Katerina Dalavurak

Tending to Tenure
education, examined
upfront music food sex
Southern Belle The Low Anthem Sweet & Salty eduHookups
2 upfront
CONTENTS
NAKED PHOTO 03 upfront
sweet home, new england \\ zoë hoffman
Editor-in-Chief POST- IT NOTES \\ post- staff
Kate Doyle

Managing Editor of
Features
04 feature
Amelia Stanton TENDING TO TENURE \\ fred milgrim
Managing Editor of
Arts & Culture
Sam Knowles
05 arts & culture
HITTING HOME \\ clayton aldern
Managing Editor of
Lifestyle GOING AGAINST THE GRAIN \\ jennie young carr
Matthew Klebanoff

Features Editors
Ana Alvarez
06 arts & culture
Fred Milgrim TALK ABOUT TALK \\ emma johnson
Music Editor
DEFENDING REALITY \\ zack mezera
Eric Sun

Theatre Editor 07 lifestyles

Emma Johnson RAVENOUS RAPTURE \\ rémy robert
Film Editor NEITHER CLEAN NOR CLASSY \\ matt klebanoff
Priyanka Chatterjee The trials and tribulations of drunk college kids ... or
Literary Editor
Jennie Young Carr
maybe just the trials and tribulations of a dog in outer
space ... Like Me is a new play in the PW Upspace, play-
08 sex & etiquette
ing Friday at 7 pm and Saturday at 5 pm. Starring Sarah TROLLAGE \\ mm
Lifestyle Editor
Sakina Esufally Dominguez, Mireya Taboada, and Matt Peterson, written LOVE AND SECTION \\ lovecraft & dorian
Layout Editors and directed by Nic Mooney. EMILY POST- \\ emily post-
Clara Beyer
Lucas Huh

Assistant Features Editor

Charles Pletcher

Graphics Editors
READ POST-
THURSDAYS IN THE
Katerina Dalavurak
Emily Oliveira

Copy Chiefs
Julia Kantor
Kathy Nguyen BROWN DAILY HERALD
Web Editors
Michael Enriquez
Ellora Vilkin

Columnists
Jane Brendlinger
TOP TEN
Rémy Robert
Sexicon
Lovecraft & Dorian
Emily Post-
Superior Alternatives to Living in a
Copy Editors
Kate Brennan
Keeney Quad
Jacob Combs

1 6
Christina McCausland
Justine Palefsky
Kristina Petersen Living in a Keeney triple. Seppuku.
Charles Pletcher
Ash Sofman

Staff Writers
Clayton Aldern
Berit Goetz
2 Living in a Keeney quad while smoking a sh*t-
ton of weed. 7 Berge Cage.

8
Gopika Krishna

3
Zack Mezera

Staff Illustrators Young O. Ever been there? It’s real f*cking nice. Your Mom.
Anish Gonchigar

9
Phil Lai

4
Carolyn Shasha
Shixie
Caroline Washburn
Carrie Tower. Tight quarters, one classy view. The Rock—by which we mean Alcatraz.
Kelly Winter

5 10
Ethan Zisson

A single at Cornell. Just kidding! Libya.

