We Are the

regenerative dance play with your halloween candy freize and enjoy cure your hangover

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Editors-in-Chief Sam Knowles Amelia Stanton Managing Editor of Features Charles Pletcher Managing Editor of Arts & Culture Jennie Young Carr Managing Editor of Lifestyle Jane Brendlinger Features Editors Zo Hoffman Arts & Culture Editors Clayton Aldern Tyler Bourgoise Lifestyle Editors Jen Harlan Alexa Trearchis Pencil Pusher Phil Lai Chief Layout Editor Clara Beyer Aesthetic Mastermind Lucas Huh Copy Chiefs Julia Kantor Justine Palefsky Staff Wrter Berit Goetz Copy Editors Lucas Huh Caroline Bologna Kristina Petersen Allison Shafir Blake Cecil Nora Trice Chris Anderson

CONTENTS
not just for kicks // matt doyle

LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

Have you registered? We did. We woke up at 8AM to register for Feminist Criticism of Street Signs. Its really popular, and were totally on top of our sh*t. No, we did not wake up to register for courses. We slept in, until the godly hour of 9:30 -- its the little things, these days, and you cant let them pass you by. After looking at the calendar and investigating the matter further (we are a newspaper, after all), weve determined that it is in fact November. Turkey or tofurkey time, depending on your persuasion. The month before December, home to Channukah and Christmas and eclectic family dinners during which mom may reference her favorite Sexicon piece. The first snow has fallen, and from our perch at the head of the BDH, we can see that changes are coming. This week, as you might have predicted, we are are examining the trends du jour. Join us as we seek to make sense of Occupy Providence, sports, Halloween. We try our best to understand, but perhaps, as ever, we are just a few days behind. Alas, we try. But please read us anyway. There is some good stuff in here. We printed it, after all. Until next time,

3 upfront 4 feature

we are the _____ // seth kleinschmidt transwho? // tyler bourgoise dance, dance, dance // charles pletcher

5 arts & culture

culture 6 arts &frieze // cassie everybody

packard

lifestyle 7 jane, you food // jane me

brendlinger the morning after // clara beyer

8 lifestyle

sexicon // MM emily post just dorian

sam and amelia

OUR ILLUSTRATORS
cover // phil lai not just for kicks // phil lai we are the _________ // phil lai transwho? // madeleine denman dance, dance, dance // marissa ilardi everybody frieze // sheila sitaram strangers with candy // caroline washburn the morning after // caleb weinreb
LISZTOMANIA BICENTENNIAL FESTIVAL CONCERT Sayles Fri 8PM

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WANT TO WRITE?
email post.magazine@gmail. com and tell us why youre awesome. if you want to hang out with cool people, we want to hang out with you. yours truly, post-

weekend

Post- Magazine is published every Thursday in the Brown Daily Herald. It covers books, theater, music, film, food, art, and University culture around College Hill. Post- editors can be contacted at post.magazine@gmail. com. Letters are always welcome, and can be either e-mailed or sent to Post- Magazine, 195 Angell Street, Providence, RI 02906. We claim the right to edit letters for style, clarity, and length.

five
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BAG IT! SCREENING Salomon 001 Thurs 7PM

BROWN STORYSLAM Kassar Fox Fri 8PM

NEON NITE Grad Center Lounge Fri 10PM

AND ALL THAT JAZZ Faunce Underground Sat 10PM

upfront
TOP TEN Classes for Spring 2010, Real and Imagined
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2011

1 2 3 4 5

AMCV1903 Shrine, House or Home: Rethinking the House Museum Paradigm ITAL1946 Mamma Mia! Extreme Pover ty and MaternalChild Mor tality in Post-War Italy HMAN1970 Botanic Verses: Plants, People, and Words that Bind Them CROSS LIST ETHN1985 and ENVS1682 I am an Individual: Studies in Snowflake Morphology TAPS1690 Sugarplum Fairies: Hyper-masculinity in Tchaikovskys Nutcracker

6 7 8 9

COLT1510 Havana as Lesbos: Cuban-American Female Poets Come Together COLT 1812 On Being Bored (formerly known as ENGL 1511L) CROSS LIST HIST1870 and GNSS1410 The Royal Eunuch: Castration Narratives in Early Iberia ARCH0305 Glass from the Past: Glimpses into the Histor y, Technology, and Ar tistr y of Molten Material Culture APMA2040 Cracking the Code: in Modern Cr yptography

music is

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not listening to the Lou Reed/Metallica collaboration. Neither should you.

