DISPATCH | The heartbreak city
Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
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Dispatches at The Prospect are brief reflections from our writers that focus on their experiences during the summer.
A group of 10 or so dancers — all clad in colorful costumes under violet lighting — twirled and jumped around the stage of Frist Theatre, moving in sync with South Asian dance music and the occasional flash of strobe lights.
The routine goes like this. By 10:30 p.m., I arrive in the Midtown area — the 34th Street-Herald Square station is closest and most convenient if I’m coming from downtown, like I usually am. I turn onto 6th Avenue, walk down two blocks, then make a left onto 32nd Street. On Friday nights, this block of 32nd Street — the backbone of Manhattan’s K-Town district — is a frothing, swirling mess of gorgeous young adults dressed in their best night-out clothes. Platinum-blonde hair, the thump-thump-thump of the latest K-pop track, and heavy eye glitter pass by; as always, I can’t help but marvel at this display of glamor, beauty, and nouveau riche excess.
You are reading the words of someone who has celebrated Christmas Eve in a McDonald’s and New Year’s Eve in bed before 10 p.m. These are the words of someone who spent Thanksgiving online shopping for five hours in a fit of mild delirium and Independence Day frowning at the American tourist who yelled “Happy Fourth of July!” in the middle of the seventh arrondissement of Paris last summer.
Recently, I’ve been listening to Tommy Lefroy’s “The Cause.” Throughout the indie track, a narrator describes how she loves someone who is too busy pursuing some nebulous, all-consuming cause to ever reciprocate her love. “You believe in whatever you want … [while] I’ll always be smaller than the cause,” she realizes. “How could I ever be enough?”
These days, I feel like my existence is split between the abstract and the concrete.
Content warning: The following article contains references to sexual assault, rape, and police brutality.
Princeton is hardly short on fine dining options. Agricola plates and Mistral small dishes tantalize the taste buds; Mediterra starters and Ficus Above inventions craft an upscale, sophisticated meal experience, not to mention the other top-dollar restaurants housed in town.
The Lunar New Year can be a celebration that is at once intensely personal and introspective and also a deeply shared cultural experience. To better understand what this time looks like for students on Princeton’s campus, The Prospect solicited responses from our editors and staff, as well as staffers from The Daily Princetonian at large.
On any given Saturday night, if a student wanders into the former taproom of Campus Club — now inhabited by the student-run Coffee Club — they can expect to be greeted by anything from a singer-songwriter jam session to a recycled cardboard crafting night.