The Wake Issue 4 Spring 2006

www.wakemag.org

the u’s weekly student magazine

• april

5–11, 2006

Staff Editorial Editor-in-Chief

Kay Steiger

Managing Editor

Lane Trisko

Athletics Editor

Craig Rentmeester

Athletics Assistant Athletics Staff Writers Campus Editor Campus Assistant Campus Staff Writers

Brian Tolentino Jeff Barthel Tyler Rushmeyer Jessica Mann Sarah Howard Rachel Drewelow Vincent Staupe

Literary Editor

Kim Gengler

Literary Assistant

Kel Sangster

S&V Editor

Michael Mitchell

S&V Assistant

Jenny Odegard

S&V Staff Writers

Erin Belling Haily Gostas Rachel LaBine

Film Critic Voices Editor Voices Assistant Voices Staff Writers

Chris Wilson Colleen Hellenbrand Cole Dennis Tom McNamara Nix Wurdak

Production production manager

Eric Price

art director

Sam Soule

photo editor

Brennan Vance

web editor cover artist graphic designers

Sam Soule Kristin Drews Carina Enbody Shannon Licari Eric Price Jeremy Sengly Angela Baldwin Aaron Groh Dave Hagen Alex Judkins Rachel LaBine Miranda Peterson Aaron Ridgeway Jeremy Sengly Nick Tchida

photographers

Jessalyn Courtney Ryan Rodgers Brennan Vance Elizabeth Aulwes Clayton Benjamin Mary Cummings Kelly Frush

BUSINESS business manager office manager advertisting executive pr director

When the Watson Twins and Farmer Dave’s lap steel accompany Jenny Lewis at the Woman’s Club, she brings a special performance that’s all her own. As an artist who has opened for Coldplay’s arena tour, Lewis manages to shine on her own. The tour is in honor of her new album, Rabbit Fur Coat.

Andy Tyra

illustrators

copy editors

12 Ladies’ Night at the Woman’s Club

Andy Tyra Tamara Swanson Jamie King

14 In with the New ...

The Minnesota Student Association is lead by laid-back President Emily Serafy Cox. She’s lead a partnership on off-campus housing between the graduate organization, GAPSA and MSA. Like many college students, Cox’s future is uncertain at the moment, but with leading one of the largest public universities in the nation under her belt, the rest seems like small potatoes.

Cassie Benson

distributors

Gwen McNamara Ryan Frailich Brennan Vance Chris Wilson

board of directors

James DeLong Paul Froiland Courtney Lewis Kathy Schlecht William Swanson

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS Jeff Barthel, Erin Belling, Rachel Drewlow, Benjamin Faltsek, Jim Forrey, Bridget Haeg, Haily Gostas, Stephen Hall, Sarah Howard, Ethan Krueger, Jessica Mann, Michael Mitchell, Kristen Mueller, Craig Rentmeester, Brian Tolentino, Chris Wilson, Nix Wurdak

©2006 Established in 2002, The Wake is an independent weekly magazine, produced by and for students at the University of Minnesota. The Wake is a registered student organization.

The Wake was founded by Chris Ruen and James DeLong.

The Wake 1313 5th St. SE Minneapolis, MN 55414 Send letters to letters@wakemag.org Please include your name, year, and college. The Wake does not publish anonymous letters.

Volume 4, Issue 17

Letter from the Editor

Power to the plant

Something that seems uncertain this time of year is not only the weather, but also many graduating seniors’ futures. While my own seems to bend and re-shape with every passing day, I long for the simplistic days as a freshman when I slept until noon, regardless of the day of the week. As a freshman, it didn’t matter if you didn’t know what you were going to do with your future—you have four years to figure it out.

Campus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Don’t mess with the crew Athletics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Don’t yawn yet; you just started reading Voices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Heat of Our Hands, pt. 2 Literary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I didn’t know art could crawl Sound & Vision . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Pretty!

Photography . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Try our new Sudok-word puzzle Bastard . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

04 07 10 16 18 21 22

The four years is up. Groaning parents want graduating seniors to “just find a job” so they can start paying off the steeps of student loans.

Everything is pushing me to just grow up, and I just want to lie down and take a nap. My goal in the meantime is to find a job that doesn’t make me want to drown myself in the water cooler drain.

In the end, it will all work itself out. Perhaps we should stop feeling guilty about our lack of definite plans and embrace the fact that a great

deal of adventure lies before us. So the next time a well-meaning relative asks you what your plans beyond May 14 are, you should just politely tell them to shove it.

Kay Steiger

Editor-in-Chief

4

Campus

April 5–11, 2006

By Ethan Krueger

We poison the air with every flick of the light switch. Whether we know it or not, we each are guilty of pouring tons of toxic materials into our environment by using the modern marvel of electricity. Our society depends on it. Our planet suffers for it. But the Twin Cities’ power providers are seeking to change all of that.

Xcel Energy, the Twin Cities’ major power provider, has begun a project to clean up their power plants’ emissions. Dubbing the plan the Metro Emissions Reduction Project (MERP), the billion dollar renovation project is already in the third year of its six-year schedule. Through MERP, Xcel Energy will refit two of its existing power plants—the High Bridge plant in St. Paul, and the Riverside Plant along Minneapolis’s riverfront—with a new fuel source: natural gas.

“We at Xcel are very proud of this effort,” says Ron Elsner, an Xcel Energy representative and a MERP Project Manager at Xcel Energy’s King Plant. With natural gas, the Riverside and High Bridge Plants’ toxic emissions will cease entirely.

Despite a century of scientific and technological advancement, our conventional power plants continue to operate using the same time-tested method: using intense heat to generate steam that turns a turbine to generate electricity. Even nuclear plants operate on this principle, splitting atoms to run their boilers. But the majority of plants here in the Twin Cities still burn coal by the trainful to generate the megawattage our metropolis requires.

As anyone walking past a smokestack can attest to, coal does not burn clean. The smoke it produces holds many toxins, but the worst among them are sulfur dioxide, a chemical partially responsible for acid rain; mercury, the dense metal made famous by thermometers; NOX, a dangerous toxicant and all-around health hazard; and the denser parts of the smoke that settle back to Earth as particulate matter, or ash. These four toxins are responsible for, among other things, altering

Campus

www.wakemag.org

She’s also excited to be on a college campus and hopes to draw a young audience to the broadcast. “I think younger people find our show a little hipper than most talk radio. In general, younger people tend to be more progressive and so progressive radio tends to skew younger,” she says. “Bill O’Reilly’s audience, for instance, is like 65 to dead, but our audience tends to be a little younger.”

The show itself feeds off of the daily stream of sound bite-filled news reports, “talking head” interviews, and controversial blog postings that make up the country’s current political discourse. A large portion of Miller’s show is simply riffing on clips from the previous evening’s right-wing television programs or that morning’s top headlines.

“I work 24 hours a day to come up with 3 hours of show,” she says, “It’s a constant process.” In order to constantly come up with new material, “I’m on the Internet and watching television for political stories all day and night. When you’re doing a topical show, you have to keep up with everything that’s going on,” she adds.

But she emphasizes that “liberal talk radio is

Natural gas, by comparison, burns clean, producing no harmful by products and no particulate matter.

climate patterns, reducing air quality, polluting water sources, and increasing cancer rates throughout the urban population. Natural gas, by comparison, burns clean, producing no harmful byproducts and no particulate matter. This makes it ideal for urban industrial use.

Through a combination of renovation and reconstruction, both the Riverside and High Bridge plants will switch from coal-burning operation to natural gas-burning by 2008. Not only will coal become a thing of the past, but the facilities needed for coal-burning—the trains that haul tons of coal through the city and the technology needed to filter toxins from coal smoke—will also become obsolete. There will be no more belching smokestacks as a price for our power.

Price is, however, the major concern of the average consumer, and of paramount importance to students leaving the university with little more than debt to their name. And the change to natural gas comes with several key worries, not the least of which are the sheer cost of the fuel when compared to coal: generating the same amount of electricity by burning natural gas will cost roughly ten times as much as it previously did through coal burning. Natural gas is a more scarce resource than coal, and in high demand, especially in the Twin Cities. While everyone is in favor of cleaner power plants, consumers might not be willing to pay an extra figure on their electrical bills, or suffer through blackouts if Xcel’s natural gas lines run dry.

Luckily, Xcel Energy, and the Minnesota Public Utilities Commission (PUC), foresaw the potential problems a full year before the MERP began. To ensure that natural gas continues as needed at their retrofitted power plants, Xcel Energy has contracted individual gas lines to each plant individually, in accordance with the PUC’s 2003 Public Utilities Natural Gas Conference. Each contract will remain autonomous from Xcel’s other natural gas services.

Additionally, Elsner is confident that the multiple major pipelines carrying natural gas into Minnesota—originating from both Canada and the south Midwest—will keep natural gas prices competitive, allowing Xcel Energy to maintain their own prices.