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featurette
Sweet Home, New England
southern gal out of water
zoë HOFFMAN
contributing writer
Coming to Brown as a transfer stu-
dent from the University of Virginia,
I was worried I would be mistaken
as a gun toting, Confederacy-loving
Southerner. According to Brown’s
Office of Institutional Research, stu-
dents from the South make up only
about 12% of this year’s entering class.
Southern matriculation is on par with
that of international students. Some-
times it feels like I’m coming from a
foreign country. As a native Virginian,
I wasn’t sure how Northerners might
perceive those of us from below the
Mason-Dixon line.
Despite my home state, I have
never truly thought of myself as a
Southerner. I grew up in the North-
ern Virginia suburbs of DC—a loca-
tion that does little to foster a love of
sweet tea and southern drawls. This
is why I was a little shell-shocked
when I started my first year at UVA.
Charlottesville is a place where Greek
Life rules, the use of “y’all” is com-
mon, and Lilly dresses are the out-
fit of choice for football games. I
watched as my friends slowly adapted
to a more southern lifestyle—joining
sororities, going skeet shooting, even
developing a bit of a southern twang.
It wasn’t uncommon for students to
arrive as Democrats and graduate as
proud members of the Republican
Party. As time went on, I got used to
the slower pace of central Virginia. So
when I decided to come to Brown, I
had to ask myself—What is New Eng-
land exactly?
It’s not that I hadn’t been to New
England before. I completed the req-
uisite Northeast college tour during
the winter of my junior year. I saw
small town after small town during
the eleven-hour Vermonter train I
took to visit a friend at Dartmouth.
Other than those two forays north-
ward, though, my exposure to life in
New England was limited to a short
bout as a Mighty Midget camper in
Maine as a toddler. In other words, I
was a New England virgin, inexperi-
enced with the gusty winds of Provi-
dence or distinctive Boston accents.
So, as I packed up my dorm room in
Charlottesville, I didn’t really know
what to expect of a northern educa-
tion.
My first few weeks here seemed
completely different from my time
down South. Gone were the Jack
Rogers sandals, the Jeffersonian ar-
chitecture, and, for the most part, the
conservative politics. Alabama native
Amy Kallman ’14 also noticed the loss
of the southern gentleman, pointing
out “guys don’t open doors for me.”
Here, along with other southern stu-
dents, I was an outlier. I was easily
identified as a new kid on the block,
and it wasn’t just my sensitivity to the
cold that gave me away. My knowl-
edge of boarding schools was limited
(who knew Phillips Academy and
Phillips Exeter weren’t the same?). As
a Washington Nationals fan, I had no
opinion on the Red Sox vs. Yankees
debate. When my friends devoted an
entire conversation to discussing the
best ice cream on the Cape, I had to
admit I had never been.
As time passed, I gained an appre-
ciation for the differences between my
old home and my new one. I find that
more people share my love of chewy,
dense bagels—a variety easily found
in Providence, but hard to come by
in Falls Church, VA. When it snowed
a few inches, I didn’t hear cries of a
“Snowpocalypse.” In fact, the feeling
of overall panic and doom was notice-
ably absent and, instead of bumper-
to-bumper traffic on the D.C. Beltway
after a light dusting, the streets were
cleared in a timely fashion. Underly-
ing these day-to-day dissimilarities
seems to be a profound change in at-
titude as well.
Overall, I think the biggest change
was the lack of social boundaries here
at Brown. The South can often be old-
fashioned in that respect, and it’s easy
to get stuck in a social group and with
a certain reputation. At Brown, soror-
ity girls don’t travel in homogenous
packs, varsity athletes aren’t subjects
of hero worship, and it’s common
to see artsy types grabbing a cof-
fee with someone dressed in boat
shoes and a polo. Everywhere you
look there are unlikely collabora-
tions that probably wouldn’t fly
back at UVA. It’s easy to be accept-
ed as you are without the pressure
to conform to a specific stereotype.
That’s not to say everyone at
Brown is a nonconformist while ev-
eryone in the South adheres to tra-
dition. After all, I’ve observed that
the uniform for female students
may have simply shifted from sun-
dresses at UVA to combat boots and
thick-rimmed glasses here in Prov-
idence. There is, however, a dis-
tinction in the treatment of those
who would normally be perceived
as outsiders. Take me for example.
Sure, I get teased from time to time
about being from the South, but my
friends recognize that not all South-
erners are members of the NRA or
soft-spoken southern belles. I’m
proud to be from Virginia, but I’m
also happy to live here as a tempo-
rary New Englander. And, hey, if I
ever miss the South, all I have to
do is head over to Sigma—because
frat basements are pretty much the
same wherever you go.
Marissa Ilardi
upfront
APRIL 7, 2011 3
what we’re doing
this week
MUSIC is
blown away by Childish
Gambino, the filthy, smart-
ass rapper alter ego of
Donald Glover, AKA Troy on
Community.
BOOKS is
impulse buying The RL
Gang, Ralph Lauren’s shop-
pable children’s book. No
child left without a polo!
FILM is
happily overwhelmed by
the Britishness of Arthur.
Cheerio, scones, and crum-
pets, guv’nah!
TV is
picturing Ray Barone, GOB
Bluth, and Ron Burgundy
tag-teaming Dunder Mifflin
Scranton. THREAT LEVEL:
MIDNIGHT!
THEATRE is
taking a nap, downing an
energy drink, and head-
ing to Leeds to TALK about
beatniks and Bretonites.
FOOD is
drunk-bartering for $3
dumplings at the Korean
BBQ Truck. The prices
aren’t cheap, but at least
it’s not a Korean Winne-
bago.
BOOZE is
classing it up at the GCB,
with a basil cocktail in
hand. It’s so refreshing
to enjoy an herb without
smoking it.
4 feature
POST-
fred MILGRIM
features editor
In the United States, the issue of
education is highly polarized. The dis-
parities among our school systems,
from primary to tertiary, and public
to private, are quite baffling, and yet,
very few people are willing to do any-
thing about it.
In Finland, the teaching profes-
sion is one of the most coveted ca-
reers. There, the field of teaching is
more or less equivalent to areas like
medicine or law in the U.S. Teachers
undergo extensive training, and only
the top tier candidates are allowed to
become educators.
It is a depressing reality that, as
many advances as the U.S. has made,
there has been a drop in the quality of
the American public education sys-
tem.
A March 12 New York Times op-ed
on the current battle between Wiscon-
sin Governor Scott Walker and a host
of others in the educational field cited
a study by McKinsey & Company,
which states that 47% of K-12 teach-
ers come from the bottom third of
their college classes. It also notes that
workforce discrimination once forced
many women into teaching, but now,
brilliant women are spreading them-
selves more thinly across more desir-
able vocations. Don’t get me wrong—I
believe in equal opportunity, but it
seems that it has adversely affected
the quality of teaching available to
American students.
Of course, it makes sense to look
outside the teaching profession. No
matter the gender of the teacher, there
just isn’t as much money in teaching
for newly minted (and highly indebt-
ed) Masters degree recipients.
The same op-ed offers this exam-
ple: in 1970, a New York City starting
teacher’s salary was only $2,000 less
than that of a new lawyer entering a
