The College Hill Independent—Vol 47 Issue 4

the

October

13

2023

Volume 47 Issue 04

03 BUILDING POWER 09 MY HOUSE 11 THIS IS AN ARTISTIC PLACE...

THE TORUS ISSUE

* The College Hill Independent

47 04 10.13

Masthead* MANAGING EDITORS CM AQ LS

This Issue

WEEK IN REVIEW CP JW

00 “THEATER”

ARTS CB NM KS

SF

02 WEEK IN BEING ALONE IN PUBLIC LS & SB

03 BUILDING POWER ES

06 LUNCHTIME LS

07 MODERN LUDDITES LS

09 MY HOUSE LKS

11 THIS IS AN ARTISTIC PLACE… JK

14 NOTES ON TRANSCRIBING MUYBRIDGE’S “MOVEMENT OF THE HAND: BEATING TIME” AC

15 THE CAGE LS

17 DEAR INDY: PLATONIC PLUNGE SA

18 RESOURCE GUIDE 19 BULLETIN QC & ARG

EPHEMERA QE LG FEATURES MC LS ES LITERARY ED TS EMT METRO KB CL NM SCIENCE + TECH MF LKS CSS WORLD TA AD AL X CC JK DEAR INDY SA LIST CB SF BULLETIN BOARD QC ARG

STAFF WRITERS AA MA BBK BB DdF KG JG EG YH DH JH AK CL PM SM KM AN LS JV KW ZZ DZ COPY CHIEF AA COPY EDITORS / FACT-CHECKERS RA EB VD MD BF AF DG SH BMW NM AN TS DEVELOPMENT COORDINATORS CL AL ES SOCIAL MEDIA TEAM JB KB AL KS YS

From the Editors I SPY

COVER COORDINATOR MT DESIGN EDITORS GK AM SS DESIGNERS JC RC SG KH SH AL AL TQ ZRL ES SY ILLUSTRATION EDITORS JC IRD LW ILLUSTRATORS SB AC AD MD AF LF HG SH NK AL ML RL JR MS SS IS LS WEB EDITORS KB HD MD MM MVP QC — The College Hill Independent is printed in Seekonk, MA

*Our Beloved Staff

one red sweater eight humans five dry-erase boards (all unerasable) what are we hoarding for the bureaucratic apocalypse? one array of roosters one neon yellow tube, crescent-shaped who is john paul galtier? one wheel of mini magic markers 25 chocolate-covered espresso beans 156 paper clips 37 clay objects Indy…pls pick up after yourselves!! nine yellow-wood chairs, six dark red plush, five spinners— frustrations. successes. future prospects. one green rubber ball six printer cartridges brother.

63 manila envelopes one umbrella synecdoche one container of iodized salt portrait, jenny, restaurant one million words.

-LS

Mission Statement The College Hill Independent is a Providence-based publication written, illustrated, designed, and edited by students from Brown University and the Rhode Island School of Design. Our paper is distributed throughout the East Side, Downtown, and online. The Indy also functions as an open, leftist, consciousness-raising workshop for writers and artists, and from this collaborative space we publish 20 pages of politically-engaged and thoughtful content once a week. We want to create work that is generative for and accountable to the Providence community—a commitment that needs consistent and persistent attention.

While the Indy is predominantly financed by Brown, we independently fundraise to support a stipend program to compensate staff who need financial support, which the University refuses to provide. Beyond making both the spaces we occupy and the creation process more accessible, we must also work to make our writing legible and relevant to our readers.

The Indy strives to disrupt dominant narratives of power.

We reject content that perpetuates homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, misogyny, ableism and/or classism. We aim to produce work that is abolitionist, anti-racist, anti-capitalist, and anti-imperialist, and we want to generate spaces for radical thought, care, and futures. Though these lists are not exhaustive, we challenge each other to be intentional and selfcritical within and beyond the workshop setting, and to find beauty and sustenance in creating and working together.

Letters to the editor are welcome; scan the QR code here or email us at theindy@gmail.com!

01

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

WIR

Week in Being Alone in Public → Oh, to be disheveled at the diner, to be

sobbing at the SciLi, to be sweating on Sheldon Street, to be humming on Hope, to be contemplating at CVS, to be recuperating on the RIPTA. Oh, to cause mild concern (or amusement) in the eyes of your onlookers!

Sometimes being alone (in your room, say, or in the middle of woods) doesn’t give you the solitude fix quite like being a stranger among strangers. We (SB & LS) make ourselves alone at times, not so we can immerse ourselves in the self-conscious ruminations of our adolescent minds, but so we can return to how it felt to be a child, not quite part of the ‘real’ (adult) world—and therefore delightfully capable of observing it, separate and wide-eyed.

Not every public place is a good one for solitude. If we know everyone or even some people around us, the spell breaks. (The Main Green: love her, but not what we’re talking about). We like places where most people are alone alongside us. One of us likes the sidewalk next to the highway between Johnson & Wales and the Planned Parenthood, where a dozen cars a minute pass you by but no one pulls over to ask why you’re mouthing lyrics by the Beths and walking in double time. Moving vehicles are our favorite: city buses, especially when it’s cold out, and New York subways, and early-morning Amtraks, and airplanes if you wind up in one.

Let’s dwell on that penultimate example.

One Amtrak business class car holds up to 68 passengers. The third car on the Amtrak from Providence to Washington, D.C. last Tuesday was (luckily) at about half capacity. Still, as one of us was scrambling to open Zoom on her phone and ‘launch’ the meeting she forgot she had scheduled with her endearingly mean, middle-aged therapist, there were quite a few people in (relatively distant) earshot. (Too bad for you, dear reader: you’ll never be able to pin this event, with any confidence, on either of us.)

Now, you might be thinking, “God [mysterious writer], what type of sick freak gets therapized before a live audience of unsuspecting commuters?” To which she would say, “me, obviously—and I’m not as sick as you’d think!”

(Her therapist agrees.) In the midst of mommy-issue-deconstructing it did occur to her: She was talking about her darkest, most personal lived experiences in public. But honestly, she felt pretty okay about it.

The other [mysterious] writer has never done Zoom therapy in a moving vehicle (although she has done it in Conmag) but never fear: growing up in New York, this one did a lot of stupid things on the subway, and scattered a lot of U.S. history readings, and cried a lot of tears. But she built a habit of reminding herself

that whatever it is, it probably made for a great story at somebody else’s dinner table. (She certainly brought home her own fair share.) +++ The two of us favor subways, Amtraks, and highway sidewalks because they’re inhabited by People You Do Not Know—the best category, according to SB’s official taxonomy,* for those in search of happy public solitude. In these habitats, the rules of the game are different. They’re more generous.

Sure, people don’t really care what you’re doing because they don’t know or care about you—but it’s still kind of nice. You can hunch over on your tray table, pull your sweater so far up that it grows a hood, and draw your arms in from your sleeves—and it’s fine. The guy next to you has an Elmo-patterned neck pillow.

But over this last long weekend, those of us who stayed here in darling Providence had to find non-moving spaces to feel good while being alone. It’s not easy on Brown’s campus, and it gets harder when it rains. The Leung Family Gallery fits the bill after a certain hour (1am, in one writer’s experience) and the CVS on Thayer will do in a pinch. (By finals period, everyone is unshowered and semiconscious, and the list has dramatically grown.)

The problem with college is that everything public is kind of private (see: Main Green).

Places like the Main Green, and the dining halls, and the History of Capitalism lecture are full of Category Two people,** which is the worst

*Category One: People You Do Not Know. People You Do Not Know owe you nothing. Seriously! Nothing. In these cases, you are thrust into a shared sphere with faces you will quite literally never, ever see again. Like, ever. There’s no obligation. Thus, almost any behavior—other than violence and obscenity, of course—is fair game.

And because there seems to be a baseline understanding that strangers in public mind their own business, it’s not hard to create a mental model where these individual strangers become a collective, categorically united in their unfamiliarity and relative irrelevance to you and the general trajectory of your life.

With People You Do Not Know, embarrassment is pointless. Why? Because: No! One! Cares! About! You! There are no social consequences to a particularly humiliating sneeze at the DMV. It’s almost like the bystander effect but just less sad! You are free to do whatever you want—even if it’s taking an hour-long therapy call on public transit.

( TEXT SB & LS DESIGN JC ILLUSTRATION ML )

category, conclusively.

Everything private is oddly public, too. At least for the first year or two, our friends— even our housemates—are not quite our family (see: last week’s WiR) and performance is pervasive. Self-conscious performance is exactly what we want to escape by being alone. +++ Even off campus, as the weather turns and parks and highways lose their charm, it can be difficult to find a public ‘third space’ that’s truly public; that is, without a barrier to entry.

Rent at a coffee shop table is relatively cheap, but most of them close at three.*** Public libraries are always struggling. And we’re hard-pressed to name other indoor places where anyone can sit and rest without payment or private invitation.

There are lots of reasons to mourn a turn to the private and digital and the decline of public space, many more compelling than what we will offer—but here’s one more for you. First we have to tell you that last week one of us had a horrible cold, and after many hours in bed she made her descent down into her living room. She was sticky and snotty and only cursorily dressed. But just like a kid, strutting to school in clashing patterns, it never occurred to her to mind.

Not to get all sappy, but the nice thing about good friends, PYACW, whatever, is that your mess can be the thing you all laugh about later around the dinner table.

Someone smart and important once said that we should treat strangers “better than family,” but we would argue, maybe, that sometimes we should treat friends and family like strangers. The difference, obviously, is that instead of not caring what someone’s up to because you don’t care about them, you shouldn’t care because you do care. Or something.

Anyway, next time you’re in the CVS, enjoy your solitude—and pick some up to take home.

SB B’25 and LS B’25 are strangers to each other.

**Category Two: People You Know. These are people who are satellite characters in your life, not your close confidantes or very best friends. The People You Know have some context for your existence up to that moment.

Your behavior both toward them, and before them, has stakes—their judgements matter, if mostly because they can make you feel really bad. ***An opportune place to mention that Coffee Exchange is a rare exception (open until six every day besides Sundays!!) and to give a shout-out to Category Three: People You Are Close With. An honorary category, if that, in the taxonomy—because to be with a PYACW in public is to move as a team, to process one’s surroundings through a shared lens. Why are we sitting together in Coffee Exchange this Saturday morning, struggling to guess the WiFi password guided by nothing but random chance and bad espresso puns? (Yes, we did ultimately remember that it’s posted downstairs.) Why, only to write this Week in Review, of course.

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

04

Building Power Breaking down Rhode Island’s new community electricity programs

METRO

→

This summer, during the hottest July on record, over 1,000 Rhode Islanders had their electricity service shut off. These residents—unable to pay bills 25 percent higher than last summer—were left without AC or electricity for days of extreme heat, causing heat-related illnesses and exacerbating existing health conditions. Facing longer and hotter summers due to climate change, Rhode Islanders, especially those with underlying health conditions, have a dire need for air conditioning. But more AC usage alongside ongoing energy rate hikes means higher bills, and with higher bills comes the risk of shutoffs, leaving vulnerable Rhode Islanders without electricity when it is most critical.

