I Know What You Might Be Doing This Not Quite Indian Summer
Although it isn't technically an Indian summer until the first frost, it has been unseasonably warm these past few days. So get out! Bike to the Rockaways or hike those Catskills you put off doing all summer long (you protagonist, you).
WAIT, DON'T GO BIKING OR HIKING YET. Finish up reading the rest of this week's Boylan Blog which is spectacular, I promise. Okay, I know. Try listening to this:
There, relax. Isn't that nice? So, now some clerical stuff. But clerical stuff that could very easily benefit you. Clerical stuff that could prove to be very profitable for you this semester--mentally, academically, even fiscally (Pay your cable bill! Buy an Unlimited Metrocard! Treat your dog to brand name kibble! etc.):
1) Cuny Ethics & Morality Essay Contest. Deadline is Friday, September 30th. For more information, visit www.aaari.info
2) Making Work Visible writing contest. Open to all CUNY undergrads. Deadline isn't until January 2012, but visit http://www.lehman.edu/academics/arts-humanities/AHlaboressay.php for more details.
As always, swing by 3416 Boylan Hall for even more related contests, information on literary journal submissions, and general counseling. It's going to be in the mid-eighties and humid all week. We have air conditioning. Just saying.
For those interested in finding where the video and picture at the top of the page come from, look no more.
When horrifying videos and photographs from inside thirty factory farms in Finland hit the nation’s media outlets in December 2009, there was public outrage. Not only were the pigs shown in heavily confined and dirty conditions but many of them were also in serious states of injury, the neglect of which, according to Finnish animal rights group Justice for Animals, constituted the violation of animal welfare laws. In a country where factory farmers openly pride themselves on humane practices, the undeniable evidence documented by Karry Hedberg and Saila Kivelä seemed like a personal betrayal to many people. It only makes sense, then, that the two Justice for Animals activists who took the footage finally came to court with the case this year, right?
Except that Hedberg and Kivelä aren’t in court to see the farmers indicted for their careless animal cruelty. The activists are instead in court because they are being prosecuted for their revelatory actions by Finnish authorities. More shocking still, the charges have nothing to do with trespassing on private property but are rooted entirely in the supposed defamation resulting from the videos, which the prosecution claims constitutes “disturbing the peace.” The case will come before the Finland Proper District Court in October and Hedberg and Kivelä face prison time and a fine of up to 180,000 euros if found guilty. Unfortunately, Finnish courts have a fairly disturbing track record in cases dealing with animal rights activists. What they need to do now is ask themselves some basic but serious questions: Since when is showing people the necessary truth considered defamation? And how do you disturb the peace when the peace was only a façade to begin with?
But before we start condemning the backwards justice taking place in Finland, consider this: In the last year, four states in the U.S. (New York included) have tried to pass bills banning any kind of film and photography from taking place on factory farms, which would essentially allow the farmers to perform any manner of inhumane practices without risk of exposure. So what happens in the factory farms stays in the factory farms, and we’re left to wonder when our legislation started sounding more like Vegas logic than morally guided law. If sticking our noses and cameras into arenas of injustice constitutes “disturbing the peace,” then maybe we ought to celebrate a little disturbance.
I never thought I’d like ice cream for its sense of humor; Ben & Jerry’s has just added a new flavor to their massive list: Schweddy Balls. It consists of vanilla ice cream, a hint of rum, fudge covered rum balls, and milk chocolate rum balls. Its name pays tribute to Alec Baldwin’s renowned skit on Saturday Night Live, which is provided below this posting for your viewing pleasure.
Now, who wouldn’t want a big spoon of Schweddy Balls? Apparently, One Million Moms – an organization, in association with the American Family Association, made up of mostly (as the name implies) mothers who target negative influences throughout the media, society, etc. – has raised a finger at Ben & Jerry’s for the ill sense of humor. It has decided to boycott the new flavor. Some members of One Million Moms don’t want their children asking for Schweddy Balls as they run down the aisle with it in their hand.
This isn’t the first Ben & Jerry’s flavor to gain a lot of attention. In 2009, they released Hubby Hubby, a flavor made to show support to Vermont and other states that legalized same sex marriage. Clearly, this ice cream company is very clever at making and marketing good ice cream with good intentions.
Ain’t nothing wrong with Schweddy Balls. It happens.
In addition to the gross act of injustice perpetrated by the State of Georgia last week, inmates on America's death row now have even more cards stacked against them. On Thursday, September 22nd, the State of Texas abolished the "time-honored" tradition of affording death row inmates a "fancy" last meal. Now inmates will be served your regular old prison fare. Texas Senator John Whitmire commented "enough is enough" in response to inmate Lawrence Brewer's last meal request, which included (among other things) a triple bacon cheeseburger, three fajitas, a "big bowl of okra with ketchup," two chicken-fried steaks, a pint of ice cream, and a pound of barbecue. Brewer promptly dismissed the feast when it arrived at his cell (he "wasn't hungry"), and the food was trashed. He was sentenced to death after allegedly killing a black man, James Byrd, Jr., by dragging him from the back of his truck for eight miles.
Now, Brewer's last words before he was executed on September 21st were (in response to a local news anchor's question) "As far as any regrets, no, I have no regrets. No, I'd do it all over again, to tell you the truth." Does that make my brain ache, my heart ache? Should these sort of people be given the right to the grand feast and spectacle of a "Last Meal"? Isn't it a bit antiquated, the whole idea? But they are human, aren't they? Shouldn't they be offered food and drink, even when all of society has cast them away, quarantined them?
Well. Why are we killing humans, anyway? Maybe we need to answer that question first. Then we can do away with the chicken-fried steaks and fajitas.