books is
Go the Fuck to Sleep. Still

Not Just for Kicks

matt DOYLE

film is

merging sports and education

contributing writer
volunteer in Project GOAL classrooms, helping students finish their homework and working on the skills (including English language acquisition) necessary to do so. Using recreation as a hook, Brown volunteers also play soccer with the kids they just tutored. The results are tangible: 90 percent of Project GOAL students go on attend college97 percent of whom are the first in their families to do so. Additionally, 17 students have been given scholarships to top private middle schools, including Moses Brown School, Rocky Hill School, the Wheeler School, and Providence Country Day School. Through my own experience as a sport for development student ambassador, I have connected students at Brown with other college students across the country by facilitating the academic connection between sports and human rights. In my opinion, it is best to define the Sport for Development and Peace movement broadly, as the movement is essentially still defining itself. The broad, three-pronged approach of the SportsCorps model allows students to get involved with the area of their choice whether it be research, fundraising, or volunteer opportunities. This is why the club has been able to retain membership and grow in its initial stages of development. Despite the initial success of the club, there are still challenges ahead in making the Sport for Development and Peace movement more sustainable in the eyes of different key stakeholders. Bridging the gap between athletics and academics is a challenge as many government officials, school administrators and teachers fail to see the benefits that go along with sport and play. Instead, they simply classify this activity as recreation without an effect on substantive education. In order to narrow this gap, it is important to continue to create common dialogues and connections between students, professors and experts on different campuses by offering research, fundraising, and direct volunteer opportunities. In so doing, we address the concerns of skeptical stakeholders, highlighting the best practices of the field and the vital role of academics and student clubs in helping to sustain the movement.

searching for Providence serial killers a la Dexter.

Over the past few years at colleges and universities everywhere, undergraduate and graduate students have started to find ways to utilize sport as a platform for social change. Students are taking up initiatives that use sport as a catalyst to promote and engage in community development, social responsibility, and community service. At Brown, a sport for social change student club known as SportsCorps@Brown was formed in the fall of 2010 to use sport to address key physical, mental, social and economic challenges plaguing impoverished individuals and communitiesin both an international and domestic context. The primary purpose of SportsCorps is to provide the necessary resources for current undergraduate and graduate students on campus to help their surrounding communities. The interdisciplinary nature surrounding the Sport for Development and Peace movement has sparked a growing interest among students. Through SportsCorps, students confront issues such as peace, education, gender, disability and both community and economic development. SportsCorps membersboth students and student-athletes collectively research and raise awareness through the club about the intersection of academics and sports. Group Independent Study Projects (GISPs) have become a cornerstone of student research. One GISP next spring focuses on the Sport for Development and Peace movement and will be exposed to the five major benefits associated with establishing sport programs in impoverished areas: promotion of peace building and anti-violence culture, health promotion and disease prevention, enhancement of childhood education and development, promotion of social inclusion, and stimulus of economic and community development. Students volunteer through Project GOAL (Great Opportunity for Athletes to Learn), a nonprofit located in Central Falls and Providence, Rhode Island, that uses the power and passion of soccer to help 70 selected inner-city kids stay off the streets, stay in school, and realize opportunities in higher education. Brown students

theatre is
wild(e) about Windermere, and wondering when fans will finally come back in style.

food is

finding partly melted pieces of candy in coat pockets after Halloweekend... and totally eating them.

booze is
spiking the new pumpkin spice lattes from the pretty Providence Coffe Roasters truck.