These shut-offs occurred even after seven Rhode Island municipalities launched, in May, the state’s first community choice aggregation (CCA), or municipal aggregation, program, in an attempt to lower and stabilize utility costs that have skyrocketed over the past two years.

The program pools the buying power of residents across participating towns and cities to negotiate lower rates, as well as increases the amount of renewables powering our grid—part of a larger statewide effort to transition entirely to clean energy by 2030. Each town or city in the aggregation now has their own energy supply program; Providence’s, for instance, is entitled the Providence Community Electricity (PCE) Program.

But while it is unclear how many of those facing shut-offs this summer were in the seven municipalities that compose the aggregation program, the program’s negotiated prices with its Florida-based supplier NextEra Energy are only marginally lower than rates from RI Energy, which supplies the rest of the state. Additionally, NextEra’s past business practices, especially large contributions from its subsidiaries to anti-renewable energy politicians, have raised concerns that the program will counterintuitively work against climate policy.

Widespread uncertainty about how the program works and its intentions have also led to criticism that the program was not clearly explained to residents. “Ever since the initial launch of the program, there was a lot of confusion from neighbors,” State Representative David Morales told the College Hill Independent. Still, community leaders express hope that the program will make good on its promise to alleviate—even marginally, for now—the mounting energy cost burden for Rhode Islanders this winter and beyond.

( TEXT ES DESIGN GK

)

dence on fossil fuels driving global climate change has increased both prices and need for utilities in Rhode Island and beyond. Never mind the fact that increased energy usage in a fossil-fuel-dominant energy system contributes to increased warming, only exacerbating the problem. To ensure a livable and equitable planet, we must lower energy costs and move to a renewable energy system in one fell swoop, with the communities most impacted guiding every step of the transition.

What is municipal aggregation?

In 1996, Rhode Island’s energy market was deregulated. In a regulated energy market, as in 21 U.S. states, a company (called a utility) runs a monopoly and single-handedly procures a supply of electricity and gas and distributes it throughout the state. In a deregulated state, the utility still owns and maintains the pipes and wires that deliver energy and continues to buy energy to supply many residents. As in regulated states, the utility is also still closely overseen by a governing body, called a Public Utilities Commission (PUC). The difference, for a deregulated state like Rhode Island, is that consumers have the option to “shop around” for a supplier.

RI Energy still functions as a monopoly, both delivering and supplying energy (in what’s called the “Last Resort Service”) for the vast majority of consumers in Rhode Island. In theory, Rhode Islanders can choose to swap out their energy supplier. But many competitive energy suppliers, which offer programs to provide consumers with energy in place of RI Energy, are predatory, roping vulnerable customers into deceptive and difficult-to-leave contracts with rapidly rising rates. On our own, consumers don’t have the power to compel these alternative suppliers to work for us—the state-regulated utility thus becomes the safest, and only, option. What’s framed as a libertarian principle—energy as a matter of choice, go ahead, look around—in practice leaves us just where we started, with a natural monopoly and little ability to take advantage of alternatives.

+++ As Rhode Island residents have continually testified to legislators, their communities, and news outlets across the state, they cannot afford steeper electricity bills. Higher rates force low-income residents to make impossible, life-threatening choices—between shut-offs and evictions, between AC or heat and food—and push many deeper into poverty. According to Camilo Viveiros, Executive Director of the George Wiley Center (GWC)—a local organization on the forefront of the fight for utility justice—some low-income residents regularly pay 40 to 50 percent of their income in utility bills. This is, above all, an environmental justice issue, Viveiros emphasized in a conversation with the Indy. Those Rhode Islanders who contribute the least to the climate crisis are those who bear its devastations first and most strongly, facing disproportionate shut-offs in extreme conditions, exposure to toxic pollutants from fossil fuel infrastructure, and impossible utility costs. “A lot of our members at the George Wiley Center use the bus. They live in affordable housing, in apartments. Folks often can’t even afford to buy a car. [They] intentionally use way less energy and often face utility shut-offs,” Viveiros told the Indy.

Utility costs aren’t projected to decrease any time soon. On September 25, the Rhode Island Public Utilities Commission (PUC) approved Rhode Island Energy’s proposed 24 percent rate hike for winter utilities, which kicked in on October 1. With standard rates now at 17.74 cents per kilowatt hour—close to last winter’s historic highs of 17.79 ¢/KwH—monthly utility bills are projected to rise from this summer by an average of $32.29 per household. This rate hike comes in the face of ongoing activism by groups like the GWC, which demand an across-the-board freeze on hikes for vulnerable groups like low-income residents, seniors, and people with disabilities.

Rhode Island’s dependence on natural gas for generating power is, in no small part, the reason for such staggering energy bills—in 2022, over half of New England’s electricity was generated in natural gas-powered plants. As the Indy reported last year, natural gas costs have skyrocketed over the past two years due to global demand for fossil fuels, the war in Ukraine, and the aftermath of the pandemic.

As long as the state is reliant on this fossil fuel for its electricity, our utility bills will remain tied to the increasingly volatile global price of natural gas.

It is clear that the crises here are multiple and intertwined. Depen-

03

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

Community choice aggregation aims to fix that. CCAs offer town and city councils the ability to buy energy on behalf of their constituents, negotiating with an energy provider other than the state utility (here, RI Energy) for their entire town or city. This is different, said Viveiros, than those predatory alternate suppliers, because this program “has been orchestrated by municipalities that have the interest of their constituents and members [in mind],” at least in theory. By leveraging the demand of many consumers, these municipalities gain bargaining power beyond what an individual can muster. They can enter negotiations with energy suppliers with real leverage, potentially lowering costs and enabling the purchase of more renewables. In simpler terms: CCAs harness collective buying power.

CCAs have been authorized, in theory, in Rhode Island since 2002.

But it wasn’t until 2017, when then-State Representative Deb Ruggiero spearheaded legislation overhauling the existing law, that planning for the current municipal aggregation program began in earnest. This move built on successes in Massachusetts, which has established CCAs in hundreds of cities and towns in the past decade.

After the 2017 legislation passed, various communities across Rhode Island began to develop plans for municipal aggregation programs. Seven municipalities across the state came together to form a buying group, assisted by consultant Good Energy LP (which also works with communities in Massachusetts). After finalizing their plans, including selecting NextEra as their supplier, the plans went through a review process with opportunities for public input. Each city conducted a public outreach program, though fairly universal confusion over the program suggests it wasn’t thorough enough. Kevin Proft, Providence’s Depu-

METRO

ty Director of Sustainability, acknowledged: “Especially in Spanish language communities, I think that our outreach could have been better at launch. We’re really trying to make sure that we explain the program better.”

In May of 2023, the program finally launched across these seven towns and cities.

Since the program’s launch, NextEra has taken over as the energy supplier for some 13 percent of Rhode Island, while RI Energy continues to distribute and bill for energy.

This summer, a few weeks after I registered a new account with Rhode Island Energy, the state’s utility, I received a letter from the City of Providence welcoming me to the Providence Community Electricity (PCE) Program, into which I would be automatically enrolled. The letter gave me two months to opt out with no penalty, to continue to receive electricity from RI Energy’s Last Resort Service, if I so chose.

These programs hinge on an automatic optin model, which is crucial for the negotiating process: it ensures much broader and stabler consumer participation from the beginning than would a voluntary opt-in model. This has also been a point of concern for consumers who— baffled as I was by the program, not reached (as I wasn’t) by the public outreach campaign—are uncertain what they’ve been opted into and see this move as one lacking transparency.

Nonetheless, the ability to automatically enroll consumers in the program was a central part of that 2017 legislation, and the ability of a CCA to pursue competitive costs is dependent on it. Indeed, at the program’s launch in May, 92.5 percent of consumers in the participating municipalities had remained opted-in to the program.

The letter presented me with a table of options if I stayed in the program: four tiers, each with their own levels of renewables and associated pricing for the first six months of the program. Every resident of these seven municipalities received a similar letter, usually earlier, before the program officially launched in May. The default program, Providence Standard, adds 5 percent more renewable energy than the state’s renewable energy standard (currently set at 23 percent) and costs 9.361 ¢/KwH to RI Energy’s 10.341 for that first six-month period—a 9.5 percent decrease. I could also opt to stay in the program but not add any renewable energy over the RES, in the “Providence Basic” tier, and save 12 percent on my energy bills compared to RI Energy. Finally, I could choose to pay more to add more renewable energy for a total of 50 or 100 percent renewable. Those eligible for low-income protection programs, such as a 30 percent LIHEAP discount, would still receive this discount within the aggregation. +++ As it stands, none of these changes are dramatic. The program has delivered on its promises thus far, but has a long way to go before it enables a just, clean transition. But the inauguration of municipal aggregation in Rhode Island signals an important acknowledgement of and investment in collective power. “In the big picture, the concept is great,” opined Viveiros.

“And we support it; we want to move toward a path of municipalities and consumers harnessing our power to actually lower costs and to maximize the transition from dirty energy.” Emily Koo, who was Providence’s Director of Sustainability during much of the development of the PCE program, pointed to the importance of taking control back from the utility: “Communi-

ties are in the driver’s seat here and will continue to pursue the dual goal of lower cost, higher renewables for its customers in its electricity procurement,” she said. “This separation of supply is a great example of removing a responsibility from the utility so that it better aligns with state and community goals to address climate pollution and lower consumer costs.”

Are prices actually lower?

Given the astonishing energy prices in Rhode Island, the first question for a program aiming to bring down costs is inevitably: How can it?

And will it? The rate negotiated for the first six months of the program was notably lower than RI Energy’s rate for a similar period, but consumers were quick to point out that the program made no promises about prices after that first period. What if the aggregation program did what those predatory suppliers did—get people in the door while rates are low and then jack them up? And wouldn’t the addition of renewable energy raise costs?

On a theoretical level, those predatory alternative programs are profit-driven and lack a great deal of oversight, making rate changes without serious encounters with any governing body. In the case of CCAs, rates are negotiated and approved by the municipal governments, driven by consumer interest—beyond good will, low rates will help constituents in the voluntary program. Good Energy points specifically to evidence of savings from similarly modeled Massachusetts programs, which (according to a 2022 report) successfully saved their members an average of $78 a year over five years. They extrapolated those findings to estimate that if every energy consumer in Massachusetts joined a similar aggregation, savings would add up to $208 million a year across the state.

These savings aren’t anything astonishing, and they don’t address the crisis of utility shutoffs by any means—but they’re real. How can this be possible, given that adding renewables to the energy mix currently raises costs? Is it possible to ensure the aggregation will continue to provide lower rates than RI Energy?

Jamie Rhodes, a consultant for Rhode Island’s branch of Good Energy, explains that, when it comes to the cost of the energy itself, CCAs can’t save any more money than RI Energy. In fact, the CCAs’ reliance on more expensive renewables sets the program back some.