But competitive gas prices alone are not enough to make up for the cost difference in fuel. Because natural gas burns more efficiently than coal, the power output of each plant will rise dramatically: 80 megawatts (MW) for Riverside, and more than 270 MW in High Bridge. This substantial increase in output will allow both plants to function as Intermediate Plants, which operate about 16 hours a day for five days a week, as opposed to baseline plants, which run constantly to meet power demands. When the two plants are not in operation, the Twin Cities will rely on the local grid to make up the difference in power. Once the renovations are in place, Xcel Energy has estimated an increase of $3.50 to $4 on average monthly bills because of MERP. Clean-burning fuels and increased power output aside, the Metro Emissions Reduction Project should in no way be seen as a final solution. As the Twin Cities grow, and power needs increase, Xcel Energy will need to look for new ways to meet the rising demands for electricity. “The resources that we need to meet the growing energy need,” cautions Elsner, “are well beyond what we’re adding with the MERP.” And as the Cities look to the surrounding power grid to make up for the growing need, the burden of providing electricity is shifted to power plants that still use polluting forms of fuel to increase their output. In this respect, conservation still remains the key in the environmental movement.

5

“There’s so much creative freedom in radio. It really is my favorite medium.”

courtesy of Jones Radio Networks

Liberals answer the right-wing radio

By Jessica Mann

Stephanie Miller doesn’t have delusions of political grandeur. She really just wants to entertain you. But if she can change your mind while she’s at it, then that’s even better.

Miller, radio’s highest-rated female progressive talk show host, is a comedienne and daughter of former U.S. Representative William Miller, running mate to Republican Barry Goldwater in the 1964 Presidential election. A long-time radio host, she launched the nationally-syndicated The Stephanie Miller Show in September 2004 and will be coming to the U on April 6 for a live broadcast.

“We’re really looking forward to it,” she says.

“In radio, you’re sitting in a little glass room and you don’t know if everybody’s enjoying what you’re doing, so the live shows are always really fun because there’s just a great energy to be there with people.”

not an arm of the Democratic Party—it’s entertainment.” She considers the show to be more of a comedy show than an exclusively political talk show. “We do politics but we also do pop culture and entertainment,” she says.

Initially, her career was also more entertainment-oriented than politically-oriented. “I never intended to do political talk,” she says, “I wasn’t politically active in college at all—I was a theater geek.” Majoring in theater at USC, Miller envisioned herself as the next Carol Burnett and her start in radio “was kind of an accident,” she says. “I was like every kid out of college trying to figure out how to make a living with a theater degree, thinking, ‘Well, this is going to get me a job in any 7-Eleven in the country.’ So I started bits on a station in Buffalo, N.Y., one thing just sort of led to another, and I’ve been doing radio about 20 years.”

Although she’s done stints on television, Miller couldn’t leave the mic for long. “There’s so much creative freedom in radio. It really is my favorite medium,” she says.

Much like the changes in her own career, she thinks that the current political situation in the country has politicized people that haven’t always been political. “Comedy-wise, you can’t write it any better than the stuff that comes out of the Bush administration. It’s always a gift for comedy, but politically I don’t think this country can take three more years with this president,” she says. While her primary goals with her show are to be clever, funny and entertaining, she does want to change some minds and encourage people to become politically engaged. “I don’t think you get anybody by preaching, but if you entertain them and maybe you make them laugh, they might not even realize that you’ve made them think,” she says.

On April 7, Stephanie Miller and voice impersonator Jim Ward will be broadcasting The Stephanie Miller Show live from the Coffman Memorial Union Theater. The free live show will be from 8 to 11 a.m.

6

Campus

April 5–11, 2006

Investing in Hip Hop One student lets campus know how it is

By Rachel Drewelow

Jessalynn Courtney

Questions of race, relationships and rage on campus were recently raised through hip hop inside Dinkytown’s Varsity Theater when The Hip Hop Committee, an unofficial student group, put on the dialogue and spoken word based production, “HOW IT IS: The Space Between You And Everyone Else,” at the end of March.

The production, based on interviews with college students from all over the country, touched on

the Dinkytown Business Association labeled hip hop “un-American” and “volatile.” many “gray areas,” says senior Toussaint Morrison, writer, co-director, actor and head of the Hip Hop Committee. Scenes include: a frat rejecting a biracial student and accusing him of carrying drugs; a theater professor allowing students to laugh at racist jokes in class; and a male student beating his girlfriend outside of a party, after which she protects him from getting beaten up by someone else.

“The scenes are really common, but still they’re really racy scenarios,” says sophomore Shirani Jayasuriya, co-director and actor. “Toussaint sparks some nerves and then lets the audience deal with it,” she explains.

Morrison says the production is meant to “paint a better picture of how things are, rather than how they could be.” He explains, “I don’t want to prescribe behavior or demand tolerance or some kind of bullshit like that … I just want to create a discussion that will go outside the theater.”

To introduce this discussion to audiences, Morrison spent close to $600 of his student loans on the production, after spending more than two months writing the script. The Hip Hop Committee does not receive student fees because it is technically an “expired” group, having not applied for fees on time, Morrison explains. Morrison applied and qualified for a grant from the university’s Crisis Point Theatre, but due to editorial disagreements about the nature of the production, and its posters, he declined the money.

Morrison says he is not concerned about earning his investment back, although he admits it would be nice. “The event is a lot bigger than mak-

ing back my finances … it’s about getting people to come in to see it,” he says. Encouraging audiences “to come see it,” is the point of the Hip Hop Committee itself, Morrison explains.

The Hip Hop Committee is a sort of “logo,” Morrison says. Although 20 actors were in the production, the student group “is basically nobody other than me,” he admits. The group does have a few official members he says, and around 25 people are active in various events, but the title serves primarily to publicly legitimize Morrison’s own hip hop endeavors. Other hip hop ventures include his Friday night shows at the Steak Knife and last year’s hip hop production.

Morrison says having the official seal of a student group helps him bring hip hop back into Dinkytown. This show “is one of the first hip hop ventures to come back in theater.” According to Morrison, a few years ago Bon Appetit (a restaurant, now closed) was a hot spot for hip hop, until the Dinkytown Business Association labeled hip hop “un-American” and “volatile.” This motivated Morrison to start the Hip Hop Committee and shop his rap and spoken word around other venues. Morrison is also in a band, The Blend.

Though Morrison will not be at the university next year, he says the Hip Hop Committee will be up and running, and he plans to guide it and continue getting new people involved. First-year theater and psychology major Patricia Kugmeh, who acted in the play, says she got involved because “it was going to open eyes to some things going on on campus and I wanted to be a part of that.”

Opening eyes was not only a goal of the production, but also the very nature of the medium—hip hop. Jayasuriya says that “it’s a common misconception … that hip hop is just rap, spoken word … dancing … beats.” In introducing the production, Morrison quoted Tricia Rose, author of Black Noise, who defined hip hop as a way to share voices from “the margins of urban America.” The production—denied a university grant, a stage at the Rarig Center, class credit to those involved, and even rehearsal space—expresses a marginalized voice, Morrison says. Founder and President of the “one man committee,” Morrison concluded the play in true hip hop fashion, saying, “even though they may not see your stories, I’ll make sure they hear them until we wake up.”

7

Athletics

April 5–11, 2006

Building a Rowing Team from Scratch

Gophers compete against the Ivy League

ryan rodgers

By jeff barthel In the Land of 10,000 Lakes, chances are, most people have done some canoeing. If not canoeing, maybe they’ve stroked the oars of a rowboat while going fishing on one of our great state’s fine lakes.

While Minnesota may not be a state known for rowing, its biggest (and perhaps best) rowing program is right here—near the banks of the Mississippi River, on this college campus.

Building a program out of nothing, University of Minnesota, head rowing coach, Wendy Davis has built a rowing team consisting of 59 femalestudent athletes.

Coming here from a well-established program back East, Davis knew building a successful rowing program in Minnesota would have its share of difficulties.

“It was really tough because we’re in a tent,” says Davis about her early years recruiting rowers here. “But, I like the challenge of building a program here … its smack dab in the middle of the country, two ideals coming together.”

By “ideals,” Davis is referring to the East Coast schools and the West Coast schools; more specifically, the two United State regions with the most established collegiate rowing teams. To the benefit of the Gophers, Davis is quite familiar with some of these schools. In her college years, Davis rowed at University of California- Los Angeles. When she

finished her time there, she coached Stanford University in California for 10 years. After Stanford, she spent four-plus years in Connecticut as the head rowing coach at Yale University.

This brings Davis to Minnesota, where she shares her extensive coaching knowledge with several more (59) rowing pupils. With that in mind, one might wonder what Davis looks for in an ideal rower?

“There’s three things,” says Davis. “First of all, it helps if you’re tall. Then, like any racing sport, you’ve got to be able to tolerate pain. The other thing is you’ve got to have a strong work ethic.”

One athlete who fulfills Davis’ above-mentioned credentials is Liz Ponder. A third-year student, Ponder competes in the stroke position for a Varsity Four boat.

Quick rowing lesson: The University has 59 total rowers, but only 24 of these athletes row on varsity. The U’s varsity boats consist of two eightperson boats (Varsity Eights) and two four-person boats (Varsity Fours).

Ponder, whom Davis describes as “low maintenance and high output,” loves rowing at the U. However, she’s definitely had some battles in maintaining the strong physical health necessary to be a good rower. “I’ve had mono on-and-off for a while,” says Ponder, referring to her mononucleosis illness.

