PrinceWatch
It is that time of year again, when the breezes grow colder and the leaves begin to turn, when the freshmen amble onto campus looking for love and the fast-track to Goldman Sachs, and when the Daily Princetonian’s ancient printing press begins to crank out the book reports, advertorials, and speculative fiction it is famous for. It is time, of course, for PrinceWatch.
What a Picture Isn’t Worth
Abroad in Ghana this summer, I worried my friends and relatives when I removed myself from social media.
The Burden of Proof
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.
The Generation X Gap
Douglas Coupland’s exhibit in the Vancouver Art Gallery this summer was called “everywhere is anywhere is anything is everything,” and from the instant I saw the title, before I even set foot in the museum, I was not feeling it. The all-lowercase aesthetic felt, to me, like an appropriation by a pretty square art gallery and a not-young man of a look that coded for “youth” and “hipness.”
The Radio Star Lives
It is after six o-clock pm, and the aisles of Shaw’s are bustling with last-minute dinner shoppers. Dodging throngs of gym-clothed soccer moms, I make for the produce section, unsure whether I’ll find “fresh ginger root” in a supermarket stocked with bulk cases of Lays’ chips and soda. I have been here for over an […]
Shakes On a Plane
Some people grapple with their own mortality through meditation, or mountain climbing, or making a pilgrimage to some lost, crumbling temple full of monks. Some do it because they’ve just received a diagnosis of terminal illness or reached their 80th birthday. I just have to step onto a 737.
Think Before You Speak
It was a hot Friday night in Berlin, and young people on the narrow streets of Kreuzberg district were just beginning their usual 48-hour clubbing routine with cigarettes, beer, and lines of cocaine. Aware that I stood out as a solitary woman and an obvious foreigner, I tried to shove my way through the throngs of smelly teenagers and drunken old men as efficiently as I could, right shoulder angled toward the crowd to get the maximum force-to-surface area ratio.
Ecstasy
Based on the work of K.S. Radhakrishnan:
Too Quiet to Hear Except at Night
I wake to the sound of a snowdrift shed from the roof like antlers shrugged off by a deer or like that molting time when birds stay flightless a while to grow themselves back.
107 Things Sex is Like
Some of our esteemed fellow publications within the literary Eden that is this campus have recently brought their keen eyes to sex, and what it is like to have it. They have prompted us to consider how it is similar to and different from “a non-consensual back rub,” “a bunch of furry parts superglued together,” […]