reputable law firm. Now, the differ-
ence is $115,000.
So, let’s get to the source of the
problem—we don’t pay our teachers
enough. Think back to 2008 when
CEOs were being asked to forego their
million dollar bonuses and all hell
broke loose. Now, Governor Walker
wants to balance the state budget by
cutting into public school funding, be-
cause a median salary of $39,000 plus
dental benefits is stifling the economy,
whereas the trillions of dollars we have
poured into our ongoing wars are not.
The cycle is vicious. We can’t at-
tract good teachers because we refuse
to pay them what they deserve—while
other countries respect and reward
their educators, we are quick to strip
them of vital resources. So we force
unqualified teachers into the system,
in turn causing officials to point fin-
gers at “lazy” teachers who fail to pro-
duce the desired test scores. But we
cannot and will not affect change by
decreasing salaries even more.
The only way to improve the qual-
ity of teaching in public schools is to
throw a wrench into the system and
increase salaries, because something’s
got to give. Sure, revenue would have
to come from somewhere. The op-ed
Tending to Tenure
education, examined
suggests two options—the McKinsey
study shows that having an above av-
erage teacher, even at the kindergar-
ten level, actually increases a student’s
lifetime income. Further research sug-
gests that the Japanese system, which
employs larger classrooms equipped
with better teachers, is beneficial to stu-
dents’ learning and would thus garner
higher wages and more respect for the
teaching profession.
It seems necessary that we reevalu-
ate our hiring methods for public school
teachers. We could start by injecting
some of our State budget into the sys-
tem in order to attract more desirable
candidates. By hiring fewer teachers,
we could save money and avoid bring-
ing average teachers into classrooms.
Think about your classes at Brown—
it doesn’t matter whether you’re in a
lecture or a 20 person seminar—if a
teacher is great s/he can excite a class,
if merely average, students don’t try to
mask their boredom.
A friend of mine teaching for Teach
For America in inner city Boston over-
heard a coworker yelling at a student
one day for getting a D on a test. He
heard the teacher say, “Look at me, I
got Cs and Ds when I was in school and
now I’m a teacher. You don’t want to be
a teacher, do you?”
Regardless of the student’s reply,
it’s a frightening reality that even the
teachers have written themselves off.
How can you get an 11-year-old moti-
vated when you have no self-respect?
So we have addressed the low end of
the spectrum, but what about the upper
echelon? America has one of the most
prominent tertiary school systems,
compared to its abysmal primary and
secondary schools. Perhaps our prima-
ry school system could take a page out
of Brown’s playbook and study the re-
cent tenure changes, less than a month
old.
Back in 2009, during the reaccredi-
tation process, peer universities refer-
enced our unusually high tenure rate
(72% of all faculty, and 87% of those
that apply are granted tenure). In re-
sponse, the Provost (at the request of
The Corporation of Brown University)
put together a committee to reassess
the process. In short, the committee ap-
proved changes that make it harder for
faculty to receive tenure.
Our numbers were definitely high. Is
it possible that we are protecting faculty
that, like some in the K-12 system, just
shouldn’t be here? Perhaps the changes
are warranted, but I’m always leery of
private corporations making financial
decisions concerning the common good,
and specifically, education.
Where do we draw the line between
fiscal responsibility and cutting too
many corners? The government has al-
ways been stingy with education. At least
Brown’s private interests are backed
by important academic standards. Ac-
cording to the Brown Daily Herald, the
tenure review committee, consisting of
nine tenured faculty members and two
administrators, announced at the be-
ginning of the processes that the high
tenure acceptance rate “imposes con-
straints on hiring and restricts opportu-
nities, limits the ability to expand into
new and important areas of scholarship
(and) reduces the turnover that is vital
to intellectual renewal.”
This seems like a fair point—and par-
allel to the one I’m making about public
education. My gut reaction to the tenure
changes was one of sympathy for our
faculty, but after giving it some thought,
it would be hypocritical of me to suggest
that we axe crappy public school teach-
ers while spoon-feeding professors at a
private university.
Talking with one of my professors,
the generally well liked (and newly ten-
ured, yay!) Deak Nabers of the English
department put a few things into per-
spective.
“I was treated incredibly fairly,” said
Nabers, “and Brown wants that.” He
emphasized that everyone wants to be
given a chance and that Brown has fos-
tered a positive reputation for profes-
sors. It’s an attractive place to be. That
said, he seemed to take the position
that the undergraduate student body at
Brown is outstanding. Part of the desire
to toughen the tenure review process is
to make sure that the faculty is as top
notch as its student body, to keep the in-
creasingly bright classes on their toes.
Here we are again, though, with the
vicious cycle—which he too recognized.
The brightest and easiest students to
teach get taught by the best teachers,
who receive the best pay, garner high
esteem, and receive the most job secu-
rity. Meanwhile, kindergarten teachers,
who arguably have the greatest influ-
ence on a child’s trajectory, receive none
of these things.
Even the discussion of tenure amend-
ments comes back to public school
shortcomings. I think about a fifth grade
classroom in Providence where I volun-
teer once a week, and when I compare
this environment to my own Massachu-
setts suburban public school, I shudder
at the disadvantages that these students
face. It’s glaringly clear that the system
needs to be reinvigorated.
My consolation, for now, is that
Brown students are lining up to join or-
ganizations like TFA, which have made
it their goal to revive public schools
around the country.
If we want this country to thrive in
the future, we need to stop the inequity
here. While taking away the salaries of
our teachers might momentarily boost
limping state budgets, it only perpetu-
ates the real problem. If we continue to
tell ourselves that subpar schools and
teachers are satisfactory, then we will
continue to churn out generations of
underachieving adults. After all, I as-
sume that is part of Brown’s mission
too—to have the best faculty in order to
foster “intellectual renewal.”
The means are different, but the
ends have to be the same: better teach-
ers. Brown is concerned that its faculty
is too pampered, so hiring processes
need to be more stringent. Hell, maybe
we should just trash tenure and make
it incentive based. For the American
public school, though, selective hiring
is only part of the answer. Yes, I believe
that we should be more careful in choos-
ing our teachers, but taking away funds
from an already depleted field will not
yield results. So put money back into the
system, cut corners by increasing class-
room size… do something. I just don’t
think it is fair to criticize our teachers
until we give them a chance to succeed.
Our sustained growth relies on our
ability to enhance the reputation of our
educators, public and private, so that
our fifth graders want to grow up to be
teachers.
Caroline Washburn
music
arts & culture
APRIL 7, 2011 5
Hitting Home Emily Oliveira

