Hopefully, everyone had a wonderful holiday— it was easy if you tried, and all you really needed was a little lip service. It's December already, though it feels only like October. We can already see the happy holiday commercials which make us miserable. Please don't worry- finals are not that big a deal. Sadly, it is coming to the end of Ariana, Miriam, Christina, Victor, and myself as bloggers for the english majors— it's been a blast— and we leave the office hoping that we made a little bit of difference in the department. We can only hope that the first semester interns, as well as the incoming next semester, will continue the tradition of Bob Dylan, T.S. Eliot, Hemingway, Elvis Costello, Andy Warhol, and vegetable poetry, but we can only hope. In fear of being sentimental, I would like to take this opportunity to say that I very much enjoyed my time as Professor Natov's intern, and that I truly hold a fondness in my heart for every single intern from both semesters, and for our wonderful professor.
An eighty-nine-year old John Demanjuk has just gone on trial in Munich for the assistance in the murder of about 28,000 Jews during the war. He faces fifteen years in prison, which makes his crime seem only slightly more terrible than tax fraud. Surviviors from Poland and Germany have come forth as first-hand eyewitnesses, though Demanjuk has the audacity to claim that he "was just following orders," reminiscent of Nuremberg. Demanjuk has been living in Ohio as a used car salesman which seems like the perfect occupation for a Nazi, and it is just unfortunate that it took this long to get this man on trial. Ah, Deutschland, you could have been a contender. If only you could get something right.
- David Abady
Source: BBC News Image Source: www.topnews.in/files/John-Demjanjuk1.jpg
Man Misdiagnosed for 23 Years
Rom Houben, a now-46 year old Belgium man, had been trapped in his own body for 23 years. After a car accident at age 20, Houben was diagnosed as first being comatose, then in a vegetative state. A person in a coma is unconscious with his eyes closed and unable to be roused. A vegetative condition means the patient’s eyes are open, and periods of sleep alternate with wakefulness, but the patient is unconscious and cannot think nor respond. As it turns out, however, Houben’s initial diagnosis was way off the mark. Despite his body’s paralysis, Houben’s brain was almost fully functioning. Advanced brain scans not around at the time of his diagnosis recently revealed the man’s near-normal brain waves, and helped to finally free Houben’s aware mind. A system of communication has since been devised, via a touchscreen computer device attached to Houben’s wheelchair. Houben describes his lost years with words like “powerlessness” and “frustration,” and his rescue a “renaissance.” He has begun to write a book after so many years of suffering silently. It is not only thanks to technological innovation that Houben has regained some control over his life, but thanks to a mother’s undying hope, too. All along, Houben’s parents refused to believe that their son was, for all intents and purposes, gone from this world. Even after Houben’s father died (news that Houben had indeed overheard while in the hospital, but was of course unable to communicate nor grieve over), his mother took him from hospital to specialist in search for a breakthrough. Her optimism and persistence was ultimately rewarded, and serves as a lesson to us all not to give up on a lost cause. Unfortunately, erroneous consciousness diagnoses are as common as 4 in 10 cases. Until doctors can learn how to more accurately diagnose patients, people should bear this case in mind when tackling a tough, controversial medical/ethical issue such as “pulling the plug” on a family member in a supposed “vegetative state.” A human being by any other name is still human- even if labeled a “vegetable.”
Forty six years old Annie wakes up every morning at 7:00 a.m. and begins her morning routine. Her favorite morning show blares while she brushes her teeth, puts on her underclothes and buttons her dress. After treating her feet with a prescription moisturizer, she pulls on her stockings, sticks her feet into a pair of worn, black lace-ups and heads for the mirror. First Annie brushes her hair. Next she treats her wrists to a light spray of Dolce and Gabbana. Finally she applies a light blue eye shadow to her eyes and a hint of blush to her cheeks. After a brief assessment in the mirror, she heads out of her room, down the hallway, and into the kitchen. Behind a magnet on the fridge is a chart that dictates what she will be having for breakfast this morning. Annie is pre-diabetic so it’s important that she adheres to her menu. By 8:15, Annie is ready to leave for work. Sounds like a typical enough morning, no? Save for a few individualized actions, Annie’s morning routine probably mirrors many of ours. But when they pass her on the street, many people unfamiliar with her demographic will uneasily look the other way. Some people even cross the street. Perhaps they are scared; they think she has some sort of disease they don’t want to catch. Perhaps they are simply uncomfortable; they worry about how to react if Annie starts talking to them. Mostly they are just ignorant; they don’t realize how many similarities they share with the woman with Down syndrome. Approximately 1 out of 800-1,000 births in the U. S. results in Down syndrome. The abnormality is caused by a malfunction in the twenty-first chromosome; where most of us have two copies of every chromosome in our DNA, people with Down syndrome have three. Its physical manifestations are generally characterized by an abnormally small chin, almond shape eyes, a protruding or oversized tongue, and shorter limbs. People with Down syndrome are also prone to below average cognitive capabilities, but, like most of us, with an accommodative family environment, proper education, and lots of love and nurture, they can overcome the obstacles that life’s many challenges might otherwise provide. I can continue to dwell on the differences between someone with Down syndrome, but why dwell on differences when we share so many more similarities? Like many of us, Annie would take a sunny day over a rainy day and a huge piece of cake over a salad; she does have a hard time following a restrictive diet. At times she is resolute, and won’t sway from her menu; other times the temptation of a small candy bar is hard to resist and, like many of us, she’ll sneak a piece from the cabinet when no one is looking. Annie has a boyfriend at work named Arnie , and like many people I know, Annie is not ready to commit. Like many of us, Annie likes dancing and loves music. She appreciates socializing and is especially fond of vacations—last summer she spent a week in Los Angeles with her friends where they hit up Disneyland, the beach, and Rodeo Drive. Annie lives in a residential home with two other women, only one of whom has Down syndrome. The home belongs to an agency whose mission is to help people with various mental obstacles overcome their limitations and actualize their potentials. There is always a counselor on hand but her role is only to help out in situations where Annie would otherwise be at risk. Every few months, Annie and her roommates have private meetings with a program coordinator where they work on setting short and long-term goals for themselves. Each woman decides what she would like to accomplish and discusses how they would like to go about implementing their goal. Annie, for example, likes a system where she is rewarded for small goals; for example, she likes a soda when she is in bed on time. A goal can be anything from learning to go to the bank by herself to refraining from arguing when one of her friends upsets her. During the day, Annie goes to a workshop. The particular workshop she attends has negotiated a contract with companies that provide packaging and assembly jobs for Annie and her peers. Their goal is to prepare Annie for work in a mainstream environment, but in the meantime she earns money respectably in a stress-free atmosphere. When she gets home at 4 p.m., Annie prepares a salad for dinner, exercises, and prepares her lunch for the next day. Sometimes she goes out in the evening; sometimes she has dinner and watches T. V. After dinner she clears off the table and showers. Her bedtime is at 11:15 p.m. Like most of us, Annie’s day is comprised of many ups and downs—the up when her favorite song plays on the radio, the down when her bus is running late. Like most of us, Annie’s life is a bundle of struggles and triumphs, the struggle to achieve an independence we all seek, the triumph when newly accomplished goals allow for greater freedoms. And like most of us, Annie wants to be recognized as a legitimate human being, someone real and respectable. So the next time you see Annie or one of her friends on the street, in a store, or in Brooklyn college’s cafeteria, accord her the same dignity and respect you would to someone without Down syndrome. It does seem silly to have to ask this of people –don’t we recognize all people as equal?—but reality unfortunately dictates that many are unsure and confused in encountering someone with Down syndrome. Simply put, treat her like a peer. When you get to know her, you will find that she is very much like you.
