March 27, 2014 by 34th Street Magazine

March 27, 2014 34st.com

HOMEMAKING The Fiction Issue

POETRY CONTEST WINNER | FICTION CONTEST RUNNER-UP | NONFICTION STREET

march 27 LOL

3 HIGHBROW

2014

word on the street, overheard at penn, round up, raising a brow

6 EGO

ego of the week, freshman hall retrospective

9 MUSIC LOL

LOL

album reviews, haikus, hidden philly music spaces

13, 17 FILM

himym top 5, funny women you should know, pilot review

14 FEATURE

fiction issue winners

20 FOOD & DRINK

durian cake review, durian taste test, drink of the week

22 ARTS LOL

LOL

drunk high sober: penn museum, yoga dispatch, artist profile

26 LOWBROW

lowbrow takes on the internet

28 BACKPAGE

fiction issue runner–up

March 20,

2014

34st.com

I’m Josie Elias,

WE ARE WHO WE ARE

LETTERTOTHEEDITOR

and I am not going As a kid, I didn’t just dislike “frills”—I dethrough puberty. I already did that. I am a trans spised the “female” customs that were being man, and my current experience with hormones incessantly forced upon me. Being handed a is—despite its predictable physical effects—entirely different. dress and told “you’re supposed to wear this” When Arielle Pardes first asked if she could interview ingrained a meaning into that article of clothing that went me for her article on transgender kids at Penn for 34th light–years beyond mere shades of pink and frills—it repStreet, I felt my insides collapse. It’s the same feeling I’ve resented the pain that comes with the oppressive stifling of gotten for the last 22 years when anyone would even be- the self, a non–verbal gesture that indicated it was time for gin to breach the subject of my identity. For most of those me to shut up and comply with “the rules.” years my response was always the same: a stupid joke folSo when I received a response from Arielle that read “we lowed by a swift subject change. But, within the last year, all agreed that [the opener] functions as an effective and relatI’ve recognized a responsibility on my part to share my able way to hook the reader,” there was my greatest psychonarrative for the sake of expanding awareness, and so I logical trauma again, jumping off the computer screen and agreed to the interview. Upon reading the finished article, slapping me in the face: we decided this is how you’d be best however, I felt sick. represented—an abnormal spectacle that hooks our reader. Now, before I go any further, I need to clarify that this Trans people are not spectacles. We are people from is not meant to be an attack on Arielle, whom you can learn. And if you’re not nor is it meant to be an attack on 34th you’re not meant to find my exThe discussions trans, Street. Yet there remains a very severe perience “relatable,” because it isn’t. But problem with the way in which Arielle’s surrounding the that shouldn’t matter. You shouldn’t article opens, and I feel overwhelmingly to have had an experience analotransgender expe- have compelled to address it. gous to mine in order to care. You care During the interview, Arielle asked me rience, at least as about people because they’re people. about hormone therapy, and being that Problems aren’t valid just because I’ve encountered you’ve encountered something similar; it is an important part of my transition, I had no qualms with responding. What them, repeatedly problems are valid because they cause I didn’t realize, though, was that this asvery real people to endure very real miss the mark. pect of our conversation would become pain. Compassion doesn’t derive from Arielle’s “hook,” and when I read the comparability—it derives from recogsentence “Josie Elias is going through puberty”, I got that nizing each other’s humanity. insides–collapsing feeling all over again. My transition is more than just “chin hairs,” “acne” Because Arielle had let me read the article before print- (which I don’t have), and a “cracking” voice (which no loning, I was able to send her an email outlining why I felt the ger happens). It’s the means by which I can finally leave the opening paragraph was so problematic. Yet, despite my days of being defined by others behind me. It’s the means explanation, she and the editors at 34th Street collectively by which I can live day to day without requiring disclaimers decided to print the article as it was. and doctors’ notes to prove my identity because somehow I was furious. I felt that my feelings were disregarded, a doctor with whom I’ve only met on four occasions has and I was personally disrespected. But, once I cooled off, more credibility in determining who I am than I do. I realized something: the discussions surrounding the I do not speak for all trans people. There might be a transgender experience, at least as I’ve encountered them, thousand trans people who agree with me, and a thousand repeatedly miss the mark, and Arielle was only writing in more who don’t, but the fact remains that I was offended accordance with this misunderstanding. The transgender and feel the need to voice it. The only way we can dismanexperience is not simply about the physicality of transition tle the divides that separate us is through communication. alone—it runs so, so much deeper than that. I just want to keep the conversation going. Moving beyond

the

nary

gender bi

34TH STREET MAGAZINE Chloe Bower, Editor–in–Chief Patrick Ford-Matz, Managing Editor Abigail Koffler, Digital Director Margot Halpern, Design Editor Sarah Tse, Photo Editor Byrne Fahey, Assistant Design Ling Zhou, Assistant Design Conor Cook, Assistant Photo Julia Liebergall, Highbrow Alex Sternlicht, Highbrow Nicole Malick, Ego Randi Kramer, Ego Emily Marcus, Food and Drink Ryan Zahalka, Food and Drink 2

3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E M A R C H 27 , 2 01 4

Cassandra Kyriazis, Film and TV Casey Quackenbush, Film and TV Michelle Ma, Features Zacchiaus McKee, Features Ariela Osuna, Music Lucy Hovanisyan, Music Ciara Stein, Arts Molly Collett, Arts Emma Soren, Lowbrow Patrick Del Valle, Lowbrow Marley Coyne, Backpage Emily Johns, Copy Clare Lombardo, Copy Justin Sheen, Copy

Alyssa Berlin, Web Producer Katie Hartman, Web Producer Giulia Imholte, Web Producer Lauren Greenberg, Social Media Sophia Fischler-Gottfried, Assistant Social Media Rosa Escandon, Multimedia COVER ILLUSTRATION: Julia Masters BACKPAGE ILLUSTRATION: Ciara Stein Contributors: Willie Stern, Nadia Laher, Austin Levitt, Langston MacDiarmid, Brennan Cusack, Halie Brookman, Lauren Lauer, Oprah Winfrey, Alex Hosenball, Solomon Bass, Yuqian Li, Paul DiNapoli, Carolyn Grace, Charles Davis, Mark Paraskevas, Caroline Marques

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Chloe Bower, Editor–in–Chief, at bower@34st.com. You can also call us at (215) 8986585. To place an ad, call (215) 898-6581. VISIT OUR WEB SITE: www.34st.com "There still isn't Pellegrino in Mark's Cafe, and until there is, I'm not voting." ©2014 34th Street Magazine, The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. No part may be reproduced in whole or in part without the express, written consent of the editors (but I bet we will give you the a-okay.) All rights reserved. 34th Street Magazine is published by The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc., 4015 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa., 19104, every Thursday

HIGHBROW

RAISING A BROW IN Fake holidays

Clubmasters

St. Patrick’s Day may have fallen over Spring Break, but Penn said “fuck you, Julius Caesar and your calendar” and abided by the academic calendar. Our darties may have been one week late, but the Banker’s went down just as smoothly. It’s time to bid adieu to the polar vortex and winter accessories. Break out the sunnies—it’s our new seasonal way of ignoring people on Locust. Miss Cassandra is on leave in Palm Springs, and LaLa is a real, live person. Email her your s3x questions at asklala@34st.com!

