November 2, 2021

TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

LETTER FROM THE EDITOR On growing up, overscheduling, and intrusive silence

4 Mask and Wig’s Zaccariah Wright

8 Lucy Dacus plays Philly

12 Psychedelics for Therapy?

19 John Mulaney — Right Outta Rehab

22 An Ode to Telfar

34TH STREET EXECUTIVE BOARD Beatrice Forman, Editor–in–Chief: forman@34st.com Chelsey Zhu, Campus Editor: zhu@34st.com Mehek Boparai, Culture Editor: boparai@34st.com Karin Hananel, Assignments Editor: hananel@34st.com 34TH STREET EDITORS Eva Ingber, Features Editor Angela Shen, Features Editor Julia Esposito, Word on the Street Editor Aakruti Ganeshan, Focus Editor Emily White, Focus Editor Hannah Lonser, Style Editor Maddie Muldoon, Ego Editor Peyton Toups, Music Editor Walden Green, Arts Editor Arielle Stanger, Film & TV Editor Denali Sagner, Special Issues Editor Jesse Zhang, Multimedia Editor Kira Wang, Audience Engagement Editor 2

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have a secret for you: I’m really scared of growing up.

Not for the obvious reasons. The routine of updating resumes and sending out cover letters makes the job search feel oddly soothing, and the thought of starting over somewhere new is replete with main character syndrome.

I’m actually scared of free time—and the expanse of it that defines young adulthood.

Right now, my life teems with controlled substance. Mondays and Sundays are for Street, while Tuesday evening is for date night. Thursday and Friday mornings are for work, and Saturdays are for a regimented kind of self care: the gym, eyebrow waxes, and aimless walks reserved for deep enough contemplation. Schoolwork filters the in–between.

For me, a bumper–to–bumper schedule has always been my foremost defense mechanism, even if the resulting burnout threatens to upend the whole operation. In elementary school, alternating gymnastics and dance lessons (with an art enrichment program thrown in the mix) insulated me from the sharpest edges of my parents’ marital problems. Now, the unabated busyness has mutated into a way to avoid the unknown and the icky.

Moments of quiet, after all, preclude all my mental breakdowns. They force me to think about the hard things, the unavoidable things, the things that can’t quite fit into a 45–minute calendar slot marked for therapy. So as much as young adulthood represents vibrance and fresh starts, it also repre-

34TH STREET STAFF Features Staff Writers: Sejal Sangani, Angela Shen, Mira Sydow, Amy Xiang, Meg Gladieux, Emilee Gu, Tara Anand, Avalon Hinchman Focus Beat Writers: Rema Bhat, Jean Paik, Gabrielle Galchen, Naima Small, Leandra Archibald Style Beat Writers: Kira Wang, W. Anthony Perez, Anna Hochman, Rachel Ker, Joanna Shan Music Beat Writers: Evan Qiang, Fernanda Brizuela, Derek Wong, Grayson Catlett, Treasure Brown Arts Beat Writers: Jessa Glassman, Roger Ge, Irma Kiss Barath Film & TV Beat Writers: Harshita Gupta, Jacob A. Pollack, Sneha Parthasarathy, Heather Shieh, Cindy Zhang Ego Beat Writers: Anjali Kishore, Alana Bess, Saya Desai, Sheil Desai Staff Writers: Kathryn Xu, Emily Moon, John Nycz, Kate Ratner, Kayla Cotter, Mame Balde, Shelby Abayie, Vidur Saigal Multimedia Associates: Dhivya Arasappan, Sage Levine, Sophie Huang, Samantha Turner, Sudeep

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sents something darker. It means unscheduled silence is approaching, and I don’t know how to reckon with that.

This week’s issue is about finding solace in that silence. We have a review of John Mulaney’s comedic return from his and notes on the quiet terror of Martha Marcy May Marlene a decade later. Our feature goes on to look at the therapeutic powers of a silent, psychedelic trip.

Illustration by Collin Wang

SSSF,

Bea

Bhargava, Sukhmani Kaur, Roger Ge, Andrew Yang, Mason Dao, Sheil Desai, Derek Wong, Evie Eisenstein, Andrea Barajas, Rachel Zhang, Sofika Janak, Sneha Parthasarathy Audience Engagement Associates: Sneha Parthasarathy, Adrien Wilson–Thompson, Kayla Cotter, Vidur Saigal, Heather Shieh, Caleb Crain, Saya Desai MULTIMEDIA Multimedia Associates: Dhivya Arasappan, Sage Levine, Sophie Dai, Sophie Huang, Samantha Turner, Sudeep Bhargava, Liwa Sun, Sukhmani Kaur, Alexandra Morgan–Lindo Audience Engagement Associates: Yamila Frej, Saya Desai, Sneha Parthasarathy, Adrien WilsonThompson, Kayla Cotter, Vidur Saigal, Heather Shieh, Caleb Crain Copy Editor: Brittany Darrow Design Editor: Isabel Liang Cover Design by Lilian Liu

Contacting 34th Street Magazine: If you have questions, comments, complaints or letters to the editor, email Bea Forman, Editor-In-Chief, at forman@34stcom. You can also call us at (215) 422–4640. www.34st.com ©2021 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 Tuesday.

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WORD ON THE STREET

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Illustration by Tyler Kliem

Existing is enough. | DEREK NHIEU

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remember a time during high school when I sat in my room doing work at my table. My mother walked in, and we talked for around 15 to 20 minutes. Except, she wasn't actually there. When I looked carefully enough, I realized that I was hallucinating because I hadn't slept for almost two entire days.

Nowadays, I find myself exasperated. Every year I've been at Penn, I've seen the same thing: students, specifically first years, with increasingly declining mental health. One of the main reasons? They compare themselves to others. More precisely, they feel like they aren't doing enough.

We all compare ourselves to others.

It's natural, I know. Even as someone who's pretty involved at Penn, I've found myself guilty of this. I try my best not to think that way. Yet, as I've been preparing to apply to fellowships lately, I can't help but feel like I'm not doing enough. I see all these great people here at Penn and all the fantastic things they're doing, and I honestly feel bad.

That's part of the problem. Growing up, I placed my worth in the

work that I did. I prided myself on always "being on the grind," and enveloped myself in "hustle" culture. I even bragged about how little sleep I got. Once, I almost passed out while walking down my high school hallways. Looking back, that was pretty messed up. I'm glad I grew out of that phase and learned that you could both work hard and take care of yourself simultaneously.

While that sleep deprivation example may seem like more of an extreme case, sometimes I don't feel like it's outlandish. People at Penn will cite how much they got done because they skipped meals to work instead. They'll post their back–to– back energy drink cans on social media like they're trophies. They'll say, matter–of–factly, that you're just wasting time and energy if you're not doing something productive. People feel like they need to be constantly doing something, and everything, to be good enough when that simply is not true. Not only that, but they may put you down or think less of you if you don't adhere to this unrealistic standard too.

Students actively contribute to this toxic, "hyperproductive" work culture whether they know it or not.

We can even extend this to Penn's social culture: Some people treat the "play hard" in "work hard, play hard" as more of an obligation than an option. They're surprised when you tell them you haven't done anything all day or all weekend. They

"People feel like they need to be constantly doing something, and everything, to be good enough when that simply is not true." give you weird looks when you tell them you don't want to go out at night, or even that you want to go to sleep. They still brag about how little sleep they get for some bizarre reason (sleep deprivation is not impressive).

Combine that with the rigor and

prestige of Penn, as well as the American expectation that young people should know what they want to do in college and in life, and you have everyone feeling inadequate and like they should always be on the grind.

Recently, I watched a YouTube video by the vlogbrothers. One of the quotes from the video was, "You will always struggle with not feeling productive, until you accept that your own joy can be something you produce." It resonated with me because people don't often see taking care of themselves as being productive, yet we must do so. We can only do our best work when we are in our best condition.

In the end, you don't need to derive your self–worth from your involvements and achievements. None of us should have to feel bad or guilty that we're not doing enough. We're not robots or machines—we're human beings. We all get tired. We all need rest.

Most importantly, we all need to take care of ourselves.

When was the last time someone told you that simply existing is enough? I'm telling you that now. You deserve to exist, period. You don't have to justify it. Let yourself exist, and know that it is perfectly okay to do so.

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ZACCARIAH WRIGHT HOMETOWN: Dix Hills, N.Y. MAJOR:

Cinema and media studies with a minor in consumer psychology

ACTIVITES:

Mask and Wig, Penn Screenwriters’ Guild, Kinoki Senior Society, Friars Senior Society, Pi Kappa Alpha

As head writer for Mask and Wig, Zaccariah is making the entire Penn community laugh. | SAYA DESAI 34th STREET: Can you tell us about your involvement in Mask and Wig? ZACCARIAH WRIGHT: I am in charge of our show in the spring, the annual production, which is a full–blown musical that we started writing the summer prior. I've just been grinding out as many bits as possible and as many songs as possible.

I work hand in hand with the band to actually put together these songs and coordinate with our committee on production. I also work with our choreographer, our hired director, and our creative producer. There are a lot of people involved and a lot of moving parts.

I started my [first] year [at Penn]. Now, as the head writer, I draw inspiration from our head writer at the time. He told us to keep a log of any bits, any short story ideas, any screenplay ideas. So I did what he said and started to log any ideas I had into my notes app on my phone.

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I have almost 20 pages of notes.

It is legit miles and miles long, just filled with different ideas.

Whenever I get writer's block, I go back to that list.

My favorite bit was a little

the years, " Over we have become

a little bit better because we have definitely become more PC. I think it's a perfect direction for our group to head in.

goofy. It was called Doctor Masseuse. It's about a masseuse who likes rhymes, and he creeps out his clients. They're like, "Why are you rhyming? Don't touch me." That was in our fall 2019 show.

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STREET: Mask and Wig has recently made some major changes to the group, such as accepting members of all genders.

What was that process like?

ZW: It was a multi–step process. Because our alumni are so involved—we call them the graduate club—we had to vote to become gender–inclusive.

And of course, that had been a goal of ours. We had to take a deep look into our 130–year– long history and see where we could improve. We knew we had to implement actual changes so all genders feel comfortable in our Mask and Wig space. So that took about half a year.

We split it up into different groups to access all aspects. I was part of the product team, and I took a look at our annual production. Is the humor that we use conducive to having a gender–inclusive organization?

What does what we find funny say about us as a company? All of that does have to change.

Over the years, we have become a little bit better because we have definitely become more PC. I think it's a perfect direction for our group to head in.

Honestly, my entire class in Mask and Wig has struggled to implement and make these changes since our [first] year.

