‘C, XOXO’ is an Unorganized, yet Sincere Love Letter to Miami
Contrary to popular opinion, C, XOXO warrants a second listen.
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Contrary to popular opinion, C, XOXO warrants a second listen.
There’s a chance you’ve seen Penn students giving “DM” a hard time on Sidechat for not taking his internship seriously enough.
Percival Everett reread Mark Twain’s Adventures of Huckleberry Finn 15 times before reimagining the classic in his newest novel, James. “Those who fail to reread are obliged to read the same story everywhere,” writes literary critic Roland Barthes. Everett is sure to have read Barthes, an expert in semiotic theory, writing a baby–savant character in the novel Glyph. Everett’s James from the titular enslaved person’s perspective echoes Barthes’ sentiment, in a retelling in which a radically different story plays out.
At Pasadena’s Re:SET Concert Series in the summer of 2023, an effortlessly cool Clairo said in between hits of her vape: “this is the last time we’re going to be performing for a while” to a sea of gasps. Her sophomore record Sling, released in July 2021, embraced a stripped–down, lyric–driven version of her art, which laid a gracious backdrop to grapple with heavy topics like objectification, depression, and motherhood. She cloistered herself, and, with Jack Antonoff, made a faint yet enduring dent in the COVID–19 pandemic–indie canon.
“I am a consumer first, and then a YouTuber second,” says Nicole Rafiee, an up–and–coming content creator. “I still feel like a 12–year–old fangirl watching YouTube on my computer in the basement.”
With MaXXXine, Ti West completes his trilogy, exploring the relentless pursuit of dreams and the intricate dance between self–determination and fate. Each film—X, Pearl, and MaXXXine—is marked by a distinct style and, despite individual flaws, each is a must watch as they delve into just how far one is willing to go to achieve their dreams.
“Kind of 2014”, admonishes Sydney (Ayo Edebiri) about a foam–type–situation that Carmy (Jeremy Allen White) puts on a dish he’s R&D’ing. It’s flashy, it’s new, it’s stylish, and it’s full of so much air. The Bear, season three, is similar. I can’t look away, but the second I start digesting what I’m watching, I realize that there’s not a lot of substance. I’m paying however much money about seven hours of my time is worth to participate in a 10–course meal that is beautiful, and not at all untasty, but is far from fulfilling.
In the shimmering world of Luca Guadagnino’s latest release, Challengers, there’s plenty to revel in: love triangles, beautiful people, and the visceral energy of competitive sport. It’s the kind of cinematic cocktail that leaves audiences spellbound, resonating long after the credits roll.
It’s not until dozens of strangers yell “Don’t do it girl, you deserve better!” at my back that my city–for–the–summer starts to feel like home.
A wonderful part about Pride is its multitude of celebrations, across multiple cities, throughout the month of June. It can look quite different from Philly Pride, which was celebrated earlier in the month. But even amid not–so–sunny weather, anti–LGBTQ+ legislation, and glib corporate displays, the crux of the celebration, protest, and remembrance remains the same: diverse queer folk expressing love, community, and struggle in a space that should exist all year round.
It was June 1, 2005, and Carlos Andrés Gómez (C ‘04) had just quit his nine–month stint as a social worker in New York.
“Everybody, every subject position, and every demographic should be treated as if they could be the most interesting person in the world,” Asali Solomon tells Street. “And that’s the method by which we become more human while reading fiction, that the concerns of any person you see on the street should be something that should be deeply explored with all of the nuances.”
There is no denying that Taylor Swift is the most ubiquitous name in the world right now. The Tortured Poets Department holds the record for the biggest Spotify debut of all time, while besting Swift’s first–week sales record by more than 600,000 sales. Her highly successful Eras Tour is still on its victory lap, finishing strong in its remaining European dates. The accompanying movie film is the highest–grossing concert film of all time, while her romance with Travis Kelce has dominated the gossip magazines this past year. Swiftmania has reached new heights, and she is unstoppable.
“I was always the kind of person that never felt bound to be in a specific box,” says Rishu Mohanka (C, E ‘24) as he sits behind the wheel of a U–Haul loaded with a 250–pound tunnel boring machine built entirely by himself and his fellow teammates on Penn Hyperloop. Embarking on a 25–hour road trip from Philadelphia to Bastrop, Texas, the team was en route to compete in the Not–a–Boring Competition, which challenges engineers to design, construct, and race their own innovative tunnel boring machines at The Boring Company’s headquarters.
“I don't really know how to react to people when they say, ‘Oh, I saw that you're endangered.’ It's not a congratulations, that's for sure,” Alan Takashi Riley says.
We’ve all considered Dropout, haven’t we? And I don’t mean the leave–it–all–for–a–digital–nomad lifestyle. (Though, yes, I can’t lie, that was a frequent thought in my freshman year before I realized that changing my major would suffice.) I mean the streaming service that offers a slate of innovative comedy shows for around five dollars a month.
In the heat–stricken summers of China during my middle school years, I would snuggle up alongside my grandmother while watching her favorite Chinese dramas. We’d sit on her balcony that overlooked the bustling city, guzzling cold Yakults down our throats while growing frustrated over the ad breaks that chimed in at the most inopportune times.
Im Nayeon, or simply just Nayeon, has always been one of the more popular members of TWICE, one of the biggest K–Pop girl groups ever. Known as the “face of the group,” Nayeon cemented herself as a standout vocalist and dancer from the third generation through her regular contributions to writing a part of TWICE’s discography and her cool, bunny–like swagger.
The claim that 2024 is a lackluster year for the Cannes Film Festival has been heard throughout the two weeks of the festival, even with body–horror freakout like The Substance or emphatically political thriller The Seed of the Sacred Fig, the latter of which gained a nearly 15–minute emotional standing ovation after its premiere. Most main competition films, according to my fellow journalists, are dull and horribly nostalgic.
Post–pandemic, hand sanitizer has emerged as a sacred commodity while every ill–concealed cough is met with glaring suspicion. As students across campus gulp down packets of Emergen–C and shovel cough drops down their throats, their frantic efforts to dodge an invisible enemy are eclipsed by the inevitability of illness.
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