feature
POST-

We Are the
finding a face for the occupy movement

seth KLEINSCHMIDT contributing writer

I was about to say that Im getting sick of hearing about the Occupy movement, what with its hobo-ina-tent aesthetic and its frightening love of Guy Fawkes masks. (I never will get over that one.). Then I kick myself in the face because I know in my heart of hearts that getting sick of Occupiers is an incredibly stupid thing to do. Not just because, if slighted, they might steal the trickor-treat loot out of your little sisters hand (1% of the kids have 70% of the candy, you know), but because our nation needs the Occupiers. With that sentiment out of the way, I will admit that I still feel uncomfortable hearing about the Occupy Wall Street/Providence/College Hill crowdbut not because Im tired of their demands or fingerless gloves. No, Im sick of hearing about a social movement that doesnt have a mascot. Seriously, Occupiers. Get with the program. The National Basketball Association draws huge crowds because its teams have twenty-somethings in foam cat costumes bouncing on trampolines during halftime. Look it up. College football fans are so excited to have big, laughable symbols of school pride that they will occasionally go and, I dont know, poison them (see Alabama, University of). And the quality of the mascot may very well determine the fate of your organization. Consider the San Diego Padres. They have the unfortunately-named Swinging Friar as their symbol of victory, and yet they have never won a World Series. Coincidence? Hardly. So take heed, Occupiers. A mascot is more than a talking point or something to which you drunkenly raise a glass. If treated with the proper respect, your funny caricature/foam thingy can become the movement. If you dont have one, youre just not doing it right. You have a great slogan, which is a step in the right direction. I AM THE 99% is about as plainspoken and bold as you can get, and for that I salute you. But its not enough. So, if you decide to man up and want to really inspire people, here are four candidates on my shortlist. Feel free to choose 1. Herman Cain On the surface this seems absurd. A man who said that you should look in the mirror for the reason youre not rich is kind of a bad choice for a massive, highly energetic movement of angry middle class folks. But cool it for a second and take a closer glimpse at Cain. I did, and I saw two important characteristics: pizza and ice cream. Every 99 percenter worth their salt grew up within spitting distance of a Tasty Freeze (or Frosty Freeze, or Ye Olde Sugare Shacke), and so the Black Walnut should conjure up smooth, American Graffiti-esque memories for everyone in Burnside Park. And who doesnt pine for the days of post-soccer game pizza parties? Godfathers Pizza is undoubtedly one of the most legendary and respected franchises in history[1] citation needed, so you just know that Hurricane Herman would be on board with handing out everyone is a winner gold plastic trophies to those camping out in the cold. Also, someone please make sure that #HurricaneHerman starts trending. 2. The Tyger from William Blakes The Tyger Dedicated Occupiers know that its cold outside, and that nothing is better for tearing winter a new one than fire. So, if youre chilling at Burnside and start yearning for a flaming effigy to keep both your hands and your ideology warm, you might want to review your old copy of Blakes collected works. To be honest I forget the metaphorical significance of the misspelled jungle cat, but surely it can be adapted to fit the classic Tammany Hall-esque vision of corruption. And you hate corruption, right? The Tyger is probably a fat bastard, too, and we all know how much fun those Fat Cats on Wall Street are having. With that in mind, feel free to take the burning part of Blakes poem literally. Like traffic cones and Cheetos, nothing says Danger, Rich People like the color orange, and a burning jungle beast is the perfect shade. 3. Calvin, from Calvin and Hobbes The terrorist with a heart of gold. Youve seen that picture of the Occupy Vancouver protestors having squirt gun battles with cops? Calvins been doing that sort of thing since the 80s. All any of us really want is to live in a country where we can play Calvinball without fear of having our money stolen while were out in the backyard. Big Business has been missing wickets and stealing goals for far too long. Plus, I think I recall some Occupiers recently advocating for occupying Jupiter (why should it have all the mass?), and Calvins Spaceman Spiff persona is the poster boy for anything related to quantum space travel. He also never changes his clothes, making him perfectly suited for the tentcentric life of a protestor. Even Bear Grylls puts on new socks every now and then, and hes supposed to be the ultimate outdoorsy freak. Calvin clearly wants to make life easy for you but difficult for the 1%, accentuated by the fact that the Koch brothers both look like they are relatives of Miss Wormwood. 4. Every Single One of the Transformers And not just because they would probably come with the optional Megan Fox expansion pack. I think I have to count Bumblebee out, though. A black and yellow Camaro is just too obnoxious for the Occupiers. Most of them (myself included) would rather ride shotgun in a VW bus capable of transforming into Jim Morrison, and a muscle car is obviously the antithesis of a peaceful protest. Chevrolet sells Camaros fully-stocked with tear gas canisters and flashbangs (they actually mention this if you slow down the audio of the disclaimers guy at the end of every commercial), so I would feel awkward visiting my cousins in Oakland over Thanksgiving vacation. But sleazy, greasy-haired sax man Bumblebee aside, the Transformers are viciously elegant, much like all of you Occupiers. They have the spirit of social action in them, since theyre quite good at taking over big cities (although they do tend to reduce them to weeping ruins after a few hours). Do you really need any other reasons to slap their beautiful gears all over your banners? You do? Okay, how about this: OPTIMUS PRIME is an anagram for PERMITS OPIUM. Sounds like a swell guy to me! (Hes also an anagram for MOISTURE PIMP, which may or may not be relevant to the movement.) In conclusion, please, Occupiers, raise up one of these symbols (or something completely different (and more sane)) before its too late. Ive looked deep inside of your group and seen something. Its called Iron Giant, Robert Plant, the Yellow Power Rangerreally, it doesnt matter what it is. All that matters is that when I saw it, it resembled triumph. Choose something to represent that spirit, anything at all. As long as you can get behind it, you can count on it to infuse you with not only green tea extract, but also the glow of righteous conquest. I wonder if there are any real swinging friars.

Transwho?
tyler BOURGOISE arts & culture editor
Swedish poet Tomas Transtrmer won the Nobel Prize for literature earlier this month, an award long overdue: the Swedish Academy has nominated him every year since 1993. Now, after a debilitating stroke and a litany of poetry prizes, Transtrmer is becoming a poetic force without national boundaries. However, only a few Americans at universities scattered across the country have observed Transtrmers growth. Otherwise we dont collectively know his voice. It is difficult to discuss a living poet who writes so seamlessly about death, if only because, as he ages, his seamless writing begins to resemble truth: Transtrmer is old enoughgrowing closer to dyingfor us to risk never being conscious that such talent was living among us. Certain details of Transtrmers biography are striking. A practicing psychologist for many years, Transtrmer is one of the few post-WWII poets who has successfully pursued an academic (or clinical) discipline with no ostensible connection to poetry. Working outside the tradition we have come to expect from poetsthat they earn a living by teaching their craftTranstrmers personal autonomy has given him liberties and idiosyncrasies. His poetry reflects this fact. Each poem seems

