tilted, perfectly the globe sat undisturbed on its axis the sound of stillness spoke to me being young was being free? Babi drove the minivan. Babi said it was easy un-split ends curly … Read More
I found this curious invitation nestled in a medium-sized cardboard box in Mudd Library. A middle-aged man with a likeness to Frank Zappa had wheeled a cart over with this box and three others just like it into the musty reading room where I was conducting my research after hearing that my grandfather, who graduated in 1937, was a part of this group.
“Friday Night Lights” is remarkable, and my subsequent praise will not even begin to do it justice. It is quite simply not only the best thing I’ve laid eyes on in years, but maybe the best thing I’ve laid eyes … Read More
When Ahmed was born those twenty or so years ago, the world was taking a piss. His mother screamed in agony as his overlarge head forced its way out of her vagina. His father, preferring oblivion to the messy, bloody process that is birth, smoked himself retarded outside the whelping chamber.
Reach for a hardcover book with his name
sprawled across the top. It’s only natural,
you consider, to be drawn in by philosophers whose
names you once pronounced phonetically.
“For Smith, poet and painter William Blake exemplified this approach to life. She remarked: ‘Despite the fact he had no proof from the world he was worth anything—he would have gotten 4 likes [on Instagram]—he did his work.’”
Roger Q. Mason is controversy. Roger Q. Mason is change. Roger Q. Mason is revolution. “Every good revolution happens behind locked doors,” he proclaims, sealing the portals leading to Theatre Intime’s Charrier Room. He’s been directing rehearsals for seven weeks … Read More