“It (mono) definitely can drag you down at times.”

Mono, which also gets referred to as “the kissing disease,” is a sickness caused by an increased

presence of white blood cells in one’s bloodstream.

Ponder is unsure how her mono was contracted, but had lots to say about the pains it caused and how she’s been able to overcome them in rowing.

Ponder first rowed in 2000, joining a club rowing team after she was cut from her high school bas-

“It was really tough because we’re in a tent,” says Davis about her early years recruiting rowers here. “But, I like the challange of building a program here ... it’s smack dab in the middle of the country, two ideals coming together.” ketball team. It took her time to learn the ropes of rowing before she started to succeed. It was then, just as Ponder finally started seeing some rowing success, when she came down with mono. “I remember my coach telling me ‘you finally got your head out of the clouds,’” says Ponder of Mike Wen-

ker–her coach through all four of her years with the Cincinnati Junior Rowing Club.

The compliment from Wenker came at a practice after Ponder won all her “seat matches;” which Ponder says are competitions among teammates to move up to a faster, higher rated boat.

So, as Ponder’s passion for rowing was rising rapidly, mono came. Her throat became sore and she’d often be weak and lethargic; however, this didn’t deter her from missing rowing. “I arranged my classes so that I’d go to two of them, come home and sleep, and later go to my rowing practices,” Ponder says. Ponder battled through school and rowing practices. And, in the spring of 2002, it was through her perseverance, that she accomplished an amazing feat–leading her Cincinnati Junior boat to win nationals.

The next year, Ponder’s boat won nationals again; prompting scholarship offers to be flooded her way from several Division-I rowing schools. One of these schools was Minnesota, and after her first visit here, she made her mind to become a Gopher.

Davis recalls Ponder from that visit, saying she’s been a leader from the start. She notes some of Ponder’s strengths are her work ethic and ability to help and encourage others.

As Minnesota approaches the mid-point of its spring rowing season, Davis, her assistants, Ponder and the rest of Minnesota’s rowing team prepare for an April 8 regatta in Los Angeles. The team they’ll be facing? Davis’ alma mater, the UCLA Bruins.

8

Athletics

April 5–11, 2006

Fortknights Start off Sprinting, Finish Crawling The Wake’s broomball recap

By craig rentmeester

Forknighters Stats for Spring 2006 Season Players

Goals

Assists

Number of times slid into the wall

8

5

9

KrS-1

7

6

5

Michael Myers

8

4

8

Notorious BRIE

9

8

2

Hell ‘N Brand

5

8

5

Bagger Vance

Heart ‘n Soule

8

6

6

No Rent Money

6

4

6

El Amigo

4

4

1

jeremy sengly

It was a cold February night when a group of nine amateurs took the ice for the first time as a team. These athletes, known collectively as the Fortknighters, were unskilled, uncoordinated and undersized. Only one of these “athletes” knew that there were special shoes meant for playing broomball. Some teams wore hockey helmets,

Blood is not usually shed in a friendly game of broomball, but this team had other intentions. while certain members of this team opted for bicycle helmets.

For their first game, the Fortknighters’ lineup consisted of LT in the net, KrS-1 and Heart ‘n Soule playing defense with Michael Myers and the Notorious BRIE playing forwards. This group took the ice like wolves on the prowl. Line changes were infrequent, but effective. Hell ‘N Brand and Bagger

Vance each netted goals within minutes of shuffling on the ice. At halftime the Fortknighters wanted to change their team name to Dr. Scholl’s because they were gellin’ so well on the ice. At the end of the game, when the smoke had cleared, LT recorded 21 saves and didn’t give up any goals. LT was the only goalie in the league smart (or stupid) enough not to wear any protective gear when playing goalie on ice. Blood is not usually shed in a friendly game of broomball, but this team had other intentions.

After the game, random bruises and cuts filled the elbows and knees of this team on a mission.

The next games came and passed; victories came easy for the Fortknighters. The team’s fourth game, however, was a beast of a match-up. The Fortknighters hadn’t faced a player who mastered the sliding slap shot like the captain of the fourth team. LT struggled in the net for the first time all season, while Heart ‘n Soule applied pressure to no avail. The sliding bastard torched the Fortknighters the entire game and the team’s record fell to 3-1.

The Fortknighters faced yet another talented opponent the following game. The team was dressed in red; one player resembled Jesus. This Jesus look-

alike put the Fortknighters in their place for the second straight game.

As the season wore on, the endless amount of post-game (and sometimes pre-game) partying caught up with this Cinderella team. The Fortknight-

The endless amounts of post-game (and sometimes pre-game) partying caught up with this Cinderalla team.

The Fortknighters narrowly missed the playoffs. ers narrowly missed the playoffs. While other teams put together All-Star lineups in search of a championship, this team was made up of a bunch of Davids who couldn’t slay the Goliaths of the league.

Editor’s Note Like a made for TV movie, this story was based very loosely on actual events.

Actual Game results Feb. 2 Loss Feb. 9 Loss Feb. 16 Loss Feb. 23 Loss March 2 WIN

Athletics

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One Speed:

Extremely Fast

9

U’s Cycling Club

brennan vance

By Brian Tolentino Several members of the U’s Cycling Club stepped into the St. Paul Gym for practice with sun-scorched arms and legs, a look even Hank Hill would be jealous of. Their newly acquired farmer’s tans were the result of a spring break expedition to Tucson, Ariz., which included 60-70 miles of cycling per day, and a 25-mile climb up rock-infested Mt. Lemmon.

Despite the rigorous routine in Arizona, the cycling club is very accepting of riders with little cycling experience. On the trip some riders had never been on a group ride before, and about half the people who join the club have never raced competitively. “It is a club that develops riders,” says Bill O’Reilly, fifth year coach. But it is also a club that is serious about cycling, particularly road racing.

The U’s Cycling Club has won the North Central Collegiate Cycling Conference (NCCCC) three years in a row, which includes teams from Midwestern states such as: Nebraska, Kansas, Minnesota and North Dakota. Although the U is dominant in the NCCCC, the conference is weak compared to the rest of the nation. “We would get annihilated by them,” says O’Reilly, in reference to California and Colorado.

Western states are successful for numerous reasons, one being the cycling sub-culture that has evolved, which creates unity. “Cycling is a culture

and it takes a while to form,” says O’Reilly. “And we (U of M) are getting there.” The culture that has formed at the U includes a lot of joking and the creating of nicknames. “It is a fun crowd to be with,” says Andy Rosch, a sophomore cyclist.

Types of Cycling found at the U Road Racing The objective is basic: first to the finish line wins. But the strategies involved make road racing rather complex. One of the most popular techniques is drafting (closely following another rider to decrease one’s workload). It can be used in a team effort where teammates rotate drafting behind one other, or by following a competitor closely and then sprinting past them at a strategic time.

Road racing intuitively sounds less dangerous than mountain biking or track racing. Don’t be fooled. Because riders often get cluttered together, one rider crashing can lead to a tangled mess of handlebars, spokes and bodies. Instead of discouraging riders, though, the danger and tactics involved in road racing seem to attract riders. “[Road racing’s] fast and tactical—and way cool,” said a cycling club member.

Track Racing There is only one speed in track racing: ex-

tremely fast. Races are generally held at velodromes constructed of Baltic pine, a hard surface ideal for speed. Track bikes are made of steel and have no brakes or gears. Similar to road racing, drafting is an important aspect of track racing, along with a multitude of other tactics. Crashes are a fairly common occurrence in track racing. Elena Dorr, a freshman at the U who loves the speed and thrill of track racing has fallen twice and says, “it definitely hurt.” She didn’t suffer any severe injuries from her crashes, but did get splinters in her hands from the track. The closest velodrome is at the National Sports Center in Blaine.

Mountain Bike Racing Minnesota is definitely not the epicenter of mountain biking, but there are still plenty of trails to use. Last year many U Cycling members competed at the Lebanon Hills Time Trial in Eagan.

Mountain biking didn’t officially become a recognized sport until 1990. No one really knows how mountain biking originated, but the primary belief is that it started in northern California by people looking for an alternative way to ride bikes.

How to Join There are no tryouts. The club accepts everyone as long as they pay $80 in dues and fill out a participation waiver. It is a co-ed club and usually about a third of the team is women. More information can be found at www.tc.umn.edu/~umnct.

Upcoming Athletics Events 04/05 • Men’s Track Meet of unsaintly, st. paul 7 pm

04/07 • Baseball vs. Michigan Metrodome, 6:30 pm

04/08 • Women’s Tennis vs. Northwestern Baseline tennis center, 11 AM

04/08 • Baseball vs. Michigan Metrodome, 2 pm

04/09 • Women’s Tennis vs. Wisconsin Baseline Tennis, 12 pm

04/09 • Baseball vs. Michigan Metrodome, 1 pm

10

Voices

April 5–11, 2006

Warning:

This Article

Yawn is a

Real

Miranda Peterson

Staring through the musty air at my favorite dive bar, tucked away at a small table in the darkest corner I saw a nicely-dressed man, sporting a pale blue button-down shirt, sitting next to a woman, hair coiffed carefully into a sloppy bun, wearing enough makeup to feign drag-queen status. They smiled a lot, chuckled awkwardly during conversation and frequently spent time silently staring into the distance both wearing expressions of horror and duress. A first date. They struggled for a while longer, maintaining conversation, looking as though they were choking back the urge to vomit, but still putting all of their energy into this date. I was mentally cheering them along, confident in the potential for success.

