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To-Read Tuesdays

--Jacob Barnes, Penn C’19

This week, staff member Jacob Barnes wants to read Berlin Childhood Circa 1900 by Walter Benjamin: “It’s one of the most influential theorist of the 20th century writing about his childhood. Not a whole lot to it.”

Read if: you ever wondered what has to go wrong in your life for you to become an ACTUAL philosopher. 

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april horoscopes

our april horoscopes are brought to you by our guest astrologer, Madame C, a swell gal over all: 

Aquarius (January 20-February 18): You’ve been feeling uncentered for quite some time now. Lay naked on your bed for a couple minutes every day. Take a few deep breaths, maybe even close your eyes. Seek inner peace. It won’t come immediately, or ever really. But it’s nice to give your brain a couple minutes to run wild. Touch yourself a little too, maybe. And when you orgasm, give yourself a chance to really make some noise, and if your neighbors hear, just give them a knowing wink next time you see them. It’ll creep them out a little but they’ll ultimately respect your sexual openness. If you have a roommate, make this a shared activity and look at each other when you come. Now you truly know one another.

Pisces (February 19-March 20): Jupiter has been totally fucking with your social media presence for the past month. Your last Instagram post got only like 14 likes and you’re getting pissed about it and it’s like why the fuck are you even bothering to study abroad if you’re only getting 14 likes on a picture. But Jupiter has finally stopped being such a jealous twat and now you’re back on top. Take a selfie just out of bed, before you’ve showered or brushed your teeth. You look… oddly radiant. You’ll ask yourself if it’s the new moisturizer, but it’s not; it’s just a well-chosen filter. You’ll post it and then you’ll see your ex’s newest picture. He looks heavier now, and he is heavier, but you think he looks happier than before, and you suppose that that’s what really matters.

Aries (March 21-April 19): Mercury is in retrograde and you know what that means… Wait, you don’t know what that means? Well, that makes two of us. Anyways, you’ve been having some highs and lows recently and you miss the sense of stability you used to have. But today that all changes. Go outside. Travel to the nearest forest and find the tallest tree there. Embrace the tree. Wrap your legs around its trunk. Climb it and sit among its lowest branches. This tree also has highs and lows, but it is rooted in the soil and stands strong.

Taurus (April 20-May 20): Your friends have all been assholes recently and you’re over it. Marcia has started seeing that awful boy Derek who farted once in psych lecture, and Audrey is so stressed out about studying for the MCATs that she did not even acknowledge your new haircut which was a bit of a risk for you and you really needed some affirmation. Don’t worry if you don’t have any friends named Marcia or Audrey. It’s not important. They’re metaphors. Anyways, you’ve been looking for companionship, and little did you know that the four best friends a gal could have are easily accessible online if you have an HBO GO account (or if you’re willing to break the law and watch television illegally). Start Sex and the City, wrap yourself up in female companionship, and don’t give up on the show before the fourth episode. Then go out there and confront Marcia and Audrey. Tell those bitches that you deserve bigger and better things.

Gemini (May 21-June 20): Pluto has shot his hot, sticky favor on you this month, Gemini. You’ve encountered some wonderful professional success recently, and you’re excited about what this means for your future. But don’t let this make you forget about what’s important in life. Call the mother figures in your life and thank them for their nurture. Suck on the teat of gratefulness. That is more nourishing than money.

Cancer (June 21-July 22): In the upcoming week, you will turn over a new leaf. Maybe you’ll start a new exercise regimen. Maybe you’ll cut out carbs and then you’ll tell everyone in your life about how you’ve cut out carbs. Or maybe you’ll try to say “no” more often and hope that it doesn’t make you look like a total bitch (spoiler: it does, but you’ll be a bitch that other people respect). But you’re going to fall off the train. Accept it: eat an ice cream cone and remind yourself that tomorrow is another day to not follow whatever regimen you put yourself on.

Leo (July 23-August 22): Recently, you’ve been stressed as hell and you’re just waiting for death to overtake you like a cold shadow. Here’s a hot tip courtesy of Mama Madame C: essential oils. Get yourself a diffuser and a variety of scents, put a cold compress on your forehead, eat a little piece of an edible, and give yourself some quality me-time. This sounds like hippie bullshit and guess what: it is. Lay there until you smell like patchouli, your hair starts to dread just a little and you find yourself in a bisexual orgy. Love is free. Forget about finals. You’d much rather hit the road with your folk band.