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2011

arts & culture

nobel in literature, profiled

to emerge from an outsiders curiosity, digging deeper than our superficial notions of life experience, or death: One day I shall reply. One day when I am dead and at last free to collect my thoughts. He even explores venerated themes (death, longing, disaster) with novel vision. Trite as it sounds, this is too often an exploration that contemporary poetry mires or obscures, or forgets altogether. In contrast to the murkily personal poetry to which we have adjusted, Transtrmer provides clear yet intricate images that speak unpretentiously to imagination. This is not to say that Transtrmer is anachronistic, stifled by classical themes to the point that he cannot evoke new sensations endemic to 20th/21st century life. But even when Transtrmer evokes new or nuanced emotions, he intuits sensations we have all felt without cognizing. Even at his most specific, he is rarely obscure: The signal is: / We do not surrender. But want peace, in Allegro. More relatable: When someone who has lived in the house dies, it is repainted. The dead person paints it himself, without a brush, from the inside, in The Blue House. Every image is close to exacting something we have felt too deeply to describe ourselves. In this way, Transtrmer is a worthy ambassador to

our self-understanding, one we can follow and trust. For this to be true, however, we need to receive him. The Transtrmerconscious generation is largely made of people old enough to be our parents and grandparents. Among the sub-30 American crowd, his name blends in with those of poets en vogue, without special distinction. The generation of Americans who are dedicated to Transtrmer is small, potentially non-existent. This would be more distressing if we lacked the resources to connect with such a special voice. In the wake of receiving the Nobel, Tomas Transtrmer is acquiring a greater general presence among readers of poetry. Still, his body of work is more approachable than its new celebrity status would suggest; he is not famously difficult. His website, maintained by an international team of devotees, offers a sampling of English translations. The ten poems on this website are ample grounds to appreciate the poet, with After a Death, The Couple and Reply to a Letter rivaling some of the best Yeats, Shelley or Symbolist poetry. For those who need

more, a large fraction of Transtrmers work has been translated by Robert Bly, an American friend of the poet with respect for his vision. The Half-Finished Heaven is the fruit of this joint project, which complements a strong set of translations from Scandinavian Studies scholar Robin Fulton. Knowledge of a poet like Transtrmer provides Brown students an outlet to understand both ourselves and the dialogue of world literature. That is, we can hear in the Swedish poet a voice that speaks truly to each of our varied, confusing, and complicated life experiences, without being academic or cold. So often we look to American voices because we are familiar with their style and lexicon. But because he is so distant from us, we can also forget ourselves in the wonder of Tomas Transtrmers images, as when a man goes so deep into his dream / he will never remember he was there/ when he returns again to his view.

Dance, Dance, Dance

charles PLETCHER managing editor of features
Eiko and Komas performances begin slowly, so slowly that the viewer has trouble detecting movement but cannot shake the feeling that somethingsomeone (the state of the dancers during their performances lies in question)must have moved. When the movement picks upsometimes after seconds, sometimes after minutesit does so deliberately and almost painfully. Eiko and Koma adapt their performances to the demands of their aged bodies. They pick at the tension between creation and degeneration. Their performance, Regeneration, is a program designed for the Retrospective Project; it takes Eiko and Komas old routines and revisits them with new bodies. Awareness of their physical condition challenges the audiencethere can be no suspension of disbelief. They admit that they cannot perform with the deftness of their youth, but they take unabashed confidence in physical decline and make their performance new again. Regeneration I: Raven begins with a figure on the floor. Its chest is bare and a ragged cloth covers its legs. Even with the bare chest, the figure looks strikingly androgynous. It contorts its upper body so as to hide vestiges of feminity. Its hair is disheveled and suggestive of Helen and Achilles at the same time. The androgyny and the bodys contortions make the audience unsure whether this figure is even human. Slowly, fluidly, the figure bends its upper body overthe audience can make out breasts. The figure is Eiko. Sound has punctuated the piece before this point, but the audience only becomes aware of a ravens cawing in the background as Eiko extends her footwillfullyinto the air. Someone in the audience coughs. Eikos foot traces a slow arc. When Eikos body snaps in on itself, the audience jumps. The pain in her movements threatens to break her in half. She moves more quickly now, sometimes fluidly, sometimes jerkily, but always with a swiftness that belies the calculation behind her moves. Eiko avails herself of a large black cloth. A voice singing vaguely tribal music (in common time with a drum accenting every beat) takes over the ravens squawking. Eiko appears to attempt to hide underneath the cloth. Eiko grabs fistfuls of long grass and holds them like wings. She stands, her props bundled in her arms. Koma appears, and he holds feathers over Eikos chest and she falls down but stands up again. New movements recall the pieces beginning, punctuated by the drum and by the singingand by guttural emissions from the two dancers. As one moves fluidly, the other moves in stop action. The props move from her to him. The dancers obscure who moves whom. They deprive the audi-

repetition and regeneration

ence of grounding. They assert the control performing has given them. The drumming and singing stop. Eiko stands over Koma, bending over him with jerking deliberateness. Koma falls over and rolls slowly as the raven caws from offstage. The raven, as Koma, appears to have died. Something else has taken its place: Eiko? Silence? The station of people in this performance has not been resolvedthe performance treats its indeterminacy as its end. Just as Eikos body folds in on itself at the outset, chronology collapses. Relevancewhat belongs in a performance and what belongs to the audiencehas nothing to do with time. Eiko and Koma, an internationally acclaimed dance duo (they won the first MacArthur Fellowship to go to a collaboration in 1996), are in residency with the Literary Arts department this week. They hail from Japan but now call New York home. Their first performance was last nighthopefully you made itand their final performance will be tonight at 8 p.m. in Granoff.