LaLa

wordonthestreet OUT Real holidays

Texting gloves

Miss Cassandra

Senior Societies

Finally, “campus leaders” are getting tapped...and not just in the biblical sense. Make way for the newest batch of douchebags, seniors, you’re officially irrelavant.

Seniors

Molly

Because Fling is coming. We’re escaping VP and our priorities in favor of a different stimulant. Like David Guetta once said, “Work hard/Play hard.” We won’t let you down, DGuetta.

Adderall

THEROUNDUP Dear little Brownie Bites, did you have a nice weekend? Did you enjoy the sunshine while throwing back Guinness and Bailey’s? Did you find a nice Jewish boy to substitute as your personal leprachaun? Did you get to experience the rolling hills of the Irish countryside known as West Philly? Or do you not remember? O’Highbrow may have greened–out, but your antics didn’t get past us. Grab a pint and read on, lassies. We’ll start with our best piece of gossip to date. You may know a certain campus establishment chef for his dazzling conversation skills, pleasant crooning and delectable sandwiches. The details are a little hazy, but on Fake St. Patrick’s Day, the King of the Frying Pan crossed over to the Promised Land: Chancellor. Highbrow hears that our favorite breakfast buddy got a little scrambled himself, drinking frat–style with his loyal customers. We love you, Penn Chef, and we hope to get fried with you again soon! Speaking of getting MERTed, one bro also went to a HUP late night after drinking too aggressively in the Quad. However, when RAs went to investigate which of their youngins had fallen ill, they discovered that it was not a freshman, but a junior who had been sent to the hospi–tool. At least you weren’t written up. One coked–out Picasso decided that the Pikapp–Theos Darty could use some decorating. Thus, she selflessly put it upon herself to add some golden sparkle to the festivities. The young artist scaled the Pikapp fire escape, urinating onto each platform as she made her way up to Frat Heaven. Bad Highbrow joke incoming: they shoulda called that darty the “Pee–kapp and Pee–os Darty.” ROFL. (Ed note: sorry for that, we’re still hungover). Finally, there was a lack of brotherly love between two preppy frats at Chancellor. Trading their Solo cups for their fists, six bros pounced on one member of a rival frat. The victim, a male model, emerged with a bleeding ear but a relatively unscathed face. Highbrow hears Rag & Bone is looking for a more rugged look for their spring collection—might we suggest sending them your new headshot? You can thank us later, Zoolander.

over heard PENN at

Pikapp pledge: We need, like, some more wholesome Protestants. We have a fair amount of Catholics, but they’re basically Jews. Frat star: You know how I know you’re gay? Coldplay, dude. Girl on Locust: I may be fucking him, but I do NOT agree with him. Prepster 1: You’re so Marmot right now. Prepster 2: That’s all I rep.

AN HOUR OF OUR OWN BY ANASTASIA LYALENKO

Penn breeds Winners. Every hour of every day, we’re Achieving and becoming Leaders. And it never stops. 6–8 a.m., we’re competing for the title of “Woke Up Earliest to Do Homework.” 9–11 a.m., the game is on for “Has Too Much Class to Eat Breakfast.” 12–3 p.m., “Spent the Longest Amount of Time at Pottruck.” 4–6 p.m., “Too Much Volunteering to Eat Dinner.” 7–9 p.m., “Finished Lab Report Before Pregame.” 10–12 a.m., “Took Most Shots Without Blacking Out.” 1–3 a.m., “Stayed Out the Latest, No FOMO.” 4–6 a.m., “Slept the Least.” We just can’t stop competing, against our friends and ourselves. And no, it’s not just about grades. Being the smartest is lame—you have to be the smartest, and the most social, and the most involved, and the most tired. We rejoice when our nemeses can’t put on the juggling show as well as we can—this week at least. We’re running a four year race, which you win by getting into the best next four year race. According to the rules of this competition, breaks are prohibited. You stop, you lose. So here’s a proposition: we change the rules. It’s nothing drastic: just one hour, every seven days. I promise, the race goes on for the rest of the week—no one is going to be disadvantaged by this pause. Just one solitary hour with no jobs, no homework, no applications, no drinking games, no bragging about how miserable we are. I want you to be my friend. I think I like you, but I can’t get to know you like this. I don’t want you to be an infernal ruler with which I measure all my successes and find them to be failures. I don’t want to use you as a hurdle to jump over. I want to know what makes you happy and how I can help that happen more often. I want to know what you think about when no one is asking how your classes are going. I am miserable because I am not having fun—I’m just avoiding being labeled as “not fun.” I want to put down my armor and admit that I cry at night because I am afraid that I’ll never be good enough. I want to tell you about my family and my hometown—I want to hear about yours, too. I want to stop feeling good when you fail a test. I want to relearn empathy and friendship. I need an hour, just once a week, with you, just being you. I am so tired, and I know all of you are too. The worst part of this never–ending marathon is how in my head I get. Like a runner keeping beat, I keep my eyes on the prize and never look to see who is running with me. But why don’t we try? Just slow down to a halt, and get to know our running partners. We’ll stretch our tired limbs and let our straining hearts relax. I’ll stop for an hour if you’ll stop with me. M A R C H 27 , 2 01 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E

EGO

FRESHMAN HALL RETROSPECTIVE Sophomore

Junior

The BFF Hall

You rushed together. You got written up together. You were a Riepe/Nipple clique. Facebook albums and sexual tension in abundance.

You live together again. Either in the Radian, or in neighboring sorority/frat houses.

OCR splits up the friend group. Phrases like, “So like what is OCR?” and “I feel like after OCR I’ll be a normal human again” temporarily segregate the pack.

LEGENDARY graduation Facebook picture… Cover photo time—“since ’10!”

The Small Talk Hall

You guys never quite got past “Hey, man, good luck on econ!” or “Fling! Gonna drink so much.” You continually make plans that never come to fruition.

You talk about a hall BYO at Beijing. Several Facebook threads later, it never happens.

You occasionally see these people in line at Smoke's. You’re definitely going to get lunch soon to catch up.

Awesome Feb Club reunion full of "how have you been!"s and drunken hugs. You all talk about muploading pictures, but it's pretty understood that no one is going to follow through.

The Incenst Hall

Lotta hookin' up, lotta tears. The kind of stuff that builds character.

Most of the relationships stop— except for that one couple. It’s always a debate whether or not to wave to your former hall hookups in the gym.

Low-point for the hall romance. You’re just…becoming different people.

Wedding! The hall couple gets married and the kids will go to Penn. “You know your father and I were both in Hill our freshman year …”

The Weird Hall

Love ‘em or hate ‘em, you’ll always have your Freshman Hall. Here’s what you probably think about them now. Freshman

Senior

Just a bizarre group of people. The admissions staff must have been on something when they decided to group you with these strange humans.

You’re avoiding these people at hall costs. Their idiosyncracies becomes valuable rush anecdotes.