I’ve been reading James Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses for quite some time now, never having the time to finish it due to all the other books I’ve had to read for school. The magic of Joyce is that every line is a poem, every phrase a glittering little metaphor, every paragraph a view into the stream-of-consciousness mind of the current narrator. This short paragraph, as told by Leopold Bloom, takes place shortly after the “pornographic” section that had this book banned in the United States for years. This December 6th will be the 76th anniversary of the ban being repealed, so what better way to celebrate then with a glimpse of the poetry that drives the entire novel?
from James Joyce’s Ulysses (page 377 in the Corrected Edition)
Tired I feel now. Will I get up? O wait. Drained all the manhood out of me, little wretch. She kissed me. My youth. Never again. Only once it comes. Or hers. Take the train there tomorrow. No. Returning not the same. Like kids your second visit to a house. The new I want. Nothing new under the sun. Care of P.O. Dolphin’s barn. Are you not happy in your? Naughty darling. At Dolphin’s barn charades in Luke Doyle’s house. Mat Dillon and his bevy daughters: Tiny, Atty, Floey, Maimy, Louy, Hetty. Molly too. Eightyseven that was. Year before we. And the old major partial to his drop of spirits. Curious she an only child, I an only child. So it returns. Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home. And just when he and she. Circus horse walking in a ring. Rip van Winkle we played. Rip: tear in Henny Doyle’s overcoat. Van: breadvan delivering. Winkle: cockles and periwinkles. Then I did Rip van Winkle coming back. She leaned on the sideboard watching. Moorish eyes. Twenty years asleep in Sleepy Hollow. All changed. Forgotten. The young are old. His gun rusty from the dew.
***
We’ve all felt that way. Drained. Maybe from finals, maybe from work or family or friends or oh god that paper is due friday and I’ve forgotten and perhaps even tired like Leo is tired, tired from love and unlove and the degrading and lonely self-love that Billy Joel sings about in Captain Jack. Leopold Bloom, older Irish gentleman, watches young girls and thinks of his own young love, of eighteen-eightyseven when he and wife Molly were not yet—what? Married? Dating? In love? Joyce gives us snapshots, Leo won’t think on it. “Year before we.” He remembers Molly’s father and how both he and she are only children and how “it returns” with his one living daughter, an only child next to his dead-at-11-days-old son. Leopold ran, free at last, and got nowhere—running into Molly, “yourself,” the very person you try to run from. They played a game and it was probably summer and he did love her then, and remembers her love and her large and sad and black “Moorish eyes” and how she watched him playing “Rip van Winkle coming back” in charades when no one can ever come back, when “Never again…returning not the same.” But still she watched him, and it was like he or she or the world was asleep because he can remember those eyes like it was yesterday, but it wasn’t, it was twenty years ago, twenty years he or she or the world was asleep and today he awoke and “all changed,” all “forgotten.” The young, be that he or Molly or Tiny and Floey and Maimy and Louy and Hetty or even his very own daughter are now “old.” Luke Doyle, or Matt Dillon, or Molly’s father, “the old major,” or maybe even Rip van Winkle himself who all may be dead or dying leave nothing behind but a gun, one that was perhaps used so often when you blink your eyes and see twenty years ago and realize how much has passed, how much you’ve left behind, how much you can never get anything back, nothing but that gun that isn’t even used anymore, but lies alone, “rusty from the dew.”
We just passed Thanksgiving. Be thankful for all you’ve left behind. Those we love will not be with us forever and going back is an impossibility even when we wake up one morning and feel like we’ve slept for hundreds of years, like we don’t know our own face in the mirror or the hands of someone we once could not let go of; parent, lover, friend. Joyce’s stream-of-consciousness passage of Leo’s suffering mind places that feeling on all of us, that life is complicated and difficult and exhausting but so impossibly beautiful, that language and memory are mystical in their imperfections and omissions and the puzzle-piece way we live surrounded by pointless details like Henny Doyle’s overcoat ripping that just makes living—and dying—even more ridiculously imperfect yet lovely, that we all have days when we feel the way the modernists felt, that nothing is new, what we remembered and love is gone, that Molly will no longer look at Leopold with those Moorish eyes and her head leaning on the sideboard and that all we’re left with is a gone rusty from what nature has done to it—a reminder of what it does and will do to us—but the language is poetry, and the memory is poetry—
And Joyce makes us see that even the very rusting is beautiful.
-Christina Squitieri Picture courtesy of seikinsou (Flickr)
Though perhaps the least celebrated of George Orwell’s novels, Keep the Aspidistra Flying is both one of the most humorous and heartbreaking of his extensive repertoire.
The story, first published in 1936, chronicles the plight of Gordon Comstock in his measured attempts to divest himself of lower middle class trappings and sink into a life of abysmal poverty. An aristocrat by blood, Gordon is disillusioned watching his relatives struggle to make ends meet having long ago squandered the family fortune. His sister Julia ekes out a living as a seamstress and lives alone in a dismal efficiency unit. Her only hope is that Gordon can secure a “good” job and make the family wealthy and respectable again.
The pressure upon Gordon to advance his career, wed and reproduce (he is also the end of the Comstock family line) pushes him to a breaking-point. He quits his menial-but-promising job at an advertising firm and goes to work at a used bookstore for pennies a day. He tries to make a living off his writing, but succeeds only in publishing a thin volume of poetry which languishes in bargain-bins in bookstores across London.
Gordon also becomes delinquent in the rent of his room at a seedy boarding-house and has to stealthily avoid his meddlesome landlady, at times spending the night outdoors to avoid her tirades.
Despite his destitute situation, Gordon continues to see his girlfriend Rosemary, who is disturbed by his economically self-destructive behavior.
Gordon experiences first-hand the limitations imposed upon the working poor. He becomes deeply neurotic, discovering that without money, he is unable to participate in society. He can no longer join his friends at the pub or take his girlfriend out to eat.
He receives unexpected proceeds from the sale of his book but loses his job after a subsequent tryst with some prostitutes ends up in the local paper. He is forced to pawn everything but the clothes on his back. Now truly destitute, he is denied life’s most basic amenities. He can no longer afford tobacco. He is forced to live on tea and toast and is evicted by his landlady. He moves into a vermin-infested flop-house and recedes into a starvation stupor, only to be discovered by Rosemary several days later. She is horrified and insists they take a trip to the country so he can regain his health. Along the way, Rosemary offers Gordon her virginity but they have to abstain, since Gordon cannot afford a condom.
Keep the Aspidistra Flying showcases the dark underbelly of capitalism all too familiar to the indigent and working-poor but shocking and maddening to a former aristocrat. Gordon is alternately disgusted by society’s obsession with money and status and terrified someone will notice he is broke. In the end he shakes his self-induced poverty as quickly as he took it on, which despite being the most realistic of conclusions, may seem to be a bit of a cop-out. That, however, is for you to judge.
Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you If you’re young at heart. For it’s hard, you will find, to be narrow of mind If you’re young at heart.
You can go to extremes with impossible schemes. You can laugh when your dreams fall apart at the seams. And life gets more exciting with each passing day. And love is either in your heart or on it’s way.
Don’t you know that it’s worth every treasure on earth To be young at heart. For as rich as you are, it’s much better by far To be young at heart.
And if you should survive to 105, Look at all you’ll derive out of being alive! Then here is the best part, you have a head start If you are among the very young at heart.
And if you should survive to 105, Look at all you’ll derive out of being alive! Then here is the best part, you have a head start If you are among the very young at heart.
The song Young at Heart, performed by Frank Sinatra (Francis Albert Sinatra) is a pop ballad, with music composed by Johnny Richards and lyrics by Carolyn Leigh. In 1953, the song was written and published and Ol’ Blue Eyes was the first to perform this marvelous ballad. The song became a top hit on the music charts and was the muse for the movie “Young at Heart”, which starred Frank Sinatra and Doris Day.