arts & culture

POST-

Everybody Freize
for the art magazine that organizes it, houses over 170 galleries from around the world in an impressive venue. A brisk walk through Regents Park peppered with sculptures for the fair brings one to an extensive tent complex designed by Annabelle Selldorf. The maze-like structure is comprised of an eternity of white walls smattered with minimalist placards. Careful curation, much of which is ingenious considering the space restrictions, endows each gallerys booth with a distinctive ambiance. Art is dripping from the walls, floors, and ceilings of most of these booths, while a handful of galleries take the opposite approach with rigorously minimalist displays. The complex, which otherwise evokes the sense of a gallery on steroids, houses a few very curated trees as well as a trendy pop-up restaurant by Mark Hix. What the walls lack in color, the attendees make up for in panache. Clown-related performance art aside, the fair is a veritable catwalk and a see-and-be-seen. Top collectors like British advertising mogul Charles Saatchi and Connecticut hedge fund manager Steve Cohen have already combed through the fairs offerings at Preview Day several days prior to the official opening. These collectors shape the contemporary art market,

a glimpse at contemporary art in london

and for any gallery placing a work in such an important collection is ideal. An assortment of waifish Chelsea girls and impeccably dressed men staff the booths, branding the galleries as glamorous. Teetering on skyhigh heels, the wives of Chinese business magnates and Russian oligarchs ponder Kapoor sculptures and take mental note of whether they would clash with the living room furniture. Hipster art enthusiasts sporting sunglasses to shield their delicate hipster eyesdid I mention that the fair is indoors?provide somewhat snarky commentary that when overheard in snippets is quite entertaining (Is that even progressive? on two hamburger buns sandwichinga hamburger bun). The crowd serves as a reminder that while art is a commendable intellectual pursuit, it also happens to be a luxury business. No one genre or style dominated the fair, though childlike art and neon tubing were quite prevalent. Postmodernismlargely in the form of reappropriated or mixed media works and modernismtangible splashes of medium, the communication of a human experiencehappily coexisted. Video art, life-size installations, design, and sculpture had a strong presence, as did painting, drawing, and photography. My favorite piece? An unlabeled (in an interesting curatorial choice by Gagosian) photographic portrait and mirror contained within plexiglass. In an angry act evocative of voodoo, the artist partially burnt the photograph. Petals of ashes, wonderfully tactile, collect at the bottom of the frame. In an intriguing tension, the mirror and the photo compete for space and autonomy, yet together form an aesthetic whole and a storyof an ex-lover perhaps, or estranged friend. The work created a surprisingly intimate moment in the madness of the fair. Least favorite? Christian Jankowskis ready-made (Duchamp throwback), in the form of a giant motorboat. For an additional 125,000, the artists signature could be tacked on to an already-hefty 500,000 price tag. Jankowski was accepting commissions for yachts. The whole concept came across as a bit tacky. One of my concerns about postmodernism and contemporary art in general was underscored by what I saw at Frieze. A fair amount of the art, motorboat included, was flash without substance. While there is value in art that exists solely for its aesthetic appeal, I couldnt help but feel that many of the galleries missed a chance to intellectually stimulate and make socially relevant commentary. Furthermore, much of the art that did have something to communicate did so in a lexicon that was solipsistic, selfreferential, and probably somewhat inaccessible to those outside the hermetic art world bubble (case in point: the hopefully ironic title of Mike Nelsons piece Towards a lexicon of phenomena and information association, an intermediate home apparatus). Refreshing and relevant exceptions included Kaari Upsons piece on foreclosure, a striking Nan Goldin series on her friend Cookies battle with AIDS, the very legible anti-consumerist commentaries of Barbara Krueger, and a handful of Andreas Gursky photographs emphasizing the present-day precedence of global systems over the individual. Though the fairs market undoubtedly shaped the choice of works shown, it would have been nice to see more of an engagement with the sociopolitical climate of today. Its important to explore art and aesthetics, but art canand shouldalso be capitalized upon as a vehicle for social commentary or even change. Hang-ups with some of its content and carnival-esque ambiance aside, I found Frieze Art Fair to be a fun and affordable way to spend an afternoon. An offshoot of Frieze comes to New York in mid-May; if youre in the area and have a few hours to kill, explore what is bound to be an equally entertaining expansion. And dont play favorites: check it all out, from Nans heartbreakingly beautiful photography to the WTF-inducing metahamburger poised atop its personal podium.