Virgo (August 23-September 22): Today is your day, Virgo. You’re gonna finally face your fears and send a vaguely sexy text to your hot TA. As RuPaul says in her hit (?) song “Sissy That Walk,” “And if I fly or if I fall, least I can say I gave it all,” and your TA has been giving you his boudoir eyes at least twice a recitation. Okay, maybe he’s just been slightly disturbed at how often you roll in hungover wearing last night clothes but like he touched your hand that one time when he gave you your exam back and his touch LINGERED. Maybe he’ll give you an oral exam. And an A in the class.

Libra (September 23-October 22): You’ve been in a rut. Baked chicken for dinner every night of the week. You and your significant other have been scheduling sex twice a week.You’re lost in an endless sea with no land in sight. Well, if Diane Lane in her tour-de-force performance in Under the Tuscan Sun taught me anything, it’s that sometimes you need a change of location and a hot Italian lover. Go to your local family-owned Italian restaurant, wear your most form-fitting clothing, and look in the kitchen for a guy in a waiter’s vest. Give him a wink and then step out behind the dumpster and wait for him to find you there. You’re a little let down: he speaks perfect English. He said he was born here in America and his family is third-generation Greek. Fuck. Oh well. Put your kneepads on and get to business. When you go home, you’ll look your significant other in the eye and finally have the strength to leave and start your new life. You’ll move two blocks away to a whole new view of the same street and you’ll never look back.

Scorpio (October 23-November 21): Scorpio, go to your local grocery store right now and buy yourself a pack of Little Debbie Nutty Bars and a tub of pistachio gelato. You’ll thank me later.

Sagittarius (November 22-December 21): As Teresa Giudice once said, “family is family,” and you’ve been neglecting yours. Your grandmother misses you. Give her a call and try to avoid politics. She’ll bring up her hero Donald Trump, and you’ll remember why you stopped calling grandma in the first place. When she sees your new belly button ring this summer at the pool, she’s going to tell you that you’re going to hell. But stay strong and love thy racist neighbor. Grandma’s too frail to take a punch at this stage in her life.

Capricorn (December 22-January 19): You’ve been a dirty bitch, Capricorn, literally. Why haven’t you showered even once this week? What is that odor coming from your crotch? The people around you have been discussing your particular scent. “Is it manure?” “No—blue cheese, I’m positive.” “No no no, it’s horse spunk with a hint of hot gym locker room.” Haven’t you noticed how none of your friends have been able to make eye contact with you recently? Listen, go to my girl Carla at the Hair Cuttery downtown and ask her for her special breast milk soap. She will hook you up. Now go home and lather, rinse, repeat. Don’t forget to wash behind your crusty ears.

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Deconstructive Criticism ~3/24/16

This week Cody Smith critiques Surogat (Ersatz), by Dušan Vukotić:

Okay, so I don’t really believe in reviewing a piece of visual art that I haven’t seen in person (technology might be advanced but looking at a painting or sculpture from a computer screen seems pretty ineffective) and post-spring break I’ve been spending a lot of time sitting in my room and not going to the wealth of museums here in Philadelphia to brainstorm, so today I thought I’d review a short film, a process which involved me googling “best short films” and weeding through the results, and I ultimately decided on the Croatian animated short Ersatz by Dušan Vukotić, produced by Zagreb Film, which won an Oscar in 1962 for best cartoon short.

This film deals with some god figure/fascist/Donald Trump who inflates a bunch of furniture around him for the perfect day at the beach. This furniture even includes the woman he inflates to keep him company (he even adds some extra air to ensure that his female companion is “filled out” to his specifications). This dude IS the patriarchy and he basically tries to manipulate the woman into falling in love with him (this guy has NOT properly learned about consent). He’s also like a 4 trying to get with a 9, and if Tinder has taught me anything, it’s that a 2-point discrepancy maximum lies in the realm of possibility (I’m a 6 looking for my 8). I found myself hoping for this guy’s downfall, and luckily in this film, even god figures can fall victims to accidents. (I thought about beginning this piece with “The best-laid plans of mice and men...” etc. but I don’t think even I’m pretentious enough to think I could get away with that.) Vindication tasted so sweet.

