On the eve of World War I, an aged Alice checks into a Swiss hotel, carrying with her a large looking glass. Next door, Wendy, still reminiscing over Peter Pan, lies side by side with her dry, buttoned-up husband. Later … Read More
In hidden corners of campus, next to frat pregames and close to Eating Clubs, Princeton bodies convene, undress, and then converse. Last spring I opened my inbox to find an email entitled “NP.” Its contents read: “What: Naked Party. Why: For peace, love, and beauty. To be free. To explore.”
Porter White I believe. If Charlie Brown has his Great Pumpkin, I have my Valentine Rabbit. Annually on the lustful February V-day, the Rabbit, fluff-relative to the Tooth Fairy & Co., descends to my parents’ house and bestows enigmatic heart-shaped … Read More
There is a stop light in front of Weston Autobody; in evening the autoshop light sears mechanics. Some stand – columns – and hold cars with outstretched fingers. One hangs like a bodied hammock another is a bowed branch. The … Read More
In the simple world that it posits, there is no World but the Hockey Rink. There is no Universe but the Firmament of Floating Crowd Heads. There is no Time but the Match Clock. There is no Woman, and there are but four categories of Man: there is Goalie, Fat Man, Average Man, and Skinny Man. There are Soviet Russians. There is no fucking around. Good luck, cupcake.
Everyone scanned the hundreds of pages this summer, gawking at deceivingly attractive photos and making fun of people’s interests. The freshman class, however, was the class to use thefacebook.com in an entirely new way- to scope out their future classmates, roommates, and potential boyfriends.
Casually, if cautiously, a throng of men encircles the scarred metal of an American fighter jet, the US F-15. A few, more daring men climb the torched cockpit, and children observe with rapt interest. This first American lapse in the … Read More
It happens more often than perhaps it should: a celebrity, be it rock star, movie icon, or stud athlete, is upheld on a pedestal for many years during his or her career, only to come crashing down at some shocking revelation that leaves fans disappointed and disenchanted. Sunday, February 4th left me with a similar feeling, when it was proclaimed over various social media outlets that Oscar-winning actor Philip Seymour Hoffman was found dead in his New York apartment with a needle in his arm and significant amounts of heroin in the vicinity.