The occasional small talk in Rosenparty…maybe these people aren’t so weird.

You realize it’s cool to be weird and you reconnect during Senior Week. Too little, too late. WILLIE STERN

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EGO

EGOOF THE WEEK: FRANK COLLELUORI

Hailing from Long Island, this double–major has tackled everything from leading Pennacle to climbing the ranks of the NEC. He’s also a member of Sphinx, chief of Carriage Senior Society and co–pres of College Cognoscenti—oh my! He spends any leftover free time eating Oreos. Street: If the NEC had a mascot, who would it be? Frank Colleluori: I think it would be a really judgmental–looking gavel. With a face on it. It’s staring other people down, it’s making you feel maybe a little bit uncomfortable about what you chose to do that day. But at the same time, you know it’s supporting you in everything you do. Street: So how has the NEC improved student elections? FC: I would say that the biggest improvements have been in our ability to more effectively engage communities that were always, and continue to be, underrepresented in student government. And simultaneously engaging the larger Penn community. Street: What’s the best campaign for a student you’ve heard? FC: I always love the kind of punny rhymes that people make. Potentially the best and worst was “Jake Shuster the Money Booster.” It’s got a nice rhythm to it.

Street: Fill in the blank: There are two kinds of people at Penn... FC: Those who woke up like this and those that did not. Interestingly, those who woke up like this also overlaps with the constituency that votes. [Ed. Note: Voting in spring elections closes tomorrow at 5 p.m.!] Street: Describe yourself in three words. FC: Michelle. Obama. Arms. Street: What’s your guilty pleasure? FC: I can eat, like, so many packs of Oreos in a day. They recently came out with a study that Oreos are as addictive as cocaine and, honestly, I believe it. Street: If you could live anywhere on the planet, where would it be and why? FC: I would probably live in Oprah’s guest house, for obvious reasons. Street: What is your favorite song to get ready to? FC: If it existed, it would be a collaboration between Susan Boyle and Frank Ocean singing Beyonce’s "Rocket."

Street: Tell us about Carriage. FC: It is a really new organization. Essentially we’re a senior honor society dedicated to recognizing leaders from the LG5029 Baltimore Ave BTQ and Ally community. Our symbol is actually the Carriage wheel, and we call ourselves “Spokes.” Street: What do you guys do as a society? FC: We do a little bit of charity work, but also we oftentimes will have random get–togethers. On Friday, we’re having an open bar event at Blarney, where hopefully people will get really messed up, but also spend lots of money we can give to Philly AIDS Thrift, which we’re trying to adopt as our charity.

Street: What is your spirit animal? FC: The lovechild of Mindy Kaling and Frank Ocean. Or that might be my ideal spouse, but I mean, your ideal spouse could also be your spirit animal I imagine. Street: Fill in the blank: my PennCard looks like... FC: Oh, it’s pristine. It’s *perfect*. I just take meticulous care of my PennCard. Street: When was the last time you cried? FC: There was that weekend where I bought my graduation gown and I just sat there for two days and cried...That’s a joke. For the most part. Tears were there. Street: We hear you can put your feet behind your head—why? FC: I didn’t even realize it was weird until I came to high school, and I had all these friends that were like, “That’s disgusting.” [Ed. note: It’s not! watch him in action online.]

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MUSIC

HIDDEN PHILADELPHIA MUSIC SPACES

Keep talking about leaving the “Penn bubble,” but never know where to go? Music’s got you covered. The Dolphin Tavern LOCATION: 1539 South Broad St. WHEN TO GO: Thursday nights after 11 p.m. WHO TO TAKE: Your Jazz & Grooves friends WHAT YOU’LL HEAR: Electronic beats and dive–bar grooves SPACE HIGHLIGHT: Half–Off Happy Hour: Half–off all drinks every night from 8 p.m.—10 p.m. Fiume LOCATION: 45th and Locust streets WHEN TO GO: Thursday nights after 11 p.m. WHO TO TAKE: The hot high school teacher you just met at Green Line WHAT YOU’LL HEAR: Folk and bluegrass SPACE HIGHLIGHT: Great beer and whiskey selection and knowledgeable, friendly bartenders Johnny Brenda’s LOCATION: 1201 Frankford Ave. WHEN TO GO: Friday or Saturday nights WHO TO TAKE: Your friend who can’t decide what he likes more: food or music WHAT YOU’LL HEAR: All styles of rock, from indie to post–punk SPACE HIGHLIGHT: It’s very Philly–friendly, serving only from local brewers and farmers Silk City LOCATION: 435 Spring Garden St. WHEN TO GO: Saturday nights WHO TO TAKE: People who go to every music festival WHAT YOU’LL HEAR: DJ/Club music that mashes up lesser–known artists SPACE HIGHLIGHT: A beer garden that’s known to be Philly’s best CAROLYN GRACE

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we deliver

You’ve never been into indie rock. I know. I understand. There’s just something missing. I look at you, recognition shining in my eyes. “Say it.” “It just needs more sex!” You’re twentysomethings. I get it. Sex is important to you. Well rejoice, you walking sacks of hormones! I know just the band for you. They are called Wild Beasts, and they can be downright lurid. It’s pretty awesome. The most striking thing about Wild Beasts is not, in fact, that they like to talk about sex. It’s singer Hayden Thorpe’s voice. It’s refreshing to hear someone actually carry vibrato in their voice in an indie song. Even over the often complex instrumentation, the vocals are always front and center, and Wild Beasts has got the talent to make it work. Speaking of their instrumentation—it’s perfect. While their sound has changed a lot over time, they’re always superbly tasteful. It used to be delay—and reverb—laden guitars, now it’s synths; either way it’s catchy and never overwhelming. Did I mention they’re catchy? I challenge you to get Thorpe’s crooning in “Vigil for a Fuddy Duddy” out of your head after, like, 10 seconds of listening to them. You can’t. It’s impossible. Seriously, if you figure out how, please tell me. It’s been years. But enough about things that aren’t sex—let’s talk about sex again. Wild Beasts’ lyrics are, in many ways, their aesthetic in microcosm. They’re pretty visceral and unabashed in discussing blush–worthy material, but there’s a definite sense that they’re highly self–aware in doing so. Wild Beasts know what they’re doing. Such self–awareness corroborates the impression that they’re a generally very intelligent bunch (incorporating synths more on their newest record hardly seems like an accident given the general trend in that direction), and that intelligence shows through in their music. Check them out. CHARLES DAVIS

MUSIC

“SINGLES” FUTURE ISLANDS

ALBUM REVIEWS

“SHAKIRA” SHAKIRA It’s been almost four years since we’ve heard new music from Shakira, but her new material is worth the wait. The Colombian singer’s tenth studio album starts strong and never really loses steam. The album feels fresh, with electronic, tribal and reggaeton influences galore wrapped in polished pop. You can hear her experimenting with her music, throwing out some great dance tracks as well as some slower, moodier songs like “Empire.” Overall, Shakira has updated her sound and provided a strong, Latin–influenced pop album for old fans and curious newcomers alike.

Grade: A Download: “Dare (La La La)” Sounds best when: Spring has begun, the sun is up and you’re getting ready for a dager.

