I can’t say I’m anything to be anyone to be saying a thing about it, but I’s heard it enough, I have, as much as any. But it was, gah, it was over yonder ways near Bristhlewaight or Skinnamarok or … Read More
Henrik Ibsen’s Hedda Gabler is a fitting play for Princeton University. It takes place within the well-furnished walls of a bourgeois apartment, and is concerned with comfort, or more accurately with the horror of comfort. Like many students on campus, Hedda enters the stage entirely provided for yet entirely hungry, perversely hungry.
Often times, during my perambulations about campus, I am accosted and questioned about various topics ranging from neuroscience to Neo-Platonism. I have never begrudged a fellow academe his curiosity, and so I am not surprised that I have accrued a … Read More
I remember the most beautiful party I have ever attended. It was held in a loft up-town. It was night-time, when the streets are brighter than the buildings and the eye is drawn slowly down, and I could see the Columbia University Observatory…
The President of Italy and his three friends, a Duke, a Magistrate and a Bishop, sit at the head of a table surrounded by teenage SS officers, a few older women, and about twenty young boys and girls. Some of the youths are dressed in suits and dresses, others in their underwear, while still others sit naked. A nude girl emerges from the kitchen with a large tray of steaming shit…
~and~
There is a neighborhood on the outskirts of a city with a lousy bar and grimy brick buildings and orange lamps in the alleys. There are towns where in the deep hours of night cars prowl the streets full of dumb menace. Vague criminals and edgy losers grope at women dressed in cheap finery and the sex is drunken and ugly and brief…
So I was cold lounging with my niece in Seattle, just sitting, watching Dora the Explorer and shooting the shit. My niece is nearly a year old, so her opinions are not quite as developed or polished as they could be, but she’s got some thoughts and a taste for the higher things.
After a night of drinking, it is a common activity amongst my friends to settle down in a common room and watch the Woodstock DVD. If it is early enough, we will continue to drink while watching, and will watch the whole thing through.
My father is a newsman, and during the election season he heads down to D.C. to do reporting. When Rumsfeld resigned, I knew that he would be thrilled. Donald Rumsfeld is one of my father’s least favorite Americans. When I … Read More
One of my primary introductions to the Arts, and more specifically the Performing Arts, was through the little-known genre of Modern Dance called “Site-Specific Dance-Poetry Fusion.” I have been taken with this unique blend of spoken and written words and dance since I was a child, and have done much reading about it, including the seminal works Poetry, and also Dance by Klaus Fuchten and Movement through Word in a Particular Place by the legendary Mary Timrock. Oh god, I’m lying!
On the eve of World War I, an aged Alice checks into a Swiss hotel, carrying with her a large looking glass. Next door, Wendy, still reminiscing over Peter Pan, lies side by side with her dry, buttoned-up husband. Later … Read More
Last month, senior music major Steve Eaton presented his thesis composition. The performance was broken into two sections. In the first, the audience sat in typical fashion, facing the musicians as they played. The last piece of the first section was two minutes long. The song consisted of one chord, played once and sustained over the duration of the piece. The movement of the song was all in the flux and change of the chord as the wavelengths gradually distended, warped, and eventually faded.