And for this to happen at the beginning of our senior year is amazing. A few guys in our class actually cried. You're like, "I can't believe I actually got this.

Wow." STREET: What was founding Screenwriters’ Guild like?

ZW: We just got this guild approved earlier this week, so that is super exciting. I took "Advanced Screenwriting" with Kathleen Demarco Van Cleve with my good friend Erin Brennan (C '23). We were motivated to create a space where people who want to work on screenplays can simply derive discipline, get critiques from other people, discuss screenplays out-

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side of the classroom setting, but also meet regularly. It’s not even like a class where you have to be able to go every week. It's low stakes. We have a first meeting this Saturday with our ten–person membership.

STREET: Tell us about yourself outside of Penn and school.

What makes you unique?

ZW: What makes me unique is that I've been singing for most of my life. It has been a staple since second grade. Throughout grade school, I would commute from Long Island all the way to New York City three times a week just to go to rehearsals. I traveled the world with that chorus. I feel like it made me a better musician and really opened my eyes to stuff outside the Long Island bubble. I really do

feel like my experiences set me apart from the rest.

STREET: What's your most memorable experience at Penn?

ZW: I think it would be [first– year New Student Orientation].

I got close with a few people the April prior during Quaker Days and had collected some of their numbers. I texted them, and they didn't really respond, so I thought, I'm alone. I love my roommate to death, [but] I just thought, I've got to make some friends who like to go out. I remember running into this girl at Wawa, and she invited me back to meet her hallmates who were already so close. Really, I had met some stranger at Wawa and made her laugh, so I was able to come back and meet her friends.

We shook hands, asked each oth-

er names, major, hometown, et cetera. And to this day we are all very, very close. Yeah, definitely that day. I don't know. It's just

makes me " What unique is that I've

been singing for most of my life. It has been a staple since second grade.

something about being in the Quad and meeting so many new people. Simply put, it's just an incredible experience.

STREET: What’s next for you after Penn?

ZW: Oh, that's currently up in the air. With my cinema and media studies major, I'm trying to go into screenwriting, which entails working for any major production company. I want to go into children's entertainment. I've been sending out my resume to DreamWorks, Disney, and Illumination. But if that doesn't pan out, I will be teaching for two years for Teach for America in Los Angeles. I already have my acceptance. I'm excited, especially because of the impact so many teachers have had in my life. I just felt like I had to give back.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.

LIGHTNING ROUND STREET: Last song you listened to?

ZW: “Let it Roll” by Flo Rida.

STREET: If you were a building on campus, which would you be?

ZW: I’d be the high rises. I love the views. I feel like if I'm the building, my eyes are toward the top, so I’d just look over all of Philadelphia.

STREET: Last death row meal?

ZW: Pizza but not from Allegro. I'm not from New York City, but I’m from New York City, and they make pizza 1000 times better. I’d say pizza from this little shop in Times Square that I used to frequent.

STREET: If you could have any superpower, what would it be?

ZW: I'm thinking telekinesis would be really cool because you could move things with your mind. I feel like I am inspired by Chronicle with Michael B Jordan.

STREET: There’s two types of people at Penn ...

ZW: Honestly, work hard and play hard.

STREET: And you are?

ZW: Work hard. Of course, everyone to a degree works hard. We all got in here. But there are people who are just making the most of it, you know, trying to live while they're still in college, especially having a year taken from them because of COVID–19. People are seeing more concerts, trying out new restaurants, and I respect those people. I'm still in the work hard mindset because putting together this show is not easy.

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Fossil Free Penn Is Back and Ready to Put Pressure on Penn Coordinators Sarah Sterinbach and Katie Collier share FFP’s vision for the new semester. | SHEIL DESAI

F

ossil Free Penn (FFP) knows the time is right.

The effects of climate change are being felt around the world, and there is no better moment than now for humanity to get its act together. This means defunding and divesting from fossil fuels— something Penn has yet to do.

In recent months, many universities, including Boston University and Ivy League institutions like Harvard, have pledged to divest their endowments from the fossil fuel industry.

As fossil fuels are the primary driver of climate change, divestment from them has become a central focus for college students frustrated by slow moving university administrations. FFP believes the current movement sweeping across college campuses may finally force Penn administration’s hand in divesting their nearly $20.5 billion endowment from fossil fuel assets.

“It makes it more feasible for Penn to divest, and for it to not to be as big of a political statement as they were worrying it would be," says FFP coordinator Katie Collier (C '22). "I think divestment is definitely in the future—I just hope it's soon because the world is literally ending."

At weekly GBMs, there are both seasoned FFP veterans and newer faces. Coordinator Sarah Sterinbach 6

(C '24) hasn’t been to a major protest or sit–in yet, but joined after attending a preceptorial, an informal seminar designed to introduce new students to life at Penn.

“I was told it was a very action driven group, a no–bullshit kind of group,” she says.

Penn students who were on campus before the pandemic can attest to FFP’s reputation as a seemingly endless source of irritation for the administration. Every Friday in 2019, members would line the halls outside of President Amy Gutmann’s office with signs and pickets calling for the university to divest its estimated $315 million in fossil fuel assets.

In November of 2019, 100 members stormed a Board of Trustees’ meeting and forced it to shut down while chanting demands for a divestment town hall meeting with the Penn administration. High ranking trustees like David Cohen and even Gutmann were seen escaping through back entrances. In the wake of the protest, Wendell Pritchett, provost at the time, sent a threatening letter to those involved about receiving a notation on their transcript.

With the onset of the pandemic, FFP was forced to roll back many of its actions. But the new in–person semester means the group is back and looking to rebrand itself as more

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than just divestment activists.

“One thing we've been trying to do is become more intersectional and justice–oriented, specifically within the Philly community,” says Sarah.

This includes working with a group called Earth Quaker Action Team to organize a divestment protest outside of Vanguard’s headquarters on Oct. 29. Vanguard, a portfolio manager, is one of the largest fossil fuel investors in the world. Notably, Gutmann serves on Vanguard’s executive board.

“Another vision that FFP has is to form a leftist coalition because justice is for everyone," says Sarah. "I want Penn to acknowledge the demands of Police Free Penn, Penn for Pilots, et cetera.” At many FFP meetings, members have discussed how to address broader issues outside of divestment in the Penn community.

Some of these issues stem from the administration’s “disrespect for the Penn and Philadelphia communities,” according to Katie. “Penn is doing research and wants to be a part of the future. Yet, they still invest in the fossil fuel industry, prison–industrial complex, and don’t recognize Indigenous People’s Day,” she says.

Despite their tumultuous battle with the administration, FFP members are confident that Penn will divest soon—they just hope it will be done in the right way. In 2020, Gut-

mann announced that Penn would divest from the coal and tar sand industry. But there was no mention of the efforts of student activists, who had pushed for the change for years.

“We obviously hope that Penn divests, but we hope that they divest loudly,” says Sarah. By not acknowledging student activism, FFP believes Penn is still trying to avoid giving students a seat at the decision–making table.

The group hopes that divestment will serve as a message to the Penn community and the rest of the world. “Yes, removing the money from these industries is important," says Katie. "But it's really about the political statement of divesting and saying, ‘Hey, we are this large, globally influential organization, and we do not support the fossil fuel industry and what it's doing to communities and the environment.'"

As of now, Penn has not announced plans to divest from fossil fuels anytime soon. FFP has made it clear that it plans to keep organizing, rallying, and building a coalition. Until divestment occurs, Sarah has a message for the Penn administration on behalf of FFP: “You have the power to create change, but you're doing nothing about it. And we're not going to stop fighting until we get what we want. We're a threat.

They should listen to us.”

MUSIC

K–Indie Deserves More Attention

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by Isa Illustration

Here are four independent Korean rock bands worthy of your next fall playlist. | TREASURE BROWN A popular metaphor for K–Pop is that it’s just like candy. Be it the bubble gum pop sound that popularized the genre in the early 2010s, or the addictive bass lines and mass production that define it today, the genre’s influence is undeniable. In tandem with the global fanaticism around K–Pop, there’s a musical movement impacting the way global listeners consume Korean music: an indie–rock revival. With fall (and seasonal depression) just around the corner, we could all use a little serotonin boost. Here are four K–Indie bands to freshen up your autumn playlists.

1. HYUKOH Perhaps the best–known act on this list, HYUKOH is the face of the K–Indie revolution. With one album and five EPs to date, the four–piece band is a seasoned act, almost to perfection. With a careful mixture of grunge, R&B soul, and '70s rock, the band’s lead singer Oh Hyuk’s raspy and captivating voice delivers a feeling of unfamiliar nostalgia— addressing themes of love, melancholy, longing, and completeness.

The vocalist’s upbringing is reflected in the music, with the frontman’s early lyrics musing on his adolescent years growing up in China on “I Have No Hometown” and his complicated relationship with religion in “Jesus lived in a motel room.” With soulful crooning in English, Korean, and Mandarin Chinese, HYUKOH’s reach has spanned all over the world, leading the band to perform at Coachella in 2019. As the weather gets colder, be sure to check out "Ohio," a song about the process of healing a broken heart.

2. JANNABI JANNABI is for the hopeless romantics, point blank period. The quartet’s delivery of both sleepy nighttime ballads and hard–hitting Queen–inspired acoustic charm has captivated fans across the country ever since their 2019 single, “for lovers who hesitate,” won both Song of the Year and Best Modern Rock Song at the 2020 Korean Music Awards—deservedly so. Every track begins with a prelude of either calming acoustic guitar or alluring piano notes, as lead vocalist Choi Jung Hoon rides the soothing melodies with soulful fervor.

Yet despite its vintage undertones, the music feels fresh, drawing from only the best of the rock bands by which the group is inspired.

If you’re looking for songs perfect for relaxing ambiance or tear–jerking ballads, JANNABI is the group for you. Their song "Sweet memories" is particularly fitting for an autumn stroll.

3.

THE BLACK SKIRTS

The Black Skirts, despite the plural name, isn't a band. The act is Jo Hyu–il, also known as Bryan Cho, who is an outlier among his indie counterparts. The multi–instrumentalist wanders musically, moving from

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piano–based ragtime to slower ballads and then circling around to Men I Trust–style dream pop. It stands to say that The Black Skirts definitely has his own color: one of addictive chord progressions and resounding vocals, moving his listeners in whatever way he intends, and singing in English or Korean. And with this formula, he’s found success, lending his vocals to a number of K–Drama soundtracks; they've earned his records 201 and THIRSTY Best Modern Rock Album at the 2010 and 2020 Korean Music Awards, respectively.