cassie PACKARD contributing writer

A lump of raw chicken meat on the floor. Misplaced clowns wandering the halls. The soft, barely perceptible clicking of projectors. Grouped, these scenes illustrate a few of thealbeit, odderworks at this years Frieze Art Fair in London. Though each art fair is unique, they all follow a general formula. At a prestigious and widely attended fair like Frieze, only the most competitive and renowned galleries are accepted after a rigorous application process. The galleries then pay for a booth and hope to break even with the cost of entry and art transport. Its a crapshoot whether a fair will yield successful sales sometimes a gallery makes a killing, and sometimes the booth next door is selling better works by the same artist and things simply dont pan out. In any case, participating in a fair is a PR move, a chance to promote the gallery and the artists it represents as well as form or strengthen relationships with the wealthy and well-connected. Its widely known that such overstimulating art fairs arent the best place for the viewing of art. However, these fairs are essential to art world politics: if a gallery doesnt show, people may wonder if it lacks the requisite clout or economic means. The term art fair doesnt do Frieze justice. Frieze, named eponymously

lifestyle
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 3RD, 2011

Me Jane, You Food

jane BRENDLINGER managing editor of lifestyle
Post Halloween, and arent you just dying to know what to do with all that leftover Halloween candy? Oh wait. Youre in college. You dont have any. Can we all just take a step back and go for a walk down a sugar-paved memory lane to the Candy Land of yesteryear? A time when Halloween meant dressing in a decent amount of clothing and going door-to-door soliciting food from strangers, disregarding warnings of razor blades, all on one day, October 31st? I remember returning home, exhausted from my long sojourn, at 9:30 (and on a school night, no less). Id sit in the homemade hoop skirt of my Scarlett OHara costume, pour out my loot on the dining room table, and take inventory, all while watching a Disney Channel Original Movie (Brink, anyone?). College has forever changed the tambour of this holiday. What was once an evening to indulge in childhood fantasy and satisfy sugar cravings has been extended to a week of drunken revelry. My biggest shock in college was realizing that Id forgotten to pack a vast collection of fairy wings, ruby slippers, etc. Suddenly, I would need to dress up more than once, plus Id have to impress demanding hipsters with my creativity. Witch just wasnt going to cut it anymore. My costume needed to be ambiguous, accompanied by an expla-

Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker - Gene Wilder, Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory

nation, and Id get bonus points for erring on the slutty side. I felt the pressure. High stakes. Now, the hot cider has been replaced by jungle juice, and the butterbeer is really just beer and cream soda, but hey, are we sober enough to notice? Sick to our stomachs from liquor instead of sweets, real comas instead of sugar comas. And though Ive enjoyed this excuse for great, rather continuous, and somewhat exhaustive partying, (and really, who doesnt want to dress up several times in a weekyou dont have to choose one costume anymore!), I miss the simpler, good-ole-fashioned fun. And the candy. In my hometown there was always one stop wed be sure to make: the old mayors house. Decorations were always top-notchstrobe lights, tombstones with witty engravings, electronic zombies thatd pop out at you on their own accord. But we came for the candy. The rule was you could take as much as your hand could grab (bad news for my small carny hands, but I always did my best, tested my finger extension). And all of it, king-sized chocolate bars. No Dum Dums. No Jolly Ranchers. KINGSIZED. And then wed return to the night, pillowcases swinging with their weight, feeling richer than wed ever felt before.

Crack Brownies
If you want to relive your childhood, its never too late for now. Check out CVS for candy, and if you want to get creative, try this recipe. My roommate made these last week, and they are pretty lethal. She skipped the Rice Krispies and added melted marshmallows on top. Crazy rich: I think the krispies would help to temper the chocolate intensity, but Id also jump for the mallows. So be a drug-brownie-pusher. Get out your crack spoon. 1 batch brownies (If youre ambitious, you can make them from scratch. But really, theres so much crap on top of these that its hardly worth the effort. Id go for a gooey, undercooked box recipe.) 1/2 cup salted peanuts 1 cup chopped Reeses Peanut Butter Cups 1 1/2 cup milk chocolate chips 1 1/2 cup creamy peanut butter 1/2 tablespoon butter 1 1/2 cups Rice Krispies Cereal Mix brownies according to directions, and bake for 20-25 minutes in a 9 x 13 baking dish. Remove, top with peanuts and peanut butter cups, and bake for 4-6 minutes more. While they are finishing baking, melt chocolate chips, peanut butter and butter in a saucepan. Stir in cereal. Remove brownies from oven and evenly pour chocolate mixture over top. Refrigerate for 2 hours before serving. Also pretty addictive frozen.

