Dave Schilling

On my way out, I was told I’d been banned from the Arclight for life, which I felt was acceptable, as they charge too much and people talk during the movies anyway. It was more important that I uncover the hidden meaning behind this relationship between Jonathan Safran Foer, Jonathan Franzen and Jonathan Taylor Thomas.

There is one element that all of my failed relationships share. Through all the many variations of womanhood that I have been familiar with, but a single thread carries through all of these dalliances. They involved a heavy amount of physical intimacy.

Just because you can squeeze tenuous meaning out of a symbol, a gesture, a word, a sentence, a picture or a grunt does not mean that the meaning is absolute. If meaning were absolute in a piece of art, it ceases to have a necessary element of art. It does not give a person the chance to decide for themselves.

This non-dead Max Black ended up being very helpful. I engaged in a 30 minute Gchat conversation that spanned numerous topics of interest. When we were done, I had a new sense of clarity regarding the Lana Del Rey phenomenon, my own struggle with notoriety and the nature of existence.

I wear glasses that are not prescription. My glasses are not real, in the sense that they do not help me see, but saying they are not real is actually absurd. They are very real, based on our shared definition of what constitutes ‘glasses.’ They have frames. They have lenses inside those frames.

This sounds a bit indelicate and a borderline churlish observation. Though, when it is commonplace for news of a celebrity death to arrive in the form of a “Status Update,” I think it becomes perfectly valid.

There are many dark moments in my sexual history to ruminate on. I have endured terrible break-ups. I’ve had a girl leave me because she was afraid I’d turn out to be gay. To this day, I feel that I disappointed her. Tessa, if you are reading this, I tried. I really tried to be gay. I bought the book. I followed all the steps. I studied. I got all my suits dry cleaned. I even picked out a guy or two. Like a fad diet, it just didn’t stick.

So, umm…like. OK! We need to talk. Well, I guess this isn’t actually ‘talking,’ since it’s an email or whatever. Nevermind. We need to email…

I hope you all remember me. I’m Jasmine! I was Senior Class President way back in 2002. I know, that’s like, forever ago, but they’re memories I cherish. I’m sure you feel the same way, which is why you’re going to be SO STOKED to find out that it’s finally time for us to start planning our big 10 year Class Reunion!

When the editor who assigned me this review ceased chortling through his overstuffed gully hole, I adjusted myself to the notion of reviewing a theme park ride, the subject of which I have no prior knowledge. Apparently, Star Wars is a popular entertainment from the 1970s that I completely ignored.

With the American consciousness preoccupied with either the nascent “Occupy Wall Street” movement or the latest episode of Dr. Oz, it seems worthwhile to delve deeply into mass social actions of the past that have otherwise been cast aside by the rising tide of nacho cheese-flavored apathy.