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Duos This, Gardens That; I Just Wanna Party Party Party Till My Panties Fall Off

Photo by Lucy Lasater // Edits by Oscar Eichmann

Owing to the fact that there are many entrepreneurial minds bouncing off the walls on this, our dear campus, we lucky children of God are frequently blessed with a barrage of nights out to select from. 

I tend to follow the law. I nod, say thank you, and shell out as much as my grandmother makes annually to smell the sweet joys of progressive society. Women, men, all the rest standing rigidly throughout the artistic highs and lows of "Shewolf". A quick, gratuitous "it's soooo good to see you, girl. I love the bob" even when, should you ever believe it as such, I do not, actually, love that fuck-ass bob. All that jazz; praise be. 

But have you ever considered what these events are for? Whence they derive meaning? For fear of having lost touch with the ancient art form of dance, I am writing to the world today. I implore you: these soirees, these 'downtowns' are not just a social exercise. RESIST. There is truth in the boogie; unearth it. 

In the end we will find ourselves through the music. And so, when I next put on some groovy flared jeans, I will shake ass. I will party party party till my panties fall down