The Morning After

clara BEYER

healing your hangover

chief layout editor
glass of Powerade. The amount of effort it had taken to get out of bed and shuffle the 200 meters to the Ratty (a feat which should not be underestimated) was absolutely worth itwhen Im hungover, I have dreams about this stuff. Your body loses electrolytes when you drink, which makes Powerade, Gatorade, Vitamin Water, and other fortified beverages perfect for the morning after. 3. The most important meal of the day Assuming youre up for eating, have some eggs. Theyre hot and yummy and you can put cheese on them if you want. Also, they contain cysteine, which helps your liver break down toxins left over from last night. Bananas are another underrated hangover-fighting breakfast food. Theyre rich in potassium, which your body is probably cravingdiuretics (like, um, alcohol) rob your body of potassium with every trip to the ladies room. And while many of us may immediately think of coffee after a particularly rough night, its worth mentioning that its a double-edged sword against hangovers. Its wonderful in that it will wake you up and constrict your blood vessels, which can alleviate the headache youre nursing. Unfortunately, its also a diuretic, and will only dehydrate you even further. If you want to go this route (and I wouldnt blame you for it), just make sure you drink even more water. Theres really no such thing as too much water. 4. Kill the pain If youre still feeling gross, over the counter painkillers will keep you going for a little while. Avoid acetaminophen (found in Tylenol) if you can--of all the painkillers, this one wreaks the most havoc on your liver. Trust me, your poor liver doesnt need that right now. Take aspirin or ibuprofen instead, and take the opportunity to have another glass of water. 5. Hair of the dog Ernest Hemingway allegedly depended on a tomato juice and a beer to relieve his hangovers. Other people say a Bloody Mary at brunch can do magical things. Ive only tried this method once, and it was Spring Weekend, so I cant really attest to its effectiveness, except that its great if you want to get so drunk that you forget you were hungover in the first place. In general, this is a solution I wouldnt recommend. I might also remind you that Hemingway was an alcoholic. 6. Sleep it off After having a good breakfast of Powerade, a banana, scrambled eggs, coffee, and a strong dose of Advil, you might as well crawl back into bed for another hour or so. Nine times out of ten, you wake up feeling fit as a fiddle. Theres nothing that sleep cant fix. If a morning class precludes a well-deserved nap, well... Thats up to you.

Last Sunday morning, my roommate said the words that all college students have thought: Thats it. Im never drinking again. The debauchery of the night before had gotten the better of her, and she was feeling the repercussions. I wasnt faring much better, but I had an arsenal of hangover-curing tricks up my sleeve. While we all know that the best way to avoid a hangover is to not drink so much in the first place, sometimes circumstances arise (Halloween, family weddings, Saturday nights, Wednesday nights, et cetera), and that just isnt a viable option. In those cases, heres how to feel okay the next day. 1. Drink like a fish The best advice my mother ever gave me was, For every glass of wine you have, finish a glass of water. While I think she meant one should drink water concurrently with wine, Ive found that sleeping with a full water bottle next to my bed is good enough. Its almost always empty by the morning. Alcohol dehydrates you, which causes some of the symptoms of hangovers. Rehydrate and rebound. 2. Electrolytes: Get them in you A friend of mine once walked into the Ratty on a Sunday morning to see me wearing sunglasses, alone, staring at a full

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n. critical reaction to a literary work about sex

or schizophrenic or sufferer of PTSD (though, in clinical terms, he may be all or one of the above), who rapes babies (or thinks he does). The book is incredibly vulgar in that it is the account of a bedridden infant-nympho, and its lexicon includes entries I cant print here. But the thing about Babyfucker is that theres no actual babyfucking in the book. Sure, there are brief and perfunctory descriptions of what such an act consists of; theres a system by which the narrator decides which infant to violate and when. But most of the vulgarity the reader must apply to the text. We imagine the acts in far greater detail than they are presented to us, and in this, we are complicit in their grotesqueness. In the end, it becomes clear that the narrator does not actually babyfuck at all, but that his experience of his own culpability and grotesqueness (for reasons undisclosed) leads him to the word babyfucker as the ultimate, utmost description of vulgarity. I was rapt. You weird Brown professors get me every time with your bizarro assignments. I was riveted and grossed out and totally intrigued. After Babyfucker, I got my hands on Georges Batailles Story of the Eye and Chip Delanys Hogg and then Dennis Coopers Frisk. These books subsumed my studies for a couple of days, as I sat in the library nauseated by their wickedness, perplexed by their candor, and ashamed of my rapture. These books are not eroticathese books are pornography. Theyve all been deemed unpublishable by one or another commercial press. They omit no detail of sexual violation and express no shame for their characters rapes, assaults, and victimizations. Above all, these books prove to my postmodern cynicism that literature can really do stuff to me. What am I trying to say? Go forth, peeps, and read some rape-fic? Put down your Foucault and pick up some Bataille? I dont actually recommend that anyone read these texts. They are dangerousto enjoy them, one must trust herself, her values, her emotions, her compulsions. Theyve been messing with my head since I cracked their creepy little spines. But I want to explain what I meant by calling Babyfucker inoffensive. I want to demonstrate that the experience of reading this book is a deeply personal experience and an investigation of my ideological, cultural, and ethical position as a reader. This book is not about me since its pretty established that I am not a babyfucker, but the experience of reading this book is about me and me alone. Babyfucker is blunt. Thats the whole gimmick: Nothing is candy-coated. After the initial shock, though, the bluntness begins to desensitize me. I was riveted, then stultified. I was rapt, and gradually unwrapped. Babyfucker was a lot less shocking once I learned to expect repugnance. Suddenly, I didnt feel as dirty. I felt intensely moved by this narrators condition, but it is not something as uncomplicated as compassion or charity. My empathy has to reconcile with grotesqueness. What does it mean to be unforgivable? No such word exists in my liberal vocabulary, yet here I am, asking this of myself. So far, I have no answers.