PAUL DINAPOLI

Grade: B Download: “Back in the Tall Grass” Sounds best when: Lingering on your nostalgia about sunshine on Locust Walk

“SUPERMODEL” FOSTER THE PEOPLE

Foster The People surprises audiences with “Supermodel,” the indie–rock band’s second album. The band upholds its tradition of combining catchy, upbeat melodies with deeper themes (i.e. “Pumped Up Kicks” on their 2011 album, “Torches”). But “Supermodel” takes us in a new direction, offering listeners delicate acoustic tunes such as “Goats in Trees,” as well as electronic pop tracks like “Are You What You Want To Be.” This album is like a short story. Inspired by a doped–up trip to Morocco, it may sound lighthearted, but it attacks the very basis of culture and social relationships today. CAROLINE MARQUES

Future Islands’ new album, “Singles,” is a perfect demonstration of how a band can grow over time, yet simultaneously remain static. Front–man Samuel T. Herring’s voice is still throaty, the bass lines are still rigid–but–catchy and the lyrics still evoke the image of a gruff mentor, say Mufasa, serenading his sweet Simba to sleep. Ultimately, though, many of the songs blend into one another and get lost among the rocky terrain of Herring’s voice. Future Islands produces their best work when they focus on slower, more balladic songs. Tracks like “Back in the Tall Grass” may not be the most popular, but they deftly weave all aspects of the band’s talents together, allowing them to rise above the indie–electro–rock clutter they have decided to inhabit. Definitely give “Singles” a listen; just make sure to pay attention lest the entirety blend together too smoothly.

ALEX HOSENBALL

Grade: B– Download: “Coming of Age” Sounds best when: Lying in the grass, talking about “deep” subjects

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MUSIC

HAIKU REVIEWS “THE RITE OF SPRING” THE BAD PLUS

If you missed them at The Village Vanguard this fall, listen to this now.

Roses are red / Violets are blue / Street is back this week / With some more haikus.

Grade: B Download: “Film” Sounds best when: You turn off the mainstream hits and decide to get jazzy.

“KISS ME ONCE” KYLIE MINOGUE

Why are you singing as though you are Britney Spears? I miss the nineties.

Grade: C Download: “Into The Blue” Sounds best when: Playing the types of things you liked in middle school because you realize you’re a senior now. LUCY HOVANISYAN

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FILM & TV

BEST RUNNING JOKES IN “HIMYM”

With the series coming to an end on Monday, we look back at those recurring gags that kept us laughing for nine whole years.

1. The Pineapple Incident

4. The Intervention Banner

The single greatest mystery of “HIMYM” is how Ted ended up with a pineapple after the wildest night of season one. Unfortunately, we may never know the truth about the appearance of that spikey fruit. On the bright side, we can rest assured that Ted has been vomit–free since ’93.

One of the reccurring elements from season four onward is the gang’s intervention banner, which they use any time they stage one. Some interventions are serious, others not so much. Throughout the years, they even throw a “Quinntervention” and an intervention intervention (for having too many interventions). Regardless of what it’s for, if you see this sign in an episode, you can be sure it’s a good one.

Relevant Episodes: “The Pineapple Incident” (1x10), “The Limo” (1x11), “The Wedding” (1x12), “Game Night” (1x15), “Third Wheel” (3x03), “Rabbit or Duck” (5x15) and “Mom and Dad” (9x10).

2. Robin Sparkles Even though the thought of Robin being a secret porn star was exciting to the Barneys among us, the real reason Robin hates malls is so much better. If you haven’t tried to make “Let’s Go to the Mall” your ringtone at some point in the past eight years, you are not a true “HIMYM” fanatic. This Canadian pop classic should be every tween’s personal theme song. “Tori” and “sorry” rhyme, as do “coat” and “about” because, well, it’s Canada. Only “The Beaver Song” can rival “Let’s Go to the Mall,” which reminds us of the importance of friendship and math. “Sandcastles in the Sand” and “P.S. I Love You” come in at third and fourth place in Sparkles hits only because they’re a little angstier than necessary when talking about fake Canadian pop stars.

Relevant Episodes: “Intervention” (4x04), “Right Place, Right Time” (4x22), “Oh Honey” (6x15), Legendaddy (6x19), “The Broath” (7x19) and “The Over–Correction” (8x10).

5. “The Wedding Bride” “The Wedding Bride” is the fictional movie that Tony writes about Stella and Ted’s engagement. In a few episodes, we catch snippets of the amazingness that is this fake film. We know that the movie is successful because of a sequel called “The Wedding Bride Too,” and a subsequent threequel. The movie has emotional significance for Ted beyond his failed relationship with Stella. He says “I love you” for the first time to The Mother outside a theater playing a sold–out show of “The Wedding Bride III." Relevant Episodes: “As Fast As She Can” (4x23), “The Wedding Bride” (5x23), “No Pressure” (7x17) and “Vesuvius” (9x19).

Relevant Episodes: “Slap Bet” (2x09), “Sandcastles in the Sand” (3x16), “Little Minnesota” (4x11), “As Fast As She Can” (4x23), “Glitter” (6x09) and “P.S. I Love You” (8x15).

3. Tie–in websites One of the best things about the creators of “HIMYM” is their effort to make these characters and their lives exist in the real world as much as possible. In that noble pursuit, any character that makes a website, gets a real website. The two best manifestations of this are mysteriousdrx.com made for Ted’s Wesleyan radio alter ego and puzzlesthebar.com, made for the best bar that almost existed. Relevant Episodes: “The Bracket” (3x14), “Everything Must Go” (3x19), “Not a Father’s Day” (4x07), “The Possimpible” (4x14), “Old King Clancy” (4x18), “As Fast As She Can” (4x23), “The Sexless Innkeeper” (5x04), “The Playbook” (5x08), “The Wedding Bride” (5x23), “Subway Wars” (6x04), “The Stinson Missile Crisis” (7x04), “Disaster Averted” (7x09), “Tailgate” (7x13), “The Magician’s Code: Part One” (7x23), “Nannies” (8x03), “Lobster Crawl” (8x09), “The Poker Game” (9x05) and “The End of the Aisle” (9x22). M A R C H 27 , 2 01 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E

HOMEMAKING F E AT U R E

F E AT U R E

Presenting this year's winner of 34th Street's annual fiction contest, a story about furniture and ghosts, new friends and old visions. Life in the afterlife, it seems, is just like reality—minus the EXIT signs. Check out our pick for best poem below, as well, along with our runner-up on the backpage and our most experimental piece online at 34st.com.

urniture shopping was mostly the same in death as it had been in life, though admittedly a little less full of possibility. They’d both been here before. Wandering an IKEA with someone significant, laughing with the excitement of planning an ideal life together, flopping down on fluffy model beds to test them and examining utensils in Kitchenware. The magic of IKEA was a palpable thing, the way buying a mahogany tea-stained coffee table with someone felt reinvigorating and true. But how many times could you truly believe in a new beginning, he wondered. Dating while dead was strange. But you had to do something to pass the time. He took Angie’s hand. They’d been dating for around 60 years now—one did things slowly in the afterlife—and she still made him feel like a giddy schoolboy. She squeezed his hand, and he smiled at her. She was older than him; not by much, but enough so that he felt confident in his wrinkled skin.

