The first time my sweetheart and I shared a dance was during a party in the romance-inspiring Dance Space. The music was blaring, the bodies were sweaty and spinning, and my now-sweetheart and I were dancing with a respectable, torturous distance between us when she leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “Can I grind with you?†My libido’s response?: Oh. Hell. Yes. We didn’t start dating until almost a year later, and she was actually probably yelling (rather than whispering) to be heard over the music, but it was such a sexy, sweet moment (and satisfying dance), that when I think of it today, I feel everything I was feeling in that moment: sexy, desirable, giddy, hot.
Tag: dance
“The most important incoming classâ€
First-years explain why they decided to come in spite of it all
Ben Horlacher, First-Year, FL
I still remember my fingers trembling as I opened the envelope, I remember scanning the letter head to understand the gist of the words on the page. I remember screaming when I finally figured out the message the letter conveyed, I was necessarily excited about the next four years to be spent at Antioch.
I remember hearing the news from someone else, I remember thinking, “there is no way.†I remember reading every word on the web page, hoping that something somewhere would indicate that it wasn’t happening. I remember not wanting to talk about it.
When I first heard about Antioch, I felt myself drifting into its ephemeral attraction; I knew that somewhere out there was a place for me. I had spent a short lifetime searching for some place to embrace my weirdness in the way that Antioch already has. Having spent my high school years in the South, I was one of three openly gay men at my high school. So when I first visited Antioch I found something I had never known before, a place where I could speak my mind and people would respond not with jeers or cheers but equally informed, and passionately discussed ideas and opinions.
I was not looking for a liberal, or homosexual bastion, what I was looking for was a bastion for diversity. Where I felt my differences added to the community, not separated me from it. So when I heard it was closing, I was crestfallen. I knew that there may be other great schools, but nothing like Antioch. I felt like Adam leaving Eden, my sanctuary had been ripped out from under me like I was the glass of water on the table that had just had its table cloth ripped out so quickly it didn’t have time to fall.
Then the inevitable questions from friends and family: “Do you really want to go to a college that is closing?â€, “Does it make any sense just to go there for one year?†In my mind there were no doubt; one year at Antioch was worth one-hundred years anywhere else. So it was odd when people asked me “Why Antioch?†To me Antioch was not the end of a question, but the answer to a question, “Why? Antioch.†The reason I would attend a college that was supposed to close was because it was Antioch.
Alex Borowicz, 1st Year, WI
On possibly the most beautiful day of spring, I first stepped onto the Antioch campus. I was immediately struck by the old and wizened trees shading the campus grounds.
As I waited among the other prospective students collected within Weston Hall I tried to imagine the school covered with a fresh layer of winter snow. The green trees overpowered the idea and I was brought back to the real world as Brad began his pep talk on the school.
Leaving the campus that evening after a dance concert, I remember talking excitedly to my sister about my day. I told her of my time with the Order and Chaos class, the people I’d met, the campus and buildings. The rough state of the buildings seemed nothing to me; I’d lived in places much worse in South America. How could something like that hold me back from an education like this?
As the summer began, I first heard of the new fate of Antioch College. I am not much of a sensationalist, and I took the hit stoically, but so many of the things I had come to Antioch to experience were slipping from my grasp! I would never be able to go on a co-op, or participate in AEA… but I was sure there would still be something for me at Antioch. I soon saw the outpouring of support for the college and I felt a surge of pride at the thought of attending an institution that was so loved, for it is only love that can drive students to follow a school to its death.
It is that sentiment that steadied my hand and signed the check for the tuition deposit. How can one possibly know what this last year of Antioch will bring? Whenever asked about my decision, all I can do is assure my friends that “it will be an interesting year.â€Â I have no doubt of this, and I can only hope that I take advantage of everything it offers me during the next 9 months.
Conference in Review: Democracy School, or: How to Make an Authentic Democracy with Your Bare Hands
By Paige Clifton-Steele
Twelve men and women met two weekends ago in the basement of Spalt to learn how to make a better democracy. It was the 105th Democracy School— an educational program created by the Community Environmental Legal Defense Fund (CELDF), author and legal historian Richard Grossman, co-founder of the Program on Corporations, Law, and Democracy.