Tell me about the dream where we pull the bodies out of the lake and dress them in warm clothes again. How it was late, and no one could sleep, the horses running until they forget that they are horses. It's not like a tree where the roots have to end somewhere, it's more like a song on a policeman's radio, how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple to slice into pieces. Look at the light through the windowpane. That means it's noon, that means we're inconsolable. Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we'll never get used to it.
Like bones littered across the page, Richard Siken's poems possess the fractured emotions of the modern era. There is uneasiness at every line break, the enjambments are abrupt and the narrative stutters in its white space. However, this is also the poetry of panic. Each line rushes to dive off the left margin's fatal cliff, only to swoop back and regain its fierce momentum. Its drive to loosen itself from its own syntax: “how we rolled up the carpet so we could dance, and the days / were bright red, and every time we kissed there was another apple / to slice into pieces.” The images stream in a masterful fluidity, but they have no time to explain themselves and no time to resonate; like the hectic lives we lead in the 21st century; each image surges towards a destination.
What makes the unconventional form in this poem so effective is the desperation in the speaker's voice. It is a speaker writing and praying at the same time. The commands of “tell me” begin to unravel into a sort of plea: “Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.” What I admire about Siken's work is his relentless need to remain human. This poem, like others in his first collection Crush, is an attempt at facing the guilt and the failure as flawed partakers of society. And in the violence of its language and in its inconsolable traumas, there is a desire for healing, and, like the often muted animals inside us, the cry for help and resurrection.
When I was eight, I remember standing in front of the fan in my room wrapped in a long scarf, pretending to be Storm from the X-Men. It seems silly in retrospect, but this memory of me acting like a superhero evokes the feelings of strength and power that filled me as a child at that moment. I really did think I was Storm. In my mind, I really could save the world.
As I'm growing up, I'm starting to realize that moments like that are getting harder to come by. Watching old reruns of the X-Men cartoons don't make me feel that way anymore, but Stieg Larsson's The Millenium Trilogy definitely does. Lisbeth Salander, a doll-like creature, barely five-foot tall, covered in tattoos and piercings, with a crooked smile and the ability to hack anything under the sun, makes me feel strong and powerful in a way I had almost forgotten.
Larsson uses the unlikely protagonist of Lisbeth to make a wide range of social commentary. He holds back nothing, and to be honest, there are scenes in the books that are difficult to digest. He questions society's treatment of the mentally ill and brings to the foreground a young woman who has been abused and abandoned. Even more so, he hones in on the brutalities committed against women and gives inspiration as to how they can fight back. What Lisbeth lacks in stature, she more than makes up for with her intellect and inventiveness. Her unwavering resilience in times when I would have gone down in a great Victorian decline draws the difference between being a survivor and a victim. No matter what wrongs are done to her, she comes out kicking and punching, quite literally in many cases.
As one of the characters jokingly says, Lisbeth is no shrinking violet, she will happily return violence with violence. Her heroic actions might seem questionable to some, but for me, she did the things we only wish we could do. Lisbeth becomes a means of releasing the anger, hurt, and passion we all experience but try to keep tamed. She abides by her own moral code and has no qualms meting out justice where she feels it is deserved; her fire and spirit seem to leak out of the pages and pour freely into the reader's veins. Unlike the traditional superhero, Lisbeth does not always take the high road and she does not always strive for the betterment of others, but in her own unique way she made me feel like that girl in front of that fan more than a decade ago.
To play a Buju Banton song in a crowd of West Indians is to put on the gospel. Born in 1973 and raised in the tough environment of Denham Town, Jamaica, Buju Banton was always recognized for his exceptional lyrical ability, his constant confrontation of the socio-economic and political goings-on of Jamaica (and to a larger extent, the greater West Indies), and for his empathy towards the impoverished and disenchanted masses. His breakthrough album 'Til Shiloh, featuring the song “Untold Stories”, put him on the map within the Reggae music industry and even garnered him comparisons to the late and great Bob Marley.
In “Untold Stories,” Buju Banton becomes the voice of the people as he laments the struggle of everyday life. He speaks about the constant struggle of the poor to exist with the astute observation that they have to steal and rob to survive. He distresses over the state of the youth, who have education but still manage to get out of control. He observes that those who cannot afford to escape this squalid state of affairs will have to stay and face the lack of opportunities in a place where the future seems bleak. Out of all of this, the most haunting part of the song appears in the chorus where Buju croons, “With all the hike in the price/ Arm and leg we have to pay/ While our leaders play.” It is here that Buju addresses the issue of a government whose laxity and utter incompetence sees its people suffer.
The tagline of the entire piece is when Buju states heartbreakingly, “My cup is full to the brim/ I could go on and on the full has never been told.” This is the crux of the song—after all the lamenting and distressing, the full story of the impoverished masses has still not been told. Buju Banton is considered a musical icon in the West Indies not only because he is musically gifted, but because he has the sole ability to bring to the forefront the struggle of the masses while other artists choose to focus their energies on the promulgation of badmanism and general depravity. Buju Banton is an artist that is for the people and duly loved by the people for his deep empathy towards their everyday struggles. Though 'Til Shiloh was released almost sixteen years ago, its dancehall/roots reggae vibes coupled with its hard-hitting messages still prove relevant. If you don't believe me, find a group of West Indians and play any track, then observe the reactions.