The animation was just fun and whimsical and portrayed bodies and sexuality in a really novel, euphemistic manner. Honestly, animation is super under-utilized for films for all ages. I loved the magical and fanciful imagery of this film—it’s like if Angela Carter became an animator, except way fewer empowered women (to be honest, she’s the only author I’ve ever read who could be considered as a writer working within “magical realism,” hence the name-drop). Watch this film if you’re a control freak and try to let go, or if you’re a member of the Republican party, and then vote for Hillary in the general elections.

You can watch the piece here.

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Deconstructive Criticism ~3/23/16

This week Susanna Buff critiques “Ultraviolence”:

A friend sent me this poem because his teacher/advisor/friend wrote it. I read it and instantly was reminded of my pediatric nursing class, which sometimes seems like a three-hour lecture on how many ways kids can get hurt. We tend to think of children as small and weak, but in reality they’re dramatic, chaotic, and as this poem so clearly puts, very much violent. They’re brutally honest, and they’ve yet to be trained by the world to tone themselves down, reel it in, and control themselves. This sounds dumb as I’m thinking it but it is what this poem made me feel and this is the point of this column, but low-key I think children are the only ones who have the full human experience, because they haven’t learned otherwise yet. 

“Ultraviolence”

Tiny Vikings break Jane Austen.

They play grab- ass in class, crash their dad’s Stratus

on the weekends. They come together

in clusters to imagine our overthrow, gossip about our bad

breath. They creep into our beds as we sleep, gut us

w/ hunting knives, curl up to nap wrapped in bloodied sheets. 

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To-Read Tuesdays ~3/22/16

--Sharon Song, Penn C’18

This week, staff member Nina Solis wants to read Still Alice by Lisa Genova: “This is a depiction of the life of a fifty year old cognitive psychology professor at Harvard who is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer’s.”

Read if: You're interested in medicine or psychology. Bonus: It is also a movie.

Staff member Liz Richardson wants to read All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr: “This book tells the story of the lives of a young, blind, French girl and an orphan German boy in occupied France during World War II.”

Read if: You are interested in historical fiction and are looking for a thought-provoking story.

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Deconstructive Criticism ~3/16/16

This week, Susanna Buff critiques Maya Angelou’s “Awakening in New York”:

I’m from New York, where I commuted every morning of high school on the subway and later the metro north. I’m used to early mornings, 6 am (or earlier) wake-up calls, crowded train cars, and forcing myself along despite how tired I might feel. Those mornings I would have beautiful posters with those poem on it to cheer me on, but since I’ve been in Philadelphia I’ve had to do it myself. I like to think of this though because everything can seem hard in the morning, but I like how this presents the image of force, unprecedented and without consideration for how languid the rest of the world might be. It’s the second half of a spring semester, and I think we all could use this idea as motivation to get through the next few weeks and finish strong. We’re tired, like the curtains we also don’t want to be pushed around by the wind, we need straps or supports to hold us up, but we shouldn’t give in to this. Let’s be the alarm instead, dominating, pushing through the early morning haze.

“Awakening in New York” by Maya Angelou

Curtains forcing their will against the wind, children sleep, exchanging dreams with  seraphim. The city drags itself awake on subway straps; and I, an alarm, awake as a  rumor of war, lie stretching into dawn, unasked and unheeded.

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To-Read Tuesdays ~3/15/16

--Belle Carlson, Penn C’19

This week, staff member Cody Smith wants to read Lolly Willowes by Sylvia Townsend Warner: “A spinster moves away from the city and her family and possibly makes a deal with the devil and becomes a witch? No further explanation necessary!”

Read if: As a twenty-year-old man, you read Vivian Gornick’s The Odd Woman and the City and saw your future reflected in its pages, and you have a bit of a dark streak.

Staff member Connor Boyle wants to read Fine, Fine, Fine, Fine, Fine by Diane Williams (Short Stories): “These are Micro-fiction, short stories that are dense with imagery and leave you with more to chew on that you expected.”

Read if: You’re busy with midterms, classes, sleeping, and need something to keep you engaged after you sit up in bed but before you get out.