Instead, CCAs edge out RI Energy, cost-wise, simply by providing suppliers with comparatively stable demand—“In an aggregation, we actually know how many people you’re servic-

ing, and we have their historical usage data,” Rhodes explained to the Indy. In contrast, RI Energy buys much of their energy far in advance and with many important variables—including the number of customers and amount of energy needed—still up in the air and very volatile. When energy suppliers bid to Rhode Island Energy, they must swallow the cost that comes from any of these factors changing before that energy is actually used. To avoid losing money, then, energy suppliers build in risk premiums to their fee structures to account for potential costly changes—raising consumer bills beyond what is purely determined by the market.

In relatively stable aggregation programs, suppliers “don’t have to charge risk premiums, because they know what they need to provide, and when they need to provide it.”

Any risk premiums, he added, go down over time as these variables actually stay stable.

For Providence Standard, the cost gained back from risk reduction more than makes up for the added cost of the additional 5 percent of renewables—keeping that rate, so far, below RI Energy’s base rate.

Providence Community Electricity recently announced their winter rates, for the second six-month period of the program, shortly after RI Energy set their own. Providence Standard, for the period from this November to April 2024, will cost 17.641¢/ KwH—compared to RI Energy Last Resort rates of 17.741¢/KwH. So it’s cheaper—but literally by pennies, because these aggregation programs are still tied to the global energy market. From Rhodes: “I think the general feeling was, well, it’s still cheaper and still greener. But it’s still expensive. And I completely agree. I think the status at this point was, well, you’re still delivering on what you said. But we’re really frustrated that the overall market is so high.

So then the question comes to us as: what can we do to address that?”

He didn’t have much of an answer yet, but says that once the foundations are laid in each aggregation program, they can begin to explore possibilities. One option would be to change the rate structure so rates are set every twelve months, instead of every six, which would allow for an averaging out of low(er) summer and high winter rates to bring the overall rate down for the year. But while these broader cost-cutting opportunities are being negotiated, PCE and other aggregation customers in Rhode Island are left paying only slightly less than they would have otherwise.

While these lower costs will compound consumers’ savings year after year, aggregation does next to nothing to address the immediate challenges facing the most disenfranchised Rhode Islanders.

What does it mean (actually) to increase our renewable mix?

Then there’s the other promise community aggregation programs make: to increase the amount of renewable energy entering the grid.

This summer, my roommates and I opted in to Providence 50 to increase the amount of renewables in our energy mix to 50 percent.

But I didn’t know what that meant, really— it’s not like our building’s wiring was suddenly hooked up to solar panels. We flipped the same switch, the same light turned on, we kept paying the same bills to RI Energy (except they were now a little more expen-

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

04

METRO

05

sive). I wanted to know more, so I turned to Dawn King, Senior Lecturer at the Institute at Brown for Environment and Society.

She explained to me that when you’re using solar—even if it’s on your roof—you’re not actually using the solar directly. Instead, it goes into the grid, which gives us our electricity. As the EPA puts it, so simply: “the physical electricity we receive through the utility grid says nothing of its origin or how it was generated.” Instead, when you pay for renewable energy, the energy company—in this case the Providence Community Electricity Program, with the help of the Green Energy Consumers Alliance—purchases a Renewable Energy Certificate (REC) to represent the renewable energy put into the grid on their behalf.

There are different kinds of RECs available for purchase, with varying degrees of impact on local renewable development. Some RECs, purchased from far-off states with different energy landscapes, are effectively meaningless—in short, they do nothing at all to increase the amount of renewable energy generated and used in the region. It’s important, then, that the RECs purchased as part of these aggregation programs are what’s called “Rhode Island New RECs” (otherwise known as Class I RECs). This means that the RECs purchased for the municipal aggregation programs in Rhode Island are tied to energy sourced from local renewable generating plants: wind in Fields Point in Providence, brownfield solar in West Greenwich, more wind in Coventry, and so on.

These RECs work as a mechanism for increasing renewable development in two ways.

First, renewable energy generators make money on their energy twice: by selling the actual energy they produce, and because they get paid for every REC bought. This builds capital to invest in renewable energy expansion.

The second way is more complicated. Energy companies like RI Energy must buy RECs to fulfill the state’s Renewable Energy Standard.

But the amount of total Class I RECs available is limited to the finite amount of renewable energy produced in the region. If there aren’t enough local RECs available for RI Energy to fulfill the state standard—and with municipal aggregation programs now buying more RECs, there will be fewer available to the utility—they must instead pay a penalty into a fund that also builds capital for local renewable development. And this penalty, naturally, is more expensive than the RECs would be.

RI Energy would rather, King explained, pay for RECs than get fined, meaning the utility is thus incentivized to help grow the local renewable energy supply.

While renewable levels in these municipal aggregation programs are still low—at 28 percent on the Standard level, with only 0.6 percent of consumers opting into a higher tier—if Massachusetts is a model worth anything, they will only continue to rise in the years to come. And though renewables are currently more expensive than fossil fuels, as more local renewable generation comes onto the grid, experts believe renewables will only become more cost-effective and stable. This program will be an important part of a clean energy transition, particularly in building out local renewable infrastructure. But a reliance on individual consumer choice, with few incentives to “opt up,” may not drive this transition fast enough in the face of the rapidly accelerating climate crisis.

And what about NextEra? Despite the merits of this system as a whole, some observers have expressed concern about an element specific to Rhode Island’s program: NextEra Energy, the energy supplier now signed on to provide electricity for these seven (going on nine) community aggregation programs. Discerning consumers and/or avid readers of GoLocalProv will know that the company and its subsidiaries (in particular, Florida Power & Light) have been tied to a long series of political, economic, and environmental misdeeds—from helping to block a clean energy transmission project in Maine to messing around with Florida elections to sink a pro-solar state senator and investing in anti-climate policy.

Many residents are concerned by the dissonance between the dirty tricks and the purported clean energy goals of the biggest renewable supplier in the country, their potential future supplier. So how and why was such a company chosen? And should it change how we understand municipal aggregation in Rhode Island?

The first question is simpler to answer. Koo put it bluntly: there wasn’t much of a choice.

The buying group of municipalities put out a Request for Proposal (RFP), inviting any energy suppliers licensed to work in the region to bid to procure energy for the program; after initial vetting by Good Energy on the financial viability of the proposed suppliers, they were left with bids from two companies. One was NextEra; the other remains confidential.

Ultimately, Jamie Rhodes explains, it came down to a decision between two fundamentally different pricing models. Given the needs of the program—the necessary balance of lower prices and renewable options—Koo told the Indy that the buying group of municipalities decided that, of the two, NextEra best balanced these factors.

Thus the reasoning behind the choice of NextEra. But the more existential problem remains: what does it mean when the best energy supplier for a program dedicated to a clean energy transition is, at the very least, environmentally shady? As Professor King noted, this runs the risk of creating something of a “zero sum game.” If the company brings in renewables to this relatively small market in one moment but lobbies for sweeping anti-climate change bills in the next, might the environmental harm of investing in NextEra outweigh the climate benefits?

Municipal aggregation in Rhode Island is a truly important shift, a step toward enabling Rhode Islanders to have more agency over their energy system, toward acknowledging the power in collectivity. With NextEra in the mix, this program is far from ideal. But it’s what we have, and it’s better than what we had before.

The development of local renewables is real and important; the costs of energy remain lower than RI Energy and will hopefully continue to drop. And as Emily Koo said, these large energy companies, even involved as they are in dirty nationwide politics, “can also be driven to serve the needs of certain communities.”

The answer to NextEra’s contradictions lie in its profit-driven motives. “They’re not doing it out of charity. They’re not doing it to save the planet,” Viveiros wryly noted. Rhode Island Energy is no sweetheart, either—we’re stuck between a rock and a hard place, left trying to drive massive energy corporations to serve our communities, and it’s because our policy-makers haven’t been able to imagine beyond our profit-driven energy system. Rhode Islanders shouldn’t have to be complacent for lack of a

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

better choice, or for lack of more savings. A municipal aggregation only has so many tools for lowering costs when still buying energy from an out-of-town middle man.

Though it may be hard to envision an alternative system, that certainly isn’t because the one we have is working. “The system is broken.

We’re operating this the way we did 100 years ago,” said Professor King.

“We have to keep on, keep on organizing, figure out a way to localize [our energy supply] and get the profit out,” advocated Viveiros. “That profit motive is what destroyed the planet.” +++ Because of Rhode Island’s small size, Viveiros says, we have “an opportunity to try to figure out how we can go fossil free and be creative about trying to create that energy.” We can even take the community power of municipal aggregation and run with it toward a publicly owned energy system, free of utility companies.

This May, New York State took a step in this direction when they passed the Build Public Renewables Act (BPRA), which directed the New York Power Authority to construct and operate a public renewable energy program.

The legislation was heralded as a powerful move to increase reliance on renewable energy, reduce utility costs for low-income residents, and place more of the state’s energy supply and distribution under public control—in theory taking profit out of the equation. The fight for this hard-won legislation was initially based on a Providence initiative of a few years ago called #NationalizeGrid, spearheaded by the George Wiley Center and the Providence chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America. This campaign has since stalled in Rhode Island, but points to local energy around public power.

One of the #NationalizeGrid demands, and an ongoing piece of GWC’s advocacy, is a Percentage of Income Payment Plan (PIPP), which would allow residents living near or under the federal poverty line to pay a fixed percentage of their income for utilities—between three and six percent, as opposed to the 40 or 50 percent some low-income residents often face. In the dozen or so states that have established similar programs, PIPPs have dramatically reduced the burden of energy costs for low-income residents. This year, RI Representative Scott Slater reintroduced a bill including a PIPP, responding to the new openness of RI Energy’s owner, PPL, to such a program—but the bill was deferred to future legislative sessions. We must think bigger, but in the meantime a PIPP would ensure every Rhode Islander has access to utilities, a basic human right.

Still, activists see public ownership of utilities as the best model to substantially reduce utility costs and transition rapidly to clean energy, while replacing a system in which residents are subject to the whims of national companies with one in which they have control over their own utility policies—as long as low-income communities have a genuine seat at the public power table. Seven municipalities getting their energy from one large company instead of another hasn’t yet prevented Rhode Islanders from having their electricity turned off. Maybe we should reimagine who has the power to flip the switch.

ES B’23.5 wishes Rhode Island would pass a PIPP before she graduates

X

LS B’24 Lunchtime focaccia

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

06

FEATS

Modern Luddites Dismantling Machinery and Systemic Oppression ( TEXT LS DESIGN ZRL ILLUSTRATION AF )

07

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

FEATS

→ The concept of sentient machines and their

capacity to replace humanity is nothing new. The idea has existed for thousands of years: the first recorded appearance of a humanoid robot dates back to 700 BCE, in the form of a mythical Greek automaton named Talos. The sentient machine has captivated the imagination of storytellers, scientists, and theorists ever since. However, thanks to recent advancements in AI technology, these far-flung fantasies of decades past are closer to reality than ever before. With hyper-advanced algorithms now less than a Google search away, artificial intelligence and its possibilities are no longer in the realm of speculation. But in the wake of AI’s promises of innovation and upheaval lies a trail of skepticism and distrust.

