's something to be said for Von Ancken's straightforward approach, perfectly matched by Toll's breathtaking landscapes, shot on location in Oregon and New Mexico and ranging from raging rivers to sun-baked desert flats. None of this makes Seraphim Falls a particularly exceptional movie, but with a fine cast that also includes such familiar faces as Angie Harmon, Tom Noonan, Xander Berkeley, and Kevin J. O'Connor, there's ample reward in a film that doesn't pretend to be anything more than a respectable entry in its genre. --Jeff Shannon
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