- Sarah Gonsalves
'Til Shiloh "UnTold Stories" Buju Banton
While I'm Living Thanks I'll Be Giving To the Most High You know,
[Chorus: ] I am living while I am living to the father I will pray Only he knows how we get through everyday With all the hike in the price Arm and leg we have to pay While our leaders play
[Verse 1:] All I see people a rip and a rob and a grab Tief never love fe see tief wid long bag No love for the people who a suffer real bad Another toll to the poll may God help we soul What is to stop the youths from get out of control Full up of education yet no own no payroll The clothes on my back have countless eyehole. I could go on and on the full has never been told
[Repeat Chorus]
[Verse 2:] Who can afford to run will run But what about those who can't...they will have to stay Opportunity a scarce, scarce commodity In these times I say... When mama spend her last and send you go class Never you ever play It's a competitive world for low budget people, Spending a dime while earning a nickel With no regards to who it may tickle My cup is full to the brim I could go on and on the full has never been told
[Repeat Chorus]
[Verse 3:] All I see people a rip and a rob and a grab Tief never love fe see tief wid long bag No love for the people who a suffer real bad Another toll to the poll may God help we soul What is to stop the youths from get out of control Full up of education yet no own no payroll The clothes on my back have countless eyehole Could go on and on and the full has never been told (On and On) Though this life keep getting me down Don't give up now Got to survive somehow Could go on and on and the full has never been told
[Repeat Chorus]
[Verse 4:] Who can afford to run will run But what about those who can't...they will have to stay Opportunity a scarce, scarce commodity In these times I say... When mama spend her last and send you go class Never you ever play It's a competitive world for low budget people, Spending a dime while earning a nickel With no regards to who it may tickle My cup is full to the brim I could go on and on the full has never been told I could go on and on the full has never been told I could go on and on the full has never been told I could go on and on the full has never been told I could go on and on the full has never been told I could go on and on the full has never been told I could go on and on.... The full has never....
Been..... Toooooold.
Image Source: http://d.yimg.com/ec/image/v1/release/23066941;encoding=jpg;size=300;fallback=defaultImage Video Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5yymONwzP7o
Imagine trying to eat a 4.5 pound steak, a twelve egg omelet or five 24-oz. milkshakes in one sitting. Well that’s what food adventurer Adam Richman (born and raised in Brooklyn) does on a daily basis. The Travel Channel TV show, Man vs. Food, captures Richman touring the country to compete in food challenges that would be expected to stump the majority of participants.
While the cuisines vary, the food that Richman must eat is typically in portions that could feed about four to five people or spicy to the extent that one’s mouth feels as though it were on fire. Whether facing the Great Steak Challenge in Baltimore or the Suicide 6 Wings Challenge in Brooklyn, he tackles each challenge with determination and a big appetite.
On the show, Richman not only partakes in food contests, but he also visits locally known eateries and samples their signature dishes. In one episode, which takes place in Springfield, Illinois, he tastes a city favorite known as The Horseshoe, goes to the location where corndogs originated and participates in the Firebrand Chili Challenge. So, while the host travels throughout the nation, the viewer gets the chance to be a tourist at the same time (with the added comfort of sitting on his own couch or bed).
Check out the video below of Adam Richman taking on the Ultimate Philly Cheesesteak: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vws16IsnW_g&feature=relmfu
~Kerry Gertner
Article Source: http://www.travelchannel.com/TV_Shows/Man_V_Food Video Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vws16IsnW_g&feature=relmfu Image Source: http://www.tvdvdset.com/userfiles/man%20vs%20food%20poster.jpg
This week in our news, a couple from Staten Island was arrested for stealing money from a nonprofit preschool chain called Red Apple Child Development Center. The couple, Joanna Fan and Ziming Shen, has reportedly stolen as much as $2.5 million from the accounts of the preschool chain. Since 2006, Fan and Shen have been pilfering from a program that has provided healthy meals for preschoolers across the city for the past nine years.
Shen and his wife Fan, the executive director of the chain, used the money to profit from their own private business called Preschool of America Inc. They have also made payments on various condominiums in Manhattan. On Friday morning, the partners-in-crime (pun intended) gave themselves in to the United States Agriculture Department. They pleaded not guilty at Brooklyn’s United States District Court. They posted bail at $750,000 for each spouse. Fan and Shen were also required to relinquish their passports.
According to the New York Times, a spokesman for the United States attorney for the Eastern District of New York called this incident a historic one. It was one of the largest thefts of lunch money with which the courts have had to deal. In this day and age, stealing money from a preschoolers’ lunch program is deplorable. What will they do next?
When you think of creative advertisements, you probably think of bright colors and catchy slogans. However, Warner Brothers Canada took their imagination a step further for their publicity of the newly released film Contagion. In Toronto, the company created two storefront movie billboards that were entirely made out of live bacteria, fungi, and mold.
With the help of twenty-five microbiologists and immunologists, the “medium” was chosen. Soon after, the bacteria was placed on stenciled drawings of the film’s title. However, when the billboards were displayed, it took time before the bacteria, which spelled out the title, Contagion, was perceptible. Just as a cold slowly creeps up on you, so did this advertisement.
Vivid images of the bacterial growth on the billboard are grotesque to the point of making you want to cringe. On the other hand, this media attention given to the movie only adds upon the audience’s desire to take part in the film’s phenomenon. One might consider the question: is this purely repulsive or a solely ingenious marketing ploy?
Check out the video below which displays the process of creating the signs, the bacteria growth on these ads, as well as the feedback from the passers-by:
- Kerry Gertner
Article Source: http://today.msnbc.msn.com/id/44486897/ns/today-entertainment/#.Tm6rRH7kmk8 Video Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LppK4ZtsDdM&feature=player_embedded Image Source: http://wac.450f.edgecastcdn.net/80450F/943maxfm.com/files/2011/09/Contagion1.jpgw=400&h=300&zc=1&s=0&a=t&q=89
After a storm destroyed his home and forced his parents to leave the country in search of jobs, 18-month-old Tha Sophat of Cambodia started suckling milk from a cow to get his daily nourishment. No, what you just read was not a typo. Boy. Suckling. Milk. Cow. Yes.