Recently, the term “Neo-Luddite” has emerged as a way to identify those who see AI as a threat to jobs, ethics, and humanity as a whole. It refers to the Luddite movement of the early 19th century, in which angry British farmers destroyed textile machines due to misplaced fears of replacement and obsolescence. The title has spread as a flashy moniker for those who vaguely oppose modern tech in general. “Luddite bars” boast a “no cell phone” creed, while a blog in Washington D.C. praises a local market as “The Best Luddite Shopping Experience” for vinyl and VHS tapes. Self-proclaimed “Luddite Clubs” have sprung up in high schools across the nation, glorified book clubs where teens ditch their phones for an hour and read outdoors. At the same time, champions of AI have used the same rhetoric to paint dissidents as paranoid conspirators, with headlines stating that “an ancient anti-tech cult against AI” is on the rise.

The term “Luddite” seems to represent both insult and praise, a tension which lies at the root of its history and its resurgence. +++ In reality, the Luddites were not the technology-fearing brutes many are led to believe. Rather, they were organized artisans who attacked the most profitable assets of factories that used automation to get around labor standards at the time. Since the British government had banned trade unions in factories ten years prior, destruction became the method for workers to voice grievances. Prior to resorting to violence, workers wrote letters to factory owners with their demands, but when their pleas fell on deaf ears, they assumed the Luddite name and smashed textile machines with hammers and picks. Their rebellious spirit spooked the British government, who feared a mass uprising against the ruling class. In April of 1812, 14,000 troops publicly executed the Luddites’ most prominent leaders. Parliament officially made “machine breaking and sabotage” a capital crime a few months later, and the movement fell into obscurity as ‘progress’ trampled its resistance into the sands of time.

Despite the original movement’s swift and gruesome end, Luddism rapidly spread through the working class. Other laborers began to replicate their tactics, and “ludding” became a popular term for rebelling against injustice. By 1871, amidst fears of another uprising, England officially legalized trade unions. In the early 1900s, similar anti-tech protests spread from Europe to America with the rise of the assembly line. Introduced by Henry Ford, these production

systems quickly dominated the American, Brazilian, and South African employment fields, subjecting workers to hours of monotonous, underpaid labor. The Ford company promoted its factories as spreading “modern civility” to what it saw as ‘underdeveloped’ countries and “saving human detritus from the scrap heap of history.” In 1930, when overseers at a Brazilian plant called “Fordlandia” required employees to eat lunch standing, mounting tensions finally erupted into violence. Workers banded together and destroyed a number of assembly lines, costing Ford millions. Three years later, the Industrial Workers of the World published a pamphlet on the art of sabotage, describing how the goal of machine destruction “is to hit the employer in his vital spot, his heart and soul, in other words, his pocketbook.” +++ While the Luddites inspired many to fight the negative effects of capitalist technology, their name was later misconstrued for political purposes. The first use of their moniker as a term for close-minded dissidents occurred in 1950s British Parliament to discredit leftleaning opposition in an automobile industry dispute. In a 1982 publication titled “Present Tense Technology,” historian David Noble described how the word had become “a convenient device for disparaging and isolating the occasional opponent to progress and a charge to be avoided…by thoughtful people.” The mockery of the Luddites overshadowed the true values of their movement and dissuaded others from following in their footsteps. Anyone who tried to warn the public about the ways new technology could be used to exploit the working class was immediately depicted as a fire-fearing Neanderthal and dismissed as a remnant of the dusty past.

Fast forward to the present, and the world is currently experiencing another technological revolution. The rise of artificial intelligence has drastically altered the job market as we know it and confronted us with the unprecedented issues that non-human cognition brings to the table.

Artists, writers, and other creators are debating whether or not the human touch is needed for AI creations to be considered “art,” since AI often produces content using a database of stolen human-made art. Others have claimed that AI can bring only benefits, and that AI-dissidents are stagnating the technology of the future. In an article published by Mint titled “Luddites are throwing in the towel prematurely on AI,” Rahul Matthan compares fears surrounding AI to the live musicians who protested against recorded music in the 1930s, the stagecoach drivers who opposed the first cars, and of course, the titular Luddites who impeded the wheels of progress with sledgehammers and clubs. At the end of his piece, Matthan states that “if there is one thing history has taught us, it is that whenever a new technology displaces a profession, it makes way for something new.” This phenomenon, known as “The Luddite Fallacy,” is the theory that the public has the “mistaken belief ” that new technology will cause overall unemployment in the economy, when in reality the improved technology will create enough new jobs to balance out the loss. Yet a fundamental problem lies within these claims. The Luddites

were never replaced by new technology, nor did they fear that they would be; the textile machines they destroyed had already existed for almost a hundred years. While the Luddites initially kept their jobs, they were subjected to deplorable conditions and payment, a common theme surrounding technology that makes production faster and cheaper. AI is no different. Theoretical debates over “the true meaning of creativity” and the value of the ‘human touch’ have shrouded the true problems of the AI industry: mass outsourced human labor.

Known as ”ghost workers,” this army of tireless, underpaid employees lurks in the shadows of the booming tech industry, maintaining the illusion of its utopian promises. In order for AI systems to function properly, they need a database of inputs for them to accurately recognize and react to situations. This data can easily be sorted by other algorithms, but tech companies quickly discovered it was much cheaper and easier to have the sorting be done by humans.

Industry giants such as Google, IBM, Meta, and OpenAI have already established production centers in countries like the Philippines and South America, where looser labor regulations and lower quality of life standards allow workers to spend up to 20 hours a day in “digital sweatshops,” sifting through thousands of images for pennies in pay. Amazon has established a program unsubtly dubbed the “Amazon Mechanical Turk platform,” a reference to the 18th century chess-playing “automaton” that concealed a person controlling the machine from within. The company is attempting to spread the concept of “crowd work,” a system in which the time-consuming labor of algorithmic content filtering is broken into smaller tasks and distributed to workers around the globe. This labor is monotonous, exhausting, and sometimes even disturbing, with participants training the AI to filter out traumatic material by manually labeling content for deletion. Thanks to the internet, Ford’s assembly line can be virtually recreated in any home with a WiFi connection and a laptop.

It is within this lens of injustice and exploitation that the Luddite ideology must be resurrected. We cannot allow abstract debate over the importance of the ‘human touch’ to overshadow how that touch already exists in AI in a cruel, mangled form. Labeling those wary of this technology as “Luddites” may not be the insult it is intended to be. Rather, it can be a call to action against exploitation and oppression, a sign that something must be done and soon. The fight against AI is not a fight against technology, but against the way technology is used to capitalize on the labor of the disenfranchised while claiming to be a blessing for the unemployed.

Boycotts, protests, and lawsuits erupted across the nation after artists and writers discovered their work was being fed into AI databases without their consent; now, another wave of outcry must advocate for the removal of digital sweatshops. If AI is the first signifier of a modern Industrial Revolution, the world will need a group of modern Luddites to counter its greed with blood, sweat, and sledgehammers.

LS B’26 is using Luddism as an excuse to ignore Canvas notifications.

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

08

1. 2023-10-06 3:32PM EST Rickmansworth, England 2. 2023-10-06 2:31PM EST Asahi, Japan

3. 2023-09-29 2:30PM EST Tambov, Russia A jewelry store?

Come in.

7. 2023-09-16 10:48AM EST Sollefteå, Sweden

8. 2023-08-01 3:40AM EST Seoul, South Korea

9. 2023-09-14 11:34PM EST Hous

I woke up. I was lying on my side, but my torso was twisted down into the bed so my shoulders were almost flat against the mattress.

THE INTERNET OF THINGS (IoT): DEVICES THAT CAN EXCHANGE DATA VIA THE INTERNET OR OTHER NETWORK SYSTEMS.

You wish the world could become a tho could become objects, with discret But your eyes are so tired.

13. 2022-08-01 4:18PM EST Tokyo, Japan

14. 2022-11-29 8:32AM EST Tambov, Russia

15. 2022-05-21 8:11AM EST Manisa, Turkey

AN IP CAMERA CAN EASILY BE HACKED USING ITS PUBLICLY AVAILABLE IP ADDRESS AND THE USERNAME/PASWORD (IF APPLICABLE), WHICH OFTEN HAVE NOT BEEN CHANGED FROM THE MODEL’S DEFAULT SETTING (e.g. admin/ admin).

I lifted myself out of the bed with great effort. I walked out of the bedroom and onto the landing at the top of the stairs. My house was made almost entirely of glass, it had infinite rooms, and I could imagine them all.

SINCE APRIL 9, 2022, THE X ACCOUNT @Unsecured_C HAS POSTED A SCREENSHOT FROM AN “UNSECU CAMERA SOMEWHERE IN THE WORLD EVERY H ALONG WITH A LOCATION (TRACKED USING THE IP DRESS). @Unsecured_CCTV IS A BOT CODED BY @sh barko. IT CURRENTLY HAS 56.8 THOUSAND FOLLOW

( TEXT LKS

DESIGN LKS

ILLUSTRATION LKS )

LIST + S+T

My house

09

19. 2023-08-20 6:42AM EST Tainan, Taiwan

20. 2023-04-04 3:24PM EST Mexico City, Mexico

21. 2023-08-14 11:25AM EST Ruse, Bulga

If only you would just come in. Your thoughts would be bound in space and time. You are lonely, and your loneliness is not flat but a convex curve. You have such bad vision!

I once heard that glass is neither a liquid nor a solid. The molecules, I was told, are disordered, like liquids, but still rigidly bound, like solids. The glass of my house was a portal.

THE IMAGES ARE BEAUTIFUL BECAU DENTAL, COMPLETELY RANDOM, EX

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

LIST + S+T

4. 2023-09-22 4:31AM EST Constanța, Romania

5. 2023-09-14 12:24AM EST Tokyo, Japan

6. 2023-09-17 10:15PM EST Geo

Come here. Come in.

In here it is clean and gleaming. In here is a cathedral. A cage. An ocean.

Architecturally sound and perfectly decorated spaces. The floor is made of square slabs of cool stone in alternating grayish and blueish hues.

ston, TX, USA

10. 2023-08-06 11:03PM EST Novosibirsk, Russia

11. 2023-09-19 10:05PM EST Taipei, Taiwan

ought and your thoughts te edges and outlines.

A COMMON EXAMPLE OF AN IoT DEVICE IS A “SMART” IP (INTERNET PROTOCOL) SECURITY CAMERA, WHICH CAN SEND AND RECEIVE DATA VIA AN IP NETWORK AND TRANSMIT FOOTAGE ONTO CLOUD STORAGE.

I slowly turned onto my back. The bedsheet peeled away from my damp leg like a skin. It was hot. I must have forgotten to turn on the AC.

CCTV URED” HOUR, P ADharkoWERS.