One of Ol’Blue Eyes’ idols was Bing Crosby. In 1935, Sinatra was accompanied with his soon to be wife, Nancy Barbato, when he heard Crosby sing and he knew then, that he yearned to be a singer. Bing’s voice was an inspiration; his tone and phrasing style which Sinatra adopted for his own. Singing, Sinatra stated “Throughout my career, if I have done anything, I have paid attention to every note and every word I sing -- if I respect the song. If I cannot project this to a listener, I fail.” Well, this was evident through his spectacular crooner voice and the possibility to hear each and every syllable in the words he sung. It was serendipity that Sinatra suffered from a torn eardrum at birth due to a doctor’s forceps, while this kept him out of the military it didn’t deter him from creating brilliant music for decades to come.
There is no surprise that The Chairman of the Board (Sinatra) won multiple Grammy Awards, his records are multi-platinum, and in 1994, he received the Grammy Legend Award. Through his music, people are reminded of the significance of love, appreciating the opposite sex, living in the moment and the beauty of life. His song Young at Heart conveys that life is wonderful and individuals should grasp each moment as they arrive. Life isn’t just about waking up every day and going through routines but it’s what you make of it. The song illustrates that you are as old as you want to be and to believe in whatever makes you smile and feel alive because it keeps you “young at heart.” Live life to its fullest and don’t harp on things you should have done, it’s not about living in the past but utilizing your experiences to create a more productive future. It shows that nothing is guaranteed and when “your dreams fall apart at the seams” laugh it off and pick yourself back up. Nothing is what you expect it to be, which creates the mysterious journey of life.
Sinatra faced success and failure during his extensive career as an entertainer but, he never stopped singing. While new musical fads and trends- soft rock, hard rock, rap, hip-hop, come and go, Sinatra has portrayed one of the most influential musicians in American culture. The Voice was buried with a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pack of Camel cigarettes, a Zippo lighter and ten dimes. The spirit of Sinatra will continuously live on, as his unique style hitchhikes its way through every genre of music.
Not Just A Quintessence of Dust: Broadway’s Hamlet
“Remember me,” echoes the ghost of the dead King Hamlet in Act I, Scene V of Shakespeare’s epic play, “Remember me.” From the minute the lights beam up on a stark and dismal stage, on the ghost glowing like he would in moonlight and Barnardo’s cry of “Whose there?!” director Michael Grandage’s Hamlet is bitterly beautiful, a production that, for all its flaws, has moments that leave you breathless.
One of the finest things about Grandage’s show is how it cries its whole soul to the audience, baring itself fully on stage, evoking a feeling that was closely tied to Hamlet’s (Jude Law’s) ability to strongly convey the complexities of the young Danish prince. While Law, an extremely physical actor, can appear overdramatic and even overly comical at certain points (he often points to his head, for example, which can feel more oratory than realistic; he mimes his lines in places that should be more serious than silly), he more than compensates for it with his magical ability to be both haunting and hilarious. Law plays with Shakespeare’s words, especially when alongside Polonius (Ron Cook), an equally funny (and talented) performer. It is these two that really drive the show—Cook giving the tragedy some much-needed lightness emotion (which Law, playing off of Cook, seems to really enjoy), while Law is so physically wrecked by Hamlet’s character that he is literally fighting back tears on stage. Miraculously, Law’s expressive style is extremely effective, and his character is a very funny, very smart (perhaps too smart: “nothing is either good nor bad; but thinking makes it so”), very hurt, and very believable Prince Hamlet.
Unfortunately, not all the actors possess his quality. While Cook is quite a smirk-worthy Polonius, the rest of the cast seems drab at best. Gertrude (Geraldine James) and Claudius (Kevin R. McNally) are boring characters, blending into the background for the majority of the show (although there are memorable flickers--McNally’s soliloquy and James’s “closet” scene are both very well done, perhaps because of Law’s supporting role). Laertes (Gwilym Lee) is good in his scenes, but those are few and far between. The weakest link of this cast, however, is without a doubt—and this very upsetting—Ophelia (Gugu Mbatha-Raw), whose “mad scene” is so sane that even the actors on stage don’t believe in it. While Mbatha-Raw does play Ophelia as someone who truly loves Hamlet (the nunnery scene is one of the most beautiful in the entire show), without Law by her side she is vague, dull, and unrealistic. Horatio (Matt Ryan) was the only other truly memorable member of the cast; he possessed a caring for his friend that was very sweet, believable, and fit his character quite well. The audience is lucky that it is these three heavyweights—Law, Cook, and Ryan—who have the most stage time.
Set designer Christopher Oram seems to take the line “Denmark’s a prison” quite literally, putting together a set that could very well be a medieval Danish castle in winter. He pops in some surprises, however, that are refreshing and exciting, something that worked well for this production. The starkness was also appreciated, since it represents both the mentality of young Hamlet while echoing the set of the earliest Renaissance productions. The black, white, and grey color scheme was also very good, conveying the bleakness of the world as seen through Hamlet’s eyes. The costumes (also designed by Oram) were the only thing that really felt off—being done in contemporary dress while the rest of the design felt medieval was a bit strange—although I must admit a barefoot, thermal-shirted Hamlet walking through snow for the world’s most famous soliloquy was beautifully heart-wrenching.
All in all, I was pleasantly surprised by Broadway’s latest production of one of history’s greatest shows, finding Law’s striking performance alone enough reason to fork over some extra Christmas cash ($25 last row tickets!) and witness Hamlet for yourself. At just under three-and-a-half hours, this performance has moments that are dizzyingly passionate, lines delivered in ways that make them truer than true, and just enough gusto to make you not just believe in, but care about the disenchanted prince who feigns madness to avenge his father and gives the audience so much more. I’m not saying you’ll leave the theater a changed person (if you’d like that, go see Our Town), but perhaps you’ll leave with a few glimmers of beauty in a bleak, dark world.
So rest easy, King Hamlet; while Grandage’s Hamlet is by no means perfect, it is not easily forgotten.
-Christina Squitieri
Hamlet, a production that started in London’s West End and features the original London cast, is running for a limited Broadway engagement until December 6th. For tickets and information see www.telecharge.com
This week, Victor and Sabina asked the Brooklyn College Community, "What is your least favorite part of Thanksgiving?"
Neyra A: not being able to go anywhere because most stores are closed. and then the next day i can't go anywhere because it's black friday and I hate the crowds.
Rakhilya M: not being able to breath after you overate
Rachel A: cleaning up after the massive cooking endeavors
Christina S: The post-Thanksgiving, post-Black-Friday, post-seeing-additional-family-on-the-weekend, hitting-Sunday-night-and-realizing-you-have-3-papers-due-and-4-books-to-read-by-Monday. Basically, professors who don't realize that a holiday does not necessarily equal more free time (but usually less!)
Salim H: Not the cleaning (the women usually take care of that), but the stomachache after massively overeating
Jonathan G: yeah, the pain from overeating
Christina S: EXCUSE ME Salim??? The WOMEN take care of that???? *flails with rage*! It's 2009, not 1799! We have the right to VOTE now, you know!!!!
Daniel S: Least favorite part of Thanksgiving? The fact that women have to sit at the same table as the men.
Christina S: You alll suck.
Neyra A:and anyway, don't you have dishes to wash? less complaining, more work! chop chop!
Victor V. G: ...who let Christina out of the kitchen...?
Neyra A: seriously. go make more brownies, woman!
Jonathan G: "Least favorite part of Thanksgiving? The fact that women have to sit at the same table as the men." More like the fact that they GET to sit at the same table... times have changed HAHAHA!! i'm just kidding ladies you know I love to hate you =)
Ariana C: My least favorite part is when the merriment ceases and my parents start to look at me like, "are you still here?"
Alana Linchner: My least favorite part is hearing people complain about how much holiday shopping they have to do, when in actuality they look forward to it.
1. Use the time of a total stranger in such a way that he or she will not feel the time was wasted. 2. Give the reader at least one character he or she can root for. 3. Every character should want something, even if it is only a glass of water. 4. Every sentence must do one of two things — reveal character or advance the action. 5. Start as close to the end as possible. 6. Be a sadist. Now matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them — in order that the reader may see what they are made of. 7. Write to please just one person. If you open a window and make love to the world, so to speak, your story will get pneumonia. 8. Give your readers as much information as possible as soon as possible. To heck with suspense. Readers should have such complete understanding of what is going on, where and why, that they could finish the story themselves, should cockroaches eat the last few pages.