Little Tha fell sick when he could no longer breast-feed from his mother due to her leaving. As his 46-year-old grandfather recounts the story, Tha picked up his unorthodox practice by watching a nearby calf nursing from its mother. Making a connection between the nursing process of the calf and himself, he soon followed in the calf’s footsteps. Despite the grandfather’s efforts to tear the boy away, Tha has been suckling away for one month now. Although his health seems to be perfectly fine, his grandfather is trying to limit his suckling because of stigma cast by other villagers.
As we try to process this eccentric bit of news, there are a plethora of underlying social concerns that Tha’s story brings to mind. What kind of parents would abandon such a young child? But even more so, how can a government leave its citizens in such dire financial straits? Are the parents then justified in their attempts to provide for their son?
The one thing that stands out above all else is Tha’s instinct to survive. Having lived in America for most of my life, it’s hard to remind myself that there are children out there whose lives are so at odds with my own childhood. It’s easy to cringe at the images, but what resonates is Tha’s ability to adapt. At 18 months, he’s proven himself to be far more ingenious than myself at 20 years. But how will this mantle of forced adulthood affect his identity of the self in years to come? What innocence gets lost along the way?
Just some questions to think about over that next glass of milk.
If you think the smog and smoke of New York needs some anti-pollution legislation, there is an entire nation that would concur. That nation is unfortunately as far away as South America, and it appears they want to take it a step further by giving rights to mother nature. Bolivia is set to pass the world's first laws granting all nature equal rights to humans. The Law of Mother Earth, now agreed upon by politicians and grassroots social groups, redefines the country's rich mineral deposits as "blessings" and is expected to lead to radical new conservation and social measures to reduce pollution and control industry.
The country, which has been pilloried by the US and Britain in the UN climate talks for demanding steep carbon emission cuts, will establish 11 new rights for nature. They include: the right to life and to exist; the right to continue vital cycles and processes free from human alteration; the right to pure water and clean air; the right to balance; the right to not be polluted; and the right to not have cellular structure modified or genetically altered.
"It makes world history. Earth is the mother of all," said Vice-President Alvaro García Linera. "It establishes a new relationship between man and nature, the harmony of which must be preserved as a guarantee of its regeneration."
Foreign Minister David Choquehuanca said Bolivia's traditional indigenous respect for the Pachamama was vital to prevent climate change. "Our grandparents taught us that we belong to a big family of plants and animals. We believe that everything in the planet forms part of a big family. We indigenous people can contribute to solving the energy, climate, food and financial crises with our values," he said.
Bolivia is struggling to cope with rising temperatures, melting glaciers and more extreme weather events including more frequent floods, droughts, frosts and mudslides. Research by glaciologist Edson Ramirez of San Andres University in the capital city, La Paz, suggests temperatures have been rising steadily for 60 years and started to accelerate in 1979. They are now on course to rise a further 3.5-4C over the next 100 years. This would turn much of Bolivia into a desert.
Most glaciers below 5,000m are expected to disappear completely within 20 years, leaving Bolivia with a much smaller ice cap. Scientists say this will lead to a crisis in farming and water shortages in cities such as La Paz and El Alto.
Well, it looks like Mother Earth is finally getting the R-E-S-P-E-C-T she deserves. Here's to hoping it catches on.
Excited as I was to spend a few weeks of this past summer in London, my desire to see the English countryside quickly drew me out of the city and into Glastonbury, a small town on the Isle of Avalon. If the name sounds familiar, it’s probably because you’ve heard of the world-famous rock festival held there nearly every summer, but there’s a lot more to be seen the other 362 days of the year. With a past heavily entrenched in paganism, Christendom, and Arthurian legend, Glastonbury beautifully balances the complexity of history with the simplicity of nature.
Looking down the Main Street, you would probably think, as I did, that Glastonbury is the perfect small town. Just the right amount of people are bustling around and each storefront is a different vibrant color. But look a little closer and you’ll realize that that ideal small town bookstore isn’t exactly selling English novels; instead the shelves are lined with books about legends and spells. And as you meander the shops, you’ll be hard pressed to find anything to purchase that isn’t related in some way to the art of magic, whether you’re checking out the wares at The Goddess and the Green Man, Cat and Cauldron, or The Speaking Tree. Maybe it’s a little pouch with spell ingredients that will catch your eye, or perhaps it’s that handwritten book on the elements. And if you’re lucky, you’ll walk into Café Galatea during the evening when a middle-aged guitarist draws from his instrument the kind of simple and resonant melodies that could break your heart right in the middle of the little vegetarian café.
The connection to spirituality that is ever present in the shops stems from the searing beauty and mysticism of the landscape itself. The distinct landmark of the town is the Glastonbury Tor, a hill clearly marked by the remains of a church destroyed in the 13th century. Nearby the Tor is the Chalice Well Garden, where you can walk barefoot through a healing pool and drink from the sacred Lion’s Head Fountain.