She kept her white hair in a plait down her back and her face was thin and crumpled, but her eyes were a striking blue. He had been a widower for the last twenty–some years of his life. Maura died of a heart attack when they were 54 and she found out he’d cheated. It nearly killed him too, but it didn’t, and he often wondered in the long years that followed whether dying would have been easier than living without her. He always saw a permanent indent in the mattress where her body should have been, even when their daughter visited and tore him away from their wedding bed, made him buy a new one. He hadn’t gone with her on that trip to IKEA. But the new Sultan Finnvik Memory Foam mattress still looked and felt incomplete without Maura. Missing her was a pain he had grown accustomed to. Angie was the first woman he had even really looked at since that day. He was new at this. He was regaining his footing. They stopped at a stand of stainless steel knives and Angie fussed over them. She had been a chef, in life. “Ooh, this is great. I love the feel of this one.” She launched into a story about some incident in the restaurant when the knives had all blunted and the dinner special was steak. “So it’d be pretty sharp of us to get this set, eh?” He made a feeble attempt at a joke and she giggled like a teenager, wrapped her hand around his forearm and squeezed. “Yes, let’s.” Her hand was warm on his skin. They dropped a box of knives in their cart and shuffled forward, slowly. When he had first arrived, he’d

tune in, turn on by Austin Levitt

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1) hush my darling. don’t fear my darling. the lion kissed a griffin. i witnessed a single neuron move. the phosphorus toothpick set the forest ablaze.

spent all his time looking for Maura. He’d woken up in a white room, a little dazed and confused but happy to be where he was. He’d filed out to the auditorium with the others who’d arrived that minute and watched the short orientation video. Death, the voice intoned, is an eternal peace. Welcome. The voice explained how food worked (all–you–can-eat buffet), how to get around (sky rail or by foot), and what the rules were (none), accompanied by slides of rolling hills and pictures of various food items. He’d automatically looked for a red EXIT sign in the auditorium, a habit ingrained in him by his firefighter dad, but there was none. Then his search began. He knocked on every door. He called all the Maura Greens in the phone book. But when he ran into her old friend Betty, she told him that Maura had requested to be in another district, away from him. That when she’d heard he was coming, she’d taken her number out of the directory and closed up her place. His heart had ached. He had waited so long to explain, to ask for forgiveness. He spent the next hundred years pining. He made no friends. Spoke only occasionally to people from life, his mother, his old friend Roy. From Roy: “You wasted a lot of life over her. Now you’re going to waste death too?” He didn’t respond, but he felt something flicker within him. Then he turned and left the room, gone to feed the geese down by the lake. Another hundred years later, the pining was slowly stopping. He had begun to make some friends. They all played bingo together and drank tea, and sometimes laughed so hard his head spun. Angie was among them. They had gotten along from the start, and one day he tentatively brushed her fingers

2) the sky: her accent was allure. crisp as the edge of a fijian postcard she held me like calypso. the breeze bore auroras. speckled chicks breathed to a drummer kicking.

with his, unsure of how to do anything. He had once been filled with bluster and bravado, but the years of solitude and self-blame had taken his confidence. Then she held his hand back, firmly, and he felt like a bird taking flight. Now they were at IKEA, shopping for a new life, and he had not thought about Maura in years. Thought instead of the new fire Angie’s presence had kindled in his chest, warming him from the inside out. He had given her a set of keys to his place last week, and she liked to come by when he was out feeding the ducks and putter around in the kitchen, make some tea and leave it by the piano keyboard. It was nice. It was nice having someone again. There weren’t many people in the store. He’d noticed that not many people shopped in the afterlife. Most seemed pretty content with what they had. But there were still stores for those who wanted them, IKEA and Macy’s and cute little knick–knack shops. Nothing required any money. He was at the farthest edge of his section of Death than he’d been before. He figured they kept the stores far away on purpose. They were in Bedding and she smiled mischievously at him. “Shall we try this one out?” The bedsprings creaked as they laboriously clambered on. He started chuckling and telling her about a time his daughter had fallen asleep in a bed in IKEA. “We looked everywhere but under the covers!” She laughed, a real hearty laugh, and happiness swelled within him. How long it had been since he had felt like this. He tucked her head against his chest. This section of the store was deserted but for a blonde woman he could see looking at towels in Bath. “You make me feel good again,” he said softly to Angie.

By Nadia Laher

Illustrations By Julia Masters

The blonde woman turned and his heart nearly stopped; it was Maura. He felt himself tense. No, it wasn’t Maura. Just a woman with similar hair and the same curve to her mouth. He hadn’t thought of her in half a century. He’d begun forgetting to hate himself, now resented this blonde woman for making him remember. He felt jolted back to an unpleasant consciousness, filled with an unsettling sense of urgency, like this moment held all the importance in the world. He took Angie’s face in his hands and kissed her, tried to pour into her all the hope he had left for starting over. All the hope that the afterlife could be a better life, the hope for new beginnings, new coffee tables and fat armchairs.

3) slanted red bricks were occupied by heat phantoms. we hid in cherry blossoms. they said

4) we spun on our heads in the grass wondering why do we wear shirts.

5) there was no horizon so we traced haikus in the dirt. words slipped like water lilies:

6) shiva told me we’re all narcoleptic. boxing with shadows, all the world’s a stage.

questioning existence is for children. do the color–blind dream in color? why yes, we learned.

in revolution, time lost all meaning. music is simple

our irises met sunlight playing in snowflakes on still fingertips

beauty elopes with extremity, i shivered. this wavelength reverberated through other dimensions.

air trembling with emotion.

7) fibonacci built the flowers we plucked. sweat formed perfect spheres on our foreheads like water does in space. i am becoming aqueous, the ultimate conductor, i, the dissolving moment. M A R C H 27 , 2 01 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 1

FILM & TV

REVIEW BY JULIA LIEBERGALL

There are two reasons why I’m looking forward to March 31st: it’s my 21st birthday, and it’s the series premiere of CBS’s new sitcom, “Friends With Better Lives.” With “How I Met Your Mother” coming to a close and Pottruck’s limited

supply of “Friends” episodes quickly diminishing, I need a new group of dysfunctional friends to be jealous of. Former “Friends” producer Dana Klein seems to have the answer with “FWBL,” starring James Van Der Beek, Brooklyn

Decker and the hilarious Zoe Lister–Jones. Fresh off an embarrassing stint playing himself in ABC’s failed sitcom, “Don’t Trust the B in Apartment 23,” Van Der Beek plays Will, a newly divorced gynecologist who

spends much of the pilot trying to win back his ex–wife. He moves in with his two married friends, Andi (Majandra Delfino) and Bobby (Kevin Connolly of “Entourage”), who are worried that they have become another safe, boring couple. Then there’s Jules (Decker), who has returned from a trip to Australia with a spiritual, vegan, guitar–playing fiance named Lowell (Rick Donald). Rounding out the group is the straitlaced Kate, the COO of a thriving social media company who longs to find love but only finds misfortune on first dates. Van Der Beek has matured from his days as the doe–eyed Dawson, evident in his funny and touching portrayal as the group’s leader—he is Ted Mosby, Sheldon Cooper and Ross Geller all in one. Additionally,

while Decker proves her worth as an actress with great comedic timing, it’ll take a few more episodes to show that she’s still not just a pretty face. Above all, it’s Lister–Jones who steals the spotlight with her deadpan comedy and witty sarcasm. CBS has found a potential hit to replace its darling “HIMYM,” both in its primetime schedule and in the hearts of its viewers. Let’s just hope the audience isn’t too heartbroken over Ted and the gang’s farewells to watch this new up– and–comer. Grade: ASee if you like: Developing deep (re:inappropriate) relationships with fictional characters. Premieres on CBS, Monday, March 31 at 9 p.m.

