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ALL AROUND, SoundCloud artists get a bad rap. Maybe the creation and proliferation of niche genres like electronic folk and indie jazz bothers career music critics, or maybe too many random guys on Tinder include their SoundCloud handle and link their mixtape in their bio.
Moaning, the river wakes. Her greyed current strokes the boulders, combing algae off in flakes like pulling dried mud from a wrestling child’s knotted head. Her breathing you barely miss — the way music played from a neighboring room comes off blanketed, foreign, all those lyrics we lose to the weight of the wallpaper. What I’m saying is maybe we’re missing something in the river’s language, maybe her lyrics, tossed from bank to bank, become bait for the bowfin, and maybe their scales have secrets they don’t want the silence to share. Maybe I think too much of this. But haven’t you heard the trees grow anxious in their whispers? Don’t the branches scold? How naïve to believe we are the only ones with stories to tell, the only bodies whose sentiments pin themselves to our sleeves. Hear the way the leaves, long dead, fly up and around each other, and you’ll hear a corpse’s only wish: to not be buried beneath another. Listening, I drop a stone in the Congaree’s mouth. One moment, her esophagus is heavy with its gulping; the next, a chorus begins.
Editor's note: In the interest of full disclosure, the Garnet & Black Launch Party (9 PM-12 AM on March 22) will be held in Space Hall free of charge. Style and photo staff also were given access to the space for this issue's style shoot. In return, we dedicated this editorial space to feature this venue.
This interview is the third installment of While I Have the Floor, a series focused on giving different student groups a platform for thoughtful discussion on issues of politics, religion and culture. This issue, we’re here with Dylan Schoonmaker, fundraising chair for the Gamecock Wrestling Club, and Micah McIlhenny, e-gamer at the university, to discuss what it means to train, compete and take part in unique and unconventional sports.
The arpeggio sounds so familiar to Allie that it could be silence. She looks down at her hands to where her fingertips press the white keys down with precision. They’re on autopilot, controlled by muscle memory and nothing else. A marionette come to miraculous life. This is the first few minutes of every lesson she’d had since her mother first signed her up 10 years ago. Tennyson stands beside the keyboard, shoulders squared and humming low to match her warm up.
Let me start by saying that I am woefully underqualified to write this article.
“I WAS IN THE MIDDLE before I knew I had begun.” Mr. Darcy’s sentiments about his love for Lizzie in Jane Austen’s classic “Pride and Prejudice” accurately portray my relationship with fanfiction, and I would venture that it’s true for most people who dare to venture down this literary rabbit hole.
THE UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH CAROLINA cracks the top 10 on a lot of lists. We’ve got the No. 1 Honors College, the No. 1 undergraduate international business major, and we’re ranked third in the world for our sports science program. But there’s another list we’ve got a spot on, one that’s also home to Georgetown, Fordham and Harvard. It’s the Foundation for Individual Rights in Education’s 2017 list of the top ten worst schools in America for free speech.
The best remedy for a bad yesterday is watching the sun peak out from the horizon.
The first time I ever stepped foot in a strip club, I applied for a job. The three o’clock sunshine vanished with the shutting door, and I entered a self-sufficient little world, sealed totally from the outside. All at once it was dark and loud, and I felt the particular way club music jars the body. A man in a three-piece suit led me over garish hotel carpeting to an office just big enough for two standing adults.
AFTER THE CIVIL WAR, Joseph and John LeConte left South Carolina College for California. They were outraged with the newly enforced laws of the post-Civil War state legislature that allowed newly freed slaves to attend the university. Today, their name adorns the math and statistics building.
Shayla Flores was eleven when she moved to Chapin, South Carolina. Nine years later, she ran for mayor. After a childhood of frequent moves as the daughter of two members of the Army, she thinks of Chapin as her “first home.”
I guess to start off this blog, I should introduce myself. My name is Abby Beauregard, I’m a sophomore and majoring in geography, economics, and hopefully environmental studies. I think I’m really funny on Twitter, I’m in love with the Crown Prince of Jordan, and I once got groped by Bill Clinton at a party. I used to be a business major but then Trump got elected and I realized I needed to do something that actively encouraged public service. So, I did a brief stint as a global studies major before realizing Arabic is hard and a career in public service would probably cause me to have way too many mental breakdowns than I can handle (and, for the record, my mental breakdown tolerance is fairly high). So here I am.
I lost my keys in the river and lost
The feeling of being lost is not uncommon for college students. The confusion, disorientation and vulnerability of a new environment seem to be common factors among those entering a new phase in life. Being in a new environment can be daunting, but through a newfound isolation, we find our own sense of self-expression. Style has become a means by which we overcome those confusing landscapes and take control of a setting that might not feel right just yet. This shoot aimed to mimic this sense of displacement and emotion, manifesting itself in rich fabrics and heavy layers — something like a seasonal armor. The rich textures give us something substantial to work with, arming us with confidence to adapt to the turn of the season and change in life. The vintage pieces being styled with modern pieces created a physical analysis of a timeless sense of vulnerability and resistance. This vulnerability comes from a sense of being lost coupled with a need to fight back and resist the overwhelming notion of not fitting in. There has been a cultural shift from when some of the clothes were made, obviously, but their messages and stories remain the same, arming us with whatever we may need, to adapt, push forward and find a sense of peace and belonging.
When we began working on our winter issue, I knew that I had three specific goals.
Making a return for its second year, Cockstock provided students with a free concert featuring renowned rapper 21 Savage. Although almost an hour late due to airline difficulties, 21 Savage greeted attendees with a set packed with chart toppers.
In this review, I have to tackle one of the greatest challenges any creative person must face, Shakespeare. The playwright gets touted as the most important writer in the English language. Going in, I knew Shakespeare's verse was going to be a challenge in comprehension and I hoped I wouldn’t get lost. Good thing this production of Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, directed by Louis Butelli, helps the viewer understand its story through its use of expressive acting, music and modern production tools.
Today, I take a moment of silence in the middle of the crowded bridge over Pickens Street to mourn the coffee now spilled because you bumped into my backpack while speeding past. You wouldn’t know about this tragedy, since the symphony of a flying vanilla latte took place in the air already far behind you.