I was just about ready to declare Glastonbury my favorite place in the world when someone abruptly suggested to me that wherever the mystical inclinations of the town were born, their upkeep is almost exclusively an economic ploy to draw tourists. Maybe it would be too idealistic of me to say that such a statement is pure cynicism and that all the townspeople are wholly and authentically immersed in the mystical Arthurian aura that they’ve draped emphatically across their streets. But once you’ve walked through the town, interacted with the shopkeepers, laid your tired body on top of the Tor, and dipped your feet in the Healing Pool, it might be a bit harder to stir up that kind of skepticism. Maybe it’s all for fun. Maybe it’s all for money. Or maybe if a group of people immerse themselves enough in the nature and history of their land and the beliefs that come with it, we have no right or need to ask questions of authenticity. We’re left only with the imperative to explore with the kind of wonder warranted by both magic and travel alike.
I'm not going to cry all the time nor shall I laugh all the time, I don't prefer one "strain" to another. I'd have the immediacy of a bad movie, not just a sleeper, but also the big, overproduced first-run kind. I want to be at least as alive as the vulgar. And if some aficionado of my mess says "That's not like Frank!”, all to the good! I don't wear brown and grey suits all the time, do I? No. I wear workshirts to the opera, often. I want my feet to be bare, I want my face to be shaven, and my heart— you can't plan on the heart, but the better part of it, my poetry, is open.
1955
O’Hara’s work has been on my mind lately. He’s sort of the residing-ghost-officer of a group/collective/event, which includes many talented writers and artists (of all kinds), that I’m very fortunate to be a part of. He’s also one of my favorite poets; a poet who is a special branch in the family tree of my poetics.
“My Heart” carries with it, by merely its name, a long history of poems ranging from Shakespeare and on to more modern interpretations. O’Hara’s declaration with the opening three lines almost suggest a conclusion before anything actually begins. Jackson Pollock, a friend of O’Hara’s, spoke of the decision to switch from titling his paintings to numbering them, declaring his audience to “receive what the painting has to offer and not bring a subject matter or preconceived idea of what they are to be looking for.” O’Hara’s title suggests love, but is unconventional in his approach and in the type of love he illustrates. This isn't a sugary love ode or a brooding reflective history. Likewise, O’Hara discusses Pollock’s idea of the preconceived notion with the second half of the poem. His enjambment is oddly spectacular and vivacious, like New York City traffic.
There is an exuberance and personal touch to O’Hara’s verse, which I just cannot get enough of. It is distilled half-Whitman, half-Great Depression-era radio show; undoubtedly some old New York added to the mixture. The poem shakes within itself. The declarative confidence of the first half, the nonchalant affability of the middle lines “No. I wear workshirts to the opera, / often,” and the sagacious, honest, and peaceful landing of “you can’t plan on the heart, but / the better part of it, my poetry, is open” come together to form a cell-for-cell textual representation of himself. As I read each line, it becomes both less and more obvious to me.
If men could give birth, without the assistance of women, the byproduct would be Dr. Frankenstein’s creation. And if mankind were to be its parent, this child would have some serious mental issues…
The popularized classic Frankenstein begins with the letters of Robert Walton, who is writing to his sister Margaret, detailing his experiences in the poles. Months into his adventure, he starts to yearn for companionship. A few weeks later (voilà), Robert stumbles upon Victor Frankenstein in the poles. They quickly form a bond (oh, how lovely); Victor decides to account his entire story as Robert records it for his sister (['s] reading pleasure).
To sum up the 156 pages (spoiler alert, folks), Dr. Frankenstein rejects and flees from his creation the second he first draws breath (see, men beget hideous babies). He goes back home, but later discovers his creation seeks revenge. The creature will stop his quest for vengeance if Frankenstein makes him a wife (he just wants a little monster love). The creator starts then stops the process (he must have crossed his fingers). The monster becomes mad and does some bad boy things (but you would have to read the book to find out. Teehee).
Shelley’s plot is dynamic; she addresses the negative tendency of superficial judgment, the issue of playing God, the intensity of nature, and much more. But most of this leaves room for interpretation (don’t you just love literature?). This classic is well worth the read (so don’t bother with the movie). But read the 1818 Norton Critical Edition; she made, so called, “minor revisions” in 1830 (for reasons I can’t quite explain. Excuse me for not knowing Shelley personally. Sorry). You won’t be disappointed (unless you hate reading. Then you’ll have a problem).
I remember the first I discovered Coldplay’s music. It was the summer of 2005, and I was in my living room, mindlessly flipping through channels on TV. All of a sudden, there was a burst of color on the television screen, and I hurriedly turned back to the channel that caught my eye. Coldplay was performing in their new music video, “Speed of Sound.“
I was amazed. I hadn’t come across music like this before. At first, I sat still, staring at the television. Then I found myself on the ledge of the armchair. Eventually, I was jumping up and down in my living room with Coldplay’s lead singer, Chris Martin.
I cannot fully explain my wild reaction to the song, but I can try. In the second verse of the song, the lead singer croons, “Ideas that you’ll never find, all the inventors could never design.“ For me, the song spoke of the threshold of potential. It is believed that we only use ten percent of our brains. All of our talent, all of our capacity, all of our potential as human beings has yet to be untapped and truly explored. The volume of what we have achieved as a species is quite vast, and yet there are still latent gems and treasures in the deep recesses of our mind. How amazingly frightening.
As the last piece of a puzzle fits to give a full picture of something, in this way Coldplay’s music clicked for me. I searched for their music, starting from the beginning, and I have been an avid listener ever since.
What can I say? Coldplay does it for me.
- Kerri Byam
Image Source: http://www.vibe.com/sites/default/files/coldplay-2011.jpeg Video Source: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TahH7B_aUZc&ob=av2e
“Funny, Fresh, Feminism: Sarah Haskins with Target Women”
For most of us, commercials are 30-second nuisances that keep us from enjoying our favorite shows. We half watch them, letting our minds wander off until Mad Men or Hoarders comes back on. But you’d have to be pretty unobservant not to notice that the people behind the ads have some antiquated tricks up their sleeves: think about how cleaning product commercials always feature women, either cleaning up after their bumbling husbands and kids or having a romantic relationship with a Swiffer. Enter my personal hero, Sarah Haskins, host of Infomania’s “Target Women”. “Target Women” is a 3-5 minute shot of cold, hard, feminist power.