FUNNY PEOPLE WOMEN YOU SHOULD KNOW

These ludicrous ladies are on their way to becoming household names. Just please don’t say they’re “the next Tina Fey.” Amy Schumer Schumer gained attention on “Last Comic Standing” in 2007 when she placed fourth in the standup competition. Now, season two of her Comedy Central sketch show, “Inside Amy Schumer,” premieres April 1. You can also see the edgy comic live on her “Back Door Tour” or in one of her standup specials.

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Ilana Glazer and Abbi Jacobson These two writer–performers, who hail from the Upright Citizens Brigade (UCB) improv theater, have had quite the year. Their web series, “Broad City,” was not only turned into a critically–acclaimed TV show for Comedy Central, but also renewed for a second season. Amy Poehler, co–founder of UCB, is an executive producer of “Broad City.” Chelsea Peretti Peretti stars as Gina Linetti in Fox’s “Brooklyn Nine–Nine,” which was the 2014 winner of the Golden Globe for best comedy series (despite the show’s relatively recent start). The one–liner expert is more than just an actress; Peretti also wrote for “Parks and Recreation” and “SNL.” Plus, she does

standup (her half–hour Comedy Central Presents special debuted in 2011) and has her own weekly podcast, “Call Chelsea Peretti.” And, if Peretti wasn’t already cool enough, her brother is a co–founder of Buzzfeed. Natasha Leggero Leggero made waves as a relatively unknown roaster at the Comedy Central “Roast of James Franco” back in September. Since then, she started her own web series, “Tubbin’ with Tash,” where she interviews other comedians in her hot tub. Leggero is a frequent panelist on “Chelsea Lately” and is known for her affected, upper–class stage persona. Jenny Slate You may remember her from her season on “SNL” (2009–2010) and dropping the F– bomb on live TV, but that didn’t stop Slate’s career at all. She has recurring roles on “Parks and Recreation,” Showtime’s “House of Lies” and “Kroll Show,” where she plays Liz B., one half of the ridiculous advertising duo “PubLIZity.” Slate’s also the co–creator and voice of the viral “Marcel the Shell with Shoes On.” EMMA SOREN

FOOD & DRINK

DURIAN CAKE Like cilantro, durian is one of those things you either love or hate. The pungent odor wafting from behind the counter as the pastry chef rolled his infamous durian cake made me quite sure I was going to fall into the latter category. With pieces of raw durian meat lurking inside layers of sponge cake, the dessert was still no less daunting for a durian virgin like me. The puffy sponge cake buffered the sharp taste of durian. The cake’s soft texture actually complemented the creamy filling quite well. The durian filling, which I can only describe as a combination of sweet rotten egg and garlic, overwhelmed the light vanilla flavor of the cake. “This tastes so awful,” I told myself as I took another bite. Despite its strong and foul flavor, something about the dessert continues to lure you in after each mouthful. Maybe it’s the hope that your initial opinion will change, or maybe I’m just a masochist. Five bites later, the putrid aftertaste in my mouth was enough for me to stop subjecting myself to the King of Fruit's torture. They say it’s an acquired taste, but it will definitely take more incentive for me to acquire it. I quickly wrapped up the cake as tightly as I could and went home to brush my teeth. As for the rest of the cake, if anyone wants some, be my guest.

DRINK

OF THE WEEK:

DURIAN LASSI

This Indian–inspired dessert drink has the body of a milkshake without the cloying sweetness of too much sugar. The rich buttermilk tempers the durian’s pungent flavor, and serving over ice mellows the more extreme onion–like tones. Still, the durian’s musty smell makes sipping difficult, so it’s best to drink in gulps. Place a half cup chopped durian, 1 cup buttermilk and 1 tablespoon powdered sugar in a blender or food processor and blend until smooth. Pour over ice.

This week, F+D tackles the smelly yet perennially tempting "King of Fruits," the durian. See more durian derping @ 34st.com

YUQIAN LI

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get it yourself M A R C H 27 , 2 01 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 3

highbrow ego food & drink film feature music arts lowbrow

FILM

FOOD & DRINK

How Penn Students Watch Movies

DO YOU PAY PER VIEW?

Borrow from Library

24.6%

Film polled you to find out how you are getting your Sunday afternoon movie fixes. Here’s what we learned. BY ANTHONY KHAYKIN

TTASTE TEST

hough we all know the watch Hugo in theaters. And we you guess then that Penn stuInternet is for porn fit this mold of overworked Ivy dents would prefer to get their (thanks Avenue Q), the League students well, with only RomCom fix online with free Six brave souls. Sixof gag bedroom is no longer theSix onlydurians. about 17% Penn reflexes. undergrads streaming websites like SideReel area being ceded to digitalOne terri- gross watching movies at the Rave ev- and Ch131 rather than pay for fruit. tory. For every girl with daddy’s ery semester. services provided by Netflix and AmEx, window browsing on But how about the other ste- Redbox? Fifth Avenue has been replaced reotype, the one that says all colWhile 75% of us watch movwith online shopping. And lege students are poor? The free ies online, nearly 50% pay for FYEs everywhere have virtu- movement of information made it. I hear Horrible Bosses — a ally been rendered useless (pun possible by the interweb makes new release on iTunes — is hysintended) with the existence of terical, but is Whose recommendations do you take? the multifarious iTunes store. it worth the 50 Things are no different here 1.5 salads at 47.7% Other at Penn, where the Rave gets Sweetgreen 40% 40 A Friend nearly half the traffic for the it would Cinema Studies midnight screenings of blockhave cost if 30 Major 26.2% 25% 25% buster hits like Twilight as Hulu I had seen it Professor or TA 20 does the day after the newest in theaters? Street episode of 30 Rock airs. This Ramen noo10 *Students surveyed were allowed to choose more makes sense. We Penn students dles aren’t than one option. 0 are too busy procrastinating that bad, I on Penn InTouch and designguess. ing funny lacrosse pinnies for entertainment accessible and The average Penn student the clubs we’re involved in to inexpensive to anyone with an (who is anything but average, if leave the comfort of our beds to AirPennNet account. Wouldn’t you ask Amy Gutmann) watch-

-"wet pillow” -“reminds me of baba ganoush” -“membrane difficult to penetrate” (Ed. note: not a good enough reason to use the word penetrate.)