12. 2023-1

16. 2022-07-01 11:39PM EST Antwerp, Belgium

17. 2023-08-22 4:49AM EST Krasnoyarsk, Russia

18. 2022-06-21 S

Come in here. Here, there is an ocean and you will go swimming. Ripples in clear water look like warped glass, breaking up the sand and algae and rocks into tessellated forms, misaligned segments of uniform shape and color. There is no wind here, not even a pump filtering water in and out of the pool. Still, there are little waves traveling across the surface, and on those waves there are even smaller waves, or no, more like ridges. The water looks ridged, like an ancient rock formation, which makes sense because rock formations were made by the ocean, a long time ago.

It was August, and I had forgotten to turn on the AC. I could map all the rooms in my house onto one plane that extended in all directions. 3D space became a 2D surface that I would sometimes press my hand against to feel the slight give of the glass.

LKS B’24 has perfect vision.

aria

22. 2023-09-24 3:43AM EST Unknown Location

23. 2023-10-08 4:49PM EST Matsuyama, Japan

USE THEY ARE ACCIXCEPT NOT AT ALL.

What is in here is not you, and you have not produced it. It was here all along. But you have organized it, shaped it, cropped it, reshaped it, over a certain period of time. It is not a reflection of you. You have to realize that the glass is not a mirror, it’s a window, and things can pass from here to there.

IF BEAUTY IS FORM OF PURPOSE WITHOUT PURPOSE, THESE IMAGES ARE BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE I DON’T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE FOR.

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

24. 2022-07

10

ARTS

A couple years ago, I saw Andrea Emmerich’s work on my Instagram explore page @andreaemmerich9. She makes pretty big paintings and much smaller drawings which are saturated, cartoony jumbles of animals, foods, objects, patterns—in one drawing, a pregnant sandwich hovers above a fish tail and what I understand as two pairs of eyes (one with very long eyelashes, one without). Her refreshing textures emerge from casual yet deliberate, skillful marks in pen, marker, oil pastel, paint, and latex on paper or canvas. The finished pieces invite us into her intuitive way of working without undermining their authority. They feel just right.

Learning more about Andrea online brought me closer to her drawings and helped me realize I was feeling lost in my own process— hearing from Andrea could help me establish an art practice more grounded in love and genuine discovery. It seems that the more Andrea works, the more she wants to work. I crave this clarity, artistic production as freedom. I wanted to hear more of her thoughts because this kind of guidance can seem hard to come by. In August, after a few emails back and forth, I visited her Brooklyn, NY apartment/ studio for this interview about what it’s like being an artist.

…I was thinking of the business kind of guru people who say the money is the third party, the third party result of your passion and like you’re building this business. And they just try to say, like, oh if you’re following this passion or you’re doing this mission, that money is the icing on the top or something. As if it’s supposed to just happen instead of doing it for money. Right… I know I need good art to make this happen—to solidify myself as an artist—but I also know that like, yeah, it is kind of the byproduct. Yeah—so art can be the byproduct and tool. I sometimes feel like all my art is like retroactive, I look at it and I’m like, oh that’s a result of those ideas and IT JUST FEELS LIKE I LEFT THIS TRAIL OF ART… but it’s never like the—you’re always on to the next one is what I’m saying. So it’s like all the art is just in the past for you as an artist. It was happening for you during when you’re making it but then, yeah, you are kind of left with all this art that’s just sort of like—to me it just feels like it’s kind of done for me after it’s done. Yeah, so then it does kind of feel like I have all of this, especially in the studio right now, yeah, all this stuff around me that I’m like, how did I make all this stuff? You know, when now my ideas are changing again and my vision is changing again. It’s like, that’s why we have collectors I guess, just to catch all this stuff. I think that’s why I’ve been liking working on small pieces of paper right now. Yeah, yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do too is like, let’s try paper because it’s getting a little accumulated. But yeah, when you’re trying to—yeah, becoming an artist and making all this art, like which comes first? The chicken and the egg or something. Yeah, I wonder about if it can get to a point where the art being produced is not so important. Like, I think so. Yeah. Yeah. Like, it doesn’t matter too much what it looks like or anything because the artist-ness of it will come through. Yes. Or it’s like in general, I do think there’s a type of living that happens where like—and I don’t think I’m there or I don’t know if you have to try to be there or something—but where it’s like, you making art is just, it DOESN’T MATTER WHAT THE ART LOOKS LIKE AT A CERTAIN POINT because it’s more so about you waking up and like making the art everyday. Like, it becomes a part of your literal routine, your mental routine. I eat my food, I drink my water, I try to go on a run and I make my work. Like, this is just my work. Like, it didn’t matter what the piece looked like, it didn’t matter if somebody liked it, it doesn’t matter what it looks like at the end—not really—because it’s like the mental place you go into to make it is as important, I guess. It’s like, did you do your meditation today? Right. I think it can get to that point because I think of the older people, older artists just making work and it literally does not matter that much what it looks like at the end, it’s like, they’re just in the rhythm of the problem solving through visual—it’s like doing a sudoku or something. It’s like, they’re so there that as a viewer, you could get what that person is conveying, like, it’s not so important what images they’re doing it with or whatever. Right.

And I think that is like 100% what I think I say sometimes too is like, yeah, the art could look really bad and it could actually be bad because you can tell that the person—it wasn’t giving them anything while they’re making it. But the work could be a couple of dots and a line or whatever, and like, I do feel like I could sense that they—while they’re making it—were thinking and feeling something and working something out and that’s what makes it important work. There’s something about it. There is something about it because it’s like whether the person felt the real need and desire to make it… I think people can sense it, basically. I wanted to bring up your Instagram bio. Yeah… What is it right now? It’s: “THIS IS AN ARTISTIC PLACE…”. Can you talk about it a little bit? I think it means… if you can’t get down with the artisticness, then you go. Right.

The way I first read it, was like… This is an artistic place. Like, okay, take a deep breath.

This is an artistic place! Like… No, it is! It has both sides where you’ve also got, like, yeah, take a deep breath. Isn’t that funny that the word artistic is associated with, like, everything’s okay. It’s okay. Like, it’s okay to be whatever, say whatever. It’s like saying it’s an artistic place feels like the same as when people say, like, it’s a safe place. That’s actually really nice because that means, like, artistic does not just mean making art or whatever. It’s a way of thinking or a way of interacting with people. It’s artistic.

There is something very comforting to it—like everything’s fine. Like, these are drawings I did, and I worked hard on them and really like them—maybe you can get something from them too… That is so beautiful! Yeah it’s so true. Nobody’s being sneaky here. I want to invite you into what I was doing and things that spoke to me. So genuine! Yeah. I’m just showing this work that was good and nice for me and you can just look at it. And maybe not have to try to guess that there’s something else going on. Yeah, one of the most important meanings of it is that it’s art. Yeah, that’s like, oh my gosh, I lean in that direction so much. I think no matter what, like, that’s where it just depends on, like… You will alienate some people, and then other people will maybe understand it and get what you’re saying. You can’t look at art and be like, I think it feels or means this. The artist isn’t always going to be there to be like, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, that’s not what it means, or like I meant it this way. It’s its own... I feel like it has autonomy. There is a truth to like, I can’t show you how to look at art. I can’t hold everyone’s hand and like, I’M NOT GOING TO VIOLATE THE ART’S CONSENT BY MAKING SURE I EXPLAIN IT THIS WAY TO EVERYONE. It might be saying something that I’m unaware of at this point in my life, that I can look back on that art later on and be like, oh. How silly would it have been to try to box it in a certain way, you’re limiting its power. I think that’s what I learned in art school: how to look at art,

TEXT JK

DESIGN JK & AM

JK

11

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

ARTS

how to understand art, how to, like, make room to just be open-minded about it. Yes! Making room. Don’t think you’re missing something, like, I got one over on you, or like, it’s too high for you to understand, like, no way. It’s probably too low. Like, come on. So, yeah, you just can’t teach anyone how to see it. Everything is like nuanced. Like, there’s no way. Yeah. I feel like I have to keep myself in check when I look at art sometimes and am too critical and quick. But I think something about the amount of paintings I’ve seen makes me be like, okay I like this. I like that about it. Okay. I don’t like that, etc. I like Antiques Roadshow where, like, you’re watching this show and they stay on that one—where they’ll present like an antique and they see how much it’s worth. The show is so slow paced where it’s actually kind of nice because they sit with that, like, clock or whatever and it zooms in on all the little parts and they show the back and you’re sitting there and then eventually you’re like, oh, I’m really liking this clock. It’s like, you really finally get to absorb it fully. But I think that’s my issue, too, is I go way too fast. You said sometimes your art goes more like you receive it and sometimes it’s more like a reflection of something…? Probably just like sometimes it’s received and then sometimes it’s, yeah, it’s…

I guess I could have said a reflection or just—it’s a desire of what I want. It’s more of a choice I made.

Like I want to see this. Like I haven’t seen this and I want to see this or I don’t have this object or I’m hungry for this type of food. But then yes, there are other things where—I think so many artists can relate to this—when the idea comes to you just suddenly, and you are so aware that, like, I didn’t just think of that. Like I really feel like I didn’t. Call it, like, actual spiritual—I don’t know—some sort of thing or just like—we would call that inspiration, right? You get a sudden inspiration. Yeah. It hits you.

If you actually look up the definition of inspiration, it means—I need to look it up because it’s very specific to this—but it literally means something else inspired you. So it’s not from you. That’s cool. Yes. But you don’t always have that really nice inspiration from this other source. So you have to just start your process and then get inspired like as you go; THE CONNECTION TO THAT OTHER PLACE IS IN WHAT YOU’RE DOING. The traditional like, “just make a mark,” you know what I mean? That’s a really handy way to also just keep making art like on the daily or something. Letting the process be the inspiration. That’s big… And then you’re like, well now I gotta figure out what to do with that, and then you can find it. My old roommate, he would always tell me, it’s like we have a radio antenna. And it’s on static. And then you just—artists have that capacity to have that antenna, and then it can pick up messages. Ooh. From the ether or whatever. Lovely. And then also he would say my inspiration is at the bar, which means like she’s gone, she’s at the bar drinking, I don’t have her right now. And that’s just the… Yeah. It’s that antenna—it doesn’t always feel present. The art is what gets you there—helps the connection—but then also is just the leftovers. Yeah, of you interacting with and considering these messages basically. The art is just happening because you’re being an artist. Yes. Because you’re getting these messages or you’re seeing the world and you’re needing to like re-contextualize it. Yeah. That’s what needs to be done.