the low anthem at their folkin’ finest

clayton ALDERN
staff writer
Strong folk music is an Americana-studded road-
trip—a dusty El Camino stocked with honest lyricism,
simple chord progressions, and a cup o’ pure and gritty
insta-nostalgia. If the vehicle stays its course, the route
culminates in wonderfully poignant pieces of despair,
loss and rebirth. The Low Anthem is absolutely on this
track.
The quartet, composed of Brown grads and based
out of Providence, recently released their fourth album
Smart Flesh in February of this year. The new disc poten-
tiates the group’s already solid work to an extraordinary
new level, resulting in a fresh new addition to modern
folk. And with an appearance on David Letterman be-
hind them and a tour with Iron and Wine slated for the
coming months, it appears that the musicians are finally
receiving the recognition they deserve.
The first incarnation of the group emerged in 2006
after Ben Knox Miller and Jeff Prystowsky met at WBRU,
the student-run radio station on campus. What began as
a completely hand-produced project (read: dumpster-
diving for cardboard to use for album inserts) has evolved
into a quiet juggernaut on the Rhode Island and, recently,
national folk scene. Five years, two additional members,
and three albums later, Smart Flesh shows off the group
at its folkin’ finest. Knox Miller, Prystowsky, and co. of-
fer a too-rare combination of intricate songwriting and
spectacular musicianship. Jocie Adams (another Brown
alum and an ex-NASA employee) is a classically trained
clarinetist, which means those intriguing ambient notes
aren’t synthesized—rather, they’re perfectly controlled
breaths through the licorice stick. Other notable musical
appearances on Low Anthem tracks include a pump or-
gan, a stand-up bass, crotales, a bowed saw, a dulcimer,
and something wonderfully brassy (possibly a euphoni-
um). This is a true troupe of musicians. Of course, on top
of all this, the group churns out slick-as-butter four-
part vocal harmonies (check out “Charlie Darwin”
from 2009’s Oh My God Charlie Darwin).
Smart Flesh was recorded in Porino’s Pasta Sauce
Factory, a not-quite-decrepit industrial site in Central
Falls. Porino’s adds to the character of each track on
the album, equally impacting the hymn-like nature of
songs like “Matter of Time” and jangly stompers like
“Boeing 737.” The factory complements the structure
of the songs with an open reverb that couldn’t be
mimicked in a closed studio. The site, simultaneously
languid and enigmatic, was a fitting choice for the re-
cording on another front, as it embodies the sound of
the album as a whole. Smart Flesh is spacious, plod-
ding and tremendously sad: an abandoned factory in
its own right, primed and ready for exploration. Take
your time with the album (although the turtle-paced
tempo prevents you from doing much else). Smart show dampened much of the factory’s innate tone, it
Flesh wasn’t written for a picnic; brace yourself for was apparent how much the environment added to the
the despondency before it hits. On “Ghost Woman music. Moonlight through half-blacked-out windows
Blues,” Knox Miller echoes George Carter with “On and industrial-style stage lighting revealed a band that
my way home, by that lonesome graveyard / A ghost is passionate about and committed to its work.
jumps up and says ‘Come on, be my man.’” And you Rolling Stone’s David Fricke calls Smart Flesh “de-
believe him—only a haunted man could sing some- spairing songs at crippled-spirit speed.” Indeed, the
thing that haunting. mournful, echoing recordings on the album are the
The March 12 album release party, also at Porino’s, embodiment of a singer-songwriter and band that con-
showcased the Low Anthem’s stunning musician- front sadness in a well-oiled, tried-and-true manner.
ship. The recorded spectacle of Smart Flesh requires But there is more than despair in Smart Flesh. The Low
no downscaling onstage. Instead, the band members Anthem creates a melancholy that is gorgeous and me-
are in constant motion, trading instruments and lodic, music that resonates with anyone that has known
spaces from song to song in order to fulfill the hefty yearning or regret. The outstanding musicianship gen-
requirements of their songwriting. The calm, wheez- erates a cathartic sense of triumph—a coming-of-age
ing sigh that is the sound of the new album is visu- story to which we can all relate. This is where Smart
ally a dynamic, swirling entity. Despite Knox Miller’s Flesh shines: the Low Anthem hits home because it is
onstage observation that the mass of people at the home.

