As a self-proclaimed solipsist, I have always attached much importance to my name and seen it manifest itself in the least expected of places. But in my pampered youth of Plaza teas surrounded by the redolence of a fine Cavendish … Read More
Two fists and a bruised knuckle. No lunch money. No school bus. He wears his soles out each morning, drops them at the back of the courtyard, and goes to class barefoot. Doesn’t say much. He sits alone some days and other days he doesn’t. Always the same thing for lunch. Carrots and men.
I’ll start this assessment of French 101/102 with a warning—one that applies to all first level language classes. If you ever find yourself longing to start a new language, know that you will have fifty minutes of class every day … Read More
Princeton’s drug culture is like a moon. Once a month it is full, lustrous and can be seen from all over campus. For some, this metaphorical moon is perpetually full and bright while for others the sky above is eternally dark.
I went up to a girl who was yelling so loudly and excitedly that I thought I was in an episode of America’s Next Top Model right after the model-hopefuls have found out that they’re going to some foreign country, like Africa or Spain. “What’s the commotion?” I asked as we stood in front of Ivy, half expecting her to tell me that we were all going to Bali together.
Just walk in Micawber Books, now as it phases out its inventory in preparation to close its doors in March, and you will undoubtedly bear witness to a sad scene, not quite of mourning but of definite melancholy, downtrodden emotion. Yes, of course, the friendly staff is still smiling; Bobbie Fishman, a long-time employee, interestedly asks what I need help finding, but there is a somber air looming over the store: the shelves in the used-book section have been disassembled and piled in orderly disarray, the stacks in the new-books section increasingly reveal empty wood as customers continue to remove the books and buy them at heavily discounted prices.
The cover of last week’s issue of the Nassau Weekly featured the face of Tony Kadyhrob, a 68-year-old man recently accused of trying to entice local college students into his car. Kadyhrob’s story would’ve been a minor one, had his mugshot not come out the way it did: to the collective delight of the Internet, it looks a little like Christopher Walken.
Greenville, Mississippi looks like a town that the Civil Rights movement forgot. Four decades after the Freedom Summer, this “Queen City of the Delta” still has two of just about everything: two McDonalds, two Catholic churches, two sides of town. There are two Kroger grocery stores. The one with the organic milk and fancy cheeses is called the “white Kroger.” The one with the wilted produce and meager selection is called the “black Kroger.”