Okay, maybe it’s not so much cold and hard as it is hilarious. Nonetheless, Sarah Haskins manages to get her point across while making you laugh. Taking clips from national commercials, Haskins exposes the ways that advertisers manipulate female stereotypes to sell their products. Each episode focuses on a different product typically targeted towards females. In “Target Women: Chocolate”, we’re treated to a mash-up of commercials emphasizing just how much women crave candy. Some clips showed women having incredibly sensual relationships with their chocolate while another featured women screaming and running after a chocolate truck like it was taking their children away. Other episodes satirize hair products, birth control, jewelry, diet foods, and, perhaps my favorite, yogurt. It’s not the products themselves that are the problem; it’s the way they are sold to us. For example, in “Target Women: Ladyfriends”, Haskins mocks the portrayal of one-dimensional female friendships in commercials. Because what else is there in female relationships except discussions about fancy smelling candles, what kind of broth to use in soups, and the benefits of shopping at T.J. Maxx? Aren’t we all a part of the “sisterhood of shoes”? And Haskins doesn’t stop at commercials: Lifetime movies, dating books, the Twilight series, and T.V. shows about crazy brides-to-be are all subject to her sarcastic analysis. “Target Women” was a segment featured on Infomania. Sadly, the segment has been cut, but you can still watch all the episodes on Youtube or on current.com. Just make sure you wash that oh-so-sexy chocolate off your fingers beforehand so your keyboard doesn’t get all sloppy, ladies.
After getting through the first two weeks of school, we deserve to treat ourselves to a big banana sundae, or some cookie dough ice cream, or that last Boston creme...but I digress. Amidst our hectic classes and endless to-do lists, it's important to schedule in some downtime, and what better way to do that than sitting down with a cup o' joe and the Boylan Blog! As always, feel free to comment and let us know your take on any of the pieces.
If busses that run on biofuel and amazing healthcare aren’t attractive enough to get you to move to Sweden, maybe the possibility of having a drunken moose as a lawn ornament is.
Last Tuesday, a man in the Swedish town of Saro heard a moose “bellowing” from his neighbor’s yard, where it had gotten stuck trying to climb an apple tree. An apple is always a pretty tasty treat for a moose, and fermented apples offer a good way to let off some moos-y stress. The intoxicated animal got in over his gigantic head, however, and wound up tangled in the tree’s limbs with only one foot on the ground. The moose had apparently begun hitting the fermented apples quite a while before; earlier in the day the same moose had almost run into another neighbor’s car and she “was pretty sure the moose was already under the influence.”
While waiting for the authorities, a group of locals began sawing off the limbs; the police were able to extricate the moose, which staggered off into the forest. If there’s a moral here, it’s probably: know how much is enough, or you might wind up in a tree surrounded by police. Or worse, you might find an embarrassing picture of yourself on the internet.
It is the final seconds of the game. The camera pans the legendary Emirates Stadium that is usually overflowing with sixty thousand screaming Arsenal fans. Silence and empty chairs, that is what greets the home viewers. Perhaps what is most shocking is not the eerie silence of what in past seasons was considered the lion's lair, but it is the fact that this was expected. The phrase “baptism by fire” does not begin to describe the scene flashing across my television screen. Same stadium, same manager, same kit, same numbers, different players. And then the game begins.
It is ninety-four minutes of complete agony for any Gunners fan--- or Gooners, as we so affectionately call ourselves. Arsenal Football Club is one with a vast and sparkling history which has seen it take its rightful place on the mantle of and alongside the other European giants. It is the football club that has perfected the intricate passing methods so often associated with its Spanish counterpart, FC Barcelona. It is innovator of a method termed “the Arsenal way” in the Barclays Premiere League, which sees that the glories of individuals are forgotten, and the team shines, always. It is responsible for such legendary talents as Patrick Viera, Thiery Henry, and Cesc Fabregas. But you already knew that. And let's not forget our mastermind behind the entire Gunner operation, Arsene Wenger. So why is such a famed and decorated European heavyweight being greeted with such skepticism this season?
Arsenal's game against Swansea can answer that question. The most defining moment in an agony-filled, ninety-four minute game, is the goal scored by Russia International captain, Andrei Arshavin. It is a goal that manifested itself as the product of a mistake by Swansea's goalkeeper, rather than one created by the brilliant passing that used to be so typical of Arsenal. To really drive that point home, it is a goal scored by a player who, up until then, had not scored for the Gunners in the previous twenty fixtures. For those who do not understand the implications of this, simply put, Arsenal are considered the crème de la crème of European football, and were fighting what seemed for the better part of ninety-four minutes, a losing battle against a club side that was only recently promoted to the first class division.