books Kate Atherton

Going Against the Grain

also, vampires
jennie YOUNG CARR
literary editor

Switch on your Kindle or iPad and
a vast, unregulated bookstore is at
your fingertips—the Wild West of the
publishing industry. Traditional pub-
lishing houses dominate the realm of
printed books, but online venues allow
savvy, independent authors to work
outside the system and self-publish
e-books. Amanda Hocking is perhaps
the most successful of these authors.
After several publishers rejected her
paranormal romance novels, she de-
cided to sell them herself. Melodrama
and hunky vampires are a winning
combination—19 novels later, she’s
made nearly two million dollars.
Last week, though, this badass,
anti-establishment figure made a sur-
prising decision. She signed a deal
with St. Martin’s Press, thus joining
the system. Her controversial move
raises questions about the viability of
self-publishing and the role of pub-
lishing houses in this radically altered
literary landscape. Outraged readers
have accused Hocking of selling out.
She defended her decision on her
blog, writing, “It is crazy that we live
in a time that I have to justify taking
a seven-figure publishing deal with St.
Martin’s. 10 years ago, nobody would
question this. Now everybody is.”
While this is true, her point is irrel-
evant. Stretch your mind back to the
technological wasteland that existed
a decade ago. Amazon had yet to in-
troduce the Kindle, and the iPad wasn’t
even a gleam in Steve Jobs’s eye. These
gadgets have altered self-publishing
so dramatically that a comparison to
the world of 10 years ago is essentially
meaningless.
The system used to be much more
clear-cut. You toiled over a book for a
few years, then brought it to a literary
agent. If the work had sufficient prom-
ise, he would secure a contract with
a publishing house for you, and that
publishing house would then manage
editing and marketing. Your job was to
fill plot holes and rewrite inelegant sen-
tences, maybe do some book readings in
local stores, and wait for your 10 percent
of the royalties. Self-publishing was a
losing game. After paying the overhead
costs of printing your book, you faced
the considerable challenge of market-
ing it and finding a readership. It’s still
not an easy road to success, but the in-
creased popularity of e-readers—and
thus e-books—has made self-publishing
a practicable proposition. Programs
such as Amazon’s Kindle Direct Pub-
lishing allow writers to sell their books
in the Amazon Kindle Store, which is
accessible to a wide variety of devices.
The program is free and offers authors
70 percent of royalties. Suddenly, self-
publishing looks a lot less pathetic.
There are limitations to self-pub-
lishing, though, a fact that Hocking rec-
ognizes. “People have bad things to say
about pub-
lishers,” she
told The New
York Times,
“but I think
they still have
services, and I
want to see what they
are. And if they end up
not being any good, I don’t
have to keep using them.”
That kind of take-it-or-leave-it
attitude about the titans of publish-
ing is jarring, but appropriate in these
circumstances. As a self-made success,
Hocking is in a unique position to rei-
magine the power dynamic between au-
thor and publishing house. She will not
be tied exclusively to St. Martin’s, nor
will she depend on it for her livelihood.
Rather, she has stated emphatically
and repeatedly that she will continue
to self-publish, and that she may actu-
ally lose money on the books she allows
St. Martin’s to publish. “But,” she reas-
sures readers on her blog, “I’m making
enough money on my other books—and
I will continue to make enough on my
self-published books—that I can afford
to take this risk.”
But why take such a risk? Hocking’s
alliance with St. Martin’s Press is like a
marriage between a nouveau riche Amer-
ican industrialist and the daughter of a
British lord. Crude earning power meets
tradition and refinement—ultimately,
polish results. Hocking
has admitted that her
novels will benefit from
the more intensive edit-
ing that they’ll receive—her
freelance editors just aren’t
cutting it. And, with the mar-
keting team of a prestigious
publishing house pushing her
books, Hocking has the potential
to become a household name, a
status that she equates with career
stability. “I want to be the impulse buy
that people make when they’re waiting
in an airport because they know my
name,” she wrote on her blog.
At this point, you’re probably won-
dering what Ms. Hocking’s books are
actually like. In possession of a Kindle
and time to kill, I launched an investi-
gation. 99 cents bought me a 332-page
tome entitled My Blood Approves.
While I respect the author as a busi-
nesswoman, her jejune prose made me
wince. (Painful moment: the 17-year-
old heroine asks her cryptic suitor,
“What’s your angle?” His response:
“Isosceles.”) It was like the diary of a
teenage girl without exceptional wit
or perception, plus some stuff about
blood. Literary merit has never been a
requirement for an author to become a
bestseller, so perhaps Hocking’s move
into print will win her the status that
she craves. At the very least, let’s hope
for a better editor.
6
theatre
arts & culture
POST-
emma JOHNSON
theatre editor
Friday, February 4
Dear Diary,
Today I got cast in Talk. Surprise
of the century: I’m playing a man. It’s
not even funny anymore! I thought I
covered all bases to prevent this hap-
pening again—I wore my teeny-weeny
skirt to the auditions, and when I read
the monologue I did that thing with my
lips and nostrils that gives me a kind of
pouty look. I don’t get it, diary—what
am I doing wrong? Tell me: Is there a
moustache on my face wearing an in-
visibility cloak that everyone except me
can see through?
film & tv
Defending Reality
jake gyllenhaal puts on a shirt
zack MEZERA
staff writer
Well we’re right in the thick of them
now, the post-Oscar/pre-summer cin-
ematic doldrums. The time of year
when studios often release those films
they’re almost embarrassed to have
produced, like Mars Needs Moms and
the latest Mel Gibson tirade/movie.
But it’s also the prime time for those
genre flicks that might just be a little
too weird or ambitious for the gen-
eral public’s taste. Case in point: last
week’s Source Code.
Jake Gyllenhaal—who thankfully
has cut his hair and put on a shirt fol-
lowing Prince of Persia—stars as a
young army officer who spookily finds
himself occupying someone else’s
body on a train set to explode in eight
minutes. His mission, the Orwellian
telescreen lady tells him, is to enter
this strange man’s consciousness in
order to find the bomber and stop his
next attack in the real world. What fol-
lows is a surprisingly fun ride: action
with just the right amount of human
touch, certainly worth the trip down
the Hill.
While a solid film in its own right,
Source Code is also a commendable
entry in the long tradition of science
fiction thrillers. Moreover, it is the
ambitious love child of two parallel
strands of sci-fi films. The first strand
is a distinguished line of time travel
flicks, ranging from the light-hearted
Back to the Future and Bill and Ted,
Talk about Talk
the secret diary of a stage actress
Monday, February 28
Oh Diary,
I have good news! So it turns out I’m
not actually playing a man. Apparently
the text doesn’t really mind which gen-
der my character is! Anyway, at rehears-
al today, we read through the play for
the first time, and OMG the writer was
there. Like he was just sitting at the end
of the table chilling with us in his beret.
STRESSFUL.COM!
Diary, I wish I could tell you what the
play is about, but I just don’t think I get
it! What I can tell you is that there are
lots of words (memorization is gonna be
a bitch). I bet you’re into that, though—
cuz you’re a diary. ROFL! You should
definitely come and see it.
Friday, March 4
Hey Di-di,
This week was spent chitchatting, ham-
mering out all the “whats” and “whys,”
and many, many “whos.” Erik, our lovely
director, has asked us to bring in daily re-
search in order to compile this huge dra-
maturgical database. I’ve been focusing
on the stuff my character is an expert on—
postmodernism, surrealism, Dadaism, ab-
stract expressionism, the Beats, Kerouac,
Ginsberg, Breton … I’ve also been printing
lots of photographs, and I’m really pleased
with them—my printer ran out of ink, so
they look very hipster.
to much more self-serious films like 12
Monkeys and the delightfully Gordian
Primer. The second strand, a new kid
on the block, is the mind/body genre.
Its hallmark is the idea that there exists
some kind of alternate reality acces-
sible by the mind. The Matrix was the
first in this line of mind/body movies,
but films like Vanilla Sky, Avatar, and
Inception have broken new ground in
the genre. In many ways, Source Code
feels like the culmination of these two
strands, the fulfillment of some long-
standing promise. With this bridging,
science fiction seems to be pointing
toward a capital-T Truth.
It is interesting that these films
about time travel and alternate real-
ity are some of the highest-grossing of
all time. Indeed, we literally buy into
these ideas—to the tune of billions of
dollars. One could easily claim that
these films are a coping mechanism for
the strains of everyday life. We openly
admit that we often watch movies to
imagine an escape (don’t we all want
to go to Hogwarts?). But some are
more powerful—when the escape hits
almost too close to home, too close to
reality itself. James Cameron made
the world of Pandora seem so real,
so unattainably beautiful, that some
came down with “Avatar Depression
Syndrome.” They just couldn’t bear
the real world, which literally paled in
comparison.
Tuesday, March 15
Dear Diary,
We’ve now begun the mammoth task
of getting the play on its feet. Which has
also meant that we’ve been spending
more time … on our feet. Stretching and
jumping and doing yoga and sh*t. Now,
diary, you know I’m really not a fan of
engaging my body in any sort of exertion,
but I’ve tried to make things easier for
myself on the sun-saluting-downward-
dogging front by wearing sweatpants.
Of course, I still can’t touch my toes, but
that would just be asking too much! Well,
anyway, diary, I shouldn’t complain. I’m
sure all this is vital for the alignment of
my spiritual, physical, and emotional
cores, and ensuring that my metaphysi-
cal aura doesn’t turn rancid!
Thursday, March 17
Today we were supposed to be off
book.
No comment.
Friday, March 25
Tomorrow we leave for spring break.
Right now, the show is running about six
hours, and the dreams that I am having
about a snoring audience are making me
perspire profusely.
Sunday, April 3
Diary,
But when we
watch movies
like Inception or
Source Code, we
don’t just do so
passively, drool-
ing over a world
of which we can
never be a part.
Instead, there’s a
hero we identify
with, a character
we discover our-
selves in and pour our hopes into—the
actors’ enviable physiques notwith-
standing. In all of these films, the hero
is the person searching and fighting
for the objective truth, for reality.
The audience cheers on the guys like
Neo and Cobb who defend our real-
ity. Even in time travel films, the good
guys usually find a way, accidentally
or not, to preserve continuity and re-
turn to when they came from. So when
Cypher chooses to live in the Matrix,
to eat steak and presume that “igno-
rance is bliss,” the audience instinc-
tively knows he is the villain.
Because the heroes of these mov-
ies are defenders of the real, we are
in fact rooting for our own reality. By
negating various unrealities, wheth-
er alternate timelines or computer
simulations, we rediscover and are
reassured of our own existence. And
by bridging both the time travel and
Shixie
This may be my last entry ever. I’m go-
ing to jump off the OMAC now, and you
can’t stop me. The show goes up in four
days, and I think I’ve missed the boat for
memorizing my lines. Or the plane, more
precisely, because I totally planned to
memorize them really hard on my flight
in from California last night. How was I
supposed to know that the woman in the
row behind me would decide to have a
seizure, miles above freaking Arizona in
a really distracting and traumatic way?!
The squeaky southern stewardess turned
it into a full on pandemonium, it really
wasn’t a conducive environment for any
kind of learning.
Tuesday, April 5
Oh diary! It finally feels like we are
on our way to a climax, just in time
for the show. I had been feeling so
weary about the way things were look-
ing, but tonight for the first time I was
like damnnnn we might actually have
reached a presentable state. Which is
such a relief—so many hours have gone
into trying to mount and manage this
masterpiece of a play, it would be rather
sad if it sucked.
Will Emma Johnson remember
her lines? Find out this weekend
and next at TALK, April 7-10 and
14-17 in Leeds Theatre.
Stephanie Vecellio
mind/body traditions, Source Code
successfully doubles down on hu-
manity. All Gyllenhaal’s character is
asking for in this movie is to die: the
ultimate affirmation of humanity and
reality.
If you’ve got the time, Source Code
is a flick worth catching. It is a tad
melodramatic, but compared to the
cookie-cutter cash cows of late, Dun-
can Jones’s film gleams like a beacon
in the fog, lighting a hopeful path for
popular cinema. When viewed within
the tradition of great time travel and
mind/body films, the film yet again
reinforces our belief that “virtual”
reality just isn’t good enough. The
top must fall, the Matrix must end.
Source Code is one more reminder
that there’s an even better dream
outside the dreamworld—an affirma-
tion that there is in fact “no place like
home.”
 lifestyle
APRIL 7, 2011 7
Sugar in the Salt Shaker
NaCl + C6H12O6 = awesome!

