“The night before the Lawnparties act announcement, I didn’t sleep—I slept for an hour,” USG President Ella Cheng told me last Saturday at a table outside Cafe Vivian.
Dear Reader, How’s our day going? Actually not that great, now that you ask. We’re still pretty hurt that you never wrote in to our how-was-*The Life of Pi*-not-a-hoax essay contest, and that hundred bucks is burning a whale of … Read More
“You look Right into the mirror and recognize what you’d drawn, part by part. Then you blink and completely forget what you’d seen, where you’d been –– or rather, you can’t really tell whether you had ever seen anything in the first place.”
Rarely in this age of metaphysical detachment do we encounter such an utter embrace of the visceral as found in Riskay’s gift to the ages, “Smell Yo Dick”. In this piece, Riskay laments what she believes represents the steady decay … Read More
Chris Hedges, Pultizer Prize-winner, teaches a creative writing class comprised half of Princeton students and half of inmates at a women’s prison nearby. He and Boris Franklin, a former student of his, spoke to me about the role of education in prisons, the standing of women, and the necessity of divestment from private prisons.
Late one night last weekend, waiting in the checkout line at Frist, an individual approached me to say that he was of the notion that I was the author of the anonymous “Ask A Girl” column that had recently debuted in the pages of the Nassau Weekly. It’s a strange feeling, being framed. Because no matter how utterly NOT the author of this article I am, the mere speculation draws from the ether an imaginary ghost-me, with ghost intentions, leaving splotches of invented ectoplasm on laptop keys I never pressed when never sitting smirkily in my dorm room, midnight hour, writing a column that the real me- flesh, bone and conviction- simply does not believe in.