Don't Watch Movies Theaters

47.7%

Free Streaming

16.9%

Paid Online Services

9.2% 1.5%

Why do you go to the movies? 3.1%

6.3%

Other

It's a way to hang out with friends -“mushy” 25% It's a good study break 40.6% -“slimy” It makes you feel relaxed and happy Would you 25% Required for Class -“the membrane eat it again? yields to a plush and moist interior” es seven movies, more or less,

BY Yes:THE NUMBERS

every semester. Simple arithmetic proves that it’s $40 cheaper to watch said movies on Netflix than at the Rave, and an additional $20 less on iTunes (cost of popcorn and Mike and Ikes not included in these calculations). The low cost of watching seven movies on iTunes for >> Total amount of less than 30 bucks is worth the money spent in movie many conveniences that online theaters* by Penn paid services afford us: not bestudents each semester ing interrupted by incessant buffering and commercials, the immunity to computer viruses and most importantly, not having to wait 54 minutes after >> Total amount of watching 72 minutes of a movie money spent watching on Megavideo. online, if all people who Not to mention, it’s a small paid for online services price to pay when you look at used iTunes* the big picture — the combined savings of the 47.7% of Penn students who pay for their online services rather than going to the movie theater is somewhere between $196,136 and $295,344, >> Total amount of depending on whether they use money spent watching Netflix or iTunes, respectively. online, if all people who Moral of the story is: we won't OPENING OCTOBER paid for online services 21 OPENING OCTOBER judge if you just stay in bed. used Netflix*

34TH STREET Magazine December 1, 2011

No: $153,701 all the

s t’s all th What’W ha eee h thhee h h t l t t l l a l t l l a a a l ’s l a ’s t W Whhhaaattt’s’s W W Whhaat’s

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all the ’s t a h W bout?

about??

about? boououuttt??? b aaab

$295,344

Check us our new store out?at bout aCheck us out at our ne

3736store! SPRUCE STREET Check us us out out at at our new STREE Check our new store! Check us out3736 at SPRUCE our- 8PM new stor Check us out at our new stor Check us at our new stor OPEN 7out DAYS 6:30AM *A simple random sample

OPEN 7 DAYS 6:30AM - 8P OPENING OCTOBER 21 *$12.50/ticket at the Rave of 100 PennOCTOBER undergrads OPENING were OPENING 21 OPENING OCTOBER 21 OPENING OCTOBER 21 OCTOBER to rent a movie on iTunes 21 Check us out at our*$3.99 new store!

3736 SPRUCE STREET hubbubcoffee.com surveyed to collect data about 3736 SPRUCE STREET *$7.99/month on Netflix 3736 SPRUCE STREET M-F: 7AM-7PM WEEKENDS: 8AM-7PM hubbubcoffee.com 3736 SPRUCE STREET 3736 SPRUCE STREET OPEN 7 DAYS| 6:30AM - 8PM

their fi7lmDAYS viewing habits.- 8PM OPENING OCTOBER 21 6:30AM - 8PM OPEN 6:30AM OPEN777DAYS DAYS OPEN DAYS 6:30AM--8PM 8PM OPEN 6:30AM 3736 SPRUCE STREET hubbubcoffee.com OPEN 7 DAYS 6:30AM - 8PM hubbubcoffee.com hubbubcoffee.com hubbubcoffee.com hubbubcoffee.com

ARTS

DISPATCH: Yoga at the Pennsylvania Museum of Art

sober

6:03 p.m.: Cab rolls up to the PMA. Start my ascent up the steps.

6:04 p.m.: Shit. Only halfway up.

AT THE PENN MUSEUM

6:05 p.m.: Made it to the top! Feeling like an Olympian—is this how Rocky felt? 6:10 p.m.: Got my entrance pin to the museum. Pay–as–you–wish Wednesdays apparently don’t mean you can pay $0. The woman at the desk gave me a judgmental look when I finally handed over a quarter. 6:15 p.m.: Found the second floor gallery where the yoga is held. There are roughly 30 people here. I’m late so everyone is already doing “downward facing dog.” I lay my mat down and assume the position. 6:16 p.m.: I listen to the music playing in the gallery. It’s a cross between “Lord of the Rings” and the soundtrack to “Eat, Pray, Love”—is this meant to be soothing? 6:18 p.m.: Yoga is so easy.

Drunk: The #1 event at the Penn Museum had to be the fish in the pond near the entrance, because I decided to touch them. And that was the end of my trashed Penn Museum experience. 6:48 p.m.: Four museum–goers walk between us as I attempt a bridge. One stops and takes a picture—maybe I’ll become insta–famous? 6:49 p.m.: I can’t get down from my “bridge.” The instructor is announcing the next pose but I’m stuck. Help! 6:50 p.m.: I collapse on my mat with a thud. The man next to me snickers. He’s wearing orange short–shorts—is he really in a position to judge? 6:55 p.m.: Cool down time. Finally! I am enjoying the “happy baby,” which involves rocking on your back

while holding your feet. This makes me so happy. I wish I were a baby. 6:58 p.m.: I stare at the tapestries in the gallery while “ohming.” I feel zen(ish). 7:00 p.m.: The session is over and the instructor gives a shameless plug for her studio downtown. I look around and try to decide who to ask to take a photo of me. I decide against asking the smug man next to me, and instead opt for the woman in the flowy, floral, maxi skirt and leotard. She snaps a “candid” pic of me in the “tree” pose in front of the artwork. Success!

6:20 p.m.: The man next to me is planking with one arm. Show–off.

Sober: Holy shit, there’s a lot of stuff in here. Walking through these galleries of preserved people & things from every time and place is like taking a stroll through history.

Café Renata

6:25 p.m.: The yoga instructor corrects my breathing as I attempt to touch my toes. “Hear your breathing, feel your breathing, focus on your breathing,” she chants slowly.

CAFE•RESTAURANT•BYOB CAFE•RESTAURANT•BYOB

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6:33 p.m.: The man next to me farts while saluting the sun. He’s not so cocky anymore. 6:40 p.m.: I take it back— yoga is not so easy. It seems unnatural to balance on one leg while holding your hands in a praying position behind your back.

High: Man there are so many faces. Like, the faces of the past. I’m looking at history and history’s all looking back at me. I’m so connected to the pharaohs right now I want to climb into the exhibition and just chill. This must be how Katy Perry felt in the music video for “Dark Horse,” really in touch with her roots and everything. I’m not sure but...is that embalming jar coming towards me? Oh man, it’s like I’m watching “Night at the Museum” except that I’m Ben Stiller and it’s a documentary. Wait. Wait no. The vase is a security guard. Oh my god, I'm groping the sphinx.