Only at Brown would I be assigned to read a book entitled Babyfucker. Its a lyric little microgasm bound in a cute pink and yellow volume, a surreal sphincter into some guys sick, impotent mind. Its publication caused one of the biggest cultural scandals in the postwar German-speaking world, and its reputation precedes and preponderates its content. Its propelled by a mantric repetition of the phrase, I fuck babies. It makes Lolita look like a hymnal. But you wanna know the real shocker? Its not even offensive. Okay, yeah, Babyfucker gets a 10 for shock value. Its title was so literal and assertive that I disbelieved its own literality and assertiveness. I figured it was just shockvertising, like when Benetton posted their AIDS-patient billboards in the 80s, or those posters of dying meth users with their skin rotting off. The title Babyfucker was supposed to shock me into buying the book, not convey some semantic truth about the text inside, right? Wrong. Babyfucker is about a babyfucker, an individual who transcends nomenclature like pedophile

etiquette advice for the socially awkward and their victims

Emily Postfake it til you make it easy on the trigger

Dear Dorian, Im currently in a long-distance relationship with a guy I met while studying abroad. We were on the same program in Rome, but now he lives in D.C. while Im stuck here. I still get to see him about once a month though, which brings me to my real question. I understand that hes very, very excited about seeing me, but is there anything that I can do, or that he can do when he is back home, that will help him last a little longer when we are together? Sincerely, Sadly Left Orgasm Wanting Dear SLOW, Orgasm timing, both your own and your partners, is an often neglected, but very important, part of sex. If erotic and cinematic depictions of sex were to be believed, then everyone would magically orgasm at the exact same time as their partner. Sadly, this is not the case. Major problems can arise if one person orgasms before their partner, decides that their job is therefore over, and then feels free to fall asleep or otherwise ignore their partner. Hopefully this is not the case with you, SLOWif it is, I would advise you to have a conversation with your partner about his responsibilities in bed and how they include helping you reach whatever level of pleasure you desire. It doesnt seem like thats the case here, though. What we face is more of a mechanical problem: hes orgasming before either of you wants him to, and it seems like, for whatever reason, he is unable to continue after he orgasms. There are a lot of possible solutions for this, including things he can do by himself and things that you can do when together. For starters, try out different positions and switch things up while youre having sex. Changing the angles and types of stimulation that he receives can help him last longer, while also allowing you to get creative. You can also have him practice edging when he masturbates. Bringing himself repeatedly to the brink of orgasm and then stopping can help build stamina for when hes in the moment with you, since his body will get more and more used to the idea of being on the edge without jumping off. Finally, if all else fails, Mister Sister sells a lovely desensitizing spray. It dulls the edge of the feelings, making them still delightful, but more manageable. Your Friendly Neighborhood Stag, Dorian so tedious.) Once upon, Lauren Bacall was a wide-eyed 19-year-old actress in her first film, and Humphrey Bogart was a jaded Hollywood star with a rocky marriage and a drinking problem. (Emily Post- relates.) He heard that smoky, sultry voice, and sparks ignited. Was Bogie held back by his comparative decrepitude or the minor issue of his marital status? No, CRUSH, he was not. He wooed the shit out of her, and less than a year later, they married. Seventy years after his heyday, women are still swooning over Humphrey Bogart. Theres a reason for this. He knew how to deliver a suave line, mix a stiff drink, and look at a woman like he wanted to rip her clothes off. Heres a dirty little secret: sometimes women just want you to act like a man. We do not want you to dither about whether to approach us. Men are decisive. We do not want to pay for our own drinks. Men pick up the check. And we do notEmily Post- repeats, do notwant to make the first move. Be masterful, CRUSH. If youre not self-assured, fake it. Find a way to be in the same room with this girl, approach her, and give her the Humphrey Bogart eyes.

Dear Emily, I met a girl. Rather, I met a fellow actor. We were onstage together, auditioning for a university production. I couldnt help but notice her doe eyes, but what really captivated me was her talent. The audition is over, and Im left dreaming about this girl. Should I approach her? Try to forget our chemistry? Guide me. Sincerely, CRUSH Emily Post- is tired, and she has drunk too many mojitos. This is a night for weeping over To Have and Have Not, pining over Humphrey Bogart, and longing for the days when men were real men and smoking was permitted indoors. Weve been intimate in a way, have we not, CRUSH? Very well. Light up a metaphorical post-coital cigarette (in a red lacquer holder, bien sr), and lets talk about how to woo a woman. You tell me that you cant stop thinking about this woman. You tell me that your chemistry was electric. Now, allow me to tell you about another couple who met onstage. (Well, on set, but technicalities are