Cho is an artist of impressive growth. Each of his releases showcase not only the artist’s depth as a musician, but also his ever–evolving delivery of life’s most common experiences. In the spirit of fall, we'd recommend the slow–rocking track, "Holiday."

4. SE SO NEON With a name literally translating to “new kids” or “new boys,” SE SO NEON are the freshest faces on the Korean indie rock scene. Fronted by vocalist Soyoon, whose androgynous voice accompanies an awe–inspiring combination of city–pop and neo–psychedelic rock on each of their songs. With their sophomore EP Nonadaptation earning itself a spot on both Pitchfork and Paste’s year–end best rock albums of 2020 lists, the group has enjoyed critical acclaim, and it’s not hard to tell why: The music simply speaks for itself. But to summarize in one word, the music is "powerful," soul– strikingly so with a thrilling blend of guitar, drums, and striking vocals on each and every track.

Keep an eye out for SE SO NEONs rise.

With each artists’ unique sound, you’re bound to find a song, or even album, that resonates with you.

Be it in English or Korean, a heartbreaking crooner or thrilling rage fest, we'd go so far as to say that each of these bands brings something new to the table. Give them all a listen this fall.

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Lucy Dacus Brings The Audience Home During Her Show At Union Transfer Dacus’ Home Video tour performance reminds us of cherished memories and the ones we wish to forget. | KATE RATNER

Photo by Kate Ratner

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n the moments leading up to Lucy Dacus’ performance on Oct. 20 at Philadelphia’s Union Transfer, a series of home videos showing Dacus' upbringing were projected onto the stage. The audience saw videos of newborn Lucy in her mother's arms, to an elementary–aged Lucy singing to the camera, with her face getting closer and closer with each note, until she was kissing the lens.

Later, we see Lucy as an awkward teenager: the girl who experienced the first loves, heartbreaks, and more–than–friends friendships that became the fodder for Dacus’ third album, Home Video.

As the home video presentation ended, the show began. Wearing her signature ruby red lipstick, Dacus sang the first lines of “Triple Dog Dare,” the song about a childhood friendship complicated by queer romantic feelings: “I'm not tired yet / We still got a lot to figure out / Like, what was the end of the movie about, anyways?” The Wednesday evening crowd in Callowhill swooned over Dacus and joined her for a two–hour emotional journey.

Dacus, a Philly resident, was excited to perform two shows in the city she calls home. Originally from Richmond, Va., she grew up in a religious Christian household and struggled to openly identify with her queerness for much of her childhood. As a result, much of Dacus’ music is about her early years and the quiet lovers who her family wouldn't approve of.

Prior to Home Video, Dacus released No Burden in 2016 and Historian in 2018. In 2018, she formed boygenius with fellow indie–rock starlets Phoebe Bridgers and Julien Baker. They released their first EP boygenius in October 2018.

Dacus began the concert by performing hits from Home Video including “First Time,” “Hot & Heavy,” and “VBS,” an homage to her summers spent at vacation bible school. Even when the crowd didn’t dance to the slower melodies, they sang along, mimicking

the soft articulation of Dacus’ lyrics.

“Please Stay,” a song pleading with a close friend to stay alive during a time of despair, was a pivotal moment of the show. Before the song began, Dacus exclaimed, “Well, this one’s gonna be a doozy.” The crowd grew silent and prepared to emote alongside the artist on stage. Dacus’ body remained still during this song, feeling her words as she sang: “You tell me you love me like it'll be the last time / Like you're playing out the end of a storyline / I say I love you too because it's true / What else am I supposed to do?”

The final song on the night’s setlist was “Night Shift,” Dacus’ explosive 2018 hit from her second album Historian. With the first chord of the song came a moment of catharsis for Dacus and the crowd: the shared feelings of relief, strength, and the bittersweet nature of moving on from lost love. Dacus promises to open herself to new love despite being hurt by her last relationship: “You got a 9–to–5, so I’ll take the night shift / And I’ll never see you again, if I can help it / In five years I hope the songs feel like covers / Dedicated to new lovers.”

With a beautiful collection of flailing limbs, screaming voices, and flashing red stage lights, the crowd became a single entity, allowing themselves to feel the emotions that Dacus channeled in this song.

For the encore, Dacus returned to the stage without her band. She performed a cover of “Summer in the City” by Regina Spektor and a new song with an unknown title. The audience vowed not to share clips of the unreleased song. As Dacus sang, all phones went into pockets and the audience spent a few intimate moments with her before the show officially ended.

As Lucy Dacus’ twinkling brown eyes and elegant black peasant dress left the stage that evening, the crowd took a collective deep breath.

Dacus’ words left the crowd’s hearts open and heads overridden with nostalgia.

OVERHEARDS

OVERHEARDS

This week: Zara jeans, drunk cigarettes, and mommy issues

New in town, kind of: "As a minority in two areas, single and gay ..."

Modern-day Cher Horowitz: "I knew he wanted to hook up with me after he complimented my Zara jeans."

Your mother at some point, probably: "I need to sell the product, which is you!"

Girlboss economist: "The worst financial decision I've ever made is becoming an oat milk person."

Happens to also be a 'sober pescatarian': "There's something so delicious about a drunk cigarette."

START OUR MASTER'S DEGREE IN EDUCATION AS AN UNDERGRAD

SUBMATRICULATION INFO SESSION November 4 | 12 p.m. www.gse.upenn.edu/Submatriculation

NOVEMBER 2, 2021 34TH STREET MAGAZINE

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FILM & TV

Martha Marcy May Marlene

TEN YEARS LATER

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ndie–drama and psychological thriller Martha Marcy May Marlene, directed by Sean Durkin, recently celebrated its 10th anniversary on Oct. 21. The alliterative title alludes to the various identities of the female protagonist, played by a 21–year–old Elizabeth Olsen in her film debut.

Conveying complex emotions entirely through her eyes in some close–ups, Olsen pulls off a convincing portrayal of a cult victim in this beloved cult classic.

The film opens with a rural scene as the viewer is enveloped by the sounds of nature. The men and women of the community, not yet identified as a cult, take turns eating at the dinner table, elbows grazing elbows; the atmosphere is solemn but cozy.

The tranquility soon dissipates as we witness the protagonist make an attempted escape through the woods. Here, the hints of a cult begin to emerge: She hides from a group of women, all of whom are dressed uniformly in jean shorts and white T–shirts that are one size too big.

A man tracks her down at a roadside restaurant, addressing her as “Marcy May.” Later on, she makes a phone call to a woman

who calls her “Martha,” but her speech comes out fragmented, revealing an internal conflict that pervades the film—her instinct to get as far away as possible from this cult while battling against a fabricated conviction that she is exactly where she’s meant to be.

“I have to go back,” she whispers in a trembling voice.

Eventually, she’s picked up by the woman—her sister, Lucy— and driven to Lucy and her husband Ted’s vacation lake house in Connecticut. Defection from the cult, it appears, was the easy part; her recovery and untreated psychological trauma constitutes the majority of the film and is what leaves a lasting impression on the viewer. Thrusted back into everyday life, she displays aberrant behavior.

As the film progresses, we learn the origin of these habits: Patrick, the cult leader (played by John Hawkes), commands total authority over the women in the cult and expects them to adopt a domesticated lifestyle where each woman serves a role, be it knitting, cooking, or farming. He strips them of their identities, giving them new names upon arrival and asserting his dominance in

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Illustration by Isabel Liang

WHAT WE CAN LEARN FROM

This unconventional psychological thriller explores the relationship between cults and the human psyche. | CINDY ZHANG

EDITOR'S NOTE: This article contains spoilers for Martha Marcy May Marlene.

CONTENT WARNING: This article includes mention of sexual assault.

their lives. The women are to use the name “Marlene” when answering calls, suggesting that they are interchangeable and treated as a collective as opposed to individuals in their own right.

In the present, Martha refuses to drink or smoke, having internalized the cult’s teachings, and she conveys her innermost, unfiltered thoughts—providing comedic relief to counteract the somber atmosphere. She is in a constant state of lethargy and absent mindedness, but it is not until the flashbacks of physical abuse that we realize the extent of her desensitization. The most twisted part of the film is not the utter violation of her body, but the way she is manipulated into believing it was “special.” The solidarity of shared experience is used by a cult member to justify the act of rape, followed by the phrase “you have to trust us.”

And there it is–the perfect front for tyranny. By claiming to have a community founded on faith and trust, the cult is able to abuse said trust to the fullest extent. Blind trust permits arbitrary rules and arbitrary punishments for not abiding by those rules. Other significant characteristics of cults in-

clude “charismatic leaders,” “coercive persuasion,” and “sexual and other exploitation of group members,” according to renowned psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton.

Alongside cult movies and TV series like Hereditary, Once Upon a Time … In Hollywood, and The Handmaid’s Tale, Martha Marcy May Marlene reveals uncomfortable truths about the human psyche. The key takeaway is that cults appeal to the most vulnerable version of ourselves. Zoë Heller argues in a New Yorker article that “acknowledging that joining a cult requires an element of voluntary self–surrender also obliges us to consider whether the very relinquishment of control isn’t a significant part of the appeal.” Wanting to feel entirely dependent on and accepted by a community is a human desire, and one that is unfortunately exploited. Bombarding the victim with attention and love—a tactic psychologists refer to as “love–bombing”—is how seeds of trust are planted and a feeling of obligation is instilled in the victim.

The memeification of cults in popular media has blinded us to the tangible threats they

pose and has been justified by the shared belief: “I would never join a cult because I’m not batshit crazy.” The problem, however, is that cults appeal to universal desires for love and acceptance and frequently rope people in via what are perceived to be innocuous social gatherings. Martha’s moments of lucidity provide a compelling argument for the general susceptibility to cultism, for we are discouraged from labelling her as the type of person to be easily indoctrinated.

While traditional cults still exist—NXIVM, for example— modern day cultism presents itself in a much more insidious form. Social media, for one, is the perfect platform for “charismatic leaders” to recruit members, breeds the us–vs–them mentality, and enables one to disconnect from reality. Cultism and political polarization go hand in hand, making it all the more important that we can distinguish between the neutral transfer of information and the strategic dispensation of it. Martha Marcy May Marlene teaches us to be wary of appeals to innate human desires, for no one is exempt from the claws of cultism.

FILM & TV

WES ANDERSON’S MOST WES ANDERSON MOVIE YET:

The French Dispatch

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f any filmmaker working today, there are few whose films are as easily recognizable as Wes Anderson’s. His unique style of using vibrant sets, costumes, and color palettes creates inventive and surreal worlds that could only come from Anderson’s mind. Every shot in his movies, from the production to the angles to the stage directions, is meticulously planned out and detailed.

