Dilemma. Its 3 am. It’s the Monday of orientation week. And I’m writing a blog, hoping the clicks of my keyboard don’t wake up the passed out man-candy in my bed (finally have a queen for the first time in my life!). Unfortunately, that’s not the problem; the dilemma is the awkward morning to come when he sleeps through me vacuuming my room, in hopes he’ll wake up and leave immediately. I mean, I don’t usually kick out guests (I normally just sneak out).
Attention music listeners: If you have more Animal Collective on your iPod than you do Bruce Springsteen, if you can name ten shoegaze bands, if you were into Vampire Weekend way before anyone else was, then you, my friend, are most likely a music snob. And let me make one thing clear — you need to reform your ways.
Over break I visited friends in New York City, where I had previously lived for five years. During that time I rarely schlepped out to Queens from my Brooklyn apartment — with one big exception: the P.S.1 Contemporary Art Museum summer parties. This time, I decided to take in the museum sans hipster-packed, alcohol-sopped outdoor rave. This trip made me wonder, though, whether beer-goggles were needed to appreciate the often vapid beauty — or more often, politicized disparagement of beauty — that crowds the contemporary art scene.