Yeah. But you do it through art so then you have this painting. Yes! And like, then you get to show it to people. Yeah! Exactly. This is the evidence of when I was working out this particular issue. This is the evidence, and maybe this could be somewhat of a crack or window for you to see it! Yes. Yes. Yeah. Nice. Don’t you ever get, like—I sometimes get shocked, like, I CAN’T BELIEVE THE REGULAR, LIKE, SOCIETY IS STILL MAKING ROOM FOR ART. Right! Yeah, hahaha. As artists, I know it seems like we would be the ones that are like, oh no, it is so important because of this and that, and like, I can speculate on that again, too, but doesn’t it feel like you can kind of get shocked that we’re still making room for, like, this thing? Totally, I do. And I think it’s a result of, like, just something is wrong, like, something is backwards about society right now, where we feel that everything we do has to be, like we said, for a very nameable reason. Right. This is for clothing that you wear on your back. Like, this is for food that you eat, put in your stomach, and then a table is to put that food on. But, like, a sculpture we don’t put food on, so what is it? Yeah and so, like, those questions—I still can’t believe there’s people out there supporting and putting money towards this art thing, because, like, it’s not necessary. Maybe there’s some, like, historical or cultural pressure of, like, there’s no need to ask that, we know art is important because we’ve been doing it forever. Yeah, but I think maybe we do need to ask it again… Yeah, yeah. Because people are forgetting, because, like, this goes back to what we were saying before, where it was like, no, it is important work, and it’s being made because it needs to be made, because it’s like the ultimate sign of, like, human, humanity, like, humans… Again, I do think that artists are, like, very sensitive people who can see things in a different way, or who have maybe allotted a lot of their own personal time to just these subjects that, like, other people maybe don’t have the time to think of, so I think artists are really important. It’s important to, like, listen to them, like, hear from them, see what they’re making, And also, it’s like, I don’t think we’ll ever really know, but yeah, we just know that it is important. And again, that’s like me and my one friend, like, is it important work? Yes, it’s always yes, but, like, is it important work? Cause like look at how ugly it is, or look at how weird it is, or look at all the money I’m spending on this, like, supplies or something, but, like, what is art? It’s literally like, how could it not be important work? If it wasn’t—it’s just, it’s not possible for you to make genuine artwork that’s not important. I think so too. I like what you said about… ART IS COOL BECAUSE IT’S, LIKE, ABOUT NOTHING, or, like, the purpose of it is not so one-to-one. That it can become—it has the space to become spiritual, or, like… Don’t you think, like, I just think there’s certain things that are healing, and I don’t want to get too, like, woo-woo, you know… No, please! I just feel like the practices of like music or dance or art are specifically so special because they don’t have an inherent need or reason.

You know it’s not like it gives you something like food, like, it’s like it feeds your belly or something. It’s a way of celebration and, like, worship I think, and, like, the monks used to literally just sit there and draw really ornate letterings and stuff, and that was their way to dedicate time to their god, and then, similarly, too, like, ancient costumes and things, like, they would decorate and paint their faces and have just really ornate things, and it wasn’t a waste of time because all the time with that ornateness, like, working on that thing with your hands was time that they were dedicating to a bigger picture, whether it be their community or their gods or whatever, so I think we need to stay in touch with that as human beings or else all of our life is pointless, it’s just to, like, live, work… Like it’s not… It’s the antenna. It’s the antenna and I mean, it’s just like, I don’t think it’s possible to be happy without play or, like, without some sort of… Or, like, expression. Expression. I get nervous about the word play… Yeah, we need to wear the serious cap! Like it’s important work! I feel like some artists talk about having a sense of play or experimentation or something… I always want it, but I don’t know if it’s there, to be honest, because it does feel like such serious work, and, like, the feeling of getting something across overpowers. Like, if I really want to play, I’m gonna play, like, I’m gonna go to the beach, and, like, play in the

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

12

ARTS

............................. water, and I’m gonna, like, watch something funny, or… You know what I mean? Yeah. This is not the way that I play. Yeah. So I think that’s a good distinction, but, yeah, expression… Oh my gosh, that’s, like, the biggest, like, human, best human feat you can ever do, is to, like, authentically, and perfectly, and truly, like, express… Yeah. And, like, be, and show, like, what you really are, what you really like. It feels so good. And it feels so right. Yeah. And I like how you said perfect… Because I, like, I was, like, no not perfect, because it’s, like, not actually…but, like, yes, perfect. Mm-hmm. Because if it’s the fullest expression, like, authentic expression for you, then it’s perfect. Right. You know, I do think there is, like… People say there’s no such thing as perfect. Like, I do think, like, I’ve felt moments, where I’m like, oh my god, that is perfect, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say, or feel, or look at, and it’s, like, that’s it. Yeah. That’s such a good feeling. I’m really on this, like, make whatever you want. Like, whatever you want. Like, as long as you… just, like, like it and want it to exist. Mm-hmm. So, finding a way to do that without it being corny or ugly or a mess is what’s hard. Yeah for it to still work. SOMETHING I REALLY LIKE

ABOUT YOUR DRAWINGS AND PAINTINGS IS THAT THEY REVEAL HOW YOU MADE THEM QUITE OBVIOUSLY. Yeah. There’s no like… Like when I was looking at that drawing it was easy to think how you drew

it. Like you just drew it. Yeah. I really like that. Okay. Good. Like when I make something—this doesn’t happen so often—but like the reaction of like, “Whoa how did you do that!?” No, I was saying that like not long ago. I was tired of that. Yeah. I just want it to be like oh I painted this. Right. The mysterious part is like why did you make it… Like wow, what is this drawing, like, what is going on here… Why would me feeling like I could have done it too make it any less special? I would always be more fascinated with the artists who are just kind of like more relaxed about how they make it. And then you get to just look at why and what it is—not really like how it was done but just like how does this drawing exist. Yeah. You didn’t have to give birth to that. I think it’s just because you don’t—at the end of the day—I just don’t feel the need to… I just don’t need it to be impressive. I just need it to satisfy this, like, weird kind of visual pattern I’m going for or something, like a puzzle piece. I still feel like your drawings are impressive, maybe in a different way than you are talking about. They just are like confident–and they’re easy, the way they’re drawn and colored in and stuff—like it just looks like so right. It’s like neatness without precision. Like she knows what she’s doing, I can trust it. Yeah, thank you. I do think also I will say this: Everything I do, like, when I work my job or when I deal with my mental health issues or dating issues—I do know that like my job and everything, it’s all for me having a life where I can make art. IT’S ALL FOR THE ART. I DEFINITELY HAVE THAT FEELING ABOUT MY LIFE. EVERYTHING I DO IS TO MAKE MORE TIME FOR THIS. Wow. It’s not easy to like to do something that all the people around you don’t understand or that can put you in precarious situations. I’ve lived in precarious buildings and had you know—you can have health issues from the art supplies. And then it sucks because once you really fall in love with, like, being an artist and making this work, you’re kind of forever trying to get that time and that space to make it. It’s like you’re cursed with an obsession or a passion. Like I know passion is great but sometimes I could see how it would be like, is this even really responsible to create more artists? Like is it actually going to help them have a good life? I don’t really think it’ll help you have a happy, safe life but maybe a fulfilling life. Or artistic life. Yeah. Like seeing more… Yeah. Sometimes it drives me crazy—like when we can see things from other perspectives. And we’re in a world where people are so obsessed with seeing it from one way and every other way is bad.

And we’re sitting here with these abilities now to like see things from other angles and be full circle and to be critical of things we see. And it’s just like this is not compatible with the world. Right. So yes you’re going to be different. You’re going to be different. The way you want to think and want to work is just not going to be aligned with, like, America right now. But I think a lot of people feel that way in general. Right. State of things—it’s not compatible with, like, being a human. And definitely not compatible with someone who wants to make art most of their time. Let’s end this on a higher note… How do we wrap up? Last words? Maybe SOMETHING FOR THE PEOPLE WHO LOOK AT THE ARTICLE AND JUST SKIP TO HOW IT ENDS… To get them to read the whole thing. Okay. I would say... Like I guess what I would say, like, as a little blurb, is just the more that you can, like, see your own work clearly and the clearer you’re making your own self expression and your own, like, true freedom, your own like… The clearer you can see that, the more other people around you will be able to do that for themselves. So like I just feel like in general if every artist can really just like tap into the place where they’re feeling most fulfilled by their work and they’re feeling a sense of purpose with it as much as they can— even though it’s hard to feel that way all the time—the more that like people of Earth will also sense that energy of like… free expression and purpose because sometimes I feel guilty for pursuing something that can seem like selfish but it’s not selfish because it gives a lot of other people permission—like the artist gives other people permission to do what they want as well. We are evidence that you can do and make and see and show what you want and the truth that you see. So then in return, like, that just gives permission to everyone to like go be your own self. I love that. I think that’s just in general like my life philosophy too. Yeah. I also liked the idea of like making art that’s not—like it’s not about—it’s just, it is. Yeah. It’s you. It’s about you making it for whatever reason it might be but also it’s sort of about that moment in time being solidified. You with the painting and the drawing or the music with the moment. It’s just that’s it. Like that’s what it is. That’s where the magic happened, that’s where it ended. And again we’re left with this, like, artifact. Yeah. Like shows that it happened. Yeah. Evidence of your existence. Yay! Okay. Yeah. Yeah.

JK B’24 is starting a rumor that he can run a marathon in under 3 hours.

13

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

EPHEMERA

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

14

LIT

( TEXT LS DESIGN AC ILLUSTRATION SS )

ACT I Scene 1:

THE CAGE CAGE CAGE

A shabby old theater on the corner of Driggs and Filmore. It used to be called “Kimball’s,” but now it’s a bar called “The Skinny Dennis” that serves craft beer and cheap mimosas on Tuesdays. It’s mostly rented out for adult puppet shows and improv comedy skits, but tonight is different. The curtains are drawn, the lights dimmed low. The audience trickles in. They congregate around the stage like jackals at a watering hole, flittering in and out of conversations in arcane tongues as YOU shudder in the shadows.

The ground is cold and YOU are hungry. This is not where you belong. The doors slam shut. The lights fade to black.

SAM: Remember, you got this, okay? It’s just like we practiced. You’ve done it hundreds of times. It’ll be fine.

TRENT: Yeah, I know, but I think I just saw Jason Morris walk in with his girlfriend. Jesus Christ.

GRANT: Who? TRENT: Jason fucking Morris? From junior high? He locked me in a closet during a fire drill once. I had to avoid anything that beeped for months after that.

SAM: Your hands are shaking again. Just try to calm down.

TRENT: My hands are always shaking. I think this is more like mild quivering.

SAM: You’ll be fine. At least your mom isn’t here.

(There’s a roar offstage. It’s the animalistic cry of the audience, hungry for entertainment.

TRENT looks like he’s going to throw up.)

SAM: See? The crowd loves you. You’ll be fine.

TRENT: They’re probably already demanding a refund. I can see the pitchforks already.

SAM: Stop overthinking it. Did you figure out that thing with the prop guy?

TRENT: Yeah, uh, we decided to go with a different approach. He didn’t really get the vision. The thing was a taxidermied crime against humanity.

SAM: I still don’t think that it’s necessary. I mean, the play’s good enough the way it is.

TRENT: Well, I thought the play was fine when there weren’t as many characters. But I guess that’s just me. God, I’m gonna be sick.

15

SAM: Ok, look, no matter what happens out there, you’ll still be Trent Parker, the most brilliant playwright I know, and I’ll still be madly in love with you. And if you bomb, we can just go home and watch America’s Funniest Home Videos reruns till the sun comes up. Okay?

(There’s a frantic knock at the door. TRENT breathes a sigh of relief.)

TRENT: Do you even know any other playwrights?

