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The Tories of Spring
Schmitz’s real purpose is to marginalize 185 Nassau and a group of people who create. And how better to do this than to reduce all their striving to a simple exercise in what Edward Said terms “refinement”—the long, steady, reactionary march toward sameness, marked by a constant re-reading and emulating of a constricted Western canon.…
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High on Laced Marijuana on Princeton Campus
“Everytime I looked down at my cigarette, it was just as long as it had been the last time I checked. She then moved on to telling me about her internship.”
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Sprinkles
The construction guys are wearing neon hoodies and eating grilled cheese sandwiches, Sprinkled across the lawn like lobster buoys — “Confetti thrown from heaven,” you’d call them When I was on the boat and couldn’t sleep. If I went back now, Would I see you Eulogized in the harbor, Fêted with technicolor streamers? One of…
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Total Clipse of the Heart
People – especially dopey, two-months-behind-the-times columnists like the New Yorker’s Sasha Frere-Jones – love making sweeping pronouncements about the nature of hip-hop. Music is a manifestation of the human creative spirit; it is born of a whole slew of political and economic circumstances. Duh. In that way it possesses import both psychological and societal. But…
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Shaking My Hips Dolefully
Beirut played at Terrace this Sunday. You might have heard him. You might even have been there, drinking, doing your thing. The place was crowded.
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Single and Desperate
Daring, bold 5’9″ Jewish M with extreme good looks has decided not to be daring and bold by placing an ad for a similarly attractive F, height < 5'8". Think Annie Hall for a better looking, more bold and daring Alvy Singer. If you don't know what I'm talking about, it might not work.
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A Paean to Woods and Death
On autumn Sundays my parents would fuck wildly, like children. I remember this vividly. It was November and the air had begun to turn to steel. The turn was final. Pennsylvania does this each year—dies, maybe before Halloween, maybe after, gives way to night as a jack-o-lantern collapses to mush. Mother and Father fought the…
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The Source of Us
My sister started her coming-out process in eighth grade. My brother and I were in seventh. She entered her final year of middle school feeling alienated and afraid, so when the girl next to her in homeroom showed up with a print-out of Sid Vicious taped to her binder, Steph seized the opportunity to make…
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The Verse Debate, Part 2
Or rather, your notion of the face in Baudelaire is evasive. Poetry’s stock has fallen; that of the novel, the short story—that of prose—has risen. The New Yorker and The New York Review of Books have run articles addressing the former and latter, respectively. But you survey intriguing ground. If poetry “is a measured response…
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Odi et amo
Constellations of pale paned light lapse across shadowed walls as the din of street stragglers dissipates in the slums, appetites for fucking or for food finally mollified.