From the Editors
Dear Readers, Have you stopped to think about the biblical roots of idiocy? The disciples really were the prototypes for the moron in front of you at the supermarket who takes so long to write a check that you can actually see her hair follicles growing. But don’t get angry, just think about what Jesus […]
Wondering Why?
Dear Wise Wendy, I’ve been at Princeton for a little while now, and I just can’t seem to click with anyone romantically. I can’t bear this crippling loneliness any longer. Should I try Speed Dating? From, – In a Sophomore Slump Dear Sophomore, Don’t be so down! Just because you aren’t strolling across campus hand […]
An Appraisal of a House on Fire
Ever since I realized, a few months ago, that the qualities that make me an anomalous 22-year-old are not mere deficiencies but a product of a legacy, I’ve daydreamed of a time when such a legacy would have still been in currency. The realization was this: what I had once considered a disposition that made […]
Liberation
Baltimore’s Red Emma’s coffeehouse proves that communism works. Okay, it’s not a country, and it’s not got much to lose (except a buck), but no one who works there seems to mind. There are no power struggles, unless you count the baristas bickering over who gets to make a customer’s iced latte. Emma’s propaganda boasts […]
Performa: the Visual Art Performance Biennial
In 1909 Italian writer Filippo Tommaso Marinetti launched a new art movement with the publication of the Futurist Manifesto in a Parisian newspaper. The Futurists worked in a variety of mediums and themes; they basked in the art of painting, architecture, writing, gastronomy they played with religion, attire, dance, and cooking. A heavy influencer of […]
If Performance Art Happens, and No One Is There to be Creeped Out, Is It Art?
I don’t know much about performance art. In fact, I didn’t even know it existed until I met artist Saba McCoy a few weeks ago. Still, neither her nor Wikipedia’s explanation was entirely clear. The only thing to do was to experience it for myself. Unfortunately, now having attended Performa 09, supposedly the most prestigious […]
Where the Wild Things Still Are
I haven’t been young in a very long time, at least in the sort of way Max is in Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are. That book, which sits on my bookshelf at home with a tattered cover and a note from the author to my six-year-old self: Dear Zack: I’ll eat you up […]