DENISE: (muffled) Will you just open up already, you jerk! I’ve been out here in the cold for the past fifteen minutes. You don’t pay enough rent to be stingy with that square footage!

SAM: Doesn’t matter. Now hurry up and take your place. The audience is waiting.

A spotlight ignites and sears a ring of light onto the stage. The audience’s chatter is reduced to scattered applause as the velvet curtain rises like the veil of a beaming bride. YOU can hear the clapping from behind the flimsy screen and your eyes go wide. It is the sound of thunder, the cry of death. YOU cannot breathe.

The rotten birch remains of Kimball’s bygone glory have been masked with the squalor of a New York apartment. Three walls erected from plaster and dust dominate the space, completely bare minus a reddish-brown stain which is either blood or vomit or both.

A scratched-up couch and a tacky dresser form a rudimentary bedroom, while a desk and a minifridge join forces to create the facade of a dining room. The floor is shrouded under a layer of papers and magazines, coupons and pamphlets, bottles and cans. A single squat window peers out over the city like a glassy eye, and two doors on opposite sides bookend the room. One is covered in scratches, the other in Post-its and magnets.

The door creaks open, and TRENT steps out into the blinding white glare of an unforgiving spotlight.

TRENT: (with his hands full of groceries) Oh, Christ, what a day. I swear, if I have to spend another five minutes working in that fish market, I’m going to sprout gills!

(He pauses. The line had sounded much better during yesterday’s rehearsals. He can feel himself shrinking under the audience’s gaze as the walls close in around him. The spotlight burns his skin.)

TRENT (tossing his bags on the couch and checking his watch): Shoot, it’s already a quarter to six. I should clean the place up. I really ought to.

(He awkwardly moves some stuff around in a pathetic attempt to mimic tidying. Someone in the back stifles a laugh. He feels acid burn in his throat. That line was supposed to be the cue.

The seconds become minutes. Where the hell was Sam? He peers out and sees the figure from his middle school nightmares staring back with a look of amusement. The half-eaten meatball hero in TRENT’s stomach lurches forward and threatens to steal the spotlight. The seconds march onwards.)

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

TRENT: Coming, coming! No need to get in a tizzy, really. Take your time, why don’t you.

Jesus Christ.

(Some of the audience giggles. The tension is lifted and the room decompresses.)

TRENT: Alright, fine, I’ll bite. What is it this time?

(The second his hand grasps the knob, the door flies open, revealing the scrawny old woman standing outside. She is tightly wrapped in a nest of scarves and sweaters. She beams at the crowd with a crooked smile before slipping back into her role.)

DENISE: Oh, thank the lord! I was starting to think you might’ve slipped in the tub and croaked. Not like you have one, anyways. Or maybe you do, and you’ve just hidden it away in that back room of yours.

TRENT: Very funny, Denise. Hilarious. A real knee-slapper.

DENISE: What the hell do you keep in there anyways, all the fish the market doesn’t keep? It smells like the ocean just took a dump here.

YOU stare at the mangled old door as laughter rings out from the crowd. It’s covered in claw marks and bruises, parts of your fury written in a crimson smear.

It’s dark and musty behind the flimsy set, and your ears perk up as TRENT’s footsteps echo from under the door. Your eyes narrow as he speaks, and your lips curl into a sneer.

TRENT: Just some old stuff from another time.

Books and junk. Most of it’s not even mine.

DENISE: Yeah, I bet you could end up on an episode of Hoarders with all that junk. Could even get interviewed on CNN, you know? “World’s Messiest Man-Child.” Ha! TRENT: You know, you wouldn’t have to suffocate under that pile of knitted fodder if you turned the heat on every once in a while.

DENISE: Well, it wouldn’t hurt if you stopped that racket every once in a while. I can hear you pacing around in circles all night long even after taking my hearing aids out. I barely slept a wink!

LIT YOU feel your heart-rate swell as the audience roars.

It pounds in your ears like a thumping drum, louder and louder, like the remnants of a howl floating past on the wind.

DENISE: And that noise, that muffled growl.

I hear it in the walls like the rumble of a goddamn freight train. Shaking this old house down to its bones. I don’t like it one bit.

TRENT: You know, you can’t just come barging in here every time you think you hear something. And I’ve got my right to privacy, you know.

DENISE: I’m serious! The other day, I swore I heard something scratching at the walls. Claws tearing through plaster like skin. Could’ve sworn it sounded like a person.

TRENT: (in a faux-spooky voice) Yeah, who knows, maybe it’s the banging of the pipes that you refuse to fix... Or maybe it’s the ghost of the past tenant who died of pneumonia coming back for revenge...

DENISE: Oh, forget it. Keep your damn secrets.

It’s probably the sound of your loneliness trying to break free, tearing up your insides even more than those Hot Pockets you’re always eating.

(TRENT is about to argue, but DENISE reaches over and grabs the bag of groceries on the couch.)

DENISE: What’s this? Pasta? Marinara sauce? A bit of basil? A dash of salt?

DENISE: You know, I give you a roof over your head, and you still act like you don’t know me. I swear to God, you can be pretty damn ungrateful sometimes. I should’ve kicked you out to the street the first time you had one of your friends come by. What’s-his-face, the guy with the crinkly eyes and the faded tattoos. The guy you never talk about anymore.

TRENT: Alright, really, you oughta go. I mean it.

Really.

DENISE: And what? So you can lay around all day feeling sorry for yourself like a goddamn bum? So you can whine about how unfulfilling it all is, how you never got anywhere? Sulking in your back room, writing the same shitty play a thousand times, pacing in circles over and over again and expecting something to change?

What the hell are you hiding back there, huh?

What are you afraid of?

TRENT: A tiger.

DENISE: ...What?

TRENT: There’s a Bengal tiger in that back room.

(Behind the door, something thumps. The audience holds their breath. The air is sucked out of the room.)

DENISE: That’s not—what the hell are you talking about, Trent?

TRENT: I mean it. Dead serious.

TRENT: (trying to snatch it back from her) Hey, alright, don’t just start-

DENISE: You’re kidding, right? Is this your idea of a joke?

DENISE: Is this what I think it is? Is Trent Parker actually going to cook a meal? Oh, I must be dreaming. Oh Lord, I must be.

(There’s another thump at the door, much louder this time.)

TRENT: Then pinch yourself. And gimme my damn groceries back.

DENISE: (nervous) I’m not messing around, Trent. What is that?

TRENT: It’s fine. It’s nothing.

(TRENT gives DENISE a vacant stare, and she sees something deep and bright within his murky gray pupils. Something hardened by rage and trapped in a cell. Something ancient and primeval.)

DENISE: I’m dying to know. I really am.

DENISE: Trent?

TRENT: (annoyed) Look, will you just- I’ve got a friend from work coming over in thirty, alright? And I don’t need you here fuckin-

YOU see the light bleeding under the door widen. YOU feel the spotlight burning overhead like the savanna sun. YOU see the mouths of a hundred faces drop open like gaping chasms.

YOU feel your shoulders unclench

DENISE: No really, tell me. What’s the occasion?

DENISE: Trent Parker has a friend? Oh dear.

Hell has frozen over. Dogs are walking masters.

The Pope is getting laid. We are all doomed!

and extend. YOU smell the blood in the air.

(The door creaks open. The audience gasps.)

(It’s a real tiger.)

The next few seconds seemed to pass by in a blur of otherworldly stillness and hazy madness. YOU watched as the tiger lurched forward like a hurricane of muscle and meat, darting across the stage in slow motion. YOU saw the crowd float out of their seats into hysteria, trampling over each other to pry open the doors. YOU saw Jason Morris leap up and fly to the exit with the grace of a ballerina, his face disfigured by a mix of fear and desperation. YOU heard Sam let out a scream that ripped through the foggy silence. YOU heard the sickening crunch as the beast’s maw closed around your leg. YOU saw blood splatter onto the birch floorboards and glisten in the spotlight. And YOU watched the curtains close as the whole theater faded to black.

“The Skinny Dennis” would close permanently a few months later. Nobody really cared all that much.

After all, another hip pop-up bar would soon fill its space, complete with a new type of craft beer and even cheaper mimosas. But Kimball’s glory would never shine under the fiery glare of the savanna sun ever again. Trent Parker would never write another play. And the tiger was never found.

A NOTE TO THE AUDIENCE: (Read out after the play has concluded.)

Hello everyone, thanks for coming out here tonight.

We hope you enjoyed the show. This production was loosely based on the real-life experiences of Ming, a Bengal tiger kept in a five-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of a Harlem housing complex for almost three years. After being captured when police raided the apartment in 2003, he was relocated to the Noah’s Lost Ark Animal Sanctuary in Berlin Center, Ohio, where he spent the rest of his life before quietly passing away on February 4, 2019. This play is dedicated to his memory. Thank you, and please enjoy the cheap mimosas.

(Wait for applause, then take a bow.)

LS B’26 is waiting behind the curtains.

The audience’s laughter beats against your skull. The drum in your ears booms louder and louder. The thin veil covering your eyes is lifting. YOU hear something behind the door. Footsteps growing closer and closer.

Shadows dancing across the birch floorboards.

TRENT: It’s really not a big deal. It’s justDENISE: Not a big deal? Trent, the last time you had someone over was when that fellow from the IRS who came by to see why the hell all your checks were bouncing!

TRENT: Look, can you cut the crap already?

You know, you always have to make everything about yourself. Even this. Even tonight.

DENISE: What? Trent, what are youTRENT: You know exactly what I’m talking about.

DENISE: What the hell is your problem? Are you seriously doing this right now?

TRENT: Nothing. Nothing’s my problem. If anything, you’ve got the problem. I’ve got a meal to cook.

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

16

PLATONIC PLUNGE:

Social Renovator, ith, a F f o p Lea and Indie’s at a Loss

DEAR INDY

When I write these introductions, I usually try to say something glib or self-deprecating (preferably both) about whatever ring I’ve thrown my hat into. But this week’s theme—which is, vaguely, friendship—I’m finding hard to satirize.

And that’s because friends have always been the most important relationships in my life, and I don’t really want to make fun of them. Do I reminisce about various romantic entanglements I’ve had? I mean, yes, duh. But when I do, it’s easy for me to find the humor in them. Do I think about my elementary school best friend, with whom I played Just Dance and via whose brother I discovered various (slightly-scandalous) internet phenomena? Yes. A lot. And very seriously indeed.

So, finding myself at a loss, during last week’s Copy I begged some lovely Indy editors to tell me the first word that came to mind when they thought of “friendship.” Under an enforced time crunch, they came up with: blue, bitching, cone, sharing, Rick and Morty. That last one really got the ball rolling and we got to thinking about: Mike and Ike, Johnson and Johnson, Fork and Knife. It seems like friendships are everywhere! But I’ll also admit that this gave me absolutely nothing to work with.