That tangent said, I truly hope everyone has a wonderful Thanksgiving. Whether you will be spending your night avoiding as many family members you can, vomiting up whatever you eat, and then, after pretending to care about football and finding the avoidance lonely, pretentiously quoting Hemingway to anyone who’ll listen. Mad Men reruns after A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving while sipping as many Old-fashioned as Don Draper can—without a straw—deciding to fall in love with a girl named Alison just to be able to sing “Alison” to her when you eventually end up hating her, and remembering back to last year’s Thanksgiving which you’d rather not remember. I think it was Groucho Marx who said, “You don’t need to have relatives in New Orleans in order to be unhappy.” Just substitute New York for New Orleans, and we have a raison d'être.
Scientific Research on Chemicals “Feminizing Boys” is Derogatory to Both Sexes
According to the International Journal of Andrology, males exposed to high doses of phthalates, a chemical found in plastics such as vinyl flooring and shower curtains, are becoming “more feminine” by researcher standards.
Some types of these chemicals, which are often used to produce toys (but have since been banned in the European Union), can mimic the female hormone estrogen, a fact that first began studies on their safety. The University of Rochester is the most recent to take a dip in the phthalate pool, whose team of researchers showed the effects on the brains of baby boys, making them “more feminine.”
The study, however, is horribly sexist: its “facts” are based on males who, when exposed to this chemical in the womb, were “less likely to play with boys’ toys like cars or to join in rough and tumble games.” Titled under a section called “Girls’ Play,” Elizabeth Salter-Green, director of the chemicals campaign group CHEM Trust, declared that these results were “worrying” as they showed a “disruption...in male behavior…” (evident in the fact that exposed boys were less likely to “play with cars, trains and guns or engage in ‘rougher’ games like playfighting”). This “feminizing capacity,” Salter-Green said, made these children “true ‘gender benders.’”
Now wait just a minute. Not playing with trains means you’re “feminine”? Maybe I am an anomaly here, but I played with trains when I was a child. I also played with toy cars, got into “rough and tumble” fights with my siblings, and staged Star Wars light saber battles with my (female) cousins. Does this mean I was exposed to some strange chemical that caused my behavior to be more “masculine”? Should I contact my local congressmen and tell them to test the water supply so this cruel “gender bender” disease doesn’t affect poor little Jimmy next door? And what about playing with dolls or stuffed animals? If a younger (male) cousin or sibling starts playing with them, should I be “worried” that they’re “feminized”?
What is so terrifying about this study is how the fundamental evidence is based so deeply in pre-Jazz Age male and female stereotypes. Not only is this brutally insulting to boys (whose less-than-savvy parents read articles like these and become terrified their son is a “gender bender” because he isn’t much of a fan of violence), but to girls as well. “Girls’ Play”? Just what is that supposed to mean? Is that playing house, or pretending to cook, or clean, or bring in the paper for dear old hubby? Should I have been branded as a “gender bender” as well because I enjoyed what science tells me is exclusive to men?
Society, so we believe, has reached a place where men and women, though not yet on a level playing field, are at least perceived as reasonably equal. Men and women are crossing the lines of pre-suffrage gender roles everyday—men staying home and taking care of children, women getting corporate jobs or construction jobs or mechanic jobs, men joining the fashion or doll or childcare industry. There is no longer a stigma if a woman wants to devote her life to law or politics, just as there is no longer a stigma if a man wants to devote his life to his children. It is one thing if phthalates are proven to have physical side-effects, such as genital abnormalities, but to consider youngsters who are less likely to play with traditionally boyish games as somehow “gender bend[ing]” (as if they were drag queens) is fostering such close-mindedness—under the guise of “science,” no less!—that is crippling our society. Boys can play with dolls and still be boys; girls can play with trains and still be girls. There is no law stating those things are mutually exclusive. Science shouldn’t being telling us that they are.
Photograph: Boy With Doll and Flag, Ralph Eugene Meatyard (1925-1972) Courtesy of George Eastman House Online (http://www.geh.org/)
Immigrating Women’s Rights Restored
As of December 14, female immigrants between the ages of 11-26 will no longer be required to get the now-mandatory HPV vaccine when applying for a green card. This vaccine was originally added to a list of mandatory vaccinations in July 2008. In addition to stripping women of their rights to make their own informed decisions about their bodies, the vaccinations also added between $400 and $1,000 dollars to the already $1,000+ process of applying for immigration. Ever since it was mandated, over 100 civil rights groups have protested the law, claiming it is unethical to mandate a vaccination for immigrants when it isn’t required of U.S. citizens. As a result of the protests, the U.S. Center for Disease Control and Prevention says it will only demand vaccinations which are necessary for public safety at the time of an individual’s immigration. Says Silvya Henriquez, executive director of the National Latina Institute for Reproductive Health, “More than half the immigrants who come to the U.S. seeking opportunity are women. We thank the CDC for restoring their dignity and reproductive justice.”
Scientists have recently discovered that heart disease may have been common in Ancient Egypt. Heart disease is often attributed to smoking, unhealthy diets, salt and unnatural sugar intake or inactive lifestyles. Cardiologists touring the Egyptian National Museum of Antiquities in Cairo for a conference last year inspected mummified Pharaoh Merenphtah, who ruled from 1213 B.C. to 1203 B.C. His nameplate stated that he died at approximately sixty years old; he was under distress since he had atherosclerosis, or bulking of the arties due to an upsurge of calcium, fat, cholesterol and other substances.
To delve deeper into how vast heart disease may have been during the time of the pharaohs, a team of U.S. and Egyptian cardiologists united with Egyptology and preservation experts. They gave C.T. (computerized tomography) scans to twenty two mummies dating from 1981 B.C. to 364 A.D. which were kept in the Egyptian National Museum of Antiquities to determine if these mummies, too, suffered from plaque build-up in their arteries that may have led to coronary artery disease.
Out of the twenty two mummies examined, only sixteen had heart tissues left, providing evidence of advanced atherosclerosis. Six of the ancient Egyptians possibly had thickening of the arteries while four of the ancient Egyptians had enough heart tissue left for the doctors to diagnose them with coronary artery disease. The oldest mummy to be diagnosed was Lady Rai. She was a nursemaid of the queen who lived between the years 1570 and 1530 B.C. and she likely died in her thirties. The calcium deposits that were found in her heart are among the rarest within the entire world.
There wasn’t enough evidence to determine if these mummies died from heart disease. However, Adel H. Allam, the lead author of a letter to the editor published in the Journal of the American Medical Association, stated, "In some of the papyrus, we discovered that actually the priests gave a good description of chest pain, of angina. If angina has been described 3,500 years ago by the priests -- the people who were taking care of the people at the time -- then probably the disease did exist." Given what Egyptologists know about the lifestyle of the Egyptian elite, only the rich were able to afford the mummification process. Numerous cardiologists are not surprised that many of the elite had clogged arteries, since there were no refrigerators and the Egyptians used lots of salt on their food.