The French Dispatch, which stars Timothée Chalamet, Bill Murray, Owen Wilson, Frances McDormand, Jeffrey Wright, Tilda Swinton, Benicio del Toro, and Adrien Brody (and a few surprises), is no exception to Anderson’s signature style.

In fact, The French Dispatch might be his most stylistic movie yet, exceeding the likes of The Grand Budapest Hotel, The Royal Tenenbaums, and Rushmore.

Anderson uses his signature tools of animation, perfectly symmetrical shots, close–up zooms, clever dialogue, and eclectic characters to tell three stories. All three tales are loosely connected to an influential magazine called “The French Dispatch,” found in the fictional Ennui–sur–Blasé.

Anderson has created his own “City of Lights” that goes between bold colors and black– and–white shots to evoke feelings of melancholy, nostalgia, and thrill. Arguably, Anderson makes live–action “animated movies”—films that are intricate, imaginative, and carefully crafted. Many animated movies, like Anderson’s films, are exaggerated to convey precise ideas that are both visually and thematically original.

The French Dispatch portrays

all of these qualities.

As with all of Anderson’s movies, this one is whimsical and fantastical. Yet, unlike the rest of his catalog, it lacks any trace of a compelling storyline.

What Anderson picks up in style, he drops in story.

The French Dispatch, paying homage to a New Yorker–type magazine, starts with an introduction, focuses on a few major features, and ends with a conclusion. In any magazine, not all stories are equally riveting, which is the case for this movie. The three features are: “The Concrete Masterpiece,” a tale of a tormented painter, “Revisions to a Manifesto,” a chronicle of a youth protest, and “The Private Dining Room of the Police Commissioner,” a story on crime and food.

“Revisions to a Manifesto”— perhaps the most interesting of the features—showcases Lucinda Krementz, (Frances McDormand), who reports on a student protest led by the rebellious Zeffirelli (Timothée Chalamet). Chalamet, a new addition to Anderson’s ensemble of stellar actors, shines as the zealous Zeffirelli who spends all his time either smoking, playing chess, or writing his long–awaited manifesto.

It is delightful to see Chalamet fit so naturally into the ACU (Anderson Cinematic Universe). There is one striking scene in particular where he and his on–screen lover Juliette, played by Lyna Khoudri, are riding on a m aotorcycle as the background slowly changes to different shades of bold colors with French music trailing along—a perfect shot that captures all of Anderson’s talents.

While all three of the features are well–executed, each story is

roughly only thirty minutes, leaving little time for satisfying payoff and character arcs.

Each story is independent of one another, leaving the overall movie feeling like an anthology of disconnected narratives. One of the few consistent threads is just a joke about not crying. With no emotional through line, the quirky shots and witty one–liners remain the only beating soul of this movie.

If you’re interested in watching a masterful storyteller showcase all of his talents to an overbearing degree, one couldn’t recommend The French Dispatch enough. But if you’re interested in more than just eccentric and weird moments, then this latest issue of Anderson might be a tad underwhelming.

The film, which opened nationwide on Oct. 22, has all of the signature Wes Anderson trademarks—minus an endearing story. | JACOB A. POLLACK

Illustration by Brandon Li

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F E AT U R E

A Trip Into Y Psychedelic Medicine Psychedelics are revolutionizing the health care and wellness industries. Now, they’re at Penn’s doorstep. | MEG GLADIEUX All images courtesy of SoundMind Center

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ou’re lying on a bed in a dimly lit room. Music surrounds you, and the air is soft on your skin. You slip a lozenge under your tongue. As it dissolves, you close your eyes, settling in for the experience ahead. Sitting beside you, a therapist offers a reassuring presence.

If anxiety sets in, you’re prepared: deep breath in, then out. Slowly you ease into an altered state of consciousness as visions, memories, and visceral sensations wash over you in waves. Your journey begins.

This is not some radical hippie experiment in the vein of a Woodstock or Electric Kool– Aid Acid Test vision of a psychedelic trip. This is ketamine–assisted psychotherapy, a fully legal and evidence–based psychedelic therapeutic practice. It’s a small piece of the budding psychedelic renaissance that’s sweeping the healthcare and wellness industries— and it’s happening a few blocks away from Penn’s campus at the SoundMind Center.

The SoundMind Center opened in August of 2021 and is the first talk–therapy–based clinic in the Philadelphia area licensed to practice ketamine–assisted psychotherapy.

It’s spearheaded by Dr. Hannah McLane, founder of the SoundMind Center, who completed her residency in neurology and occupational and environmental medicine at Penn. Throughout her time working with patients and encountering a spectrum of neurological and mental health concerns, there was one common thread: unresolved trauma.

“As I passed through my medical education, I started seeing trauma everywhere,” she says.

What manifested as physical ailments in the bodies of many Penn neurology patients was actually post–traumatic stress. “The only way to heal [these ailments] is through psychotherapy, or acknowledging it in some way,” she says.

McLane has had a vested interest in plant–based and alternative medicines for neurological and psychological disorders since medical school. But it was hearing about MDMA–assisted therapies at the 2018 Sleeping Octopus Assembly on Psychedelics (SOAP) Conference in Pittsburgh that solidified her interest in psychedelic therapy. Although MDMA isn’t expected to be federally approved for clinical use until 2023, McLane saw potential in opening a clinic that used another psychedelic, ketamine, as a therapeutic aid.

After the War on Drugs shut down much of the scientific inquiry into the use of psychedelics as treatment for mental health

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conditions in the '60s, psychedelics have slowly returned as a focus in medical research. Though the exact mechanisms of how psychedelics treat mental health conditions are unclear, it seems to go something like this: chronic stress in the brain from trauma depletes synapses, or connections within the brain. Ketamine operates on receptors for glutamate, an important neurotransmitter for forming synapses, to restore depleted connections and even create new ones. In a therapeutic setting, the molecular properties of ketamine can act in tandem with cognitive restructuring techniques used in traditional psychotherapy to help patients heal from trauma.

McLane saw a particular need for accessible therapies for trauma among the BIPOC, LGBTQ, and neurodiverse populations in West Philadelphia and the surrounding community, where access to mental health care is limited and high levels of ingrained trauma are particularly prevalent. And in such a powerhouse health care hub like Philadelphia, with innovative advances in medical research coming out of Penn, Temple, and Jefferson, it seemed like the perfect place to open a clinic.

"When we look at the mental, emotional, and physical body as a whole, integrated approach, we’re able to really tap into our own innate healing abilities. Everybody has this ability to heal, given the right conditions and the right atmosphere."

– AUBREY HOWARD

McLane quickly amassed a pool of local healthcare workers to help launch her psychedelic clinic project. They purchased the old Penn Family Medicine building at 46th and Spruce, transforming it into a homey space for psychedelic–assisted therapies, research, advocacy, and training projects. Currently, they’ve trained more than 100 therapists in psychedelic–assisted therapy. They currently offer ketamine–assisted therapies in person and plan to offer MDMA– assisted psychotherapy in the near future, once it's federally approved. They also offer traditional therapy sessions in hybrid online and in–person formats.

The SoundMind Center and other practices specializing in psychedelic therapies use ketamine “off label,” meaning that though ketamine isn’t officially prescribed as therapy for PTSD or depression, it can be used in therapeutic settings because of the research backing its effectiveness. However, SoundMind isn’t a “ketamine clinic” where the drug is simply administered passively via IV—they work to integrate the molecular action of psychedelics with more traditional talk therapy sessions.

“Some people will have really powerful rebirth experiences or out of body experiences or play through memories

from their childhood. It really runs the gamut,” says Courtney Hutchison, director of research and staff therapist at SoundMind. Separate from her work at SoundMind, Hutchison is a temp at Penn’s Counseling and Psychological Services. Most talk therapy involves reflecting on past experiences to understand behaviors in the present. For people being treated at SoundMind, everything that comes up in the ketamine–assisted session becomes fruitful material for non–ketamine sessions.

“The therapist is there to create a safe holding environment while people are on ketamine, and then afterwards, you integrate what came up and use that as part of therapy,” says Hutchison.

Of course, a mental health clinic that uses controlled substances to treat trauma in a community where drugs have historically been a source of trauma could be a fraught concept. But that tension is something that SoundMind is committed to addressing.

“There is a really big barrier to entry in psychedelics with people of color. The War on Drugs has been a catalyst for that—it can be very difficult for people of color to trust medical doctors, to trust the government in general,” says Aubrey Howard, a breathwork facilitator and

the coordinator for BIPOC protocol at SoundMind. Howard’s role at SoundMind is to provide a BIPOC perspective to the clinic while also making sure that its practices are accessible and culturally sensitive—so that intergenerational trauma can be healed rather than perpetuated.

“When we look at the mental, emotional, and physical body as a whole, integrated approach, we're able to really tap into our own innate healing abilities. Everybody has this ability to heal, given the right conditions and the right atmosphere,” says Howard.

McLane started SoundMind with a goal of focusing on psychedelics for marginalized communities and BIPOC trauma while emphasizing indigenous reciprocity in the center’s practices. Leading up to the clinic's opening, McLane utilized Clubhouse to hear the community’s concerns and questions while also offering free education about the use of psychedelics for trauma and decolonizing the psychedelic space.

“To be able to have these conversations and these dialogues with the community is so important. For somebody to be building an organization like this, to engage the community in this way, is really powerful,” says Howard.

Soon, SoundMind will start research in MDMA–assisted treatments. And they’re already advocating for more research funding for psilocybin, another hallucinogenic psychedelic compound known to operate on the brain’s serotonin receptors.

But SoundMind’s work is only a slice of the budding psychedelic medicine movement. Labs at University of the Sciences are working on the molecular level to explore how psychedelic compounds like psilocybin act therapeutically in the brain in collaboration with Compass Pathways, one of the leading pharmaceutical companies focusing on research with psilocybin, to eventually bring it to market as a psychiatric, therapeutic medicine. Beyond Philadelphia, Johns Hopkins recently opened a psychedelic research center, and other universities are quickly following suit. Psychedelic stocks focused on everything from biotechnology to research and development to pharmacology are the latest trends flourishing on Wall Street, not unlike the boom in cannabis stock. Alternative medicine and psychedelics have become the latest bougie wellness trend à la Goop.

The psychedelic renaissance is upon us.

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F E AT U R E

Psychedelics have become popular among millennials and Gen–Z. Research on psychedelics as a mental health treatment has led many young people to experiment with LSD, psilocybin, and other psychedelics at home. The sense of freedom from strict quarantine days and an increased need for connection after months of isolation have coalesced in a recreational boom in psychedelics. College students are taking hallucinogens at the highest rate since the 1980s.

