I’m spending the summer after freshman year working in an old school surf shop in a small beach town in the South Bay, where I grew up. I work two days a week for minimum wage, and business varies— mostly slow in the afternoons, despite the droves of tourists who have discovered this idyllic pocket of suburban Los Angeles where my father, and his father, grew up. Continue reading
Originally published on Put A Egg On It.
The term “salad days” is a little abstruse, but I have a feeling these are mine. It’s my first summer living on my own – my first time doing all of the things that the incubator-esque housing system at my college guards against (i.e. paying for food and rent). And it has been marked by a distinct lack of green, both vegetal and fiscal. In the weeks leading up to my aunt’s wedding in Chicago, I look forward to it as my opportunity to go unapologetically all-out – to glory in the family maxim that states that ordinary eating outside one’s native zip code is impossible.
For us, vacation eats are characterized by two forms of decadence: the Uber-fancy, and what my mom calls the “sick.” The former means maître d’s that probably object to whatever I chose to wear during the…
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Luís Buñuel’s last and possibly best film That Obscure Object of Desire, begins with a scene in which Mathieu, a grey-bearded, houndstooth-suited Frenchman, dumps a bucketful of water on the head of his young lover, Conchita, as she attempts to board a train on which he is fleeing from her. Apparently shocked and pathetically drenched, she stops chasing him. Mirroring the train’s inevitable progress toward its destination, a handful of flashbacks go by, and we learn that Conchita has been repeatedly goading Mathieu with sexual promises she doesn’t keep, turning him on and frustrating him in equal and increasing measure. She’s saving herself for marriage, she says; Ma thieu, thinking gratification is just around the corner, puts up with it. One night, he discovers Conchita performing some kind of strip-Flamenco for seedy tourists. Nearly foaming at the mouth, Mathieu stops the show and interrogates her. He knew she worked as a dancer, but this?
“Oh please…” Conchita shrugs. She seems surprised that Mathieu could have been so naïve. “Even children know about this.”
And here, Mathieu’s face is priceless. Continue reading
About twenty minutes into the recently released David Foster Wallace biopic, The End of the Tour, the journalist David Lipsky, played by the appropriately leptosomic Jesse Eisenberg, eagerly (that is, enviously) questions Jason Segel’s DFW about the attendant benefits of his newfound fame. “This is nice,” Wallace responds, before adding, with a cryptic lack of emphasis, “This is not real.” Continue reading
This image is taken from Brin-Jonathan Butler’s Twitter.
Brin-Jonathan Butler is a journalist, sportswriter, filmmaker, and perennial boxer. His work has appeared in Vice, Deadspin, The Wall Street Journal, Salon, Harper’s, The Paris Review and The New York Times. Hee is the author of A Cuban Boxer’s Journey: Guillermo Rigondeaux, from Castro’s Traitor to American Champion and The Domino Diaries: My Decade Boxing with Olympic Champions and Chasing Hemingway’s Ghost in the Last Days of Castro’s Cuba. Largely composed of interviews he’s hustled into existence or conducted beyond the reach of Cuban state surveillance, his writing is a dense archive of opinions, witticisms, and commentaries on Cuban culture–its discontents, its happinesses, and its dazzling inconsistencies. He often describes Castro’s Cuba as “1984 if Charles Dickens had written it,” and in his experience, Olympic-grade boxers struggling to leave Cuba without trading in their Cubanness for international cash are some of the story’s most dogged protagonists. He’s interviewed celebrities from Mike Tyson to Slavoj Žižek, hustled tourists at chess, and had an affair with Castro’s granddaughter. Continue reading
Disruption is a series of digital images produced by a camera subjected to abrupt motion during exposure. The title describes the process of their creation, as well as their concern with the tension between the motion of the world and stillness of photography. The latter presumes to isolate an infinitesimal unit of time, yet is itself a continuum.
The camera was focused on a particular element—in one case a face, in another an architectural intersection. It was then accelerated rapidly alone one or more axes using a variety of mechanisms, such as levers and pulleys, in the window of time during which the image was captured.
By Jake Seaton ’17
When a horror movie is good, critics praise it for being more than a horror movie. It’s also social commentary, a love story—anything other than just cheap thrills prodding masses to the theater. When Jennifer Kent’s The Babadook debuted in November 2014, critics called it a “Freudian study” and a “psychological thriller.” Continue reading