Today’s societal trend of struggling to stay healthy, fit and beautiful, may have stemmed from the beauty ideal of the past. John Baines, a professor of Egyptology at the University of Oxford England, pointed out that on cave paintings, "depending on the period, you can look and see there was a body ideal of being slim, especially for women. If you're a man you should be muscular, but slim, and if you're a woman you should be quite slim.” It seems almost ironic that even then they were worried about body image but not how their diet would affect them. It appears that our most recognized diseases in modern times affected our past relatives as well. - Alana Linchner
“And what costume shall the poor girl wear?” Warhol Superstar and Velvet Underground singer Nico repeatedly asks, referring to the constant parties and constant array of drugs and sex and sadomasochism occurring in their majesty’s infested quarters. Andy Warhol’s factory in midtown Manhattan was the habitat and oasis for all the homosexuals, bisexuals, transsexuals, asexuals, pansexuals, and liberated heterosexuals of the mid-60’s post beatnik, pre-hippie, post Kennedy, pre-Nixon, post British Invasion of fedora-liberated America which had its residence in the New York underground. It was a great stop to just lay around and embellish in your own version of heralded existentialism with Warhol watching, waiting, vampiric in his quest for historicity, gratefully willing to capture someone’s entire being on film in his playground of white light and junk to be mainlined at his or her own preference. The silver-haired, chalk-pale Warhol, supposedly an asexual homosexual, always the oldest man in the room in his mid-30’s, loved to watch, and seeing young, beautiful people bearing their souls, destroying themselves, whether in life or death, was copasetic for his lens, the ultimate peeping Tom looking out at his Lady Godiva’s. Indifference was common in the factory, with everyone just a mirror of their former selves, a mere shadow, trying desperately to achieve some sort of fame, to be noticed, and to matter. It was said that when Warhol met Edie Sedgwick, and witnessed her fast downward spiral, he commented to the factory regulars, “I wonder when Edie is going to kill herself. I hope she lets us know so we can film it.” But in 1965 everyone wanted a piece of Andy, whether it was the models, philanthropic donors, East Coast socialites, pretentious filmmakers, musicians, artists, restaurateurs, and entrepreneurs. As the Greenwich Village scene overlapped with the factory scene, thanks in large part to Sedgwick’s love life, even Bob Dylan came into the factory looking for a screen test, but, after taking one look at Warhol biting his nails effeminately, took the artist for a joke and threw darts at his paintings. Lou Reed parodied all of the Superstars in his Walk on the Wild Side: “Holly came from Miami FLA/Hitchhiked her way across the USA/Plucked her eyebrows on the way/Shaved her legs and then he was a she.” But almost everyone who came into the factory were left wounded or dead. Joan Didion has a quote where she speaks about how reaching a certain age guarantees that the wounds will begin to heal whether one wants them to or not; unfortunately, most of the souls living the fast life at Andy Warhol’s were not given the luxurious chance to reach that point, granted most of them were already troubled when they got there. Again, Lou Reed’s Walk on the Wild Side: “Jackie is just speeding away/Thought she was James Dean for a day/Then I guess she had to crash/Valium would have helped that bash....” After the factory’s heyday, which began with the attempted assassination of Warhol in 1968, most of its entourage were left close to broke, but the self-promoting genius of Andy Warhol rendered him a multimillionaire.
— David Abady
Image source: http://photos.thefirstpost.co.uk/opinion/2005/07/images/070122warhol.jpg Video source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vgcuU_JWuQU&feature=quicklist
“Live Like We’re Dying” Songwriters: Andrew Frampton; Stephen Kipner; Daniel O'Donoghue; Mark Anthony Sheehan
Sometimes we fall down and can't get back up We're hiding behind skin that's too tough How come we don't say I love you enough Till it's too late, it's not too late
Our hearts are hungry for a food that won't come We could make a feast from these crumbs And we're all staring down the barrel of a gun So if your life flashed before you What would you wish you would've done
Gotta start Lookin at the hand of the time we've been given here This is all we got and we gotta start pickin it Every second counts on a clock that's tickin' Gotta live like we're dying
We only got 86,400 seconds in a day to Turn it all around or throw it all away We gotta tell 'em that we love 'em While we got the chance to say Gotta live like we're dying
And if your plane fell out of the skies Who would you call with your last goodbyes Should be so careful how we live out our lives So when we long for absolution There'll be no one on the line
You never know a good thing till it's gone You never see a crash until it's head on All those people right when we're dead wrong You never know a good thing till it's gone
Gotta start Lookin at the hand of the time we've been given here This is all we got and we gotta start livin it Every second counts on a clock that's tickin' Gotta live like we're dying
We only got 86, 400 seconds in a day to Turn it all around or throw it all away We gotta tell 'em that we love 'em While we got the chance to say Gotta live like we're dying ----------------------------------------------------------- The song above was made famous as the first hit single of American Idol Season 8 winner Kris Allen, but actually originated from an Irish pop group called “The Script.” Regardless of the source, I am grateful. This song reminds us, in a compelling and creative way, that our time here on earth will inevitably expire, and so we should make the most of every day. The “carpe diem,” “no day like today” theme is by no means fresh to our ears, between modern plays and movies like “Rent,” but I do admire the way these lyrics incorporate modern-day scenarios and relatable metaphors to the “live with no regrets” mantra, making me feel saddened and inspired all at once. Reading the lines above, I got a clear sense of the fear felt on the last day of a life, and the wistful feelings of regret and desire for just one more day that may very well come with it. “We’re hiding behind/skin that’s too tough” is probably my favorite line, exposing the true nature of people, while encouraging the healthy release of positive emotions like love and kindness. To me, this poem says, “Don’t be afraid to show people you care, to express your love. Life’s too short to waste time on insignificant matters.” Because in the end, what does matter are the relationships you’ve fostered, the time you’ve shared with friends and family. And more than ever, in this “isolating age” (as the Rent song “What You Own” so aptly puts it), I think people need reminding of that. At the end of the day, it’s your life; what will you make of it?
The Killers is Hemingway’s short story that introduces Nick Adams as a young adult. Set primarily in a small-town diner called Henry’s in a town called Summit, it begins at the get-go with the arrival of two boorish strangers whose belligerent ordering of lunch at the diner displays Hemingway’s trademark manner of minimalist understating irony and the satirical portrayal of “The Lost Generation.” The plot thickens when the strangers, whom we now know as Al and Max, switch from merely being rude to the patron to violently apprehending the diner’s owner and cook, George and Sam. And in vintage Hemingway style he keeps his villains as hysterically roughshod, mouthing off at one another as much as at their victims. Hemingway sets up his villains as stereotypical Chicago-bred goons making a living off prohibition. As the gangsters tie up the diner’s patrons, shove Nick in the back with them calling him constantly “bright boy,” their intentions are slowly revealed through the word vomit of Max, clearly the less intelligent of the two. They are there to perform a “hit” on one of Henry’s regulars. As the two men wait impatiently for their victim, Ole Anderson, to show up, they keep Nick entertained with their witty banter and emotional abuse of their company. Realizing Ole Anderson will not show up that night, they leave the diner but not before mouthing off one last breath of candor, telling the small-town folks they are lucky to be alive. When Al and Max leave the diner is when Nick Adams becomes the main focus of the story, setting out to warn Ole Anderson of his looming doom, though when Nick arrives at the home of Anderson, we witness Anderson listlessly listening to Nick’s warning, unmoving in his bed and paying no heed, still wearing his heavyweight boxing gear, completely indifferent to his fate. Nick becomes adamant to not stay around and witness the murder, and the mundane “life-goes-on” mentality of everyone involved displays a sad example of having no hope among all the victims of “The Lost Generation.”
Bob Dylan, Live at the United Palace November 19th, 2009
Keeping in tradition with the last two semesters of the Boylan Blog, we have another article about Bob Dylan. All I can say in my defense is…sorry, I couldn’t help myself. BUT, before the repetitiveness gets to you and you smack your head against your monitor in frustration, this article is different! I, in my unquenchable obsession with the musical legend, had the thrill and privilege to attend the last two concerts in this year’s world tour—both of which were unequivocally beyond spectacular. But, since I had fourth row seats the final night, and don’t particularly feel any accurate reviews are given, I wish to use this space to critique and comment on it myself.
