Yoga Above feels like a perfect reflection of Princeton’s unique character: the blending of college town taste with the style and exclusivity of affluence. The result is a donation yoga studio with deluxe décor and an amazing location that serves a clientele that is stunningly homogeneous.
During the BET awards last month, an enthusiastic Antoine Dodson briefly assumed control of the stage and gave a rousing rendition of his famous single, “The Bed Intruder Song.” Dodson’s glee was apparent from his vivacious grin, and his energy … Read More
Our tale this week starts in times long past. Well before Facebook, well before Twitter. Even before the war in Iraq. 2002 was a strange time, but in Web 2.0’s rocky infancy British journalist Nick Denton found opportunity. Thus began Gawker Media, a collection of blogs covering everything from New York gossip to video games.
Commodifying the Fetish: Everyone writes down a kinky fetish on a piece of paper. Preferably it’s their own, but an especially “sensuous” or perverted one is also applicable (zoophilia anyone?).
Television is the opiate of the masses. Surfing channels these days, we see the screen jump from images of skinny models bickering, to bedraggled people on a desert island, to co-eds living together as they have been for the past … Read More
“I was never the kid to get tangled up in chatroom relationships and online communities like many of my friends in middle and high school. I repent now, for the way I invalidated, even in my own head, the authenticity of their attachments. Laughter over Zoom is still laughter.”
“I could really go for a good burger right now,” my friend says in a tone that conveys that a burger would fill not only her stomach, but her soul. She leans against the wall expectantly. All night, she’s been flirting with another friend, a certain kind of guy who likes a certain kind of girl: thin, glossy-haired, and intelligent enough to be a sparkling conversationalist, quick with a comeback, but not necessarily intellectually aggressive enough to call him on any of his bullshit.
We’ll continue watching Gossip Girl, perhaps, like we look through old postcards or yearbooks. We’ll speculate what it would have been like to watch it over the course of a school year, as though the show transpired in real time; what it would have been like to watch it with Kate or Shannon or definitely Erin, at least back when she said you looked good in red, before her flitting, girlish sarcasm started to sound programmatic and conditioned.