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march horoscopes

astrologer-at-large dalton kamish gives you horoscopes for march: 

capricorn: you know those random phone calls you get? those random phone calls everyone gets? from unknown numbers from elgin, illinois or westminster, maryland—you’ll get a few of those this month. consider the possibility that the people calling you genuinely want to speak to you. answer one of them. you’re going to get a really important phone call this month—don’t miss it. it probably won’t be one of those random ones, but it could be. leave a voicemail this month too. it’s kinda fun actually.

leo: the rain will start to smell a bit different this month. and the wind will be a lot louder, but much less bitter. take note here, i think you will do the same. might be nice—to be louder.

aquarius: if you don’t like dogs, pick a new sign for this month probably. if you do like dogs, definitely go to a dog park. with a dog, without a dog, with somebody, without somebody—don’t worry there will be dogs and people at the park, probably. this is really very important to do for your gentle soul. if you go on the day of the full moon, there will probs be some extra good dogs there.

pisces: it’s pisces season fricker !!!!!!!  ha ha!! wow have i got some news for you [spoiler alert] there are gonna be LOTS OF FEELINGS. i read on some random astrology website recently that one of pisces’ weaknesses is being sad. which is super fucked up imo. being sad is hard. be strong this month. be sure to show affection to your loved ones—it's been a long winter and they miss you.

sagittarius: the way grass emerges (the grass that isn't dead, that is) from under melting snow—looks like fingers kinda. i might recommend a small spell: write out the words of a wish or a regret all over and around your hands. if you wrote a regret, let the ink dry. wash your hands with plain soap until it's all gone. do this all at once and late at night. if you wrote a wish, do the same; it will be different.

cancer: big tip here: mashed potatoes with some beans in there. it’s so good. protein baby. this month i’d highly recommend getting highly fucked up on how so much stuff comes out of the ground. and we eat it. and like it’s so good. idk maybe that doesn’t fuck you up but it really should.

taurus: you’re still recovering from that brutal february, i know. please consider the warmth you might be experiencing this month as positive energy from all of those who love you. like i know it’s heat that comes from the sun or whatever lol but it’s also just energy from people around you. also consider the possibility that the warmth you feel from those who love you is from the sun. because, well, it’s the same. consider also less coffee this month and more tea. some of that good chamomile right before bed. yeah baby.

aries: your actions haven’t been lining up with your goals recently. this month is going to be tough, as you try to realign yourself. try some yoga imo—maybe you could find a free class somewhere bc those classes are pretty expensive sometimes. try to find a vintage clock radio—like a nice 80’s sony dream machine. might help with getting out of bed :0)

gemini: there are some people you owe apologies to. consider the possibility that you might owe one to yourself. march is a month of great change—like february to april wow that’s a lot. let yourself change too. this can be hard, especially for the people around you, but it’s essential; it’s human; you’re human.

virgo: buy more snacks honestly. like it’s actually not so good to eat big ass meals a few times a day, and it’s better to snack. i’m not a dietician so legally i can’t give you food advice, but snacks are also very important for the soul. march is a very good month for snacks. keep some snacks in your pocket or bag this month. you might make a friend or two lookin’ for a snack—they might be a squirrel or a goose or even a person lol remember that friend you made way back in the day because you had some snacks together? shoot them a text.

libra: the full moon this month is called the worm moon lmao that is so rad. meditate on that and also worms because they are very cool, so important, and moreover, extremely cute. idk if i’d normally suggest this, but actually read some poetry this month. i’d also recommend scoping out a library—one with some outdoor seating. read some poems (not by white dudes) and think about how incredible it is that people actually do anything at all. you’ve been struggling with this yourself. i think this month will be better for you.

scorpio: okay so your crush didn’t quite work out during cuffing season, but good news here baby—it’s cuffing season again! but this time it actually is about pants!! the weather is changing and you’ll want to experiment with your wardrobe and you’re gonna be getting high like a dang teen on how identity is like 100% performative. you’ll also probably develop a new crush this month. sorry. this one might actually work out tho, especially if you’re crushing on how beautiful the mf’ing earth is. wow march is really gonna show up big in that department.

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Deconstructive Criticism ~3/3/16

This week, Cody Smith critiques Covenant by Alexander Liberman, 1975:

I turn my eye again to public art on Penn’s campus.