To get you up to date, the sixty-eight year old musical legend is still on his “never ending tour” with his band: Tony Garnier on bass guitar, George Recile on drums, Stu Kimball on rhythm guitar and Donnie Herron who plays viola, banjo, electric mandolin, pedal steel, lap steel, and trumpet. Bob Dylan himself alternates between guitar, keyboard, and harmonica. But, what made this show (and the last few) so special, was the reintroduction of former lead guitarist Charlie Sexton, who toured with him from 1999 to around 2004. I had only seen Dylan with his previous guitarist, Texan native Denny Freeman, who I’ve always had mixed feelings about. In the five previous times I’ve seen him, all of his lead guitar work had been understated, and even though Dylan has never been known for a dominant lead guitar sound, I’ve always felt that his instrument goes by too unnoticed.
The show was at the United Palace on 175th street and Broadway—very nice venue with great acoustics. Rock & Roll hall of fame-er Dion opened up the night, and after playing a quick medley of his most famous works, he fled the stage for Dylan’s incredibly set list, which goes as follows:
1. Gonna Change My Way Of Thinking I had neither heard this song played live before, nor really wanted to. It’s a track off Slow Train Coming, the first album from his Christian phase, which in the studio lacked all the intensity and density that Dylan gives it when performed live. With Dylan growling from his station stage right behind his keyboard and Herron on lap steel, the song was an amazing and captivating opener. Dylan roaring, “I’m so hungry I could eat a horse” was a crowd pleaser, and set the bar for a great show. I was able to get a clear look at Dylan, being so close. Fully decked out in his white gambler hat and his civil war uniform, he was quite a sight—and even wilder through binoculars. What amazed me most is that despite all the years he has now between his 60s self, he still has all the same mannerisms. This is something people tend to forget very often—he’s still the same man who was booed off stage for playing “Like a Rolling Stone” and “Maggie’s Farm” and started out at the New Port Folk Festival with his classic topographical folk songs like “The Times are a Changin.’”
2. The Man In Me A classic off New Morning, which appeared in the soundtrack of the movie The Big Lebowski. The lights dimmed, and the first riff of the song blared through the darkness—and anyone who’s ever heard the song new was coming…a rare treat for Dylan fans, considering how he changes many of his older songs. He played “It Ain’t Me, Babe” the night before, which was one hundred percent unidentifiable—this, however, was spot-on with the original. When the stage lights returned, the crowed was thrilled to find Dylan center stage, singing and moving along with the song. Herron on trumpet gave the song a nice feel—making it an all over great Dylan-number to hear live.
3. Beyond Here Lies Nothin' The first number on his recent hit, Together Through Life, Beyond Here Lies Nothin', in my opinion sounds better live—and from what I’ve read, Dylan agrees. Bob has always said he replicates his songs better in person then he ever could on record. Keeping in track with this, without the accordion dominating the melody, the song gained more of a punch. Coupled with the added conduciveness the rhythm had for Dylan’s voice, this one could really knock your teeth out. Herron was still on trumpet, which again, aided the song.
4. Most Likely You Go Your Way (And I'll Go Mine) A track off Blonde on Blonde, and recently remixed by Mark Ronson, this number was a repeat from the night before. I’d never been a major fan of this one, but it was still great to hear—and Dylan really put his voice out there. Using his bizarre new singing techniques, “you say my kisses are not like his, but this time I’m not gonna tell you why that is,” rang out like a pistol shot. The guitar work by Sexton was amazing, and he encompassed all the trumpet work from the original song into his riffs, as well as had a mocking back and forth with Dylan, as he mimicked his vocal melody on the guitar.
5. My Wife's Home Town Another number off Together Through Life, but this one I was dying to hear. A harsh (?)comedy, Dylan for the first and only time during the night, grabbed his electric guitar and bellowed out the refrain, “all I wana say is hell is my wife’s home town.” With the lights down and the entire band hunched over their instruments in their fully decked out suits, the song became a performance piece—they looked like gangsters backed by the blues number. Garnier was on a standup bass, and Herron pulled out his electric mandolin—two great choices completing the sound.
6. Desolation Row A famous number off Highway 61 Revisited—Dylan once said in an interview he’d like to replace the national anthem in schools with this song. I agree. What made this performance so amazing was that Dylan was able to hit notes and sing like none of us thought he could. It was right on “they all play on the pennywhistle, you can hear them blow,” when it first happened—as he aimed for the high notes, his voice cracked and emerged like a baby phoenix voice of 60s Dylan, which we’d thought was long dead. This left myself and the audience in awe. Now, even to Dylan’s modern critics, we can say we’ve heard Bob Dylan sing.
7. High Water (For Charley Patton) A personal favorite off Love & Theft, High Water is based on a two-part song delta blues legend written by Charley Patton. Dylan took the main stage and just sang with his harp for this one, along with Herron plucking away on an Appalachian banjo. I’d heard this the night before, but was more than happy to hear it again. The piece seemed to almost include elements of rap, as Dylan struck great poses and shouted out his spells as fast as he did in old works such as “Subterranean Homesick Blues.” I’ve always had a theory that “Subterranean Homesick Blues” as well as Bob Dylan himself were precursors to rap and hip hop…more proof.
8. When The Deal Goes Down A sentimental track off Modern Times. I’ve always loved the tenderness of Dylan’s aged voice on this one, and live, his organ gave the number a sweeping almost carnival feel, as he crowed out, “In this earthly domain full of disappointment and pain, you’ll never see me frown” clear as a bell. Loved it, and it subdued the rest of the audience as well—everyone sat down…everyone, that is, except the kid in front of me.
9. Cold Irons Bound Another repeat number from the night before, but this time the intensity level jumped about ten folds. An eerier track of Time Out of Mind, Cold Irons Bound now has an entirely new sound and direction, which seems more on the money and concise. Dylan struck some great poses in front of the mic, and accompanied the melody with nice little harmonica interjections.
10. Workingman's Blues #2 All I can say is, wow. A personal favorite number off Modern Times, Dylan started out on the keys and decided mid-way to run to center stage. Changing up the lyrics and dancing, Dylan put all his heart and soul into the song, and for the first time, he actually sang it. I’d seen it performed twice before that night, but this time, he hit notes like he was still 60s Dylan. Possibly motivated by the crumbling economy, Workingman's Blues #2 was one of the best numbers of the night.
11. Highway 61 Revisited And deafening version of a famous oldie—I’ve seen this one every time he’s gone on live. Always good—Sexton leaping around with some amazing lead guitar work. No complaints.
12. Ain't Talkin' Second awe moment of the night, Dylan put everything into the his last track off Modern Times. With Herron on violin and Garnier on viola, the song took on an all-encompassing sound, which consumed the room with its apocalyptic feel. I have yet to hear another song that conjures the sensation that you’re walking through a barren world, all alone. It was during this number that I really took a moment to appreciate how talented each member of the band is, instead of just the quality of the song itself. Each person brings a diverse and thorough skill to the table, which alone could captivate an audience. Together, they really made me feel like I was “at the last outback at the world’s end.”
13. Thunder On The Mountain Another number I’ve seen every time—the starter on Modern Times, bluesy, intense, always good. Sexton’s lead guitar work was so intense on the opener that I wasn’t even sure it was the same song. He managed to take a basic intro blues riff and contort it just enough that he stayed with the song, but I was confused enough to not know what the song was—which, for me is very rare. The energy Sexton puts into his work is incredible, and I’m glad I got to see him work with Dylan.
14. Ballad Of A Thin Man Holy hell. This is all I can say. The lights went out, and bam—Dylan is singing and dancing like I’ve never seen before, and all the original organ melodies and piano work he did on the Highway 61 Revisited recording had been transferred to lead guitar. The front lighting cast eerie shadows on the walls, and Dylan belted out the best number of the night. I’d heard this the night before, but seeing it up close…my jaw dropped the entire song…literally.
Before:
After:
(Encore)
15. Like A Rolling Stone A classic, his classic, the classic. Always done well, and sounds decently like the original. It’s always amusing to hear Dylan singing it at his own place, while the audience follows up on the refrain as though they were listening to the album version. Dylan has had years to perfect this song, and he’s used them well.
16. Jolene A number off Together Through Life, Jolene is another song he does better live then the album—mostly because his intensity level triples. Third time I’d heard this, best yet.