Then, he blew it.

I saw the slow prelude: his neck muscles tensed, his eyes began to squint and water, his face grew contorted in a gargoyle-esque fashion. He yawned.

His mouth grew large, his arms involuntarily stretched, and with this slow-motion movement he destroyed the date. Her face fell. The polite giggles ceased, the conversation was no more. One uncomfortable hug later and they separated. He would remain the oil to her vinegar.

A single yawn can not only ruin a date, but anger a professor, halt speech, destroy a photo or trump the effects of vanilla-scented candles and completely kill the mood. More than this, yawns can aid lions in preparation for hunting, signal Parkinson’s or Multiple Sclerosis, or align one’s demeanor with that of his or her community.

Though most people do it every day, they remain entirely oblivious to the reasons for and im-

plications of yawning. This article is my ode to the yawn.

First comes the slow opening of the mouth, followed by a deep inhalation typically lasting six to eight seconds, likely a stretching of the limbs and a quick snap of the jaw before exhalation. This series

Nix wurdak of actions, collectively know as a “yawn” has been seen in nearly every living creature.

In a study done of Siamese fighting fish, Dr. Ronald Baenninger, formerly of Temple University in Philadelphia, Pa., observed that immediately before and while fighting, the fish would take a small break, back away from each other and open their mouths in the same slow open, quick shut manner that mammals do when yawning.

Apparently, fish yawn.

Baenninger also observed yawning in countless species of mammal, amphibian, bird and the like.

During a yawn, a surge of blood is squished into the brain. The increased blood level causes a temporary jolt in alertness. The stretching of arms, legs, the back and neck that is often associated with yawning also serves as a means to promote blood circulation throughout the body.

It has long been rumored that people yawn because their bodies need more oxygen; that somehow we don’t breathe enough when we’re tired or bored.

Lesson one: When it comes to yawning, the general public doesn’t know squat.

Researchers have conducted experiments in which they placed people in rooms with elevated and decreased levels of oxygen in the air. The change in the amount of oxygen did not change the frequency of yawning.

However, there is truth in the rumors that yawning occurs more often when one sees another yawning or talks about yawning. This is an evolutionary habit created and maintained to aid species that live and work together in larger groups for the purpose of coordinating their activities. Yawning by one creature would serve as a sign to the others that activity is imminent and that they should yawn to ready themselves.

Dr. Ronald Baenninger is considered by many to be the foremost expert on yawning. He has spent over 30 years exploring this very normal phenomenon. Baenninger believes that people and other animals yawn to increase alertness in situations where relaxation is not possible or beneficial.

“Yawning is a way of regulating your level of arousal. So, if you’re in a place where nothing much

is going on, but where it would be dangerous or embarrassing to fall asleep, then is where you’re going to yawn,” Baenninger said.

For example, when a lounging lion views prey and begins to prepare for the hunt, it will nearly always yawn. A dog getting ready for a walk will usually yawn and stretch in preparation for the outing.

Though there is no way to definitively prove this theory, no counterarguments have been offered.

Though Baenninger admits that he studied yawning primarily because he was curious and it was fun, there are more important reasons to study yawning. People who have multiple sclerosis almost never yawn. Those afflicted with Parkinson’s yawn more often than the general public. Changes in a person’s yawning habits could serve as a signifier for more serious problems.

In conclusion, I would like to cite a beautiful poem by Gareth Lancaster.

“Yawning” When I yawn I feel so strange With little prickles in my brain.

My eyes begin to slowly weep It makes me really want to sleep.

And then my mouth opens large Wide enough to fit a barge.

And once I’m done I feel refreshed Unless at night when I need rest.

Nix Wurdak is a Voices columnist and welcomes your comments at letters@wakemag.org.

Voices

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11

Hittin’ Mailboxes with Beer Bottles The advantages and disadvantages of growing up in a small town.

Growing up in a small town does interesting things to a person. Small towners are a different breed. It is especially obvious in the years following high school. I came from a town in northern Minnesota of 900 people and graduated from a class of 80. After attending one of the largest universities in the nation and living in a major city, I realized how different my fellow townies and I compare to your average college student.

First of all, in a small-town high school cliques don’t really develop like in other places. Of course you have your different groups, but there aren’t enough kids to have defined cliques. And often you have gone to school with many of your classmates since elementary school. Due to this, small town teens’ identities are less defined. I fit in with the skater kids, the smart kids, and the athletic kids and others. Often they are the same kids. This causes small towners to be more well-rounded. It allows small towners to fit in with a wider variety of people, to deal easier with a variety of situations; growing up in a small town provides a better chance at defining one’s unique ID independently.

Another thing with small towns, from a teen’s point of view, is that there is nothing to do. You’re

lucky if anything is even open at 9 p.m. Either you drive a long way to get someplace bigger, you do nothing or you get creative. A majority of my time was spent sitting around, in cars, on curbs, at the Dairy Queen … just loitering. You really realized the extremity of this when you’re sitting around for 30 hours straight, for reasons that I don’t know how to explain.

This time and lack of activities allows plenty of time for drugs, drinking and general trouble making. An important aspect of a small town is that law enforcement can be sparse at times. When you’re in a rural area and it is easy to avoid the eye of time.

A favorite pastime of mine is hitting mailboxes with beer bottles from a moving vehicle. But I don’t see this as a bad thing either. Separation from what society deems right and wrong while often avoiding punishment allows an individual to develop his or her morals based on life experience; plus there is nothing like the sound of a bottle hittin’ a mailbox at high speeds. Though many us could be looked at as deviants, I feel we are very morally grounded, even if it’s in our own way.

Things in small towns aren’t all great though, contrary to popular belief. Not only because there

is nothing to do, but also because of the fact that often there is poverty and drug problems. I’d say the negative aspects are based on citizens who never escape. And it is not easy to get out. Besides low income and, on a related note, poor schools, small towners are in a bubble, cut off largely from the outside world. This is a main cause of prejudices and in general creates ignorance of the bigger issues of the world. This bubble and lack of diversity within makes leaving scary, especially when moving to a city. In the city everything moves so fast, people are so different, there is no private space and you are invisible. It is an intimidating place for a small-towner.

Even if you make it out of your town for some reason, something draws you back. I love my small town when I’m here. And it’s not till I get back that I realize why I left. Nevertheless, I still feel a connection. And I believe the small town creates its own subculture. The differences in development and the lack of assimilation into the outside world keep small-towners separate. Many never escape its grasp, but I’ll take the bad with the good. No matter what anyone says, small towners are the coolest people around. Regardless, next time you’re driv-

ing up to your cabin and you park your car next to a group of townies, don’t forget to hit that remote lock, because even though the community largely depends on your money, that won’t stop us from snatchin’ the nice shit out of your shiny car.

Jim Forrey is a Voices guest columnist and welcomes your comments at letters@wakemag.org

Jim forrey

Photo Poll: “What makes you YAWN?” Ryan Rodgers

Shaine.

Freshman.

Nutrition.

Fred.

Sophomore.

Russian.

Erin.

Senior.

English.

Isaac.

Senior.

Film Studies.

Nelson.

Freshman.

Civil Engineering.

Sara.

Freshman.

Fine Arts.

“When I hear the ocean, it soothes me so much I yawn.”

“Knowing tomorrow is Monday.”

“Other people yawning.”

“I use the yawn as an unconscious cue to someone that I don’t want to talk.”

“My homework and studying.”

“The thought of a jaunt to the Rec Center.”

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Feature

April 5–11, 2006

Ladies’ Night at the Woman’s Club Jenny Lewis with the

Watson Twins

BY MICHAEL MITCHELL

M

arch was an odd month. The weather proved to be unpredictable, and spring break was over before the untimely snow even started melting. Luckily, Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins brought some stability to this bizarre time of the year.

Lewis, known best as the vocalist for the indierock band Rilo Kiley, is touring in support of her first solo record, titled Rabbit Fur Coat. On March 12, the singer and her band provided their audience with an evening of simple, earnest, and beautiful music—proving that these things still have a place in the realm of rock.

Matching the simplicity of the music was the venue itself, the Woman’s Club of Minneapolis.

Looking like your typical high school auditorium, the theater inside the Woman’s Club seats about

400 people on the floor and more than 200 in the balcony. The size of the venue and the minimalist stage setup ensured that not a single sound was lost throughout the night.

The first of two opening acts was a four piece from Los Angeles called Whispertown 2000. While their songs were fun and creative, the band itself was in need of a little work. Vocalist Morgan Nagler had trouble finding the right notes and their overall impact was underwhelming.

Following Whispertown 2000 was singer-songwriter Jonathan Rice. With his wide vocal range and competent guitar playing, Rice was able to immediately grab the audience’s attention. Accompanied by a lap steel player known only as “Farmer Dave,” Rice delivered a set of poignant songs and exchanged hilarious banter with his audience, accusing them on several occasions of being too serious. At the end of his set, Rice joked, “You’ll see us sooner than you think … in about twenty minutes.