When talking about Covenant by Alexander Liberman, more commonly known as “the Tampons,” it is important to note that this sculpture cost over $100,000 to install on Penn’s campus. This information is easily accessible through Google, you can trust me on this one. So already, we have to think about this in terms of cost-benefit analysis (I never took ECON 001—am I even using this term correctly?). I am completely unqualified to determine whether this sculpture was “worth” the money in terms of Penn students’ enjoyment, but that number should be in the back of all of our minds as we look at this staple of Penn’s public art with a critical eye.

I love this piece’s title. It’s hysterical. This harsh (“crude” is not quite the right word for the sculpture’s geometric appearance, but I think it somehow applies) red archway has such a poetic and symbolic title! This is no mere eyesore—it’s a covenant! Suddenly this piece has Biblical connotations. Yikes.

This piece makes me think of stalagmites holding hands. I can’t really qualify that image—it’s intuitive, but I do gather a sense of “togetherness” from this piece. These weird lipstick-like tubes growing together to form this archway. Maybe I just completely offered a defense for this piece’s title.

This piece is not pretty—to put it more bluntly, it’s an eyesore. It is painted perhaps the most garish shade of red I’ve ever seen (I know I suggested the Button get painted pretty much this exact shade of red, but what would be campy in one context becomes unsettling in another). But I think it gets its point across rather well. You don’t need to put your thinking hat on for this one.

Should Covenant be on Penn’s campus? I’m going to suggest no, but then again, another statue of Benjamin Franklin would just look pathetic in its place.

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Deconstructive Criticism ~3/2/16

This week, Susanna Buff critiques James Reidel’s “Miley Cyrus or Manatee?”:

I like manatees but I don’t like Miley Cyrus. That said, I love this poem. The reference of the creature as empty, lacking real substance, and murky paints a picture of worthlessness. “Washed up” in this context could mean either outdated and untalented or literally washed ashore. The comparison of a manatee’s mistaken identity of a mermaid and Miley’s presence in the media as a celebrity/”trainwreck” is both sad and beautiful—a reference to a glittery and mystical past compared to the sad truth of today. I don’t think of my dislike of Miley is representative of this large-scale comparison, but I do think it speaks volumes about what a difference society’s perception of an object or person can make to an individual.

“Miley Cyrus or Manatee?” by James Reidel

What is flat and nothing but skin, What lolls in a shallow world, What is watched for its surface, Between long episodes of water the color of a dead screen’s sea-green glass, What has but a few hairs in the snapshot? A bit of muzzle, No more than a pug’s worth for a rented red kayak, For this sailor swallowed by enormous wax lips, What is gray and aporial, Once mistaken for half girl, Half monster, Disappointingly naked and slipping under the hull.

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Staff Pick of the Week ~2/26/16

--Belle Carlson, Penn C’19

This week’s pick-of-the-week comes from co-editor-in-chief Sarah Zandi:

Tame Impala’s album Currents isn’t exactly 100% new, but since I’ve been abroad in Edinburgh I’ve been listening to it on repeat. My first full day here I took a walk along the perimeter of Arthur’s Seat (Google it) listening to it for the first time in its entirety, settling into being abroad and significantly less inclined to cry about feeling lonely. If I were religious I would probably have called it a religious experience. It’s everything good and nostalgic about a John Hughes film, but never saccharine or overly-sentimental. It’s the moment before solitude edges into loneliness. It’s a Ben & Jerry’s ice cream cone. It’s the first hot night in summer. My favorite song? “Yes I’m Changing.” Listen or perish.

You can find it here.

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Deconstructive Criticism ~2/24/16

This week, Susanna Buff critiques Gerald Fleming’s poem “Long Marriage”:

HEY HOMIES sus is back in the game. Your homegirl here has been thinking a lot about relationships lately (~recently dumbed~ vibes, u feel) and honestly this poem gets it. I think a lot of us youths feel that relationships are all about passion or excitement or /connecting/, and I also think it’s really natural for people at our stage to be worried about the future. Will this last? Will it be worth it? Am I wasting my time? But at the end of the day all we really want is support. We want someone we can tell everything to, as anything of, and not worry about being judged. We want someone to be an extension of ourselves. That sounds v dramatic, but I think it’s a lot less dramatic than we make it out to be. This poem does a great job of showing that just the little parts of sharing your thoughts can e enough, and that the peace that comes from that commitment can be better than any therapy. It reminds me that stressing about relationships is useless, because relationships shouldn’t be about stress. This poem is telling us to chill t f out and I dig it. 