17. All Along The Watchtower Another well-known number, premiered on John Wesley Harding, made famous by Jimi Hendrix—and oddly sounded like a bizarre lovechild between the two. The version Dylan plays now resembles what Hendrix did, but Dylan gives the chords and rhythm a choppier feel. Major crowd pleaser, and it left everyone on a high note—there was nothing more he could have done. The song finished and Dylan came forward when the lights returned, finger gunning the audience in all his awkward glory. Made the entire night worth it, seeing him up so close—and I got a chance to grab my binoculars and get a closer look at him as he surveyed the audience. I can only describe the look in his eyes as absolute fear—he studied us, nodded to his band with a very clear ‘that’s enough of that’ and they single-filed off the stage, ending the night. That look of fear was a tell-tale-sign, Dylan had never changed; he has and always will be the strange devise that channels whatever creative spirit he’s tapped into—shy of his audience, deep, brooding. Dylan.
For my Creative Writing class I had to attend an event that was somewhat cultural. A play was part of the list of a possible cultural event. Although I've always been a fan of the theater, I haven’t had a chance lately to attend one. I saw this as the perfect opportunity to rediscover my love for the theater. Having read and watched the movie adaptation of the Shakespeare classic "Much Ado About Nothing," I was excited to see it performed on the stage. I’ve seen many popular Broadway shows including Bye, Bye Birdie, Wicked, and Henry IV, so I was curious to see how they would depict this play on the stage. Since I was used to being a part of a big audience, I was taken aback by the vast difference between those Broadway plays and this Off-Broadway play.
The play took place on the Upper West Side at the Church of Saint Paul and Andrew. The fact that it took place inside a church was bizarre enough. The room was small and seated about forty people maximum and the stage was tiny and had minimal decorations. There was something that this play had, however, that many of the major plays don’t have: intimacy and interaction between the actors and the audience. I liked the way that the audience was made a part of the play, whether by flirting with an audience member, addressing a question or dilemma to the audience or, when making comical remarks to one another, turning and winking at the crowd. I found the play quirky compared to how I have seen other Shakespeare plays portrayed, but I felt that the way they decided to direct it was original and fresh. It was obvious that the director sought to highlight the play’s airy and humorous nature--though there are a lot of dark and intense scenes--through the actors’ wittiness, light-heartedness, and chemistry amongst themselves and with the audience.
The essential element of this play is the love-hate battle between Benedict and Beatrice. The aspect that had to be successfully portrayed was the chemistry between these two characters: the sarcasm and the sexual tension, but the love and intimacy as well. The actors that portrayed these characters did a successful job displaying the balance between love and hate. This play showed me that great plays can be found in places other than Broadway. It made me appreciate the arts and talent that we have locally.
This week, Ariana and Rachel ask: What is your favorite part of the Thanksgiving holiday?
"Seeing my entire family who all come in for Thanksgiving. I also love the food--turkey, cranberry sauce, and my grandma's amazing baked potatoes!!!" -Christina S.
"The mini-vacation from school! :) It's nice to have time to spend with family. And, of course, dessert! lol! My mother made these awesome pumpkin muffins...I already had more than my share while sampling... ;)" -Miriam S.
"Football!!!" -Avi G.
"The ride back home." -Daniel C.
"The break before finals, time with my family, food, football, parade...oh, lord so much to say!" -Jay I.
"Vacation from school." -Freda C.
"Relaxing with my family! Okay really, playing and watching football!!!!!!" -Rachel B.
"Making popcorn and watching old Cary Grant movies with my mom." -Alana L.
"Roaming from house to house sampling food and grog at each location stopping only when I collapse from overindulgence!" -Ariana C.
I speak on behalf of the entire English Major’s Office when I extend my thanks to all those who participated in and attended this semester’s Open Mic. It was our honor to receive the high caliber poets we did, and they put on an amazing show. Each year, since the office began hosting this event due to popular demand, the performances have been getting more and more intense.
The fire in the belly is growing stronger, and the bar has been raised for next year. My thanks, to one and all—fantastic job! And to all our poets and writers- remember, the Zine is coming up right around the bend, and it's never too early to submit!
PHILLY ARMY-RECRUITMENT VIDEO GAME ARCADE RAISES CONCERNS
Faced with a personnel shortage, the United States military has resorted to recruitment tactics which primarily target individuals under the age of 18 in order to ensure a continual influx of trainees. In the past year, billions of dollars have been invested in innovative army-recruitment programs such as the controversial combat-simulator video game arcade at a center in Philadelphia. The arcade is equipped with wall-to-wall screens on which potential recruits can virtually experience “realistic” combat situations while developing their firing skills. The game also zealously showcases combat vehicles and weapons that the player would supposedly have access to as a U.S. serviceperson.
Parents and activists have expressed concern that the game depicts an incomplete—if not entirely false—image of the war experience. Veterans on-staff at the arcade are available to share their stories and offer advice to the young patrons but, as recruiters, they are only permitted to offer information and anecdotes of a positive and encouraging nature. It would be impossible to accurately simulate the taking of a human life (even from afar) and the emotional and psychological consequences the soldier faces thereafter. Though points are deducted for civilian kills, opponents worry the game trivializes human life and prematurely desensitizes the potential recruit.
Like many army recruiting centers, the arcade is located in a particularly disenfranchised Philadelphia neighborhood, where young people have fewer career options and more financial incentive to enlist—especially when lured with the prospect of university scholarships or the resolution of student loan debt.
“My family doesn’t want me to go, but I told them it’s not their choice, it’s mine,” new recruit Stephan Williams told Al-Jazeera English. “I can either go and make something of my life, or I can stand on the corner and deal drugs.” Williams has been promised $50,448 in college benefits.
Perhaps the worst element of this arcade is that those who attain high scores in the combat-simulator game are convinced by recruiters that they have “earned” the right to serve. Having had their gamers’ egos stroked, they in turn enlist, seeing actual service as a continuation of the game—the final level.
- Ariana Costakes source: alJazeera English
Obsession with Perfection
With all the pressure of society, and influence from magazines and celebrities’ lifestyles, some women have felt the need to appear a certain way—whether it is a hairstyle, clothing trend, or living a certain lifestyle. But over time, women have been taking drastic measures to achieve or maintain a certain appearance. No, I'm not talking about Botox, collagen injections, face-lifts, or even the standard boob-job. It seems that recently, according to the British Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology, women are coming in requesting the "perfect vagina." This has lead to a recent inquiry as to why there is a sudden rise in the number (up to 70% more than last year) of women who are seeking cosmetic labial surgery (also known as Labioplasty), a surgery which includes the removal of excess tissue that protrudes from the vagina. Researchers and gynecologists alike believe that the demand of this surgery stems from either psychological or physical issues. While some women request this surgery because of health issues, the majority, according to research, undergo this procedure mainly for enhancing the appearance of their female genitalia. The Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology questions why women are obsessed with aesthetically pleasing genitals. They believe it has to do with being insecure, especially in front of a sexual partner. Psychologist Lih-Mei Liao believes that these patients shouldn’t get surgery to address these issues, rather they should engage in some form of counseling because there may be some deeper issue that needs to be resolved. Liao believes that it was “adverts for a homogenized, pre-pubescent genital appearance which created these insecurities in the first place.” The purpose of the article in which I found the information is to inform people that this surgery is not the easy answer to issues concerning their genitalia. According to Dr. Creighton, a lot of patients that come in for this surgery are having sexual issues or suffer from self-esteem and self-worth issues; instead of getting support and guidance for these particular issues, they are lead to believe that this surgery will remove all these issues. In fact, Dr. Creighton states, the removal of the labial tissue impairs sexual sensitivity and satisfaction. So it wouldn’t improve their sexual health. Researchers and health-care providers are condemning the surgery; they feel that surgery shouldn’t be the first resort and that the patient needs to be better informed about the pros as well as the cons that come with it.
