If one is to stand in opposition to the middling masquerade that is Princeton culture, to scowl openly at every meaty guffaw or celebratory chant, then one would hope to rest confidently on a wealth of personal depth. It is … Read More
Princeton students are special. We’ve been told this upon every rite of passage we have experienced. No one ever dares to contest that they have near-superhuman aptitudes for creativity and hard work, Renaissance men and women all, steeped in the finest principles of humanism. Yet there is one thing in which we cannot manage to surpass the national average.
James Taylor sucks. In a world of few certainties, that is one. “If I hear one more Jesus-walking-the-boys-and-girls-down-a-Carolina-path-while-the-dilemma-of-existence-crashes-like-a-slab-of-hod-on-James Taylor’s-shoulders song,” Lester Bangs once famously wrote, “I will drop everything and hop the first Greyhound to Carolina for the signal satisfaction … Read More
They say that to be a great writer, you have to kill your liver. Or, preferably, yourself. To paraphrase Tolstoy’s old saw: happiness is banal; misery, unique. But do you really have to feel at odds with the world to write?
I have an unusual number of early childhood memories that involve being dragged to museums by my art-loving mother. She would usually resign herself to the inevitable outcome: me sulkily plunking myself down on one of those 360 degree couches … Read More
I am from Texas and I like country music. At Princeton, though, I have struggled to understand why people hate it so much. My friends have gone to disturbing lengths to relate country music to racism, sexism, homophobia, religious intolerance, … Read More
During a slow weekend this past July in St. Petersburg, Russia, Rob Madole, Tim Nunan, and John Nelson started scheming, started to talk of raising hell.
Brian introduced me to rap music on bus #177 in what I think was fourth grade. I know it was 177 and not 181 or 161 because this memory is accompanied by a host of other unique sensory inputs: the … Read More
After a night of drinking, it is a common activity amongst my friends to settle down in a common room and watch the Woodstock DVD. If it is early enough, we will continue to drink while watching, and will watch the whole thing through.
Princeton’s campus is insulated from the dangers of a city. It teems with P-Safe cars. But for much of the community, in the privacy of our dorm rooms and our own mattresses, it is not safe.
My favorite thing to do is to lie on my back. When things need to be moved, say a piece of trash that is fermenting under my feet, I grunt and push it aside with my toe. My least favorite … Read More
When I meet Howard Nuer ’07, a Hassidic Jewish student, three Sundays ago in his room, I am struck most by his bookshelf—filled to the gills with advanced math books and Hebrew scripture. The math major sits relaxed at his … Read More