It was evident all throughout the match, that the Arsenal faithful were not only seriously nervous about this game, but were agonizingly contemplating the possibilities of the rest of the season--- a season in which Arsenal will be considered contenders for no less than six titles, the biggest one being the UEFA Champions Leagues trophy ( a prize currently held by 'brilliant' FC Barcelona). Sounds like a walk in the park for a club with so many talented players, yet the footballing world is unconvinced of the possibility of a successful Arsenal campaign this season. Let's examine our facts, shall we? While Arsenal are still boss with possession (64% over Swansea's 36%), they managed to scored one goal in a ninety-four minute game ( a goal that came off of a mistake of the Swansea goalkeeper). In their previous two games (against much tougher opponents), Arsenal, for all their possession, failed to register points with a 2-0 defeat against a revived Liverpool side under the grasp of Kenny Dalglish. And who can forget (though we so desperately are trying to) the thrashing of a strengthened Gunners side against an impressive Manchester United squad (8-2). Let us take into account that out of the eleven players fielded for Arsenal, at least nine of them are under twenty-years of age, and a further four of them would have, until now, never made it into the first team. Also, there's the little matter of the loss of their creative duo in Cesc Fabregas and Samir Nasri ( it needed to be mentioned, sorry Gooners), and the fact that in the opening three fixtures of the Barclay's Premiere League, Arsene Wenger has been completely silent on the sideline---- something is seriously rotten in the state of Denmark... or at least in the Stadium of the Gunners.
With all the distortion and chaos happening at the Emirates, you would think that heads would begins to roll ( as is the usual outcome in football when disaster strikes). But one flash of the cameras to the bench shows us a familiar, if not altogether comforting face--- that of Arsene Wenger. Another flash of the camera shows a billowing sign with the words “In Arsene We Trust”. For all of his newly acquired calm and support of the Arsenal fans, why are the critics still not convinced of Arsenal's, and in effect, Arsene's ability? Two reasons: Arsene's stubbornness, and Arsene's lack of decisive decision-making, which is now manifesting itself into the way the team plays. For years, we've heard the same mantra---- the players are young but they are talented. Sure, sure, Arsene. And one look at the roster will justify that point. Theo Walcott is a little under twenty-one, and considered one of the world's leading talents. Jack Wilshere is a mere nineteen, but in England is considered the best thing since sliced bread. Arsenal's number one goalkeeper, Wojciech Szczesny is only twenty- years of age. There is no doubt in the minds of the footballing world that these players are indeed extremely talented, but the greater footballing world calls for Arsenal to mix experience in with the youth. A wealth of under twenty-one players has gotten Arsenal much accolades but zero trophies in the last six years. As a footballing club, you can have the most dynamic players in your ranks, but without trophies, what have you really accomplished? To any Gooner, it would seem that the idea of experience is one which frightens Arsene Wenger. Every year he delves into the transfer market, and pulls out a hand-full of talented teenagers. And every year, we hear the same thing, Arsenal are a great team, but they lack experience. Still, with the loss of the talismanic Fabregas, Arsene went into the transfer market and pulled out yet another hand-full of talented teenagers. His one surprise buy was the purchase of Per Mertersacker. And the experience of Mertersacker was a beacon of hope in the game against Swansea. Without Mertersacker, we can all safely (even if grudgingly) say that Arsenal would have been on the end of another defeat.
As the trophy-less seasons begins to stack up, it would appear that Arsene has lost the plot. His refusal to add experience to his vastly talented but young squad is an indication of that. His non-use of the super talented Marouane Chamakh is indicative of this, as well. When Robin van Persie and Cesc Fabregas were out injured for the opening of last season's EPL, it was Chamakh who entered the team, had his baptism by fire, and produced the goods. Arsene Wenger complains and is a bit reluctant to use Chamakh because of Chamakh's dip in form. But how can he ever recover his form if he gets no time on the pitch? What sort of impact can he have as striker in the last two minutes of any game? The only way to get his confidence back is to get him off of the bench. This is a tried and tested strategy Arsene, trust us. One only has to glance at the likes of Karim Benzema, who was in the same predicament, but is now one of La Liga's top scorers because Jose “The Special One” Mourinho, had faith in him. Looking at the pictures of Arsene, sitting silently on the bench, has told me that he is a broken man. Though he has the support of the fans, he does not have the support of the people with power and the purse at the Emirates. He has lost his ability to read the game and make those all-important changes at critical times. He has lost his decisiveness, and this, unfortunately, is beginning to flow over into the way the team is playing. He has lost his love, his passion for everything Arsenal. Are we to blame him for Arsenal's woes? Yes and no. Yes, because he, after all that is said is done, is still the manager. No, because the big things that need to be changed are out of his control. For the first time, in a long time, Arsenal looked washed up and ordinary. Maybe it is time for Arsene to step down, for the good of his team and for the preservation of his sanity. Or maybe, it is time for him to take his cue from Diego Maradona and parade the sidelines clutching his rosary and emphatically praying. Maybe, just maybe. For the cynics of the footballing world who are still wondering, it is in Arsene we still trust.
For those of you who aren’t aware of the juggernaut hacker group called Anonymous, let me fill you in. They’re far more tech savvy than regular folk and have the will power and means to bring down any website they feel abuses our inalienable human rights and privacy. How does this affect you? On November 5th, some members of Anonymous have vowed to take down the social media giant Facebook.
November 5th isn’t a random date. On November 5th in 1605, a plot to assassinate King James I of England was foiled. Guy Fawkes, an idealist and warrior who felt it was time for England to once again have a Catholic king at the throne, was found guarding massive amounts of gunpowder underneath where Parliament convened. He was severely tortured until he named his co-conspirators and hung the next day. To some, Guy Fawkes was a hero because he took the actions he felt were necessary for change. To others, he was a traitor and fool.
Members in Anonymous who are going through with this plan have given their reasons plainly, stating:
“Facebook has been selling information to government agencies and giving clandestine access to information security firms so that they can spy on people from all around the world. Some of these so-called whitehat InfoSec firms are working for authoritarian governments, such as those of Egypt and Syria. Everything you do on Facebook stays on Facebook regardless of your "privacy" settings, and deleting your account is impossible, even if you "delete" your account, all your personal info stays on Facebook and can be recovered at any time. Changing the privacy settings to make your Facebook account more "private" is also a delusion.”