After years of Coney Island lagging in a limbo state between “under-construction” and its usual sea-side-shady goodness, the wheels are finally in motion. 6.9 acres were purchased from Thor Equities for a healthy sum of $95.6 million dollars, making more then ninety-two percent of the shore side in city control. Bloomberg plans to develop the area with a surplus of commercial sites, from hotels to restaurants. The site will also include the island’s first rollercoaster constructed since 1927. The entertainment area may be encompassed on every side by proposals for high-rise hotels and residential housing, but the narrow strip of land designated for the park is officially under way. Currently, Thor Equities still claims to commence construction of its golden plan for timeshare high-rises, but if the city purchases more land—who knows what could happen.
As New Yorkers, we have become accustomed to the incessant noise of speeding cars, construction, uptight people, honking horns, ringing cell phones, loud obnoxious music, rudeness and shootings. New York though, would not be the same wonderful city without these attributes. Our skyscrapers, heaps of stores, various businesses, diverse films, varieties of foods, Broadway shows, musical culture, lovely parks, colossal libraries, and magnificent museums; in every season there is always something active to do in the beautiful city of New York. It may be the only location where you can find Chinese food at three a.m., and walking down any street in Manhattan you are engulfed with masses of people from every region of the earth. Peering at the entire city on a clear exquisite night, it is evident that it lives up to its name as “the city that never sleeps.” New York has an intriguing spirit unlike anywhere in the world. There are other places on the earth, though, that are extremely different from our glorious city with a surreal air of its own.
Thirty five hundred miles across the Atlantic Ocean there’s a place where the comforting silence echoes off the mountain tops, peaceful waterfalls and lakes clasp your hands with sincerity, romance mingles with the crisp air and smiles are given and received daily. Viking ships, stave churches and human carvings are a few of the many relics of Norway’s mysterious past. While the weather may be a high of thirty two degrees Fahrenheit during certain months, there is never a day without a friendly greeting, in the morning of “God morn” and a soft “God natt” in the evening. During these bitter nights it never hurts to cuddle up next to an endearing Norwegian and converse about our diverse cultures. Norway is also referred to as the “Land of the Midnight Sun.” Due to the earth tilting on an axis, the Polar Regions are continuously facing the sun during the summer solstice and tilted away from the sun during the winter solstice. The northern section of Norway lies north of the Arctic Circle which experiences the occurrence of the midnight sun. The sun does not set between the middle of May till the end of July; on the contrary though, the sun does not rise between the middle of November till the end of January. The everlasting sunlight embraces the twenty four hours creating an endless time period. The landscape of Norway from May till July is surreal and passionately romantic. This northern country which is occupied by glaciers, mountains and wildlife gives a breathtaking escape from the everyday extremities. Most people during this time of year go hiking, fishing or just take pleasure in the company of friends, family or that special loved one. This timeless period is a soothing epoch to enjoy the surroundings of the Norwegian culture and that an occurrence like this only happens during the summer months of the year. During the winter solstice, while the sun never rises, the Northern Lights (aurora borealis) are a spectacular sight. When the moonlight is absent from the sky, the Northern Lights shine and wave creating a vivacious drape of crimson, emerald and violet. The appearance of this mixed palette in the sky is caused by the interaction of charged particles from the sun with the atoms of the upper atmosphere. Norway may be cold and dreary but that’s part of its exotic beauty that keeps the world mystified. The land of the midnight sun and northern lights is magical and dreamy and compels people to wonder what else this marvelous location is waiting to reveal. The Norwegians, with their charismatic personalities, are a delight to be around and convey that the world is bursting with remarkable cultures and locations. - Alana Linchner
Femme Fatale, by Lou Reed and the Velvet Underground
Here she comes, you better watch your step She's going to break your heart in two, it's true It's not hard to realize Just look into her false-colored eyes She builds you up to just put you down, what a clown 'Cause everybody knows (She's a femme fatale) The things she does to please (She's a femme fatale) She's just a little tease (She's a femme fatale) See the way she walks Hear the way she talks You're written in her book You're number 37, have a look She's going to smile to make you frown, what a clown Little boy, she's from the street Before you start, you're already beat She's gonna play you for a fool, yes it's true 'Cause everybody knows (She's a femme fatale) The things she does to please (She's a femme fatale) She's just a little tease (She's a femme fatale) See the way she walks Hear the way she talks
Andy Warhol came up to Lou Reed at the Factory in 1965 and requested him to write a song about Warhol superstar Edie Sedgwick. On the live recording of Max’s Kansas City, Lou Reed said, “So we wrote a song about Edie, because Andy said why don’t you write a song about Edie. It’s called Femme Fatale. Edie’s a superstar… Was a superstar,” and meanwhile in the background filler off the poorly tape-recorded bootlegged concert you can overhear Jim Carroll requesting a Tuinal from someone in the audience. The song’s topic was a blue-blooded heiress from New England who grew up on a ranch in Santa Barbara that was filled with oil wells which kept the already generational old-money Sedgwick’s even richer, as well as keeping young Edie secluded from other kids while being hit on by each one of her brothers and, supposedly, having to ward off even her father’s advances. At age thirteen she witnessed her father having an affair with her mother’s friend, and in order to silence Edie he sent for a doctor to pump her up with barbiturates and institutionalize her, and she would be institutionalized again during her Cambridge years at Silver Hill Psychiatric Hospital in New Canaan for anorexia. By the time she arrived at Warhol’s factory, the silver-haired, reptilian artist was smitten with her charm and money, and, especially, her social contacts. Edie was already an amphetamine abuser at this point, and her relationship with a horny Bob Dylan turned Warhol against her so that by the time the Velvet Underground arrived at the factory, Lou Reed became smitten as well, but since Reed was almost always in a heroin and/or amphetamine euphoria he didn’t care much yet for love songs, though at Andy’s request wrote a nasty little number about the workings of the mind of a little “tart” like Edie Sedgwick, who for her part wanted nothing but to be loved, but made the mistake of wanting to be famous also. Sung stoically and coldly by Nico’s masculinity, the Warhol Superstar who replaced Sedgwick, it is a hack job on the pretty blonde socialite who allowed the ungrateful Warhol to finally break into the mainstream and be taken seriously by the New York elite, and once he had the Velvets, Warhol, a natural user, abandoned his muse when he no longer needed her. It was said that Warhol coined the phrase “fifteen minutes of fame” after Edie. And by the time Edie was all used up by Warhol, Dylan, and the rest of the counterculture of the 1960’s drug-decadent selfishness of its talent, she was able to make twenty-eight before she died during her sleep after an accidental barbiturate and vodka combination. But she will always be remembered as the Velvets’ deceitful flirt in Femme Fatale, and the woman who would “break like a little girl” among her “fog, amphetamine, and pearls” in Dylan’s Just Like a Woman.
It's never too early to submit to the Junction! Send in your poetry, short stories, and artwork to bczinesubmissions@gmail.com and bring a hard copy to 3416 Boylan.
The Poetry Club meets from 12:15 pm to 2:15 pm every Tuesday in room 2307 Boylan. Poetry Club is open to all creative writers, so stop on by!
Stop by 3416 Boylan during the week to pick up a copy of the latest Junction and information about majors, publishing opportunities, internships, and more!
Created by Dr. Roni Natov's English Majors' Counseling Office Executive Editor: Dr. Roni Natov
Editors: Kerri Byam, Katherine Conte, Joel Cruz, Nora Curry, Kerry Gertner, Sarah Gonsalves, Tumpa Mira, Margaret Sarsfield, Ryan Skrabalak, Ocean Vuong
News Brief Editors: Kerri Byam, Nora Curry, Ocean Vuong
Culture Corner Editor:
Ryan Skrabalak
Poem of the Week Editor: Joel Cruz
Currently Reading Editor: Sarah Gonsalves
Currently Listening Editor: Nora Curry
Currently Watching Editor: Katherine Conte
Posts