rémy ROBERT
food columnist
What is it about the siren call of salty sweetness?
The two tastes have a kind of bewitching effect on
one another. Sugar softens salt, salt amplifies sugar,
and the combination is a harmonious little parcel,
greater than the sum of its parts. In a world where
chefs are cooking with the likes of flavored foams
and powders, this trend isn’t just accessible—it ac-
tually makes a lot of sense.
I remember tapping into this genius during the
Wendy’s trips of my childhood, when I would plunge
French fries into my chocolate Frosty. It felt like a
delicious rebellion against the prescriptive conven-
tions of what we should eat and when we should eat
them. But by the time I discovered the dynamic duo
of salt and sugar in those fast food forays, Henri Le
Roux had long since invented the miracle of salted
caramel. One imagines a rotund, jolly Frenchman,
tinkering around his rustic kitchen and getting the
wacky idea to toss some salt in with the swirling car-
amel. The confection took France by storm, and the
rest of the world with it. After that watershed year of
1976, Le Roux won the award for the best candy in
France (no small task). Today, his company makes
a life-affirming salted caramel spread that can be
used in lieu of butter on toast, cream cheese on ba-
gels, or Nutella on everything.
On this side of the Atlantic, there are plenty of
ways to get your paws on salt and sugar’s magical
and multifarious coupling. In one giant leap for man-
kind, Ben & Jerry’s recently unveiled a new flavor
with a crack-like addictiveness—Late Night Snack,
a vanilla bean ice cream with ribbons of gooey cara-
mel and crispy fudge-covered potato chip clusters
throughout. It is truly a late night snack for the ages,
and a dangerous addition to any Micro-Fridge.
Candymaker Vosges Haut-Chocolat gained notori-
ety with Mo’s Bacon Bar, which is spangled with bits
of applewood-smoked bacon and a dose of Alderwood
smoked salt. The company also came out with a bacon-
chocolate pancake mix. The pairing can be perilously
redolent of a fancified dog treat. Nonetheless, pork is
ideal for salty-sweet ventures—it’s sweet enough on
its own to blend right in with new playmates. My fa-
vorite rendition involves praline bacon*, but I’ve also
been daydreaming about a pulled pork and coleslaw
sandwich, served shamelessly on a glazed donut bun.
Seems like something for the dark depths of the blog
“This Is Why You’re Fat,” but then it dawns on you …
this is a crazy, twisted, brilliant scheme.
Chocolate, in all its lush, velveteen glory, is an ob-
vious counterpoint to the salty edge of potato chips
or bacon, but salt works with sugar even beyond the
realm of cocoa. In the South, we salt our watermel-
on—it’s a counterintuitive coup that magnifies the
melon’s summery sweetness. Adding just a pinch of
salt to orange juice has a similar effect. (Before you
try any of this at home, it’s best to procure a jar of
fleur de sel, a deluxe sea salt with ethereal crystals
that melt on your tongue like snowflakes.) Like light
filtered through a prism, sweetness comes alive with
the extra push of good ol’ NaCl. Burst forth, nab that
salt, and shake it.
*To prepare, cook bacon as usual, but toss in a mixture of
brown sugar, chopped pecans, and chili powder—if you are
so bold—after the first ten minutes of cooking.
Chocolate Caramel Crack
… So called because it’s absurdly addictive. My recipe is
adapted from Smitten Kitchen, but there are lots of rendi-
tions floating around. Some of my Jewish friends switch in
matzo during Passover.
Ingredients:
40 Saltine crackers
2 sticks salted butter
1 cup packed light brown sugar
½ teaspoon vanilla extract
½ teaspoon sea salt
1 ½ cups bittersweet chocolate chips
Extra sea salt
Directions:
1. Preheat oven to 350°F.
2. Line an 11x17” baking sheet with aluminum foil.
3. Pave the sheet with Saltines, perfectly covering the foil.
4. In a saucepan, melt the butter and sugar, stirring frequent-
ly. When it starts boiling, stir vigorously for three more min-
utes.
5. Remove from heat; stir in vanilla and salt.
6. Quickly pour caramel over the Saltines—spreading quick-
ly, as it will set lickety-split. It’s easiest to do this with a friend
(teamwork!).
7. Bake for 12-15 minutes, watching closely to make sure
nothing burns.
8. Sprinkle chocolate chips all over, then leave alone for five
minutes so the chocolate can do its thang.
9. Spread the melted chocolate in an even layer over the
crackers. Sprinkle with sea salt.
10. Refrigerate to set, then break into pieces, and eat your
heart out.