“Long Marriage” by Gerald Fleming

You’re worried, so you wake her & you talk into the dark: Do you think I have cancer, you say, or Were there worms in that meat, or Do you think our son is OK, and it’s  wonderful, really—almost ceremonial as you feel the vessel of your worry pass miraculously from you to her— Gee, the rain sounds so beautiful, you say—I’m going back to sleep.

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To-Read Tuesdays ~2/23/16

--Sarah Zandi, Penn C’17

This week, staff member Siyona wants to read Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage by Alice Munro: “Weaving together the titular themes across a series of short stories, Munro’s writing  has drawn comparisons to Flannery O’Connor’s work.”

Read if: Any part of the title hits home and you want more of (or an introduction to) Munro’s writing.   

Staff member Julian wants to read Vladimir Nabokov’s Speak, Memory: This is a collection of short stories that serve as an autobiography for Nabokov from 1903 until 1940 when he emigrated to America. It mostly deals with his childhood, and is dedicated to his wife Vera.

Read if: You loved Lolita, (like everyone should) and want more of that famous Nabokov writing.

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To-Read Tuesdays ~1/2/16

This week, staff member Cody Smith wants to read The Love Object: Selected Stories, by Edna O’Brien: “Edna O’Brien is one of Ireland’s most talked about and most respected living writers. Her bio is scandalous and her reputation is impeccable. What more could I ask from a writer? Alice Munro loves O’Brien’s short stories and I love Alice Munro. These stories have been collected from across O’Brien’s long career.”

Read if: You want an expansive window into one of English literature’s most “storied” literary careers.

Staff member Sam Myers wants to read To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf: “Explore one family’s trials and tribulations in their trips to the Isle of Skye in Scotland, as well as the complexities of experience and human relationships.”

Read if: Florence + The Machine’s “What the Water Gave Me” also made you a major Virginia Woolf fangirl.

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february horoscopes

this month’s horoscopes come from guest writer alex russell (@futuraextrabold) :

aries: i just checked and the people making your subway don’t mind if you want to get specific with the salad, you can always ask for a little extra of whatever if you didn’t get as much as you really wanted. heck, ask for a specific number of olives if you’re feeling precise today. you’re in control and you deserve a sandwich you’ll love as much as you possibly can. try using this newfound confidence and right to greatness in other areas once you’ve had a bite to eat.

taurus: there’s no shame in wearing earplugs to a gig, or even the club. loads of places give them out for free because it’s a good idea to wear them, plain and simple. don’t worry about what anyone else will think, it’s probably not worth having friends who want you to have tinnitus.

gemini: cancer, except with interpersonal relationships

cancer: be wary in public toilets. every time you sit on a wet seat or find out something’s broken you swear you’ll be more careful in the future, but honestly, do you ever remember until it’s already happened again?

leo: i know it's tempting to put food you can't get often or that you really love on a pedestal, always saving it for the perfect time to eat it and thinking any moment you fancy it isn't good enough, but it's way more imperfect to let it go out of date than to eat it while watching buffy in your underwear.

virgo: lie to strangers. not big ones, and not in a mean way, just for a harmless bit of fun. see if you can convince someone you'll never see again that you're a different age, from a different city, that you worked with katy perry early in her career, that you're in town because you run some ludicrous startup company doing experimental marketing for a secret michael bay project or you make kickstarted bluetooth enabled minimalist bikeseats. could be exciting.

libra: allow yourself the simple pleasure of reading up about random shit on wikipedia and following whatever links come up. did u know boris johnson claims to have boxed against the dali llama? there’s a whole page for “alternate forms of the name John”. have some fun with it.

scorpio: use the moments u fake text in public when yr trying to look busy or trying to avoid social stuff to actually write stuff. u could get a fairly sizeable online following for making introverted microfiction tbh.

saggitarius: you can do it pal. 

