Columns

At the heart of my music taste lies a devious tendency that should appear glaringly obvious to any enjoyer of mainstream jams. I, Lilly Sayenga, like music that objectively sounds – to put it delicately – bad.

Making a student film is a lot like making sushi — without the rice, seaweed, fish or knowledge of how to make sushi. But you know good sushi when you eat it, right? 

All newly 21 and ready to kick the summer off with a bang, our goal was simple: create the perfect night out in LA. It took a few tries.

As I begin the process of leaving college and entering “the real world,” it appears that — to the likely disappointment of my professors — my greatest desire is to feel good when I look in the mirror (or open my closet).

To date, this column has taken a broadly anti-AI and AI art stance. I intuitively know that the primary reason I feel this way is due to a personal aesthetic aversion to AI art.

I remember purchasing my tickets to see Keshi at Frost Amphitheater several months ago, my frustration and eagerness compounded by sweaty palms and a reliably unreliable internet connection.

Consumption for consumption’s sake is something I think we all engage in to a degree, but maybe some of us are more prone to it than others.

If a social blunder occurs in person, I know I can laugh it off and try to convince myself later that it never happened. Unfortunately, that luxury does not extend to texting.

An otherwise bleak semester turned decidedly sunnier last week with the return of “Succession” for its final season.

For days when the thought of watching a Criterion Collection film or, God forbid, cracking the spine of a book conjures a wave of nausea, I turn to reality TV.