We’re in the band.”

As promised, Rice and Farmer Dave returned to

play guitar and lap steel respectively for the main set. They were joined by a drummer and a bassist to back Lewis along with harmony vocalists Chandra and Leigh Watson. Lewis and the twins took the stage with the a cappella opener from Rabbit Fur Coat, “Run Devil Run,” and immediately established the power of their combined voices. Throughout the set, Lewis demonstrated her malleability as a singer—fitting her voice into the loud, full sound of tunes like “Rise Up With Fists!!” and acoustic numbers like “Rabbit Fur Coat.” In any milieu, her voice sounded perfectly placed.

The live show also contained a lot of dynamic contrast, something that is missing from the record. The drummer and bassist were able to gradually work their way into a song without being conspicuous. Even on slower numbers like “Melt Your Heart,” they tastefully employed their skills in a way that complimented the vocals.

And while the band behind her was above average, Lewis still managed to outshine them. Her clear, steady voice was impossible to ignore from

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the moment she took the stage. This is a noticeable point of departure from the singer’s work with Rilo Kiley, whose sound has a tendency to distract and wash out the vocals. And as that act continues to play to larger and larger crowds (they opened for Coldplay’s arena tour in 2005), fans should relish the chance to hear the intimacy that the Woman’s Club Theater had to offer.

Lewis’ earnest delivery of these melancholy songs struck a chord with listeners, who sat quietly through the performance, absorbing every word. The singer said very little to the crowd that night, often taking the time between songs to drink from a bottle of water. The few times she did speak were to introduce new songs, of which she played two, or on one occasion, to dedicate a song to her father, who was in the audience that evening.

If there was one thing that detracted from the show, it was the stage gimmicks. From the choreographed movements of the Watson Twins to the all-black, urban cowboy garb that the entire band

13

Lewis’s clear, steady voice was impossible to ignore

from the moment she took the stage.

This is a noticible

departure from Rilo Kiley.

wore, the stage was full of nuances that seemed too well planned. The music was solid, and this was a group that didn’t need to fall back on these sorts of distractions, which have the potential to cheapen the entire experience. In spite of this, the music was easily able to make itself heard.

In the lobby of the theater after the show, there was talk of Lewis’ new, refreshing spin on “coun-

try” music. And while the harmonies of the Watson Twins and Farmer Dave’s lap steel add a distinct twang to the sound, it can hardly be called country. After all, it is one of forbearers of rock—there are bound to be similarities. So while Lewis’ folksy songs sound more like Nashville than Los Angeles, they’re a far cry from thoroughbred country music.

Having heard Rabbit Fur Coat, I went to the Jenny Lewis with the Watson Twins show with a fear that the evening was going to be slow paced.

What I found, however, was that Lewis is the kind of singer who I could listen to for hours, and her band has an acute sense of what every song is in need of—something that is comforting any time of the year, and especially in March.

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Feature

April 5–11, 2006

In with the New...

MSA President reflects, reacts on year

brennan vance

Feature

www.wakemag.org

By Sarah Howard

Minnesota Student Association elections begin April 11, which means that Emily Serafy Cox, current MSA president will be out of office on July 1.

Freshly home from an International Women’s Student Leadership Conference in Abu Dhabi, capital of the United Arab Emirates, she sits down with The Wake to discuss her term, her future and politics at the U. Cox’s first words as MSA president-elect were “You’re shitting me.” She received a phone call from Margaret Cahill while riding her bike. Cox thought she had lost the race when Cahill told her, “Thanks for running a great campaign.” But then Cahill started to read off the numbers. “It took me a second to realize my numbers were bigger than everyone else’s,” she says. “I was incredibly happy. I think it was a mixture of excitement and fear and disbelief as well as a feeling like, ‘Wow I did that.’”

“It’s a full-time job,” Cox, a half-time student says. “For me it has worked pretty well.” She adds that most MSA presidents have been full-time students, while she has only had to take six credits per semester to graduate on time. The job pays a stipend of $5,000 per year. “I worked it out to something like $3 per hour,” she jokes.

As president, Cox has been concentrating on “the relationship between both student government as well as students in general to the administration

“It’s a full-time job. For me it has worked pretty well. I worked it out to something like $3 per hour.” and the various levels of government,” she says. She is the “spokesperson of the student government to … administration and government and often to the press, and as that spokesperson, if the organization has taken a stance on something, [I] voice that stance,” she says. Plus, “there are a million things,” she says of her various duties.

Cox’s second in command is Vice President Colin Schwensohn, who also graduates in May. They met when Schwensohn was a senator on Cox’s committee for the student solidarity work she did with the AFSME Union strike two and a half years ago.

“Our priorities were very similar and he seemed like somebody I could work with,” she says. “He’s been very brave,” Cox says of his ability to present issues in forum. “For him to get up there and field questions [during forum] … it’s not easy to do,” she says. “It can be intimidating and he hasn’t been intimidated by the task.”

MSA holds open forum meetings every other week and has committee meetings on non-forum weeks. “In weekly executive board meetings, we discuss projects and discuss agenda for forum or any problems arising,” she says.

Cox is working on her current mission, which is the Rental Housing Summit with the Graduate and Professional Student Assembly’s president Karen Buhr, with whom Cox traveled to Abu Dhabi. One session was held March 27, which discussed build-

ing stronger communities and livable communities around campus. “There have been a lot of livability issues that have arisen from the interaction between student residents and permanent residents,” she says. The upcoming session on April 10 discusses both tenants’ and community grievances against landlords. “We want to find solutions and really address how we can move on from here,” she says, adding that making better housing around the university is the summit’s main objective. The session will be in Coffman in the President’s Room and is an open forum. “If the housing summit can get pulled off, it’ll be one of the biggest things that the student body presidents have done together since GAPSA and MSA split,” she says.

As for her thoughts on the year, “you never get as much done as you wanted to, no matter what you’re doing,” she says. “I didn’t have time to make as many of the changes and put as much effort into continuing things as I wanted to.” Even though she didn’t get to everything on her list, “I hope that I

have had a positive impact on the way things are run,” she says.

Though Cox graduates in May and is “applying for jobs and internships,” she “would love to stay in Minneapolis,” she says. She would like to do non-profit work or governmental work in the service aspect of government. “There are things that I want to continue [from her MSA work] like projects or policy initiatives,” she says. But “you never know if they are going to [continue] because obviously you don’t have control over what happens next year.”

As for this year’s candidates, Cox says she probably won’t be publicly endorsing anyone because the only people she knows who are running are a fellow executive board member and her roommate. “At the moment, I need to step back,” she says. “I’m definitely ready to move on to the next stage of my life.”

For more information about what MSA is up to, visit www. msa.umn.edu

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16

Literary

April 5–11, 2006

The Heat of Our Hands Second installment

by Bridget Haeg W.B. Yeats writes his own death. Words in algorithms and sentences like polynomials, he crafts his poem “Under Ben Bulben” into a will. He forgets to mention who gets the mahogany dinner table or the bank account, and writes, rather, of where the ground should break for his final resting place.

He writes of how, exactly, he would like his legacy to breathe and stretch and sigh and endure. He tells a reader: Bury me under this mountain Ben Bulben, here in the Drumcliff churchyard in County Sligo, Ireland. Right here. He is, of course, much more poetic.

The day I saw his gravestone, another Thanksgiving years before Normandy, only three colors existed: the green grass (only green, bright green like that color that immediately comes to your mind … that’s it), the gray headstone like a clean chalkboard, and the white clouds. The poet speaks through his epitaph, parting a Red Sea of decades with his words: Cast a cold eye On life, on death

Horseman, pass by!

I was 14, and I did not know what this meant.

Mom was 40, and she didn’t know either. I visualized the trudge of a workhorse passing farm after farm towards home, carrying a weary rider and an empty red lunch pail. In my interpretation, the poet commanded the rider to carry on, please, don’t mind a dead poet. Yeats’s withered remains had transcended life, into death or into somewhere this drowsy farmer couldn’t feel. Mom, in my old blue windbreaker, nodded her head and said, “Yes, it’s something like that.”

A fuzzy rain started to fall and the rest of the family waded through the clouds into the museum.

But Mom and I stood there, staring and reverent, as if at the grave of a hallowed relative. I could scrape a little evidence from this slate of limestone: the poet did not want to be remembered by his name or by his birthday (neither of which appear on his headstone) but only by the echo of his written words. He succeeded. Mom took a picture; I remained motionless before the grave.

Six years later, I learned what Yeats says to that horseman. He doesn’t urge the weary rider to pass by his resting place; he doesn’t even refer to a weary rider at all. He writes, rather, of the Sidhe, supernatural Irish horsemen. In Gaelic, they say it shee like silk. The Sidhe stand tall, swathed in the melted butter and pincushion tomatoes of luxury, and they survive through their own ancient legend.

They look human, with the same greasy glow to their skin and the same soft rumble in their hungry stomachs, but they can change shape and provide protection and healing that a human cannot. Here at Ben Bulben, they keep watch over Sligo with each invisible breath.