So who is the greater evil? The super site who peddles away our information for the sake of profit, ignorant and indifferent to the invasion of personal privacy, or the hackers who feel it is their duty to free users from said super site, therefore destroy all photos and networks of friends they’ve made over the years?
If honeysuckle were skin it would smell like me but I am seawater and cloud-dust on your tongue — my mother’s luminous shadow, father’s fallow orbit, I sweat medicine and the fears of women whose desperate acts of faith earned them fading places in forgotten albums in Oklahoma City and Galva, the excesses of men with my saber tongue, my persistent thirsts (I never wear lipstick, always expecting to be kissed) touch me — my back new asphalt under bike tires, my hands half chalice half dare — know that I have known this body twenty-nine years, loved myself through awkwardness and aging, in the backs of cabs and the beds of strangers loved myself out of doubt out of stubbornness out of the delusions that tie us weeping and dazed to those who never claimed to love us
I forged this body from starch and fury, prisms and hymns and I am not only beautiful dressed and I am not only beautiful naked / I’m the sum of every whisper, every whistle, every mouthful of blood and honey and if honey were blood it would run like this: thick and steady / viscous and telling / taste me, iron and lava / smell me . I reek of nights purposely alone with the stars, of impatience corseted with faith more breakable than whalebone / I live on the ledges of fingerprints / my children will carry dictionaries on their hips and envy the ignorant / I’ve said this before and will again / listen to the quickbreaths between blinks can you hear my heart beating sideways? I shimmy quiver shriek laugh in bathtubs cry on streetcorners I’m only trying to convince myself I am not afraid
In just the last year alone, I’ve been told by a good dozen people that the art of poetry as a significant part of culture is dead. To that, I say: here’s Marty McConnell. McConnell’s poems have appeared in a number of journals, but her biggest impact on the contemporary poetry scene has been through her involvement with the spoken word. She was a co-curator of the slam poetry organization louderARTS in New York City and has been involved in many other spoken word projects, including HBO’s Def Poetry Jam. McConnell is a highly active poet, traveling the country to hold workshops and read her work.
From the opening line of “To Be Kissed,” McConnell’s sense of the importance of her own flesh is clear. “If honeysuckle were skin it would smell like me,” she proclaims. Her skin will not imitate nature; instead, nature will imitate her skin. This sense of confidence and feeling of the poet as active agent continues through to the last lines, in which McConnell strikingly admits to being motivated by the effort to stave off recognition of her own fear. While the admittance of fear makes McConnell even more human to her listener, the poem’s assertive voice implicitly argues that she has not only masked but subdued her fear through her powerful words. As a whole, McConnell’s work is marked by a voice that exerts authority and beauty over vastly different subjects. However, the impression left by her poems is not simply that she is versatile, but rather that her subjects might not be as distinct from one another as we thought. McConnell writes as frequently and seamlessly of issues of social justice as she does of the catastrophes of the heart and the contours of the body, suggesting that the celebrations and devastations of the body can both echo and refute wider injustices and moments of righteousness. You must find your body, know your body, love your body, and then do good with it.
To get a full sense of McConnell’s poetry, check out one of her powerful performances on Def Poetry Jam below:
The waiting process can be a painful one sometimes. You are expecting something or someone, and you are uncertain when it, she, or he will come (of they come at all). How long do you have to wait? When will the waiting finally be over? You wait and wait and nothing materializes.
In Samuel Beckett’s play, Waiting for Godot (underline title), the two main characters, Estragon and Vladimir are placed in this position. It is clear that they are waiting for Godot, but who or what is Godot? After reading the play, I’ve gathered that this “Godot character “represented Estragon and Vladimir’s need to be of use and to exist.
Ironically, their appointment with Godot takes them further away from these two goals. Every evening, Estragon and Vladimir wait by a tree on a country road for Godot, and every night they are left empty-handed without the hope of Godot’s return or first coming. The same routine is carried out on a daily basis and Estragon begs to end the charade. Yet, Vladimir, the leader of the duo, is unwilling to admit that Godot may never come. By the end of the play, my mind swam with questions. Why does Estragon stay? Why does Vladimir believe in Godot? Why do they wait? Why do we wait?
We wait because there is possibility. It may be easier to give up than to press forward. It may be harder to begrudgingly measure the strands of time than to pull them apart. For all of the tenacious souls out there, it is better to wait without reason than not to wait at all.
Ten years ago I was ten, rocking out in loud solitude to Pearl Jam’s Ten album, which debuted in the year I was born. The track “Even Flow” boomed out of the speakers. I stood on the stage moving my hair like the crowd’s arms. When the music stopped, I opened my eyes to find myself on my bed with hair shorter than I imagined.
Now it’s 2011, ten years later, and I am twenty (coincidentally, Pearl Jam is releasing their album/documentary entitled Twenty) with a new appreciation for the band. When I used to listen to their music, I did so with little attention. Now, I absorb and dissect particular songs; I discover a story behind their hard-to-verbally-understand-at-times lyrics. Case in point: “Even Flow.”
I recently decided to read the lyrics of this song so I could know exactly what Eddie Vedder (the lead singer) was saying. Rather than just hearing a song, I began to hear a story about a man living in poverty. The very first line, “Freezin’, rests his head on a pillow made of concrete. Again,” sets up the entire story. This pauper is living/sleeping in the streets and has been doing so for a long time. Further into the story, we learn about the perception onlookers have of him and the possibility of a new life.
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
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