But we aren’t just talking about shroom raves and MDMA–fueled ragers. Young people are pushing for psychedelics to be treated as a serious interdisciplinary field that could revolutionize medicine. And they’re right here on campus.

In early 2019, a group of Penn undergraduates and graduate students found each other through a shared interest in psychedelics. Victor Acero, a Ph.D. candidate in bioengineering at Penn, and Rahul Sood (C ’20, W ’20) are two of the founders of the Penn Society for Psychedelic Science (PSPS).

“It's important that there is an organization that is trustworthy, that's for the students, by the students, so that we can help each other become professionals in the [psychedelic] space,” says Rahul.

“There's going to be a huge need for this type of work.”

Supported by its core founders, PSPS quickly expanded beyond Penn’s campus. Along with students from other universities, they founded the Intercollegiate Psychedelic Network (IPN) to expand networking opportunities for students interested in psychedelic sciences. By the spring of 2019, IPN had successfully organized the Intercollegiate Psyche-

delic Summit (IPS) at Penn.

The pandemic took a toll on the momentum of PSPS and IPN, putting a hold on another in–person psychedelic summit. Although PSPS isn’t currently holding events, they’re working to find Penn students who envision future careers in the realm of psychedelic science. “Unlike other student clubs that are so focused on productivity and output, PSPS is about building a community. Right now, we’re focusing on rebuilding and strengthening those

Rahul acknowledges that some of the mainstream stereotypes of hippie culture and hallucinogens as club drugs can add to the stigma of psychedelia, but he wants to embrace the tension between the academic and experimental. “There is a dark side to the use of any substances or use of anything that alters consciousness; any reproducible way to alter consciousness can also be a dangerous thing. I see that as a unique challenge for this wave of psychedelics,” he says.

“It’s awesome that there’s a broader movement, but we have to be careful to distinguish the part that’s above–ground, legal, and very specifically psychotherapeutic.”

– COURTNEY HUTCHISON connections,” says Victor.

In addition to the potential of psychedelics as an academic pursuit, PSPS wants to retain the curious, experimental, and collaborative aspects of psychedelic science in PSPS and IPN. “Under the veneer of [psychedelics] being an investigation and a science, we can kind of neglect the more adventure-seeking, exploratory aspects,” Rahul says.

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That potential dark side is part of the appeal of psychedelics to younger generations. It’s this high– risk, high–reward promise for transformative mental health experiences that drew Maximilian Damien Chan (C ’24) to seek psychedelics.

For Maximilian, experimentation with ayahuasca, another plant–based hallucinogen, was a turning point in his psychedelic

journey. For years, he had struggled with depression and anxiety, weighed down deeply by trauma. He’d tried acid as a way to connect with his trauma, but he hadn’t found a healing experience. Then, this past spring, he travelled to Florida just before his final exams for an ayahuasca retreat.

“For the first time in four years, I knew what genuine happiness was,” he says. “I was lying on the bed, the grass was next to me, and I was smelling, and it was so beautiful …

I thought, ‘This is God, this is all this creation, all this magnificence calling.’"

Instead of doing an internship, Maximilian devoted his summer to spiritual healing. “Every [psychedelic] experience is a chance for you to identify a deeper issue, eradicate it, and be happier long term.” He intentionally put himself in pain through Wim Hof ice baths. One night, on a beach in the midst of a trip, he had an epiphany: His purpose in life was to use his experience with psychedelics and study of neuroscience to help heal others.

Now, on Penn’s campus, Maximilian leads weekly guided meditation sessions on High Rise Field: breathwork sessions, Wim Hof ice baths, and other practices aiming to achieve altered states of consciousness. In the spring, he hopes to turn his GroupMe of about 100 people into a formal club. He sees paths to healing beyond his own psychedelic experiences; he aims to build a community at Penn connected by transcendental, spiritual experiences and practices.

McLane underscores that it's important to draw a line between the resurgence in recreational psychedelic interest and the new research

on psychedelics in the medical setting. In a world where microdosing is the latest wellness trend, she wants people to remember that self–medicated trips are not the same thing as therapy.

“You can take MDMA and go out dancing and that can be an emotional release, but it's not the same level of healing as a therapeutic experience,” she says. “One of the major risks is that some people think they don't have major mental health issues, they'll take a psychedelic, and then things come up without them having anyone to talk to. There are certain risks with using psychedelics not supervised by someone who has been trained to deal with trauma.”

“What we’re doing at SoundMind happens to be situated in a larger resurgence of Wim Hof, microdosing, and ice baths,” says Hutchison. “It’s awesome that there’s a broader movement, but we have to be careful to distinguish the part that’s above– ground, legal, and very specifically psychotherapeutic.”

It’s also important to consider that recreational, non– therapeutic use of psychedelics is a privilege; many people dipping their toes in the world of psychedelics are unaware that much of the practice is derived from indigenous knowledge. Adopting them into the mainstream wellness industry, if not done correctly, can quickly become colonizing.

“These medicines have such long histories in indigenous cultures and Latin American cultures. Now that we have access to them, we don't want them to follow the same model that has happened with cannabis, where there's a very small group of people that's able to access these medicines,” says SoundMind coordinator Howard.

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It’s a resistance to the threat of colonization in the psychedelic sphere that is important to the advocacy work that SoundMind does. Apart from its work in the local community, SoundMind is also pushing for an effective, ethical, and culturally sensitive path toward decriminalization and legislation. It’s projected that by 2023, MDMA will be approved by the FDA for treatment of PTSD. But with legalization comes concerns for how it will be made accessible to marginalized communities who were most negatively impacted by the War on Drugs, particularly communities of color.

In Pennsylvania, relaxing research regulations and pushing for decriminalization offers a sustainable path forward. In November of 2020, Oregon legalized psilocybin in the context of therapy.

McLane hopes to see more states follow Oregon’s model.

This push for inclusivity in the psychedelic space comes with its own difficulties. Because ketamine–assisted therapy isn't covered by insurance, SoundMind has to be selective about its patients and navigate sustainable ways to increase access to their treatments. Currently, SoundMind has over 600 people on the waitlist for their ketamine–assisted psychotherapy. “It’s definitely a challenge to figure out what it looks like to be inclusive and accessible in the context of what insurance will pay for and who has had access to mental health care in the past,” says McLane. Due to the risks associated with altered states, the staff also try to prioritize people who have past experience with therapy, and who can continue therapy with another practitioner after

treatment from SoundMind.

They’ve adopted a sliding scale model where the revenue from people who can afford to pay out–of–pocket helps to subsidize treatment for others who can’t afford SoundMind's therapy themselves. Additionally, SoundMind works on extensive fundraising efforts whose funds are targeted specifically toward sponsoring therapy for low–income and marginalized patients.

But from that challenge of serving the community comes real potential for a future where these therapies are more accessible for those most in need.

This begins with a focus on training clinicians in psychedelic–assisted therapies with anti–racist, inclusive practices from the very beginning.

“Because we're focusing on treating marginalized communities, we have this opportunity to have this great

testing ground where we're working in partnership with patients. We can ask them, ‘How do we make this super attuned to your needs?’ That’s a place where we can do a lot of research that can have a lot of impact,” says SoundMind therapist Hutchison.

Even as psychedelics promise a path to addressing an epidemic of mental illness and trauma, there are still many challenges to overcome for the psychedelic renaissance to fully flourish.

“It does feel concerning, the way [psychedelics] are kind of being posited as a cure to our society,” says Ph.D. candidate Victor. “In a lot of ways, I’m happy that psychedelics are becoming more mainstream. As a scientist, I'm excited, but in terms of the impact that it can have on society, it's just being integrated into a system of harm and damage and oppression.”

It’s young, progressive voices like Victor’s and other members of PSPS and IPN that hope to guide the emerging age of psychedelic medicine as something exciting and hopeful, but also delicate and nuanced. There’s still a long way to go in finding the right balance within the modern moment of the psychedelic renaissance—an interdisciplinary, evidence–based, and culturally–aware approach is the best path forward.

“These medicines have huge potential to be agents of change in America and globally,” says Howard. “But first, we have to think beyond this individualistic framework … We need to meet the demands of America's mental health crisis to allow us to heal from trauma, discrimination, and the violence that's occurring at multiple levels across individuals, family, community and society.”

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FOCUS

Netflix and the Illusion of the Inclusive Workplace

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The ongoing Netflix scandal provides a jarring example of how companies tokenize marginalized workers while still refusing to listen to their concerns. | NAIMA SMALL

n Oct. 20, hundreds of Netflix employees staged a walkout in protest of Netflix’s dismissive response to transgender employees’ criticism of the release of Dave Chappelle’s new standup special, The Closer. The crowd was composed of members of the trans community and their allies, sporting signs such as “Team Trans,” and “Black Trans Lives Matter” and “Netflix, do better.”

The Closer debuted on Netflix on Oct. 5 and was soon met with controversy. It’s fair to say that Dave Chappelle is known for his inflammatory comedy style. This isn’t the first time trans employees have spoken out about the transphobic jokes in Chappelle’s standup routine—in 2019, the release of Sticks & Stones prompted criticism as well. Some of The Closer’s jokes stood out—Chappelle joked that he was “Team TERF” (which stands for Trans–Exclusionary Radical Feminist) and said that rapper DaBaby’s homophobic comments “punched the LGBT community right in the AIDS.” The ongoing Netflix scandal isn’t only about the question of whether comedy has to be politically correct, or even whether Dave Chappelle should be cancelled. Instead, employees’ criticism of Netflix provides a jarring example of how companies tokenize marginalized workers while still refusing to listen to their concerns beyond a surface level.

Netflix brands itself as an inclusive workplace. That’s often true from a first glance, but when the company is forced to confront deeper issues of oppression and inequality, the concerns of marginalized workers become secondary to its efforts to save its brand image.

B. Pagels–Minor, a nonbinary employee who was fired by Netflix after allegedly leaking company information about the special’s viewership metrics and cost, spoke to Vulture magazine about their experience at the company before the walkout. They co–led

Illustration by Isabel Liang Black@Netflix and trans at Netflix, dedicating their time to several external recruitment efforts. “Honestly, Netflix was like my Shangri–la,” they say. “I was like, Oh my gosh, they’re so nice to me. They don’t misgender me.”

The supposed culture of inclusivity described by Pagels–Minor strikingly contrasts the company’s response to their and other Trans employees' concerns about the content of the special.