After this comprehensive survey, I concluded that it seems like no one quite knows how to talk about friendship (whew). And maybe that’s okay. Maybe I can get away with not really reaching any conclusion…maybe the real conclusion was the friends we made along the way.

y,

Dear Ind

appy ke me h a m ’t n s ecause doe y hard b d group ll n ia ie c fr e p y M es o be Dear Social Renovator , and it’s seems t anymore else in my year can I w o H . s y p d nd grou ever ybo their frie You know how professors always tell you to ask a question, because if you in d le t t se ? p u it have it, then there’s a good chance someone else does too? But then no one does change ly, Sincere r enovato Social R

and you’re all left with lingering questions on the citation format, and you have to email the TA later, which is sort of a drag, and now the TA’s got to answer all your emails separately? Your question is a bit like that, except instead of wondering about page limits you’re struggling socially, and instead of a whole class it’s just a few people submitting vaguely similar questions and me lumping them all together. What I’m trying to get across is that you’re not alone in feeling like some new friends could be nice.

And I don’t think it takes a genius to acknowledge that the people we DMed “you seem rlly cool!!” and inevitably became codependent with may not end up being our platonic soulmates. No orientation friend group is as stable as their Fargo Street clothes or spontaneous lunches on the Faunce steps want you to believe.

Which is bad news for the social vibe at Brown, but good news for you! Because this means that social groups are malleable, and not impenetrable walls of cowboy boots and Facebook invites.

But instead of trying to ingratiate yourself with an entire friend group, focus on forming individual connections.

Meet them through on-campus jobs, Instagram mutuals, the bathroom line, that tense moment when you both try to reach for the last Ivy Room sushi, etc. Eventually, those individual friendships will blossom into sprawling networks of people you can half-smile at on the Green, and from there, you’re primed to keep expanding!

I don’t think you should feel weird about these moves, even if they feel a little social climb-y.

Friendships are always in flux, and the friends who were perfect for your freshman year self might not be perfect for you any longer—that’s normal. People sometimes say “Make new friends, but keep the old; one is silver, the other’s gold,” but I say to take that with a grain of salt— silver is totally in right now, and maybe gold just doesn’t match your fit.

r six roup fo g d n ie fr now if e in my ack. I don’t k he n o e m on so me b r uin t a cr ush ell if he likes don’t want to d a h e t I’v ce I an’t but I c ially sin months nfess, espec . p co nd grou I should ic of our frie dynam ely, Sincer f Faith Leap o dy, Dear In

Dear Leap of Faith,

A few semesters ago, as my friends and I were sitting on a Grad D floor and rehashing the embarrassment we’ve felt introducing some of our flings to the friend group, a question struck me: how can we find so many great friends, but no one great to date? Why does every situationship come with a fatal flaw (like an unfortunate penchant for flannel, or a disturbingly large mustache), but all of our friends are perfect (AKA: flannel-less and mustache-conscious)? The answer seemed, to me, obvious: date your friends. Except when I looked around the small circle and realized that I was with two gay men and a straight woman, this possibility quickly petered out. But it seems like it might exist for you! Which is awesome and I’m totally not jealous.

You’re right to tread carefully: many a friend group have been wrecked by incestuous behavior. But at the same time, I don’t think it should be a complete barrier—friend groups are always changing, and a relationship between you two could be a welcome one. You now need to ask yourself if the costs outweigh the benefits (I took an econ class, no biggie). Play out the scenarios: if you confess, and they feel the same way, then what? If you just want something casual, I’d suggest not saying anything; while this campus has a scarcity of date-able people, it definitely does not have a scarcity of hot people, and I trust that you can find someone else to text when the wine-drunk hits.

But if you think something good could come out of it, confess! Harboring real feelings is no fun at all. Phrase it in a way that gives you a bit of an out, like “I think I might have some feelings for you, is there any chance you feel the same?” Never underestimate the power of a good hedge. That way, if it goes poorly, you can always just say “Sike!!

Pranked ya!” and safely walk away.

( TEXT SA DESIGN SS ILLUSTRATION SS )

17

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

Questions edited for clarity.

RESOURCE GUIDE

Amidst the ongoing violence in Palestine and Israel, the Indy seeks to connect readers to longform writing and other resources to learn about current developments in the region.

Al Jazeera Live Updates Website: https://shorturl.at/knpZ1 Live on the ground updates from Palestine, Israel, and the greater Middle East.

Haaretz Newspaper Website: https://www.haaretz.com/ Haaretz is a human rights organization that provides independent daily coverage on domestic and international affairs.

Mondoweiss Website: https://mondoweiss.net/ Founded in 2006, Mondoweiss is an independent website reporting specifically on Israel/Palestine and related U.S. foreign policy.

Jewish Voice for Peace Instagram: @jewishvoiceforpeace | Website: https://www.jewishvoiceforpeace.org/ Jewish Voice for Peace is a multi-racial, intergenerational grassroots movement of U.S. Jews in solidarity with Palestine.

IfNotNow Movement Instagram: @ifnotnoworg | Website: https://www.ifnotnowmovement.org/ IfNotNow is a movement of American Jews “organizing to end Israeli apartheid in Palestine.”

Decolonize Palestine Website: https://decolonizepalestine.com/ This website includes an in-depth primer of Palestinian history. The website is created and maintained by two Palestinians living in Ramallah, a city in central West Bank.

Palestinian Youth Movement Instagram: @palestinianyouthmovement | Website: https://palestinianyouthmovement.com/ Palestinian Youth Movement is a “transnational, independent, grassroots movement of Palestinian & Arab youth struggling for the liberation of our homeland.”

Institute for Middle East Understanding Website: https://imeu.org/ The Institute for Middle East Understanding is an independent nonprofit organization that serves as a resource for journalists reporting on Palestine and Palestinians. They work to increase public understanding through news stories, photographs, and panelists, as well as an extensive visual library of maps, images, reports, and more.

B’Tselem Website: https://www.btselem.org/ B’Tselem is an independent, non-partisan organization that documents, researches, and publishes information on “human rights violations in the Occupied Territories.”

BDS: Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions Website: https://bdsmovement.net/ BDS is a Palestinian-led movement that pressures Israel to comply with international law and “end international support for Israeli oppression of Palestinians” through economic avenues.

VOLUME 47 ISSUE 04

18

The Bulletin

BULLETIN

10

2023

13

Upcoming Actions & Community Events Saturday 10/14 @10AM-12PM: The Wisdom of the African American Spirituals Tradition: From Slave Fields to Concert Halls Sponsored by RISCA and the Rhode Island Council for Humanities, Arthur C. Jones is joining the Providence Public Library to host a community work\shop concerned with the preservation and revival of African American spirituals, or folk songs.

Location: 150 Empire St, Providence, RI 02903; Donald J. Farish Auditorium Sunday 10/15 @4PM-6PM: Conversation and Letter Writing to Incarcerated People Join Providence’s Direct Action for Rights and Equality (DARE) in a conversation with Prison Radio founder and longtime organizer Noelle Hanrahan, followed by a session of writing letters to currently incarcerated people in the midst of a historical battle for Black Liberation and the freedom of Mumia Abu-Jamal.

Location: 340 Lockwood St, Providence, RI 02907 Thursday 10/19 @4:45PM-8:30PM: Gallery Night Providence This fall, Gallery Night Providence is offering free guided tours through six different museums, galleries, and other spaces across Providence. Between taking the trolley, hearing from guest artists, and learning about different creative techniques, these tours open a door to the richness of the Providence art scene. *Note: tour transportation does not accommodate wheelchairs.

Location: 11 Dorrance St, Providence, RI 02903 Thursday 10/19 @11AM-1PM: 2023 Annual Homeless Memorial Service The Rhode Island Coalition to End Homelessness is hosting its annual service to remember folks in Providence idence who have experienced homelessness and passed away. If you would like to commemorate someone at the ceremony, please complete the form here: https://shorturl.at/ oOUWZ Location: 134 Mathewson St, Providence, RI 02903 Friday 10/20 @5PM-7PM: Dinner with Theresa El-Amin Interested in learning more about the history of racial justice advocacy and nonprofit organizing in Providence and across the nation? Share a plate of soul food with Theresa El-Amin to hear about her experiences as a co-founder of DARE, and her various roles in the Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee (SNCC), the Green Party of Rhode Island, the Southern Anti-Racism Network, and more. Suggested donation: $15-$25 Location: 340 Lockwood St, Providence, RI 02907

Do you have an event, action, or other information for the Providence community that you’d like to see shared on this page?

Email us at indybulletinboard@gmail.com!* 19

( TEXT QC & ARG DESIGN SS )

THE COLLEGE HILL INDEPENDENT

Mutual aid* & community fundraisers *Mutual aid is “survival pending revolution,” as described by the Black Panthers. Join in redistributing wealth to create an ecosystem of care in response to institutions that have failed or harmed our communities.

Donate to a GoFundMe for Dorothy Deen’s Funeral Services.

Dorothy Deen is the relative of a Masters student at Brown University.

Link: https://shorturl.at/wPZ78 Every Tuesday, Thursday 2:30PM-6PM and Wednesday 2:30PM-8PM: Resource Drop In Youth Pride Inc. is inviting youth (ages 23 and under) to swing by for school and home supplies, food prep, a chat with a social worker, housing help, or connecting with healthcare resources. WiFi and charging stations are also available. Any queer youth or young adults are welcome to drop in.

Location: 743 Westminster. St. Providence, RI 02903.

Donate to RI Community Court Debt Fund Direct Action for Rights and Equity (DARE) operates a fund to help members of the community pay off court debts that often accumulate without their knowledge and can lead to warrants for their arrest.

Help Rhode Islanders facing financial hardship keep their freedom, jobs, and families by donating here: https://direct-action-for-rights-and-equality.snwbll.com/ri-community-court-debt-fund Wide Awakes Collective Wide Awakes Collective is a Providence community aid collective focused on direct action and transformative justice. In addition to organizing on social media, they also host a weekly free store that collects and distributes clothes to people in need at Kennedy Plaza. Check out @wideawakescollective on Instagram to get involved!

Alliance to Mobilize Our Resistance (AMOR) Bond Fund 2022-2025 AMOR is a grassroots, community-led coalition working to provide support for immigrant Rhode Islanders, including organizing legal services, holding know-your-rights trainings, and accompanying clients to court dates and ICE check-ins. All donations to AMOR’s legal fund will go toward paying for clients’ legal expenses and bonds. Donate at https://secure.actblue.com/donate/freethemall or write a check to “Alliance to Mobilize Our Resistance” and mail to: AMOR, P.O. Box 9379, Providence, RI 02940.

Queer & Trans Mutual Aid Providence Venmo: @qtmapvd | Paypal: qtma.pvd@gmail.com | Info: tinyurl. com/qtma-pvd QTMA PVD is a small, volunteer-run mutual aid fund for queer and trans folks in the Providence area. They do payouts once per week and have distributed over $80,000 since their founding in June 2020.

Check out their Instagram @qtma.pvd to learn more!

Ocean State A$$ Mutual Aid Fund Venmo: @OSA-funds | Paypal: oceanstateass | Actblue: osamutualaid O$A is an organization of current and former sex workers in Rhode Island that advocates for the decriminalization of sex work. They also work at the intersections between housing justice, queer liberation, prison abolition, and more! Donate to their mutual aid fund to support sex workers statewide!