Arboreal Love and Tragedy at the Melamine Factory

This week, we received two questions. We’re really all asking the same thing, at heart: how to make our lives more lovely; and how to make our loves more lively. We’re not sure which of the two questions below corresponds to which, but we trust you might find in them some seed of universal human experience. Or, if not, some freak seed that’s still fun to look at.

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Late Valentine’s Day at the Symposium

Today, jackdaws and magpies, the sages have gathered, to talk about love. To talk about love cut through with time. Crippled with the burden of the clocks of our ancestors, we stagger around in the daytimes, and maybe post some chocolates to the dorm next door by the tilting-upward of the next due dawn. In short: we know that we need it. And we don’t know how to get it. Or, more specifically—when we don’t know just when the getting’s good.

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A Propos of the Frozen Grass

We’re suffering. We’re drunk, we’re overworked, we’re shortening our resumes, we’re ruining our lovers’ lives, and we’re late, again, with another exegetical statement on the first third of the book of Acts. And we have not seen an advice column at Swarthmore. Not one. (OK, fine–until a few days ago.) But this nation was founded on horror, too. We’re suffering. We’re still suffering. We need advice.

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