“If I’m not back by 9 call the cops,” I add, only half joking. I throw on my shades and grab my camera. I am out the door and in the car, cruising down Erie Boulevard. My thoughts wander. What did Windwalker mean when he said that he needed to “consult the voices” before our interview?
It’s a treasure trove of antiquities and a time machine for music lovers. Valued at just over $1 million, the 200,000 records of the Savada Record Collection recently found a new home at Syracuse University’s Belfer Audio Lab. Donated by the late Morton J. Savada, owner of the Manhattan store Records Revisited, the acquisition nearly doubles the size of SU’s previous collection. Now it’s second only to the Library of Congress.
To the untrained eye, it looks like a local Verizon service rep is beating the bejeezus out of a tech guy at the Oneida County Department of Planning. But to the members of the Society for Creative Anachronism, it’s simply another Wednesday night of heavy weapons fighting practice — and Andrew Biel and Rick Reichert are duking it out medieval-style.
In the middle of the night, Alisa Ruperto can ignore the fire truck sirens roaring by her window. She can ignore her laughing neighbors stumbling home from the bars and slamming their doors. But when her roommate cries, sleeping just a foot away from her bed, Ruperto can’t ignore it.
Suffrage activists didn’t get arrested for your right to stumble around in underwear and a pair of bunny ears last Friday night. They didn’t stand out in the freezing cold for your right to surgically alter your vagina to make it look more attractive. They were simply fighting for equal rights. But you literally blew it.
Though a full sleeve of fairy tale and storybook tattoos covers my arm, I’m hardly the kind of girl who gets inked to piss off her parents or society. When moms pull their children close at the grocery store, the directions to Neverland on my wrists remind me that I am the sole dictator of my own fairy tale.
I’ve got a bone to pick with vegetarianism. Though it can be a highly admirable lifestyle for ethical and health reasons, I’m disappointed by the fake meat phenomenon sweeping veggie-land.
For a majority of the year, Syracuse is a frigid, depressing tundra. It’s utterly miserable, but like most people, I always simply assumed that natural meteorological forces produce Syracuse’s uniquely unpleasant climate.