Yeats wanted his gravestone across the road from this mountain because then, in the river-blue eyes of death, he could see like the Sidhe. Five days after he died in 1939, printing presses sputtered

smooth black ink to publish “Under Ben Bulben.”

Yeats became one of the lucky few who created and sustained his own legacy.

——— We must leave Normandy now, to continue our trek across France. Once the car crunches over the gravel parking lot and pulls out into the road, we’ll leave this place where we went back to 1944 all by ourselves. We don’t want to leave, but we know we’ll come back next year. Not here, exactly, but somewhere that also sings these ancient and fresh melodies of history. Because this is what we do. We travel to Europe every Thanksgiving because no one else does. We stay in buttercup-colored Austrian castles built in the 900s because no one else does. Smothering blueberries on crepes, we climb a French mountain trail and speak of Salvador Dali because no one else does. We hug our hands around mugs of hot chocolate in a cottage in Ireland, while sheep peer in the window and Dad throws another piece of peat into the fire. We own a Tuscan castle for a week, where we pick green olives. They are not in season, but we are—so we do.

Over Thanksgiving 2001, we drive inland and inland and inland in Ireland until we find an abandoned cave on an abandoned beach. The tide stays out, like it wants to pull its cold water closer to the sun, emerging from the horizon. Maybe if the ocean could stroke this sunlight, just once, it could warm up enough for us to shed our winter jackets and swim. Rocks rise on either side of me, stained like an overripe amethyst, and the beach boxes me in: mountains to my left and right, sand to my back, water before me, sky above me. I’m 16, but I still wonder, if I draw my name in the sand with a stick, if I scratch out a hello, will anyone find it? Will anyone say hello back? I try it anyway.

At lunchtime, we haul brown paper bags of bread, cheese, and apples onto the beach. Peeking into the surrounding caverns, we find one with slabs of rock we can make into tables. With paper plates and a carton of milk, we picnic on the sand.

We picnic in what will be, in an hour, the middle of the ocean. When Dad finally pulls out the carton of cookies (we try new kinds at every store, for every lunch), the tide starts to creep back into the cave. A pool of water forms in the crevasse of every footprint we make, so we run out of the cave. Stuffing plastic forks and chocolate bars into the bags, I fear suffocation by saltwater. In minutes, the ocean erases our secret grotto.

——— When we traveled to Europe for the first time, I had not quite completed half of seventh-grade.

Dad, while skimming over the airfares on the Internet one midnight, found that Icelandair would fly us to another world for only $100 apiece. What a deal, I suppose he said. When we arrived, I cried because the London estate we rented had dripping gardens and limestone sweating with fog. It had a wooden door chipped and peeling like a sunburn that bore a lion’s head knocker and opened into a foyer of soggy stone. With its brown blankets on the beds and a heater that only came to life a couple hours a day, I hadn’t expected something so old.

Through tears I said, “Dad, why can’t we stay where everyone else does? In a hotel?” He just smiled and

bounded down the steps, on his way to buy train tickets. Before the heater clicked off, Mom made a bed for me on the couch (Ryan and Britney claimed the twin beds in the next room). “This is how we’ll always see it here,” she said of Europe. “Because this is how Dad knows we should see it. You’ll be glad you see it this way.”

After we returned home, people asked, “Wherever did your dad find a place like that?” He kept finding these cottages and castles, year after year.

People began to know this was what we did—celebrate Thanksgiving on another continent. I lost track of how many Thanksgivings we missed and the new food that replaced turkey and pumpkin pie: chicken curry in County Clare, Ireland; Yorkshire pudding in a darkened London carvery, chandelier swinging above the table; bread and strawberry jam in the stone kitchen of our Austrian castle (while playing Uno, against a backdrop of oily paintings that followed us with their eyes, we forgot that the stores there closed in mid-afternoon). We do what everyone else does not do, like sleep in old castles on top of snowy mountains with no one else around. We touch Europe, and somewhat unconsciously shape our own idiosyncrasies, ones that make people stop and say, “You spend Thanksgiving where? Don’t you miss the mashed potatoes?”

These travels once rung damp, bizarre even, to a seventh grader; now, they chime, distinctly and forever, ours.

——— Before we leave Normandy, Dad pulls the car to the roadside in St. Mere Eglise, the town just miles from the beaches. Surely someone lives here, despite the shuttered windows and the heavy air.

We, however, see no one. Ryan’s finger points to the steeple of the yellow stone church, sharp and nudging the clouds. All the buildings, the brick homes faded with mist and the yellow patisseries, encircle it. Dad says, “I bet the Nazis captured it for a headquarters. It would be a good lookout.” I only envision an American paratrooper, wisped by the wind a few feet too far when he jumped, skewered on the steeple.

Tearing pieces of bread from a loaf and passing around a knife heavy with peanut butter, we sit in the car for a while with the doors opened.

Britney flips through a magazine, Dad pulls off his glasses to examine the map, and Mom ruffles through the luggage for a deck of cards. Still no one walks these streets. After ten minutes, we close the doors and exit Normandy. Dad decides to take the back roads, the ones that will take us through the little towns. We take these paths because we can’t see anything from the highways.

They flicker by like a slideshow, the white-shuttered cottages, the towns of twenty people, and the graying remains of snow on cobblestones. Just like that, people appear from the milky tea of haze, reminders that this backdrop we see in our speeding car sets the stage for lives living. Dad turns on the radio because he can understand the French. I can’t, so I

Editor’s Note It is my pleasure to present the second installment of “The Heat of Our Hands” by Bridget Haeg. If you happened to miss the first installment, the entire piece is available on The Wake’s website, www.wakemag.org.

Also in this issue, Allen Ginsberg’s “Howl” is revisited by Benjamin Faltesek. His poem provides a contemporary, and much shorter, look at Ginsberg’s themes. And as always, I invite the talent of this university to submit their work for publication. If you have a piece you would like considered for publication please e-mail it to literary@wakemag. org. Thanks, and enjoy!

Kim Gengler Literary Editor

just look out the window. I see new people in every town, miles of muddy roads apart.

You become an omniscient god while riding in a car on a sunless November day. You see all the faces, house after house and mountain after mountain, all the while each separate person doesn’t know the person in the next town, or the next block, even exists. Their images now take up space in your head, your neurons recording these people you do not know.

Do you stay in their minds? Do they stay in yours? Somewhere nestled in the folds of pinkish brain?

After miles and miles of watching these people as if they are little clay lives molded by the heat of your hands, you stop. The car swerves or your sister screams, “Look, a creperie!” or you just can’t take it all in anymore. Then you just have to make something of those people you see in your memory.

Literary

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Howlet

17

rachel labine

Free Live Lit

BY BENJAMIN FALTESEK

04/05 • MFA Readings THE LOFT LITERARY CENTER, 7:30PM

Minnesotan authors Brian Malloy, a finalist for the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, and Bart Schneider, who has been nominated for the 2006 Minnesota Book Award for Beautiful Inez, will be discussing and reading from their novels.

04/06 • Presses in an Amazoogle Age nolte hall, umn, 4pm

What good are those bulky, overwhelming university libraries when you’ve got Google Scholar or Amazon to meet all of your quick literary needs? In Libraries and University Presses in an Amazoogle Age, Wendy Pradt Lougee and Douglas Armato will discuss the place of University-provided literature in the future as online companies continue competing with each other, and with schools.

04/11 • Cafe Scientifique: Superhero VARSITY THEATer, 6pm

If you’re feeling like giving yourself a heavy dose of ultraviolet radiation in hopes of getting caught up in the next Super Solder Project, you might want to see what James Kakalios, author or The Physics of Superheroes, has to say about it first.

04/11 • T.C. Boyle aaron groh

I saw the best minds of my generation ignore themselves, starving raving saccharin, Dragging themselves into disheveled sheets at dawn looking for an angry burger, Slickhaired infants chilling for the latest heavenly hookup to the dazey dynamo in the machinery of nightlife, Who credit carded and ends oriented and silk striped and down with sat up slouching in the supernatural glow of neonatal niches floating past Starbucks contemplating static, Who bared their brands to Idol under the El and never saw Risperdalized angels wandering on hospital floors disarrayed, Who passed through universities with aviatordressed eyes hallucinating glass boots and Joyce-light tragedy among the scholars of scrip, Who were admitted to the academies for gilt and publishing obscene assumptions on the windows of the skull,

Who jaunted in laidback rooms in tight jeans, burning their books in effigy and listening to their commercials with music, Who got hung out to dry in their smooth visage returning through Orange County with a bottle of bullets for passunder, Who spit fire in hotels called friendship and pissed out the heat, dearth, or purgatoried their soles night after night With Dr. Scholl’s, with webbed minds, with walking nightmares, miralax and coke and blueballs, Comparable pined streaks of muttering cud and butterflies wake in the stomach Leaping toward polls of This Land Is My Land, illuminating lightly mountainous murals of Maidanik in Montana, Who acted under the idea of freedom like all rational beings and saw no evil as they stared blindly into the brilliance of ten thousand suns,

Who apparated history among radioactive dreams that evinced electromagneticosis as a likely diagnosis, Who drifted rapidly from memory to madness in the passive and active voice all the same, Who stumbled upon tragic hipness only to amp up an ambiance called disdain, Who turned slightly looking not quite into my eyes as I thought throw me a bone or leave me alone as they thought let me by and I might not cry, Who lost touch with the audience the moment they took their seats and quantum structures wrote a Book of Splendor on slated pleats, Who brokered losing touch for human contact that never called but charged by the minute and what I want to know is How do you like your blueeyed boy now that he’s writing bum verse?

