Street x Sundance: 'Honey Boy'
Honey Boy is an explanation. It might even be a baptism. Or maybe it's about permission. Permission to hate, permission to forgive, and permission to move on.
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Honey Boy is an explanation. It might even be a baptism. Or maybe it's about permission. Permission to hate, permission to forgive, and permission to move on.
Former Street editor–in–chief Nick Joyner went to the Sundance Film Festival in Park City, Utah. Now Nick’s back to fill us in about all the hottest indies coming out this year.
It’s a rare thing to see a socially conscious film held with care and comedy, and Adam is just that. The movie—directed by Rhys Ernst, a queer filmmaker who has worked as a producer on Amazon Studios’ Transparent—resembles something of a queer The Perks of Being a Wallflower crossed with radical sexual politics.
Dirty God (2019) opens with a slow pan over a body of burned flesh. The sinewy, drum–tight skin looks like a tapestry in the warm morning light, so gorgeous that it becomes textural. Several minutes pass before we see a face, the face of the disembodied figure we’ve been scrutinizing.
Alas, the bitter end. I haven't been impeached or overthrown (yet), but I do have a successor. Soon, my chair will be filled by the beautiful, dutiful Annabelle Williams. But I can still have my last hurrah. I technically have one letter left, but I think it's only right that I finish my tirades here. I know that y'all have so enjoyed reading about my opossum sightings, my run–ins with black ice, and my pensive platitudes about making the most out of your undergraduate career. It's time for me to pass the mic. And I won't make this into a mushy goodbye. Annabelle deserves to write her first letter from the editor next week, as she will have overseen much more of that issue than I.
"de gustibus non est disputandum." I remember like it was yesterday—seeing this phrase scrawled on the yellow–dusted chalkboard in my seventh–grade Latin classroom.
Halloween has always been my favorite holiday. And I think it all stems from my much too early obsession with horror movies.
Reading for pleasure. Taking classes because of intellectual curiosity. What foreign concepts at Penn.
I'm done looking forward to things in life. And no I'm not in a state of existential despair. You don't need to text my mom, I'm doing fine thanks.
Happy birthday to Street! Er, in two days, that is. That's right, you heard me correctly. 34th Street Magazine of The Daily Pennsylvanian, Inc. is turning a half–century old. It has loved, it has lost, but most of all, it has persevered. Nay, it has thrived.
Well kiddos, I'm back. After back to back special issues that monopolized Sabrina's entire fall semester and almost killed the rest of us, here I am returning to my little text box to share some drivelous buffoonery.
Crammed between two nondescript Chinatown buildings, behind an intricately wrought iron gate, through an empty waiting room, there’s a dimly lit room brimming with strong, old–fashioned cocktails. Helmed by an eccentric owner and shrouded in mystery, Hop Sing Laundromat has become something of a Philadelphia lore in the past several years.
On September 8th, 2008, a trifecta of catastrophes struck the United States. The financial crisis hit, Distrito opened its doors, and 34th Street launched Under the Button dot com.
I love to call my mom. Often. For many reasons. Maybe I'm just a mama's boy. Maybe I rely on parental guidance a little too heavily. I'm a (relatively) long ways away from my home in Texas, and I've gotta keep in touch in the ways I can. FaceTime is all I've got. No train rides home to Long Island for me. Sometimes, it's hard for me to convey my feelings without breaking into Sandy Cheeks' hit song "I Wanna Go Home."
Good morning University City! I hope that it's morning when you're reading this, but if not that's okay. I don't get around to picking up a copy of Street until I roll out of my post–sending–Street–to–the–publisher slumber at noon on Wednesday and stumble over to the newspaper rack in front of Allegro. But regardless of your sleep schedule, I'm glad you picked up Street!
Just recently, I was told how unusual my housing situation is. I was confused. Was it the dead squirrel situation? No, couldn't be. She's long since rotted away and my house now smells of saccharine Bundt cake.
This letter is supposed to be about Fling, huh? Is that what y'all want?
Life comes at you fast. And life hit my formerly sweet–smelling apartment like a truck last week.
Penn's Social Planning and Events Committee (SPEC) announced Friday night that the 2018 Spring Fling Concert will feature four artists: CupcakKe, Sage the Gemini, JoJo, and The All–American Rejects.
Disclaimer: After Street visited Wm. Mulherin's Sons, allegations emerged that the head chef had sexually harrassed several employees. He has since been suspended.
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