Prior to the walkout, Netflix co–CEO Ted Sarandos sent a company–wide email in response to the mounting criticism over the comedy special, stating “While some employees disagree, we have a strong belief that content on screen doesn’t directly translate to real–world harm.” He has since walked

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back his highly criticized statements, but the special is still streaming on Netflix with no sign yet of any of the employee’s walkout terms being addressed. Netflix’s website claims “Inclusion unlocks innovation,” but the valid concerns of trans employees and allies are being dismissed in the workplace.

The appearance of inclusivity is profitable. To attract key audiences, especially young people and people of color, many brands have aligned themselves with diverse messaging—especially in the wake of summer 2020’s racial injustice protests. And yet, these public–facing diversity efforts don't always align with a company’s actual work environment. Big names such

as Netflix overwhelmingly have white people in their highest leadership positions. Black people, for example, account for only 3.2% of senior leadership roles at America’s top companies.

Though Netflix may be the most recent example of the tokenization of workers, it is certainly not the only one. The YouTube channel and magazine Bon Appétit's down–to–earth, diverse group of chefs were internet favorites. Millions of people would tune in to watch the test kitchen’s chefs take part in food challenges and explain their favorite dishes. However, in August 2020, assistant food editor Sohla El–Waylly detailed the food company’s discriminatory practices behind the scenes. According to El–Waylly, she and other chefs of color weren’t compensated for their video appearances like their white counterparts were— instead, she was used as a “display of diversity.”

Though the two terms are often used interchangeably, diversity and inclusion are not the same. Diversity is often seen as simply having people of marginalized racial, gender, or sexual identities on staff. However, being an inclusive workplace is more about whether or not those workers are genuinely being treated well. How does the company respond to criticism about their practices? Are diversity efforts being treated as an ongoing process, instead of as a one–and–done checklist?

These are the things that distinguish real inclusion from surface–level PR moves.

Tokenization is merely a quick fix to existing structural equity issues. It harms the company’s workplace environment, but it also harms workers who are made to feel that they can never really belong.

Diversity and inclusion need to be more than marketing strategies—they need to be put into practice. When Netflix and other large companies listen to underrepresented voices, the diversity they outwardly portray will finally feel genuine.

ARTS

We Can Still Hear the Echoes of Woman Hollering Creek Revisiting Sandra Cisneros’ iconic short story collection on its 30th anniversary | IRMA KISS BARATH

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very word of Woman Hollering Creek, Sandra Cisneros’s award–winning collection of short stories published in 1991, was written with the truth in mind. Sure, Cisneros jumps between narrators and outlandish scenarios with practiced ease, but there are real–life memories behind all the heartache and longing of her stories. In all her fiction, Cisneros drives toward “the real truth, especially the truth I’m not aware of.” Woman Hollering Creek is no exception, being born of a balancing act between the conscious and the unconscious—between reality and memory.

However, thrust into literary fame with the publication of her runaway hit The House on Mango Street, the Mexican–American writer found herself in a bind: How far could she walk down memory lane? As if to answer that question, Cisneros chose to delve even deeper into the recollection–heavy style that characterizes her early work. For Woman Hollering Creek, she went inward, melding deep childhood memories with cultural iconography.

As she immersed herself in her work, Cisneros began blurring the lines between her day–to–day life and her fiction; she describes waking up in the “middle of the night, convinced for the moment that she was Inés,” a character she was then developing. “Her dream conversation [as Inés] then became ... dialogue” in the final work. This deep, introspective commitment to her craft made Cisneros a household name in the Chicano literary renaissance.

Boasting three acclaimed books, Cisneros quickly rose

to the forefront of the Chicano movement in the early '90s.

Awards, book tours, and big– sum advances followed the publication of The House on Mango Street—but with the fame came personal upheaval. Cisneros describes a dramatic shift in her relationship with her father as a result of her success: The author went from living on a shoestring budget to sending her once–disapproving father pictures of her vast earnings. "Oh, my God,” he would tell her, “how many years would I have had to work to make that sum?" Given this permanent disruption to Cisneros’s family, it’s no surprise that domestic life—with all its pains and pitfalls—makes up the foundation of her fiction.

In Woman Hollering Creek, men and women get married, children grow up, and marriages disintegrate. Cisneros brings a deft eye to everyday issues of upheaval, loss, and renewal.

Throughout, poverty and violence are hidden as ever–present facts of life. In Cisneros’ world, children huddle in shacks and churches crumble from neglect.

Violence finally breaks through the surface—such as when a man is accused of murder in One Holy Night, or when a woman is killed in Eyes of Zapata and her remains are gathered “in a small black bundle." These storylines, albeit their more sensational details, are spare and achingly familiar.

Yet even in all this desolation, Cisneros finds tenderness. In the titular story, an open wound releases “an orchid of blood,” recasting an act of violence as the triumph of life over adversity.

This style is characteristic of the

entire collection, which features moments of weariness punctuated by bursts of inventive language. Cisneros describes a dying grandfather as going to his “stone bed,” and likens a character’s voice to “hollow sticks, or ... the swish of old feathers crumbling into dust.” Guided by an ear for the strange and the sonorous, Cisneros ably bowls the reader over with just a few words. The effect is particularly moving when her judgments are couched in the playful voice of a child. Take the story Mericans, in which the narrator—a little girl— asks: “Why does holy water smell of tears?”

Beyond these stylistic flourishes, Cisneros adheres to broader linguistic and formal experimentation. The bilingual writer peppers Spanish words into her stories, relying on the reader to keep pace. Rattling off swear words and sweet nothings in the same breath, Cisneros brings the reader directly into her world of "abuelitos," "arroyos," and "chachalacas." She wields the same creativity for questions of genre, often straddling the line between poetry and prose: The stories here are delivered in vignettes, some as short as five paragraphs. But as Cisneros's career attests, all this

innovation has paid off rather than alienate her readership.

By relentlessly pushing the envelope, Cisneros has paved the way for today’s Chicana writers.

As one of the very first Chicana writers to reach media prominence in the '90s, Cisneros rose to fame in an environment that had seldom paid attention to voices like hers. Yet she has continued to barrel forward in the decades since her debut, doubling down on the themes of immigrant identity and cultural alienation on which she first made her name. Years later, her work remains a source of inspiration for aspiring Chicano writers and a classroom staple across the nation. Books like The House on Mango Street are now regularly assigned in classrooms, so Cisneros’ words continue to resound throughout generations. It hasn’t been an easy road by any means, but, prone to taking her characters to hell and back, Cisneros knows that hard–won victories are all the sweeter.

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From Scratch Shows John Mulaney In His Most Honest Set Yet In his new stand–up special, John Mulaney doesn’t shy away from the details of his controversial personal life. | KAYLA COTTER

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ohn Mulaney is 'right outta rehab' and it’s no surprise that his vibe has undergone a major readjustment.

The bumbling comedian is more known for being the guy “running for Mayor of Nothing” than the struggling addict. However, late last year, his public relapse seems to have morphed him into a far blunter person than he was before. Given the questionable set of circumstances Mulaney found himself in over the past year, it's not surprising.

Mulaney demonstrates his change in persona in his new stand–up special, From Scratch, which he performed in Philadelphia at the Academy of Music on Oct. 11, one of his many shows in the city.

True to its name, Mulaney’s new stand–up special From Scratch sees him reinvent himself into someone almost unrecognizable after his rehab stint and highly publicized divorce.

Yet, notwithstanding the less than ideal circumstances, this abrupt change in dynamic may be precisely the dialogue that we needed to open—what Mulaney really does is humanize drug addiction and rehabilitation in the face of tremendous criticism and controversy.

Prior to 2020, Mulaney was, at his core, a comedian defined by his all– American '50s TV presenter aesthetic and sappy, idyllic relationship with his now ex–wife, Anna Marie Tendler.

However, the image of the doting husband that he once projected—in fact, that of which became the focal point of his stand–up persona—was irretrievably broken within the first few moments of the show.

Illustration by Cindy Xu Mulaney pulled no punches when greeting his audience, immediately referencing girlfriend Olivia Munn’s pregnancy, which amassed a fair amount of controversy even before the comedian announced it on Late Night With Seth Meyers in September. His newly–minted relationship with the actress irked many fans who had come to associate Mulaney as the antithesis of the emotionally distant husband.

In fact, his early self–deprecating declaration that he’s “a drug addict and nobody likes [his] baby” is so unexpectedly jarring that it makes you question whether or not the criticism of a man deep in the trenches of recovery is even remotely fair.

Yet, Mulaney’s new approach is equally if not more funny than his previous one, even if it's just a tad uncomfortable given the subject matter.

There are moments of the show that are exceedingly sad as he describes his "coke skinny" self walking into a staged intervention, as well as his interactions with drug dealers such as a low–rated doctor dealing out of his kitchen and a painter–turned–pill pusher.

The traces of the old Mulaney are tucked in between lines that candidly reflect on his rehab experience with jokes on his innate hatred of science and celebrities who bribe college officials to ensure their children’s admissions. But, these are scattered amid a complicated conversation that culminates in the star's bittersweet return to the stage.

This isn’t the same man from Kid Gorgeous At Radio City or John Mulaney & The Sack Lunch Bunch who radiates a childlike quality with his fast–paced

1 8 34TH STREET MAGAZINE NOVEMBER 2, 2021

speech and exuberant movements, but one hardened by a trying year. He talks slower and his movements are more limited than what we’re used to seeing on our Netflix recommendations—he doesn’t dramatically pace across the stage and not every word sounds like it begins with a capital letter. Yet, Mulaney is well aware of this sudden change and the negative public perception his actions have spurred (in his words, “all the teenage girls like Bo Burnham better now”).

When Mulaney details his star–studded intervention with characters such as Nick Kroll, Seth Meyers, and Fred Armisen, he sustains the humor with only with a brief interlude to express his gratitude to his friends. Before he launches into his time at a Pennsylvania rehab center, he banters with the crowd and asks if anybody could relate to his experiences—there is neither pity nor indictment in his voice, but rather genuine interest. He expresses the simple idea that drug addiction isn’t a secret that you need to keep tucked away. For Mulaney, it's a difficult experience that one can find catharsis in sharing.

This is a far cry from the comedian who jokes about ‘Stranger Danger’ assemblies and 1860s gazebos—From Scratch is a show centered on a deeply personal experience. Mulaney’s vulnerable set consists of necessary conversation on a difficult subject matter including drug addiction, intervention, rehabilitation, and recovery. Instead of shying away from his controversial year, he confronts it head on, perhaps prematurely, given that it has only been eight months since he was released.