travel
Neither Clean nor Classy
roughing it at the grand canyon
matt KLEBANOFF
managing editor
“If you need to pee, do it at least
200 feet away from the trail and any
running water. If you need to poop, the
same rules apply, but you have to dig a
hole six inches deep, and then fill it up
afterward—I have a trowel you can bor-
row. Oh, yeah, if you use toilet paper,
you have to bag it up. I have some extra
baggies if you need them.”
So a fellow geology concentrator
announced last week before we all em-
barked on an eight-mile hike through
Tonto National Forest in Arizona. An
inexperienced woodsman and hiker, I
was immediately taken aback by these
rules. I barely ever stray more than 15
miles away from a Cheesecake Factory
or a Banana Republic—in other words,
I’m sort of an indoorsman.
My initial trepidation soon gave way
to contentment and awe as I walked
across the dusty brown desert landscape
and gazed in every direction at the hilly
volcanic rock, dotted all over with swar-
row and prickly pear cacti. This was the
first stop on the geology undergrad field
trip to Arizona this spring break, where
we made a pilgrimage to the mecca of
geologic sites—the Grand Canyon—
along with several other impressive
sites, which included an enormous,
natural rock bridge and a massive cra-
ter formed by a meteor impact 50,000
years ago.
Of course, the views at all of the sites
were spectacular—more striking than
anywhere else I’ve ever visited. The ac-
commodations, on the other hand …
not so much. Unlike the vacations I’ve
taken with my parents, my trip to the
Canyon didn’t involve cushy resorts,
tropical beaches, or Mickey Mouse. My
hotel room, in fact, consisted of a small
blue tent, with just enough room for five
people to sleep side by side. The lodg-
ings were Spartan but adequate, though
I feared that they wouldn’t provide
sufficient protection from the animals
roaming about. Bears weren’t an issue,
but I was told to watch out for moun-
tain lions, scorpions, snakes, coyotes,
and perhaps even chipmunks. (At first, I
secretly welcomed the prospect of chip-
munks coming into our tent to cuddle
and sing us Christmas carols, until I
remembered that rabies exists, whereas
sweater-wearing squirrels do not.) By
the time I’d had the good fortune to
catch sight of a rattlesnake and hear a
pack of coyotes howling eerily nearby,
I was firmly of the opinion that nature
would be best enjoyed without all that
damn wildlife.
Aside from the pesky presence of
fauna, I quickly found the lack of hot
water to be another failing of the out-
doors. How was I supposed to wash my
face, I wondered, with cold water? It
would just close up my pores and lock
dirt inside! Hot water is necessary for
cleansing—that’s just science. With-
out it, I was also unable to shave for a
week, which presented me with a ma-
jor problem: I have sensitive skin and
quick-growing facial hair, which causes
irritation if left untamed. Some camp-
sites didn’t even have running water to
use for hand-washing, so for the entire
week, I was covered in Purell—a con-
stant reminder of last year’s swine flu
epidemic.
In a similar vein, very few of the
campgrounds offered showers. Odd-
ly enough, “Horse Camp,” as it was
named, was one of the few campsites
where showers were a possibility. (“It’s
not for horses,” the campground matron
assured us. “There’s just a horse trail
nearby and some stables over there.”
For me, this wasn’t very comforting.)
At Horse Camp, two dollars in quarters
bought you six minutes of hot, wonder-
ful water—it had only been three days
since my last shower, but I still thought
to myself, “This must be what it’s like
when people get home from Survivor.”
Surprisingly, though, forgoing daily
showers wasn’t a big problem. Though I
most certainly didn’t smell piney-fresh,
it was comforting that everyone else on
the trip smelled roughly the same, so no
one could be judged. And after a while,
we all became unaware of our unsavory
odor—our olfactory senses somehow
managed to occupy themselves with
Phil Lai
non-bodily aromas, especially at Horse
Camp.
To be honest, though, in the world
of camping, I had it easy. There was al-
ways a bathroom available, every night
I enjoyed a large, warm meal, and at
bedtime I curled up in a warm, plush
sleeping bag. Besides, part of the fun
of camping is getting kind of gross and
knowing it’s socially acceptable. There’s
no way to stay clean or classy when
you’re camping—and rightfully so.
By the end of the week, I let go of any
hopes of maintaining personal hygiene,
and urinating indoors started to feel un-
natural. In my flannel shirt and hiking
boots, washing down mouthfuls of beef
jerky with swigs of dark beer, I realized
that being outside 24/7 didn’t seem so
unusual anymore. Still, at the end of the
trip, I was glad to no longer live “off the
grid”—i.e., somewhere where cell recep-
tion is spotty. And above all, I was glad
to have constant access once again to
restrooms, rather than a trowel.
8 sex & etiquette
POST-

Trollege
n. a website that lets users cyber-cruise according to the university
they attend; notably, University of Chicago’s www.eduHookups.com
invites students from eight colleges to solicit poon on a public forum

MM
sexpert
I’m writing this over Spring Break
from a couch in California, so forgive
me if, by the time you’re seeing it, the
website in question has blown up all
over campus and my entire readership
has registered as members. But there
are several reasons I think this is un-
likely. First, there’s not, like, a glaring
deficit of casual sex at Brown. Second,
there’s not, like, a glaring deficit of fa-
cilitative websites at Brown. Third, I
suspect that solicitations for beejays
from women who are “rich and ob-
jectively beautiful,” that specify “hu-
manities majors need not apply,” and
that are signed “respectfully yours,”
will meet more than the modicum of
the skepticism that characterizes the
Brown community. I can’t see even
the drunkest of biddies responding
unironically to a thread titled, “WILL
SCREW ANYONE BEFORE 2 AM.”
(“Look yo, it’s the last day of Winter
quarter, and I want to put my dick in
somebody. Seriously.”)
But lo, April 4 marked the Brown
University launch of eduHookups. Fi-
nally, we are privy to the porny com-
munity of dick-wetters started by Uni-
versity of Chicago students as an effort
to “change the ages-old stereotype that
UChicago students are severely sexu-
ally deprived.” The site originated as a
coding project, but quickly turned into
a public service endeavor to controvert
depictions of UChicago as a place where
“the squirrels are cuter than the girls
and more aggressive than the guys.”
The site’s creators abased another adage
that U of C is where “fun comes to die”
by taglining their header, “eduHook-
ups: Where fun comes to thrive,” in a
chill, embossed Lucida Handwriting. I
don’t know jack about web design, but
I do know that Spotted at Brown and
Prospect & Meeting get an A for usabil-
ity, and give pretty explicit instructions
about what buttons to press. I can’t say
the same for eduHookups, whose table
layout might have been designed by Car-
lton Banks circa 1995. Though members
can sort listings by selecting their school
in a drop-down box, there’s no internal
Brown page. In other words, WashU us-
ers can see everything that Northwestern
students are saying to each other (which
might be valuable for schools located
within a 50-mile radius of each other, but
isn’t super functional for us Yankees). In
fact, even non-members can read the
propositions passed between horn-dogs
from states away—which is how I’m able
to cite authentic quotes such as, “Let me
f*ck the nerd out of you,” and, “Looking
for a frat star to rock your world? Lets
meet up, I may even superman you with
my letters.”
I don’t mean to hate so hard on this
venue for no-strings sex. Casual hook-
ups can be incredibly fulfilling, espe-
cially when one party has explicitly
communicated his or her intentions and
desires, and another has voluntarily re-
sponded. And I love online exchanges
of any kind—they’re easy, resourceful,
and effing efficient. You know what gets
me really wet? Gmail. I’m pretty sure if I
drag-and-dropped enough attachments
I could actually get off.
But eduHookups makes me uncom-
fortable. Maybe if there were a drag-
and-drop function, or fewer spam ads in
the ShoutBox, or more women users, or
less UChicago ubiquity, I wouldn’t feel
so weird about publishing my donut-
themed, ethnic-exotifying scrotum fan-
tasy. eduHookups doesn’t feign a dem-
ocratic service as its modus operandi.
Instead, there’s an entire tab (wedged
between “Safety” and “FAQ”) devoted to
“Ads,” which lets businesses know exact-
ly what to do to promote their tchotch-
kes in the sidebars. “We need new mem-
bers,” blurts the homepage. “Register
now!” On March 18, Jay Leno said of
the web page, “A place to hook up with
college kids? There’s already a place
for that. It’s called college.” As if this
were an endorsement eduHookups,
the site adduces this quote several
times: “Comedian Jay Leno probably
described it best ... Clearly, the desire
for the services we offer is also shared
by students across the nation.” Not to
be a wet blanket here, but I think The
Tonight Show is maybe, I don’t know,
mocking you? A tad?
I read about this a few days ago on
Huffington Post, and I swear I tried to
reserve judgment until Brown got offi-
cially roped in. Maybe we can use this
site, not to talk about our blue balls
and thong sizes, but to facilitate really
rewarding sexual—or even platonic—
experiences. Maybe we can make a
conscious effort not to be intolerant,
whether it’s of gender or ethnicity or
academic concentration or year of
study (I’ve seen ’em all). Before that
happens, I’m going to remain cynical.
If I miss an opportunity to get pegged
in the ass with a pastry by a blowdart
fetishist, then I guess that’s my loss.
I’ll have to use one of Brown’s exist-
ing hookup websites to fulfill that fan-
tasy.