Ivan Knows Best…
This is the final edition of this semester’s Record, and Wood Pipe (who will probably be called Peace Pipe as he takes over some of the work) told me that “IVAN KNOWS BEST†might be going down the pipe. This now gives me the chance to really, really fess-up. Yes I knew Best, but really not all that well. I only met her three years ago when she was working at Peaches. She was a bouncer, and I got bounced. That day (according to my weight calendar) I only weighed 153.5 lbs, so when she threw me out I rolled two or three time in the direction of Ha Ha Pizza. Best took pity on me and picked me up, told me to stop crying and that it would all get better soon. “Mama’ll take care of it.†She said. I kept crying cause I couldn’t see her mother anywhere. She should have been around because Best told me her mother was Better. I didn’t even know she was sick. Better came later and apologized ‘cause she had to visit Good. I didn’t ask and I didn’t care who Good was. So, the truth is that I do know Best, but not as good as Better, but better than Good. Here’s the truth: Best likes music, and when there is nothing for Better to do, she dances with her. Bad, the brother, just watches.
I beleive we would all agree that it is much easier to denigrate (how’s that for a word?), make fun of, and basically be unjustly critical of almost anything. One of the reasons is that criticism is unlimited and humorous comments are usually accepted in spite of their lack of serious reasoning. Which brings me to some of the writing I have enjoyed sending to the Record this semester. Such writing has attempted to be humorously critical and has avoided any serious reflection on the music I was asked to listen to. At first I really didn’t think that the “younger†generation would find any of this music interesting. All of it was relatively quiet, rhythmically controlled, and frankly very relaxing to me. – I was brought up on “one, two, three o’clock four o’clock ROCK, five, six, seven o’clock, eight o’clock ROCK..we’re gonna ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK TONIGHT… also “SHAKE IT ON DOOOWN BAABY, TWIST AND SHOUT…,we twisted, we jitterbugged, we were DANCING. The rhythm was what we wanted, what we needed, and what we got. The music was loud, and our brains vibrated in sinc with it. (It may not be necessary to mention that (even in college) we had no booze, and certainly nothing fun to smoke)…so we moved, we shook, we twisted and turned…and after that we got to our rooms, read, talked, or slept. This term, however, I listened to many hours of gentle, strange sounds…many of them quiet, produced without any strong beat, and eventually somewhat captivating. I still had to wonder…â€What is going on? but eventually I realized that this were sounds musical or not, meant to reach the listener, encourage them to continue listening, and quite possible think, or relax. El perro Del Mar, for example, doesn’t make me want to jump out of bed and shake loose on the bedroom floor (I wear pijamas). Instead it provides simple, pleasant music with a clear but low keyed voice. I could listen to it, read at the same time and enjoy both.
So, I realize that I jumped two generations (I know nothing about the one in between, I had to do a lot of graduate studies and travel to far distances at that time) and I find that the music Dave gave me to listen to is very different. IGNATZ for example, provides an element of peace and (strange to apply to music) quiet…yes quiet!!! a quiet appreciation of productions that do not require people like me to shake and twist and turn. I learned, I expect to continue doing so, all of you don’t hesitat to come and help me!!!.
I promise you I have forgotten “jail house rockâ€
“Wood Pipes!â€
-Wood Pipes
Dispatches from Community Meeting
By Kathryn Leahey
Every Tuesday, I wait outside the door of a familiar room in McGregor and wait for a Keeper of the Keys to arrive. Every week, I proceed to sit down in the same chair, pen and paper at the ready, and wait for the other attendants to shuffle in. Nearly every time, I am amazed by how few people bother to show up. “Where is everybody?†has become one of Levi’s new catchphrases. This query is almost inevitably followed by repeated requests for each of us to take out our cell phones and text two friends demanding that they make an appearance. This week’s appeal, however, was only made once and half-heartedly at that. He did not even bother to plead with the stubborn minority present to move toward the front of the room.
After a handful of thank-yous, over half of which made by the CMs themselves, and Bob Devine was recognized as Community Member of the Week for his faithful service on ComCil, RAB, and innumerable subcommittees, the new director of the Coretta Scott King Center, Dr. Dana Patterson was introduced to the community. Some announcements concerning this weekend’s festivities – a mock Homecoming game and dance earlier Friday evening, a showing of the Rocky Horror Picture Show late Friday night, DIV on Saturday, and, most importantly, Quiz Bowl at 6 on Sunday – were made.
This week’s Pulse was brief, concerning the defacement of SOPP posters around campus. Mariel shared a positive interpersonal experience she had involving the checklists posted in the dance space. The topic of getting consent from everyone involved in an interaction, including those who have to watch it, was brought up once again, as was the existence of sober walkers. Ultimately, the meeting lasted less than thirty minutes. A group in attendance polled cited the vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce available as the most exciting and memorable part of the meeting.