Even so, Mulaney manages to hu-

manize a situation that many have villainized him for over the past few months. When speaking on his sister’s disability in his show DARK, comedian Daniel Sloss, who is known for his ability to weave difficult subject matters into his comedy, said that “to say disability is never funny, to me, is dehumanizing. You are saying that these people are not capable of doing something which you yourself are capable of doing and that’s laughing at the situation you’re in.” Though these are different circumstances, Mulaney speaks in the same vein.

Some details seem far too personal for Mulaney to share on stage, such as how he elicited drugs; however, by speaking on it rather than sweeping it under the rug—as is often done in the media—he offers a stark reminder that he’s human too, while also combatting a dangerous stigma regarding addiction as a character flaw.

The show isn’t perfect. Once again, Mulaney, in his own words, is “right outta rehab.” Nonetheless, the uncomfortable transition from Kid Gorgeous and The Sack Lunch Bunch to From Scratch not only makes you reanalyze your personal assessment of the star, but makes you confront the stigma of addiction. It’s a story without an apology; he owns up to his mistakes, but makes sure that his audience knows that they aren’t entitled to their opinions on his personal life.

This isn’t to say From Scratch is Mulaney’s best work; however, where it falters comedically, the special makes up for it in its brutal honesty. It may not be Mulaney’s funniest stand–up special, but it may emerge as his most important.

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Telfar Clemens and the Rise of the 'Telfeezy' From Bushwick to Hollywood: how Telfar tote bags became this past year’s 'it' bag | Mame Balde

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he Telfeezy. The Bushwick Birkin. The "it" bag of the internet age. Known by many different names, Telfar rose to immense popularity during the pandemic. The Telfar shopping tote (based on Bloomingdales’ shopping bags) is identified by its TC–shaped logo, made from vegan leather, and comes in a variety of colors from "oxblood" to a bright blue "painter’s tape," and comes in three different sizes. The bag’s affordable price range, with bags retailing from $150 to $257, allows for average people to own a luxury bag.

The brand was founded in 2005 by its namesake, Telfar Clemens. Clemens is a 36–year– old gay Liberian–American man from Queens, N.Y., and started

the brand as a student at Pace University in New York.

In an interview with GayTimes, Clemens recounts his goals when forming the brand, saying, “the clothes I wanted to wear did not exist–I wanted to make a line that was genderless and spoke to people like me.” Although it may seem like Clemens is an overnight success story, big department stores didn’t pay much attention to the budding designer.

In fact, it took the designer nearly a decade before he was able to land a review from Vogue.

To get his foot in the door, Clemens had to build a cult–like following among young New York creatives like himself and rely on collaborations with brands like White Castle and Kmart.

In 2020, Clemens was awarded the CFDA Award for American Accessories Designer of the Year, one of fashion’s highest honors, after skyrocketing to fame during the pandemic. While celebrities like Oprah and Bella Hadid rocked the Telfar tote and increased the brand’s visibility, the bag wasn’t just popular in the A–List realm of Hollywood, but among regular people as well. So much so that teens and young adults saturated TikTok and Twitter with videos flaunting their ‘Telfeezy’ collections.

However, with immense popularity comes increased exclusivity.

The brand’s, "Not for you, but for everyone" motto became increasingly difficult to live by as the bags would sell out in as

quickly as two minutes after being dropped on the website. Many shoppers expressed their dissatisfaction on social media. After a dark olive Telfar bag drop sold out in under one minute, one Twitter user tweeted a meme of Oprah Winfrey crying with a caption that read, "Dark Olive Telfar Not Secured I’m Sad." In response to resellers buying out his inventory and the brand's sudden popularity, Telfar launched the first–of–its– kind “bag security program” in an effort to keep true to the brand’s aforementioned motto.

The program allows shoppers to order custom–made tote bags that are shipped within six months of ordering, helping more shoppers land a Telfar bag.

With a successful 2020 and 2021, Telfar shows no signs of slowing down. Clemens released an immensely popular collaboration with classic Australian shoe brand UGG, and he designed Liberia’s Olympic uniform for the 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo. A much coveted collaboration between Telfar and Canadian brand Moose Knuckles is expected to drop in November, and he has recently been nominated for another CFDA award.

Telfar Clemens represents a new age within the fashion industry: one that hopes to dismantle the exclusive and outdated traditional world of fashion that has benefitted from its exploitation of queer people of color for far too long.

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Tarot Tuesdays: Your Weekly Horoscope for Nov. 2 To all of the Leos and Sagittarians out there: Let that shit go. | W. Anthony Pérez Welcome back to another rendition of Street's Tarot Tuesdays. Here, we're pulling tarot cards that will provide you with valuable guidance as you navigate the week ahead. Below, I've highlighted a card for each of the 12 zodiac signs to keep in mind—treat it like the main theme.

As always, I recommend reading for your sun and rising signs. Not sure what those are?

Check out an online birth chart generator to find out more about your placements.

Let's see what the universe has written in the stars for you in the coming days.

Capricorn (December 22 – January 19) You should thank yourself for listening to your soul. You want more, and you are doing everything necessary to chase your bag. I see this as not only caring for your emotional self, but also your ambitious side. Trust me, Capricorn. You’re going to feel like a boss when the picture comes together. For now, follow your intuition and know that you are on the right track. See the King of Wands.

Aquarius (January 20 – February 18) Everything is going to be okay, Aquarius. Stop trying to predict what victory will look like—just believe that you were born to achieve it. It’s time to embody the Hanged Man and welcome everything life throws your way with grace. If you’re looking for new investments or job opportunities, trust that by embodying flexibility and leading with your soul, the odds will be in your favor. For now, prioritize spending time with yourself.

Aries (March 21 – April 19) Nice work, Aries. Keep this energy up. You've been chasing your dreams and your calling with all of the necessary focus and momentum. Know that you are the Star of your own experience. So keep following your heart, and leave all of the bullshit behind you.

Taurus (April 20 – May 20) Taurus, let people do whatever they want while you focus on doing you!

If people are moving strangely around you, let it be. Pivot your attention toward your future. When you make peace with the unknown and cultivate a flexible mindset, you'll be able to keep moving forward regardless of who is by your side. After all, it’s your Chariot—and there’s no room for people who don't want to stick along for the ride.

Pisces (February 19 – March 20) Queen moves only, Pisces! You're creating something great for yourself. Not only that, but you're also mothering, or rather, nurturing, yourself. You have set boundaries for others to respect, and you have successfully invested your time. I am very proud of you, Pisces. You know exactly who is worthy of being in your space and what they bring to the table. Keep listening to your conscience. See the Empress.

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Gemini (May 21 – June 20) Gemini, you’ve accomplished a lot these past few weeks. Still, you might be feeling lingering anxiety about what lies ahead. You've got this, though. Listen to your heart. When you think of your future, what kind of life do you want?

You can be picky, Gemini. But when you do so out of genuine concern for your emotional well–being and what feels right, you prevent the real losses.

Trust that by listening to your gut and responding with sincerity, you remain on the right track. See the Two of Pentacles.

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Cancer (June 21 – July 22)

Scorpio (October 23 – November 21)

Cancer, you are as charming as they come. You might be brewing with ideas and plans for something new. But before you take those next steps, be sure to ground your intentions. Harness your fire and listen to your spirit.

There might be someone else who can help you along the way, so be sure to do right by them as well. Before making a risky decision, ask yourself: Is it worth it? See the Two of Wands.

Leo (July 23 – August 22)

Scorpio, your cards took my breath away. I see you protecting yourself and your assets. Better yet, I see you ascending. As the sign of death and rebirth, you know instantly when Judgement day is upon you. You are coming into your true calling, and I see you meeting someone very important along the way. They might not be who you expected, but trust your instincts. Know that when you move with virtue, you can't lose.

Sagittarius (November 22 – December 21)

Leo, trouble doesn't last forever. It’s okay to mourn and grieve. But when you look around you, what do you see? I see the universe showering you with love. Those who disappointed you in the past don't matter now; you have a tighter circle surrounding you. To that end, you are following your North Star. Trust your soul and the path that it is taking you on. Let go of all of the stress and troubles that you’ve been through—brighter days are ahead.

Make some space, Sagittarius. Someone new is coming your way!

You’ve been through it, baby. And you’ve pondered whether certain people and situations are even worth it anymore. Worry not. You are on the path to healing and moving on. It might feel like a Tower is falling down on you right now, and no matter what you do, you're trapped.

Listen to me, though: Let it be. Let everything around you crumble to ashes. Life doesn’t take things away—it replaces them. Be still, and let the new blessings come to you.

Virgo (August 23 – September 22) You need to trust yourself, Virgo. Not only is the fire inside of you going to give you the drive to make things happen, but your notoriously level head will also guide you on your journey. You know your time is coming and that greatness comes to those who chase it. Believe in your innate magic.

You’d be a fool not to.

40TH & SPRUCE copabanana.com 215-382-1330 Libra (September 23 – October 22) Good for you, Libra. You're packing your bags and moving forward with all of the lessons you’ve acquired.

Having served Justice, you're beginning to realize that there are bigger and better things calling your name.

Remember to stay balanced on this journey—it will be integral to making the right decisions. After all, when you're feeling leveled out, it's much easier to put trust in your higher self.

