I’m often reminded of the Nass EIC under whose honeyed and analgesic administration I worked as a staff writer my freshman year. This guy who studied comp lit and sat in the leather armchair that the Nass houses in the corner of Bloomberg basement beneath a Jesus yard ornament and a shelf of course books that no one wants anymore.
There are many analogues among the Nass masthead. And the space hasn’t changed really, except for one painting of a woman with coiled muscles and a gold bikini that looked a lot like a Mannerist fantasy book cover. We took that down. For a long time, I resented the more autoprophetic aspects of being a member of the Nassau Weekly. Tragic-comic snakes of the oracle.
Our feelings about history tend to bubble and diffuse spasmodically. Mnemonic decomposition at the hands of enzymatic machinery. These kinds of fungal agents make it a whole lot easier to stomach. At least until the mold works up an intelligence of its own or an intelligence it’s recomposed from all this heart-healthy memory. Now you’re in trouble.
Nothing but love,
Charlie Nuermberger, EIC