HOURS: sat-sun:

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M A R C H 27 , 2 01 4 3 4 T H S T R E E T M A G A Z I N E 1 5

ARTS

EMMA BARCHI

Ballerina Year: Freshman Hometown: Manhattan, New York Major: Undecided

Street: How did you start dancing? Emma Barchi: I started dancing when I was two years old. I don’t remember it, but one day I told my parents I needed ballet classes. I took a summer program and fell in love with it! Once that was over, I wanted to keep dancing at the school near me in Northern Virginia, but the school wouldn’t take

anyone before they were three and I was only two. I told the teachers I would completely pay attention in class and I wouldn’t tell anyone I was only two, and they gave me a chance and let me come. Street: What inspires you to dance? Do you have a favorite ballerina? EB: For me, my own prog-

ress and improvement inspires me. I only become irritated and frustrated when I feel like I’m not moving forward, so as long as I’m making progress I feel very driven. Some of my favorite ballerinas are Svetlana Zakharova, Polina Semionova and Maria Kowroski. I always love watching them and of course they are very inspiring, but I’ve never been one to idolize specific dancers. Street: What made you want to come to Penn? EB: A year ago I still had no plans to come to college this year! Most dancers either don’t go to school or do it part–time, so I applied to schools my senior year to have a backup plan. When I was accepted to Penn, I decided to visit, partly just for fun and partly to see if I might want to go here in the future. But, once I was on campus, I fell in love with Penn. I still remember standing in the San Francisco Ballet

hallway on the phone with my mom when she brought up the idea of going this year. That was the first time I ever even considered it. Street: It must be really hard to be a ballerina and a full– time student, how do you do it? EB: It has been really hard. I’m still doing full–time training on top of a full undergraduate class load, so a lot of times have been very hard and stressful. In December, the fullest week of “Nutcracker” rehearsals was also the week before my finals, so everyone from dance remembers me reading my Econ textbook in the dressing room between rehearsals. I’ve finished essays during intermissions, so it’s been a little crazy but so far I’ve been making it work!

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Street: Would you say you’re more of a black swan or a white swan? EB: I am absolutely more of a white swan! My dancing has always been very delicate and innocent, and I have always identified with the white swan much more. But I feel like college has given me a tiny little bit of a black swan side! Street: Where do you see yourself after college? EB: My goal is to dance professionally after school. I want to continue training through my next three years, and I plan on joining a company once I graduate. I would love to go home to Manhattan and dance there, but that will depend on which company I join.

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the outline’ ceremony, had said only that it had something to do with a God (or maybe Gods), and that the sun (or possibly the moon) was very important. He also said—and on this point he was extremely clear—that the whole thing was founded on a very strict principle of non–violence that absolutely could not be disobeyed. Master Po had already transcribed that part, though, and now he found himself at a bit of a loss. A rather intriguing thought about God creating light from darkness had just crossed his mind when a monk ran by screaming “The Mekzpek are coming!” Master Po allowed himself the luxury of a heavy sigh before standing and sprinting away. The sound of war–whoops followed him. He didn’t realize until a full five minutes by Langston Macdiarmid | artwork by Ciara Stein later that he’d left the Tindjen Introducing the runner-up to our fiction contest, THE GREAT MESA, a Scroll behind.

story of eternal rivalry, a flat-topped mountain and a farcical God.

he Great Mesa was 5,000 feet high, 5,000 feet across and, on some strange whim of God, perfectly round. Its edges were perfectly smooth, its sides perfectly straight and, legend had it, its top perfectly flat. Around its base, far below the flocks of Paw—Paw birds, there ran a circular stream— cool waters looping endlessly, papayas, yams and blackberries sprouting wild from the moist earth of its banks. At night, the Mesa was illuminated by a moon that never waned, and in the morning a sun rose that had never known clouds. For 5,000 years, the Bahapjet Monks and the Mekzpek Warriors had shared the land beneath the Great Mesa’s shadow, separated from any other civilization by 100 leagues. The Bahapjet lived only for the joys of prayer. The Mekzpek lived only for

the glory of battle. The two tribes of the Great Mesa, it was true, had fallen somewhat behind the rest of the world in developing science, philosophy, mathematics and fine art. However, their ability to scream wildly and run in 5,000–feet–diameter circles was absolutely unparalleled.

aster Po, high priest of the Bahapjet Monks, was thin, bald and utterly exhausted. In fairness, all of the Bahapjet Monks were exhausted, because any time not spent running from the Mekzpek was spent kneeling in prayer, doing one’s pious best not to fall asleep. Today Master Po was working on the Tindjen Scroll, sacred text of the Bahapjet. The Great Prophet Haptop intended to inscribe within it the details of Bahapjet religion some 5,000 years ago,

but he’d spent most of his lifetime desperately fleeing the Mekzpek, and had never really gotten the chance to put pen to parchment. Instead, he’d passed on a vague outline to his first disciple, Pekpa. To his credit, Master Pekpa managed to write a bit here and there during brief moments of downtime, but ultimately he’d been forced to pass on an outline of his own. Despite some 5,000 years of outlines, Master Po reflected solemnly, the Tindjen Scroll still had a ways to go. It didn’t help that, from time to time, a Master would knock over a cup of ink and the whole thing would have to be restarted. In fact, Master Po admitted to himself as he doodled in the margins, he wasn’t even sure what exactly he was supposed to be inscribing. Master Galta, during the traditional ‘passing of

lakbaka III, supreme Dhaka of the Mekzpek, leaned against the Great Mesa and sharpened his stick on its granite face. His scouts had informed him that the Bahapjet were just ahead, and one couldn’t plunge into the glory of battle with a dull stick. The news should have been exciting, but Alakbaka was in his 23rd year as Dhaka, and with each passing day it grew harder to summon the blood lust that once filled him so easily. He also knew that the precise curvature of the Mesa made it impossible to get within a thousand feet of a person without being seen, so the chances of actually catching a monk were slim. Truth be told, the only time anyone really wound up dead during battle was when a particularly uncoordinated Mekzpek tripped and stabbed himself with his own stick.

Perhaps, Alakbaka thought morosely, it was time to pass on his title. He’d have done it years ago if the ceremony didn’t involve explaining the guiding principles of the Mekzpek to the new Dhaka. Alakbaka was more than a little anxious about doing so. The previous Dhaka’s speech had been fairly incoherent, and Alakbaka hadn’t gotten a very clear understanding of the guiding principles he was meant to pass on. The only part the Dhaka had really emphasized was the importance of winning “glory.” Obtaining this “glory,” he said, was entirely contingent upon Alakbaka impaling every one of those “goddamn Bahapjet Monks” on a giant stake. Alakbaka decided his stick was about as sharp as it was likely to get, and stepped away from the Mesa. The war cry he released was perhaps a touch halfhearted, but it was enough to get the rest of the Mekzpek going and, before long, they were all charging forward, waving their sticks and whooping in unison. When the Bahapjet monks finally became visible in the distance, they were already fleeing in the other direction. The whole business would be a lot easier if they had some sort of projectile weapon, Alakbaka thought as he ran. Unfortunately, so much effort went into chasing the Bahapjet, that sharpening sticks was all the Mekzpek really had time for.

he Great Mesa rose 5,000 feet above the Bahapjet Monks and the Mekzpek Warriors. It was 5,000 feet across. It was perfectly round. On its flat top, God sat reclining in a lawn chair, chuckling. He cracked pistachios with his teeth, and spit the empty shells over the edge.