TED MANN, UMN, 7:30PM

Award winning fiction and cartoon author, T. Coraghessan Boyle, who wrote The Road to Wellville and Tooth and Claw, will be discussing, and possibly reading from, one of his many, many published works.

18

Sound&Vision

April 5–11, 2006

Brennan Vance

Something Brewing in Northeast Art on Quincy mixes art and alcohol By kristen mueller Three cases of beer, four and a half jugs of vodka and two dozen bottles of wine fueled patrons and partygoers down Quincy Street’s crumbling brick road for Art on Quincy, an art crawl in Northeast Minneapolis. The participating galleries—Altered Esthetics, Density, and Q.Arma—presented three distinct atmospheres for one night of visual sensation. And despite the copious amount of free booze, no one got down on their hands and knees to explore the exhibit’s 160-plus works by more than 60 artists.

Sin is sexy at Altered Esthetics Stepping from a winter-darkened landscape into Altered Esthetics is like crawling out of a black-and-white TV and into the Garden of Eden.

The aging warehouse walls have been painted Granny Smith green, Red Delicious and Ginger Gold. It’s an appropriate décor leading into “The Art of Sin” exhibit, a hodgepodge of over 100 works lining the gallery’s lengthy halls and two small rooms.

Jamie Schumacher, a sprite of a woman even in 6-inch tall platform boots, curated the show. “I wanted to do a religious theme,” she said from be-

hind a small table serving blood-red wine in clear plastic cups. What she got were multiple interpretations of the seven deadly sins, plus a peep show (“Given–The Curiosity,” Tim Guthrie), and a bible which was dyed, shredded apart, and sewn into banners worthy of the Renaissance Festival (“Untitled,” Emily Newman Kelley).

A surprising number of works—including a triptych of a nude woman swathed in plastic lined with rows of oranges, and a woman bound in a laceup leather costume—were described as self-portraits on the white description labels beneath. And then there was the artist Pee Monster, who used the space to announce, “I was born on a pirate ship.”

Take that, Johnny Depp.

Drinking and dancing at Density The second stop proved light on art, but high on fashionable young things prowling for free fruity drinks—three and a half cases of vodka worth, to be exact. They weren’t exaggerating on their website, which claims, “We also can probably drink you under the table.”

In a large room, DJ Bach remixed hip-hop tunes and dance hits (think remixed Michael Jackson) under haphazardly strewn Christmas lights, while guests, either in pale pink button-ups or toe to neck black, spazzed before the Windows Media Player-like graphics projected onto a wall.

Josh McKevitt, wearing a black hat, black and white pin-striped blazer over a pink tee, skinny pants, silver chains and checkered shoes, appeared as cartoon-like as his images hanging in the neigh-

boring room. Against bright pink backgrounds, a woman with nipples like the end of a plunger, a phallic monstrosity, and gushing blood competed for attention.

Hidden maps unfold at Q.Arma Q.Arma’s large white walls glowed under spotlights wired to exposed pipes jutting from the ceiling. In front of Dan Forslin’s abstract paintings,

A surprising number of works—including a triptych of a nude woman swathed in plastic lined with rows of oranges—were described as self portraits.

The Overcomers Garage Band Trio played for the literati crowd sipping Savignon Blanc and bottles of beer. Across the room, Rachel Mayer’s acrylic paintings brightened the already cotton-candy walls on which they hung.

“History puts the saint in every dream” and “Each one other is having a different weather” are just two works in her collection, which is dominated by pastel shades rushing together in jagged

edges; the kind formed when water droplets slip from paintbrush to canvas after a dip in cleansing waters.

“Basically I think of all my works as maps to places that I don’t know and haven’t been to,” said Rachel, a pixie-cut blonde and recent University of Minnesota graduate, with a BA in Fine Art. Upstairs, the crowd dined on appetizers stationed near a group of framed Rift Magazine covers and a spine-tingling mixed media installation of large sea-urchin-like creatures creeping up the wall and clinging to a wooden ceiling beam (“Migration,” Alonso Sierralta). Three mini-dogs constructed of wire and stone (Mark E. Trelstad), and a vibrant painting commenting on the July 7 terrorist attacks in London (“On Guard,” Matt Sesow), added to the eclectic mix.

This winter’s art crawl was the second time the galleries joined creative forces, unlocking their doors and uncorking their liquor cabinets–and it won’t be the last. Art on Quincy will take place quarterly from here on out. For updates, check out www.artonquincy.com.

Altered Esthetic, 1330 Quincy St. Hours: Tuesdays and Thursdays from 6-8 p.m., Saturdays 1-5 p.m. and by appointment.

Density, 1300 Quincy St. Hours: Wednesdays 6-9 p.m., and by appointment. Q. Arma, 1224 Quincy St. Hours: By appointment only. E-mail Jonathan at garma@3ad.cc to schedule a visit.

Sound & Vision

www.wakemag.org

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So many shows! Such little time ... and money!

A look at upcoming music festivals By haily gostas Times are bleak, my friends. As we arrive back from our respective spring breaks, we are faced with the most horrifying of truths: the rest of the semester is downhill from here.

Fear not. Out of the darkness shines a light, something to strive for: music festival season! And what a good season it promises to be. Naturally, one cannot peruse such offerings without proper guidance, so we’ve whipped up a handy little chart devoted to the best of the best: Coachella April 29-30 Empire Polo Field in Indio, California Tickets: $85/day, $165 for limited weekend passes This beloved arts and music festival celebrates its fifth year in Coachella Valley with an appealing lineup of headlining performances from Depeche Mode, Tool, Madonna and a horde of other acts including Cat Power, Animal Collective, Wolf Parade and Art Brut. It is a bit pricey and quite the trek for us Midwesterners, but the chances of finding another festival with such a diverse offering is pretty slim. Plus, it’s California. Heat!

Sasquatch! Music Festival May 26-28 The Gorge Amphitheatre in George, Washington Tickets: $165 for three day passes, $55/day Sasquatch! also turns five this year on Memorial Day weekend, and Bauhaus, Neko Case, the Flaming Lips, Sufjan Stevens, Beck and Nine Inch Nails are going to be the cool kids at the birthday party. The distance is just as considerable as Coachella’s, but for a somewhat better price. If nothing else, go because the festival’s three stages are named Mainstage, Wookie, and Yeti.

Bonnaroo June 16-18 A 700-acre farm in Manchester, Tennessee Tickets: $169.50 to $184.50 Bonnaroo has been previously pegged as the hippie festival. This time around, they’ve ditched the Dave Anastasio Band and Grateful Dead impersonators, and instead threw in hipsters Sonic Youth, My Morning Jacket, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah! and a wee band called Radiohead, on tour for the first time since their 2004 Coachella appearance.

The cost isn’t terrible, and as a bonus, it’s totally held on a 700-acre farm! Like, woah. Vastness.

Intonation Music Festival June 24-25

Aaron Ridgeway

Union Park in Chicago, Illinois Tickets: $20/day, $35 for weekend passes Intonation, curated last year by Pitchfork Media, has separated itself from its former sponsor (see below), though both festivals will take place in Chicago’s Union Park. This time around, Vice Records is footing the bill for Intonation, with label bands Bloc Party, the Streets, Lady Sovereign, Annie, the Stills and Jon Brion scheduled to play.

Pitchfork Media Festival July 29-30 Union Park in Chicago, Illinois Tickets: $20/day, $30 for weekend passes It seems Mommy and Daddy had a little disagreement, and now Pitchfork Media has branched off with its own festival that certainly takes the prize for most tantalizing. Out of the 38 bands performing, only 15 have been announced, but who’s

complaining? Devendra Banhart and Destroyer were just added to an already-stellar lineup including Spoon, Mission of Burma, Ted Leo/Pharmacists, Mountain Goats and Jens Lekman. The best part?

It’s grossly inexpensive and not that far from the home front.

Lollapalooza August 4-6 Grant Park in Chicago, Illinois Tickets: $130 for three day passes Though this particular festival is quite far in the future, you are invited to have your fill of 130 artists including Broken Social Scene, New Pornographers, Blackalicious, Feist and Of Montreal, all for about a buck a band. It’s a bloated festival with eight stages, but should not be overlooked, especially since the original Lollapalooza was responsible for triumphant festival revival.

Guitars, Beer, and Candlelight Ari Herstand puts the happy in happy hour.

By erin belling So many of my favorite Friday nights begin sprawled out on red satin sheets. This is a luxury that I am not often afforded, so you can understand my delight when I discovered Ari Herstand’s Happy Hour Happenings at the Varsity Theater in Dinkytown.

It’s tough to find a more perfect marriage of great local music, a gorgeous venue (air mattresses!), Dave hagen

free admission, and killer drink specials.