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Postmodern Condition: I Keep Showing Up to Class Even Though it's Fucking Boring IAN ONG

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iving in a postmodern society has made us lose sight of who we truly are. And you know what? The fact that I show up to class everyday just to wallow in boredom only proves my point. I have so many innate dreams, fantasies that could come to fruition if not for the fact that this social-construct-of-a-classroom has imprisoned me, holding me back from what really makes me happy. Look — I’m not asking for much. All I want is to make a million dollars, go to Vegas, blow all my money on The Big Six, begpack my way to the Champs-Élysées, relax in a garde manger and gain an acquired taste for charcuterie, learn to play the guitar and some other exotic instrument, take two strokes off my disc golf game, drive a car with chrome plating, powerlift a significant amount of weight, publish a rose-tinted autobiography as well as a fictional novel that follows a spunky, can-do self-insert, visit Mars, learn Esperanto and Dvorak, appear on late-night talk shows, beat my high score on the Google Chrome dinosaur game, embrace turntablism, eat sushi prepared by Jiro Ono (while watching the eponymous documentary), encounter an undiscovered species, meet Jeff Koons and get him to admit he’s full of shit, pick up gardening, ride the London Eye, vicariously steal the Declaration of Independence from the comfort of my own living room, publish a journal article about a new disease, become a visionary, catch the next rerun of

Friends, move into Fallingwater, rage against the machine, scam someone on the other side of the world out of their life savings, snap a cute pic for my Slack profile, secure massive passive income, master the art of meditation, try archery, finish Infinite Jest, shave a minute off my 400 medley relay time, train a dog to shake my hand, dream lucidly, learn street magic, install cybernetic implants, regret it, install regular implants, start a virtual band similar to Gorillaz but better, own an oh-so-fluffy snowwhite kitty-cat, gaslight someone into thinking I climbed Mt. Everest, practice public speaking, pen a satirical news article, foster a close, tight-knit community of like-minded individuals, consume salt, sugar, and fat in varying amounts, protect my home from intruders, get insulted in the Facebook comments, read course material, roll out a line of microbrews and have people call them “whimsical and mischievous,” picture animals and funny faces in the clouds, transfer to Wharton, ride the subway with sunglasses and a trench coat on, own a subway company, wield language like a cudgel, get my extremely unique idea for a holographic user interface patented, go clubbing, write a long list of things I want to accomplish in life, get paranoid around gargoyles, release an invasive species into the Everglades and document how it affects the local ecosystem, see the Great Pyramid of Giza online, stop biting my nails

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and sweating like a cartoon character, visit Paris, maintain a horde of succulents, report somebody for sharing their Netflix password, witness a camera obscura in action, fabricate a language and convince those around me to start using it without warning or explanation, wear a golden crown, update my blog, give hope to all of the dreamers of the world, mine for crystals, combat misinformation, catch a huge rainbow trout and release it with a wink, finally, after all of these years, eat Silly Putty and Play-Doh, convert someone to Christianity, introspect, ride a private jet onto an aircraft carrier situated on top of a mega-yacht, stream the latest craze, become a household name, show them all, shoot for the moon, fall among the stars, ferment stuff, achieve total dental hygiene nirvana, leave nothing to chance, get the Zuckerberg cut, cure cancer, end world hunger, sit through an opera, cut down on screen time, hydrate, paint something fit for MOMA, improve my skills and paint something fit for the drab corridor of a four-star hotel, party like it’s 1999, earn a Michelin star, release an an intensely personal album, full of strife, adversity, and, somehow, acceptance, see the bigger picture, become the resident handyman, slam-dunk, go skydiving with a GoPro, run a six-minute mile, eat tons of Greek yogurt, build a small cabin out in the woods, get tattooed, hoard money for posterity, ride in a hot air balloon but get bored after the first few min-

utes of unchanging pastoral landscapes, never say “never,” learn a new vocab word, achieve self-actualization, disprove Freud, mess around with eau de toilette, become a newlywed, dabble in hermeneutics, affect, and epistemology, clown around, prove the unprovability of the Collatz conjecture, go viral, crack jokes, bake sourdough, receive an Erdős number equivalent to my Bacon number, surf the crowd, think different, lord over a hot sauce empire, invest in crypto, get through to somebody, cry on a shoulder and lend my own in turn, become involved in a legal imbroglio concerning copyright infringement and the fair use doctrine, revive chiptune, abide, absolutely slam a Wawa hoagie, get it all out there, walk on thin ice, fit in, facetiously defend Ayn Rand to passers-by on Locust, get a job, jump the shark, give a warm, understanding smile, tilt a pinball machine, raise a barn, make a fashion statement, reap the fruits of hard labor, use AirPennNet for five consecutive minutes without getting booted off, preach perseverance, leave people on read, become a Wikipedia admin and abuse my powers, disrupt someone’s Guinness World Record attempt, christen a boat, forbid forbidding, take selfies, slide down the Split Button statue, join a counter-protest, listen to Huey Lewis and the News, fantasize about football, defrag my hard drive, brew kombucha, develop free, open-source alterna-

tives to the Adobe Creative Suite, construct meaning, delete Facebook, infiltrate Domus, live the American Dream, receive a standing ovation, ride a motorcycle from Bosnia to Bulgaria, spark joy, have a spa day, influence geopolitics with sharp, acerbic commentary and realpolitik perspectives, learn to knit a pot holder, laugh, initiate a DIY project involving plywood and epoxy resin, cry, watch a twister from the roof of a house, go vegan, unplug and unwind, shop for physically garish but conceptually unassuming clothing, play Pokémon GO everyday, lease my first brickand-mortar location, cut out toxic influences, become accredited, sip Earl Grey tea, read The New York Times, become a Luddite, ask the big questions, become “that girl,” help siblings-in-need with homework, live on a boat for a couple weeks, partake in Mardi Gras, donate to charity, panic, take risks, fend off would-be assailants, secure outstanding reference letters, laugh like Bezos, see the ball drop, drop the ball, start a podcast with a couple of chill, good-natured friends, develop a scrumptious credit score, empty the recycling bin, leave a ten thousand dollar tip, game the system, hire a personal chef, scroll for hours on TikTok, unearth lost etymologies, reconnect with Mother Earth, shoot my shot with an Amazon Alexa, demonstrate proficiency on the Certified Sommelier Examinations, save someone’s life via surgical intervention, take a break, convince myself I actually

UNDER THE BUTTON

want to live in NYC, learn how to plate lamb chops, yell into the void, live it up, reject the null hypothesis, imagine there’s no heaven, indulge in the hyperreal, recruit somebody for the cause, increase my citation count, relive the old days, sell out, remember the Oxford comma, watch the sun set between purple mountain majesties, renew my driver’s license, reject bureaucratic red tape, file a noise complaint, say “screw it” and go bowling, set an example, propose a Pigouvian tax, wax philosophical about Baudrillard, become a quirky character in someone

else’s story, balance my chakras, pet my dogs, fudge the numbers, be incredulous toward meta-narratives, live in a gingerbread house, spar, symbolically travel through time, become a generally well-liked, down-to-earth guy, study hard, hack the planet, kiss a baby’s forehead, register as an Independent, bulk up, remember the Alamo, manufacture goods, provide services, grasp at the sublime, obtain a religious exemption, debate hot-button topics in bad faith, attain a clean bill of health, set up my children for success, wear

a smart, well-cut suit from Hugo Boss, get to the bottom of things, jet ski, express a metaphorical sentiment literally, retire, bungee jump over a ravine, cheat in online chess, get waitlisted, hang up decor, start a conversation, zip along the Autobahn, design the front cover of Bloomberg Businessweek, swallow handful after handful of gummy bears, parse inputs, churn out clickbait, hit rock bottom, meme, prophesize like Nostradamus, count calories, enable two-step verification, boil things down to their essential components, toe the

line, offer my seat to an old lady on the bus, employ subterfuge, go goo-goo-eyed for James Joyce, connect with my roots, eliminate mildew and mold, integrate myself into the Internet of Things, become an Olympian, climb the corporate ladder, hold a family reunion, say the things better left unsaid, seek political asylum, fade into obscurity, put a chord change in the bridge, get called a Bolshevik (unironically), crush Advance Registration, tweet, give satisfying smooches, overcome fear and anxiety, drink/consume the ultimate

Bloody Mary, initiate a shift in my institution’s culture, follow sports, get involved in clubs, praise the Lord, reach out to friends, smell like a flower, recognize the necessary distinctions, embrace my identity, combine photography, cinematography, and hipsterism, pick out glasses that fit my face type, clap along to the beat, run a marathon, positively impact the world, have a stable, loving, happy family, and become CEO of a Fortune 500 company, but I can’t. Society has truly robbed us of the simple pleasures in life.

month before Student Intervention Services graciously stepped in and told him to screw off.

“This was a decision that, unfortunately, we have to take responsibility for,” laments the SIS director, who chose to remain anonymous. “Had we been more proactive, we may have been able to kick this guy out sooner. It was a bad look for the University, and we totally own that. I personally think that anti-homeless architecture is suuuuuuper cool, and you can expect to

see more of it in Penn’s future.”

Despite this heartfelt show of remorse, many students are still protesting Penn’s housing price tag.

“C’mon, 15K for the academic year? That’s nothing compared to what we’ve driven the local rates to!” cried an exasperated Gutmann.

“Come gentrificatio— I mean, graduation—you’d be lucky to find a monthly rate lower than that in West Philly.

Don’t hate, appreciate.”

actually invented “being skinny” back in 1923 and has a dedicated plaque on the skinniest tree on campus. On occasion, you can also find us bleaching our hair and skipping meals.

As the group is very exclusive, if you do get a bid, our hazing is fairly intense. When I joined, I had to get six of my ribs removed and get three Brazilian butt lifts. My teeny-tiny waist and huge fat ass often cause me to fall over as I’m walking to class, but it’s worth it to be in

this group.

Our alumni network? Topnotch. Every hot, skinny bitch who ever attended Penn was in it. Basically the only people worth talking to. Even hyperpop princess, Tiffany Trump, couldn’t get a bid. Sad! We’re having a smoker this weekend, and the theme is “Y2K Telfar bag cocaine addiction.” We would love to see you there!

Anyway, it’s called Friars and taps go out next week.

Penn To 'Seriously Consider' Housing Students MARY GRACE MEREDITH

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ollowing recent backlash over housing affordability and water damage in multiple dorms, Penn has released an official mission statement: “We’re gonna mull it over.”

The statement, emailed early on Saturday, says, “We hear you, and we are here to reassure you that we are seriously, seriously considering creating livable conditions in our dorms. We just haven’t decided yet. There are pros and cons to providing affordable housing, but mostly cons :( We also have no idea

where we would make up the $2 million deficit in our $3.7 billion annual budget.”

The decision to think long and hard about whether students deserve housing or not was not an easy one to make. “We’re not sure we totally understand the value of this plan, seeing as it is neither saving us time nor earning us money, but we are willing to explore our options,” reported the Board of Trustees, in unison.

Within the past week, both Harnwell and Lauder Col-

lege House experienced major flooding and room damage as a result of sprinkler malfunctions.

“It’s just a little bit of water, big whoop,” says President Amy Gutmann. “I don’t know what the big deal is — just get your housekeepers to throw out whatever got wet.”

Students in Harnwell and Lauder were offered rooms at the Sheraton while the water was pumped out of their dorms. This was not the case for a graduate student who lived on campus benches for well over a

Ad: Join My Senior Society for Hot Sluts JACKSON PARLI

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Photo by Jackson Parli

ey queen! I saw you on Locust, and I love your vibe. I’d love to give you a tap for my new senior society for hot sluts who don’t give a fuck. No uggos allowed. I’m serious. Gays and girls only.

Senior societies usually do fun things like recruit people, enlist new members, and enroll people with like-minded interests.

Not us though. Our main thing is smoking cigarettes on benches on Locust to help us stay skinny.

Speaking of skinny, our founder

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