Emily
Post-
etiquette advice for the socially
awkward and their victims
Dear Emily, tion the beefy frat boy that ogled you in the love and section
You know how, after enough tequila, Ratty. Discuss your decidedly heterosexual
This week, we proudly in- fairly influenced. But now she has
almost anything seems like a good idea? pursuits at FishCo 2.0. Decorate your wall
troduce Lewbly Mashintire as no power over you or your grades.
Well. Last weekend, suffering from the with (male) prophylactic flowers.
a guest columnist to sub in for Your student-TA history might
tequila effect, I decided to exercise my het- On the other hand, you could embrace
Dorian as he trots sassily around make things weird at first, but it
eroflexibility and hook up with my room- her advances. Last weekend certainly won’t
the globe. will probably play out in a fun way.
mate. When I woke up the next morning, be the last time that you imbibe tequila.
Also, she’s only a year older than
I was ready to forget the whole thing, but Sometime soon you’ll need to blow off steam
Dear L&D, you, so there’s not even an age is-
she seems to have taken it a little more seri- (pun gleefully intended), and your roommate
Is it wrong for me to f*ck my sue. At this point, she’s just an-
ously. She keeps talking about how “crazy” is closer than next door. If you absolutely
ex-TA? She was my Neuro TA last other biddy waiting for your love.
and “hilarious” it would be if we hooked up must sate your hetero-thirst, use her playful
year, and we fake flirted a little Good luck.
again. Emily, I totally love my roommate— advances to propose a ménage-a-trois. Trust
back then, but now that I’m not in xoxo
but I don’t want to get involved with her. me—you won’t hurt her feelings.
her class anymore, I’ve run into Lovecraft
What should I do? Take last Wednesday, for instance. Hav-
her on several social occasions.
-Cute Roommate Understandably Sug- ing over-indulged my taste for south-of-the-
She’s a senior, I’m a junior, we Dear TAP IT,
gests Hedonism border saguaro juice, I stumbled—grace-
have some mutual friends, and The grade’s in the book, so don’t
fully—back to my room. Quite by accident,
we both like dubstep. We started hesitate to get all up on that sh*t.
CRUSH, my cherub, I bumped into my roommate as she was
flirting again, but this time it’s for You two don’t have a professional
While your opening question was prob- coming from the performance of her nightly
real. We’ve been getting closer relationship to worry about any-
ably rhetorical, Emily Post- would like to ablutions. The minty freshness of her breath more, so there’s no ethical dilemma
and closer and have even hung
assure you that she is well-acquainted with was intoxicating, and as my lips met hers, I whatsoever. If anything, you’ll both
out alone a few times (nothing
the deleterious effects that tequila can have realized I had found my new aphrodisiac. The look back on last year as something
serious, just grabbing lunch at the
on one’s judgment. Too many mornings, next morning, I woke up woozy and blushing, fun to talk about. As a TA in the sci-
Ratty or whatever). Should I tap
she has fished a lime out of her bra and her slight figure in calm repose next to mine. ences myself, I often wish my stu-
that, or am I starting to get into
searched in vain for her misplaced dignity. I packed my books, put on my clothes, and dents would take more than an aca-
some f*cked up ethics here?
In fact, last Wednesday—but that’s another headed to my Virginia Woolf seminar. demic interest in my person, but it
Thanks,
story. Later in the day, my translations of Sap- feels creepy to make the first move.
Teaching Assistant Poon Is
Anyway. Be gentle, but firm. Get your pho’s verses took on new meaning. The Anyway, here’s the lowdown:
Tempting
mind out of the gutter, dearest CRUSH, beauty of my roommate’s eyes had been After school lovin’ scenario? I think
I’m talking about discouraging your room- released—our bedroom was become our pri- so. As long as you don’t go after the
Darlink TAP IT,
mate’s amorous advances. Understand that, vate island of Lesbos. professor, you’ll be fine. Keep calm
By all means, tap away. It’s
while you feel yourself to be in an awkward Pardon my reminiscence. I mean only and get it on.
been at least a semester since
position, she probably does as well. By veil- to show that regret need not accompany Turning tables on teachers,
she was your TA. TAs are usu-
ing her interest in jokes, she’s trying to as- an inebriated tryst. Carpe diem—and carpe Lewbly Mashintire
ally required to disclose current
sess your interest covertly, and would likely roommate!
or previous romantic and sexual
appreciate it if you responded in kind. So, Yours, passionately, Questions? Ask Anonymously at
relationships with students, just
follow her lead and respond subtly. Men- Emily Post- formspring.me/lovecraftdorian
to make sure grades don’t get un-