If you get off the N train at 8th street, walk past the tattoo parlors and bright storefronts of St. Mark’s Place, you’ll find the Ukrainian East Village Restaurant next to a corner of other Ukrainian bakeries.
Watch the balloons sway in the center of the slick dance floor. You are here and you are not here, swaying yourself on too-thin heels and much too much mixed drink. Tie your hair back. You’re hopped up on hoping the ending of your night will deliver what the beginning has promised since you fished your junior prom dress out of the dorm closet you’re sure has moths.
There is a stain on our wall in Wilson and we haven’t spoken about it for a few days, my roommate and I. Streaked and coarse, a stain ground into the whitewash like graphite. It’s not visible if you don’t look for it, not something Building Services would fine us for. A stain, the length of two bobby pins held end to end. The diameter of a champagne grape. It doesn’t come out with Windex or Seventh Generation dish soap or OxiClean, left instead as a perpetual effigy of my fury and my guilt.
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.
On Monday, December 7th, two seasoned reporters from the Nassau Weekly got the scoop on the Warwick Rowing Team of Warwick Rowers Calendar fame. The rowers release a naked calendar each year to raise money for the team. The proceeds … Read More
If the Atlantic Ocean has seen my breasts, held them for an evening in the dark, full night, did he tell anyone? If sky observed, unfurled her firmaments? If the arc of my neck meant anything [to him], cradled in … Read More
When I was in eighth grade, a girl two grades up from me was writing a novel. I didn’t know much about her aside from her name, the fact that she was my classmate’s older sister, and that she was in the finishing stages of creating a work of fiction, but I wanted to become her, cut my hair short and type importantly on my laptop in my small school’s even smaller library.