capricorn: try and find your old social media accounts this month. who gave u bebo luv? what’s your myspace looking like? check out what was important to 14 year old u and the conversations you had, reminding yourself of your old passions could be really heartwarming. or it could be the most soul-crushingly embarrassing thing in the world, in which case, now is the time to plan your response if other people find them, or try and annihilate every sign that younger you (and most importantly, your old hairstyles) ever existed.

aquarius: if you kept a notebook in the toilet you could probably make a zine with all the time u spend in there. you could call it ‘shit lit’. or ‘toilet paper’. or ‘flush!’. something to think about.

pisces: how cool would it be to get loads of those glow in the dark stars you put on kids ceilings and place them all around town? stick them on signs and buildings and trees and all sorts. make the city beautiful, maybe make some kid’s day? let’s fuckin do it oh wow i’ll join u.

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Weekly Round-Up ~1/24/16

Literary Links

“50 Films by Women You Can Watch Online Right Now,” Flavorwire 

“Reviving the Memory of a Black Pioneer,” The New Yorker 

“An Interview with Junot Diaz,” Asymptote

Music Links

“Kamasi Washington’s Giant Step,” The New York Times Magazine

“Breaking the Silence in the Music Industry,” The Atlantic

News Links

“As Water Problems Grew, Officials Belittled Complaints From Flint,” The New York Times

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Deconstructive Criticism ~12/20/15

This week, Susanna Buff’s deconstructive critique is of “Mary and Her Child,” a fourteenth-century poem with no known author:

My friend is abroad and recently purchased a book of fourteenth-century poetry and challenged me to one of them. Let’s DO IT. This poem is clearly written in old English, which is a subject I have zero experience with. I noticed that the author uses “cum” instead of “come,” which in today’s vocabulary gives it a very sexual flavor despite the actual text telling a different story. An initial read through reveals Mary, wondering how her tiny baby can be not only the son of God, but God Himself (for all the non Christians out there, this is Mary’s perspective- not tryna preach 2 u). The most incredible part is how baby Jesus responds to his mother and tells her that it’ll all be okay because some kings are going to bring presents.  It’s a clear image of Mary as the classic mother/woman, amazed at her son and needing material proof that he really is who she believes he is. Even though the man in this is a baby, it is still the man who tells her it will be okay and tells her what to do. Jesus is presumably a whole day old in this and already commanding her. And she listens. It’s an interesting power dynamic. Also, the “cum” v “come” thing adds a whole element of innuendo in today’s world that gives it an interesting vibe.

“Mary and Her Child,” Anonymous

A lovely lady sat and sange And to her son thus gan she say: ‘My son, my lord, my dere derlyng, Why liggis thou thus in hay? Myn own dere son, How art thou cum, Art thou not God verey? But neuer the lesse I will not sese To syng “by, by, lully, lulley.” Than spake the child that was so yong And thus me thowght he said: ‘I am knowen as hevyn kyng, In cribbe thowgh I now be layd; Thow knowest it is no nay. Angellis bright To me shall light; And of that sight Ye may be light, And syng “by, by, lully, lulley.”  ‘Jhesu, my son, hevyn kyng, Why lyest thou thus in stall? And why hast thou no riche beddyng In sum ryche kyngis hall? Me thynkith by right, The lord of myght Shuld lye in riche aray; But neuer the lesse I will not sese To synge “by, by, lully, lulley.”  ‘Mary moder, quene of blis, Me thynkith it is no lawe That I shuld go to the kyngis, And they not to me drawe; But you shall see That kyngis thre To me will cum on the Twelfth day; For this beheste, Geve me your brest, And syng “by, by, lully, lulley.”  ‘Jhesu, my son, I pray the, say, As thou art to me dere: How shall I serue the to thy pay, And mak the right good chere? All thy will I wold fulfill, Thou knoweste it well, in fay; Both rokke the still And daunce the ther-till, And synge “by, by, lully, lulley.”  ‘Mary, moder, I pray the, Take me vp on loft, And in thyn arme Thow lappe me warm, And daunce me now full ofte; And yf I wepe, And will not slepe, Than syng “by, by, lully, lulley.”  ‘Jhesu, my son, hevyn kyng, Yf it be thy will, Grant thow me myn askyng, As reason wold, and skyll: What so euer they be That can and will be Mery on this day, To blis them brynge, And I shall syng: “Lulley, by, by, lully, lulley.”