Below are your search results. You can also try a Basic Search.
The Word on the Street column often ends with some sort of inspirational conlusive statement. This one was going to end with praise of the concept of “discovery”. In a fit of inspiration, I decided to skip the actual article. Here’s a list of things recently discovered by myself and others:
1437 East Passyunk Ave.
Bonded Boutique is cleverly situated in the dry cleaners near 37th and Spruce. It’s kind of like the candy strategically placed next to grocery store checkouts because it gets you when you’re bored and a little desperate. It’s brilliant.
On the top of College Hall, there’s a playhouse for one of Penn’s smartest cliques to sit and cogitate. Their offices are so old, authentic and wooden that in the winter, the members of the Philomathean Society sometimes wear academic robes just to stay warm.
Every reflective surface at Penn offers a quick adjustment or self–esteem boost — you just need to know where to look. Here's what's good and bad about some of the most notorious non–mirrors on campus.
The primary elements of Halloween are: costumes, spookiness, candy and contact with strangers. Candy is okay. Costumes are disturbing. Spookiness is scary and so are strangers.
You know the restaurant that Wedge + Fig wants to be — stylized menu, salads and sandwiches sitting just so on the plate. And that’s what I wanted Wedge + Fig to be, too. I hoped for a restaurant so cute it didn’t matter what the food tastes like; or a spot where the food is delicious enough to make its ambiance irrelevant.
At the first workshop of the Penn Illusionists club, we sat on cushions with two accomplished student–magicians, prepared to be tricked. Jiten Suthar, one quarter of the club’s board, shuffled a perfectly normal deck of cards and chatted us up. One of the neophytes, a freshman who had been wooed at the activities fair, picked a card, any card, whichever card she wanted. After more quick–handed showmanship, Suthar coolly asked us to turn around. The four of spades had been drawn on a sign and posted behind us across the room.
Many students are disappointed by Penn Park because of its strong athletic focus. Doesn’t Amy G. care about the non–athletic, lazy–as–shit types who just want somewhere to chill? Apparently not. That’s why Street decided to repurpose Penn Park’s sporty spaces so there’s a little something for everyone. You’re welcome.
What?!: For something that is a plot of land, Penn Park is peculiarly landlocked. One cannot merely wander into Penn Park. Every entrance is an entrance, up and over one of a few metal bridges.
What to do there: Drop stuff off of them!
In Another Earth, a globe just like ours looms in the sky with a smirk. On the eve of its discovery, Rhoda Williams (Brit Marling, who also wrote the movie) is a movie perfect blonde with an admit letter from MIT — but then she drives drunk and kills two–thirds of a family.
I am a starer. I stare at people. I have probably stared at you. Don’t feel special. I stare at nearly everybody. My hobby is to see and be seen, when everyone around me isn’t quite aware of the extent to which they are being seen.
1. Make it clear that you have seriously changed since high school. For the better.
Basically for a good chunk of Penn students, this means that you now party often. Weekends are a 3+ night event. Say “work hard, play hard” every few hours.
If you’re at a frat, and the guy at the door lets you in, tell your friend that it is because you know a lot of people in the frat. Make it seem like your social connections let you in, not that you wisely (Tip #1: go early!) arrived at the frat at 11:15.
This week, models at the Cynthia Rowley show strutted down the catwalk to the tune of James Franco's debut musical track. A joint endeavor alongside fellow "performance artist" Kalup Linzy, the musical project is the latest entry on Franco's resume, joining such diverse prospects as soap–opera acting and teaching. With the Oscars coming up and Franco taking double–duty as nominee and host, Street squares off on the man of many talents — or on the dilettante hack, depending on which side you've taken.
Just so Franc–tastic
By Leah Steinberg
Just because you don’t understand James Franco doesn’t mean he's not an artist. Mainstream film audiences first met the actor as Spiderman’s sexy frenemy. He was kind of mean, and while most people never made it past the first movie, you can be sure that his talented rendition of a sulky scowl carried over to the sequels.
Upon scanning Franco’s IMDB page, it becomes clear that many of the characters he’s played are himself. Franco appears in General Hospital as “Franco.” In a piece he wrote for the Wall Street Journal, the actor explained, “My hope was for people to ask themselves if soap operas are really that far from entertainment that is considered critically legitimate. Whether they did was out of my hands.”
Yes, there’s something egotistical when an actor says that his willingness to show up in a soap opera transforms the program into art. But if the move appears a bit self–involved, that’s only because Franco is honest about the narcissism of fame.
The actor has taken that frankness to another level, using his life as a commentary on celebrity. His film roles and educational background are an elaborate exaggeration of the search for artistic meaning, or the search for himself, or the meaning of celebrity — or something else sophisticated that fans don’t quite understand yet.
Just don’t say that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, or that his artistic choices are incidental. Franco has studied at just about every college or university in New York City, and now he’s earning his Ph.D. at Yale. Sure, on the surface it seems like an attention–grabbing tactic, but you try actually being enrolled in a university. Oh wait, you have. Not easy.
Those around him say that Franco has an almost superhuman ability to concentrate and is most productive when he’s working too hard. Clearly any resentment of that work ethic stems from jealousy.
With all of his extracurriculars, Franco still manages to be a great actor. He was dull–eyed yet brilliant in Pineapple Express and has pulled down nomination after nomination for his performance in 127 Hours. Above all, Franco has us talking. His every move is analyzed for its artistic value, and isn’t that what makes it art?
On Locust, the roles are clear. If you’re walking, you’re dodging — burying your head in your phone or your hands in your pockets. But if you’re promoting your event, you’re primed for attack. You call out your program’s name like a chant and single out vulnerable passersby that look like they’ve got one flyer too few. Here are some tactics these familiar Locust dwellers use to get noticed.
Nelly Furtado, circa 2001. Her hair is in a bun, and she’s lying in a forest clearing, singing about how she’s like a bird. The only bird–based liberation poem more inspiring than this woodsy scene (from the music video for “I’m Like a Bird”) is probably something by Maya Angelou. Furtado sang with emotional honesty and drawn–out metaphors, which delighted the 10 year old in me.
Street hit up Wawa at 2 a.m. on a Saturday night and asked the post–party customers where they see themselves in five years. Some struggled through the arithmetic. But others laid out five–year plans with bullet point precision. Which proves that, no matter the time, Penn students are totally neurotic.