Ari’s happy hour performance at the Varsity Theater is an acoustic pop/rock genre bending treat from one man, one guitar, one trumpet, one piano, and one loop station. His fusion of folk, hip-hop and jazz breathes much-needed warmth and verve into the acoustic rock formula. You may have ODed on Dave Matthews Band in the smoky haze of freshman year, but Ari has enough raw talent and charismatic energy to drive you into an acoustic addiction relapse. (He also has enough teeth in his smile to appeal to the 15-year-old girl in all of us.)

The lyrics are positive and intimate, and Ari’s angelic vocals tug at your heartstrings like an episode of Dawson’s Creek. His emotionally evocative performance is punctuated with politically provocative commentary. He plugs Feingold for president in 2008 with a gentle and enthusiastic optimism.

Ari has become an artist to watch in 2006. His infectious popularity was evident in the fact that he nearly sold out his CD release show for Baby Eyes without any previous releases to his name. Ari is humbled by his fans’ overwhelming support. “Most

people aren’t going to give up an entire Friday night and pay $5 for an artist that is basically unknown and who doesn’t have any music out there,” he says.

Ari does have some impressive credentials—he has played the trumpet at Carnegie hall, shared venues with Ben Folds Five, Ben Harper and Buddy Guy and has just returned from playing two shows at the South by Southwest music festival in Austin, Texas.

Ari has had a lifelong love for music and performing. His influences include Dave Matthews Band, Damien Rice, John Mayer and, yes, even Eminem.

Ari Herstand’s Happy Hour Happenings can be enjoyed on the second Friday of every month from 5-7:30 p.m. Each evening begins with performances from up-and-coming Twin Cities area artists, handpicked by Ari himself, followed by Ari’s 45-minute performance. The events are all-ages (two-forones on non-alcoholics too!). April’s Happy Hour Happening is unfortunately cancelled, but you can catch Ari with his full band on Friday, April 7 with God Johnson (also at the Varsity). Watch for the next “Happening” on Friday, May 12.

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Sound & Vision

April 5–11, 2006

Movie Reviews

Documentaries Can Rock By chris wilson College is all about learning, right? And I continue learning documentaries don’t have to be boring. Case in point: Why We Fight, a recent film by relatively unknown director Eugene Jarecki. The film is framed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower’s 1960 farewell address in which he warns of the rise of a “military-industrial complex,” essentially an economic machine run by and for the profit of war.

By comparing Eisenhower’s foreboding words with U.S. military actions and foreign policy from then through now, Why We Fight looks at what ways Eisenhower’s words have come true.

The film revolves around several personal stories, such as the pilots of the first bomb strike in the most recent Iraq war, a young man signing up for the military due to his lack of financial options and a retired police officer whose son was killed in the 9/11 attacks. These personal stories are woven within historical footage, video of re-

Who Gets to Call It Art? By steven hall The title of Peter Rosen’s new documentary poses the question that has perplexed both the artsnob elite and the everyday people since man first laid eyes upon an art gallery wall, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “I don’t get it.” Who Gets to Call It Art? recounts the modern art revolution that took place in the United States at the dawn of the 1960s and its rapid rise from misunderstood fringe movement to lucrative commercial commodity.

With testimonies from the times’ illustrious and notorious artists and an arsenal of the era’s prolific and perplexing pieces to appease the eye, Who Gets to Call It Art? transports viewers to the New York scene where the modern art movement began in hopes of answering its titular query. Mere moments into the film the question seems to be answered as renowned Metropolitan Museum of Art curator Henry Geldzahler emerges as the film’s central focus, and the one who gets to call it art.

The strength of the film lies primarily in its form and style over content. Don’t get me wrong, Rosen’s documentary is bursting at the seams with visual content. The camera pans slowly, Ken Burnsstyle, across still images of the faces and places that comprised the New York art scene. Rosen covers all his bases, treating our eyes to everything from the abstract expressionism of Jackson Pollock to the sardonic pop stylings of Andy Warhol. Live footage of art galas and showings bring to life the stories of contributing artists Ellsworth Kelly and David Hockney, among others. Where the film loses sight is with regard to its subject, Henry Geldzahler.

While we are told by every artists interviewed, ad nauseam, how profoundly important Geldzahler

was to the post-war art movement, we never get to know him beyond the idiosyncrasies and social adeptness that made him a legendary museum curator and friend to the artists. Geldzahler’s conservative upbringing and strained relationship with his father are touched upon briefly by friends who knew very little of his past, but ultimately we only meet the public Geldzahler. Because he spent much of his adult life surrounded by the beat generation artists he championed, it is through their testimonials and art works that we must understand Geldzahler by understanding what he loved. That he would so willingly pose and serve as subject for the workings of his artist friends (many sculptures, films, sketches and paintings from the era feature him), reveals a very Warhol-like thirst for notoriety that is another aspect of the curator which is unfortunately eclipsed by the film’s emphasis on the art scene itself.

While the intimacies and inner workings of Geldzahler are never fully realized, Rosen does manage to exploit his relationship with the iconic Andy Warhol for a large segment of the film. With the breadth of works already dedicated to Warhol, it’s a shame that Rosen doesn’t more fully explore the enigmatic subject of Geldzahler, and instead punches another fifteen minutes onto Warhol’s clock of fame.

Who Gets to Call It Art? may have its shortcomings with regard to Henry Geldzahler, but it is a captivating visual portrait of a time and place, “the golden age of everything” as one testimony recalls. With pop, abstract expressionist and minimalist works used to illustrate the tale of modern art’s rise, the film is a must for any fan of 20th century art and the tumultuous decade that allowed it to thrive.

cent world events and interviews with politicians, analysts and military personnel to name a few. Add to this amusing and often stirring music, and what comes out is a completely engrossing and exciting film that replaces Jean Claude Van-Damme with John McCain.

On the surface this might sound suspiciously similar to the recent Michael Moore film Fahrenheit 9/11, but the difference between these films is monumental. Why We Fight, while still containing opinion-based material and a specific slant, comes across as a well-constructed argument with thorough research. Fahrenheit 9/11 feels more like a political rant, even bordering on propaganda.

Of course, part of the reason I’m able to take Jarecki’s film seriously is because he’s not in it!

Moore, nearly always on-screen or narrating the action, seems to act as a puppeteer in his film, manipulating every emotion and image to get across his views. Regardless of whether or not I agree with

him, that’s distasteful documentary filmmaking. I question whether his films are about looking for truth or finding his own fame and glory. Why place yourself so prominently if that’s not the reason?

Thankfully, Jarecki never appears or is heard. He takes the words of others and juxtaposes them with meaningful footage to make his argument. Like those School House Rock cartoons—only more sobering.

Regardless of your political leaning, Why We Fight should be appreciated for the well-crafted, answer-seeking documentary it is. It’s meant to get people actively thinking and talking about the role of military action in the world and how economics tie into it. It accomplishes that, and moreover, the film possesses a beautiful artistry in the way it weaves together its story lines and history. One might say it has a certain lyrical quality. I guess what I’m trying to say is that, far from sucking, Why We Fight pretty much rocks.

www.wakemag.org

BY angelica baldwin

Photography Get Published!

Get in contact with Photo Editor Brennan Vance at bvance@wakemag.org for more information.

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Bastard

April 5–11, 2006

Want ads Wanted: Someone who knows how to do a good rim-job … on my margarita glass … ‘cause I really like the salt …

Wanted: A job. Contact Editor-inChief.

Wanted: A girl with a short skirt and a long jacket. Contact Cake.

Wanted: Still waiting for that $30,000 … seriously …

Arbitrary Awards

Wanted: Someone to spoon me ALL NIGHT LONG.

Wanted: More bands with “Wolf” in their name. Contact Wolf Parade, Wolf Eyes, We Are Wolves, Wolfmother, and AIDS Wolf

Wanted: Pudding pops … oh wait, they started making them again! Yes!

Wanted: A daylight savings that not only gives you an extra hour of sleep, but also gives you twenty bucks.

Wanted: Bon Jovi. Dead or alive.

Wanted: Dunkaroos. The most underrated snack ever.

Wanted: No more dirty sanchezes.

My boyfriend is such a douche.

WORST MEAL IN DINKYTOWN

The Steak Knife’s “Vomit Salad,” washed down with a “Feces Shake.”

MOST DANGEROUS MEAL IN DINKYTOWN

The Steak Knife’s “Knife Sandwich.”

SCARIEST MEAL IN DINKYTOWN

Game of the Week The Anal Car Game. All you do is list car names while putting the word anal in front of them. (For example, “Anal Escort,” “Anal Probe.”)

That one past dish with rats inside that scream really loudly when you first seem them, then explode sending confetti in your face while a clown points and laughs eerily in the corner.

BEST DRINK IN DINKYTOWN

Gin and tonic served in one of those big boots … in fact, forget the tonic.

WORST DRINK IN DINKYTOWN

Acid rain.

HONORABLE MENTION

Urine.

PHRASE MOST LIKELY TO HEAR WHILE WAITING FOR THE SIX IN DINKYTOWN

“Hey look—the six.”

HONORABLE MENTION

“Where’s the six?”

www.wakemag.org

Bastard

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