Stingray, the 1960s Gerry Anderson series, was populated by unconvincing puppets moved jerkily
by an unseen hand.
As we sat and talked after our six-mile round-trip drive--it cost $19 pre-tip--some of those drivers lurched jerkily
closer to him on his app while others slid further away.
And with machine intelligence in control, we won't abuse our cars by riding their brakes or jerkily
accelerating and decelerating.
Sullivan in a title fight and he quartered jerkily
, spastically around, trying to find and focus on whoever had attacked him with a sledge hammer.
In the manuscript, reacting to Lingard's revelation that he has brought Joanna Willems to Sambir, Almayer throws up his hands: "He raised his clasped hands above his head and brought them down jerkily
separating his fingers with an effort--as if tearing them apart" (MS 261).
Meister's work in this volume is compact, dark, and somewhat claustrophobic, like Paul Celan's (his inevitable comparison), but where Celan's poetry feels like a jack-in-the-box in its shocking bursts of energy, Meister's feels like a Jacob's ladder, infinitely and jerkily
twisting in on itself.
Just think of all that footage of the besuited Shaikh Ali Salman, "snudging" where every cameraman can see him, mobile phone to his ear, manquA that he is - index finger jerkily
hectoring another poor disciple at the other end of the call.
without any emotion regarding what had happened, any terror at the proximity of death, I spent a long while staring at my toes, which I was moving jerkily
back and forth, with the gestures of a marionette ...
Ashkenazy, diminutive and jerkily
hyperactive (his conducting technique, quite the reverse of the austere Pierre Boulez, will never be a rolemodel), drew from what appears to be a rejuvenated Philharmonia both a remarkable depth of sonority and well-pointed athleticism.
Quadrati che si muovono" (1967), two steel cube-frames that moved and shifted jerkily
with the simple force of what the information card called "electromechanical animation," but which to me sounded like a soft horror symphony played on quiet, un-tuned violins.
If one were only an Indian, instantly alert, and on a running horse, leaning into the wind, continuing to quiver jerkily
over the quivering ground, until one shed one's spurs, for there needed to be no spurs, threw away the reins, for there needed to be no reins, and the land before one' eyes as a smoothly shorn heath with the horse's neck and head already gone.
If this implies that the mouse had been running in the same direction ever since it was very young, we could compare it to the case of the human speaker in "Wish to be a Red Indian" who says: "If one were only an Indian, instantly alert, and on a racing horse, leaning against the wind, kept on quivering jerkily
over the quivering ground, until one shed one's spurs, for there needed no spurs, threw away the reins, for there needed no reins, and hardly saw that the land before one was smoothly shorn heath when horse's neck and head would be already gone" (Kafka 390).