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Page 32 text:
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ON BEING ALONE IF YoU'vE never been alone, you don't know how trivial conversation and com- panionship can seem. By alone I don,t mean the absence of companions, necessarily, I mean the calm, serene feeling one gets when shut off from the useless patter of his fellow man. One should be alone for at least two days a month. It clears the brain of others' opinions and allows the poor rushed gray matter to relax and quietly form some opinions of its own. It also allows other people some freedom from the opinions of just one person or clique. On the whole, it's fun because one gets to know himself. There are some kinds of people who should be alone: the uncommunicative type who is confused by people or just hasn't anything to say and is there- fore of no use conversationally to anyone. Then there is that seldsh type who wants to keep his ideas to himself. The next is the minor criminal, the punster and his more blood-thirsty brother, the practical joker, who is im- practical in modern society. There are many ways to be alone. The best is never to cultivate any friends from your unhappy advent on earth to your more fortunate depar- ture. If you have friends, though, there are ways to remedy your youthful mistake. The most inconvenient is to leave town because one usually has business to conduct. The remaining solution is to get your friends away. If you read the ads, this is easy to do. All that is necessary is a hint that she has tattle-tale gray hair or her bedroom floor lacks glamour. If We know human nature, she should never speak to you again. The next is even easier, develop an annoying habit such as wagging your leg in tempo with the conversation. If the conversation is exciting, Wag your leg like a sema- phor. You could say I told you so or It's just as I predicted. We are experts on being alone through the annoyance method, so, if you have any problems when following these directions, write to us. If you suc- cessfully carry out these simple instructions you will either be alone or be shot. DoLoaEs Lawson 80
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Page 31 text:
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VOICE A WINTER SUNSET The sky is clear, the day is still, The only sound is the cold wind's shrill. Above the horizon, the red ball Hovers, amidst skyscrapers tall. Slowly it sinks, its heat and light Are fast driven, and in steps night. The sun's last rays light the dim blue Then like lost hope they suddenly die. The sky is dark, the night is still. The only sound is the cold Wind's shrill. sky, MAURICE TOFANI FREEDOM How can I sing of flowers and trees, Of babbling brooks, and shady nooks, When men are dying in agony So life may be good and life may be free? How can man sing in captivity? Or be happy, living in slavery? Then each to his task till the battle's won And a new and better life has begun Only then will my heart sing again. NINA FALEK CF ANNEX 13 ELLERY QUEEN, DETECTIVE Ellery Queen, deducer of fame, Whose logic puts Sherlock to shame. Yes! He's the ace, In every case! His mind is like a new-born flame. Pince-nez dangling, faultlessly dressed, He attacks his work with a certain zest. At analyzing, Tantalizing Clues, he is always at his best. As a detective, Ellery's aces high, That fact at least, you can't deny. When trouble brews, He'll never lose Any time, like a spider trapping a fly. His library contains many a book, But only intrigue gets a second look. From Lupin to Hailey, From Christie to Bailey, Ev'ry criminal from killer to crook. He inherited his traits from the elder Queen, Cunning and caution, a brain crystal keen, A sense of duty, That no golden booty Could swerve, or besmirch a conscience now clean. BENNETT SILVEESTEIN NATURE Oh spring, it is a wond'rous thing, In the pond that's deep and dim For in the trees, birds start to sing, All the different fishes swim, And when the wind goes humming by, And the clouds up in the sky, The trees all give a mighty sigh. Go hurriedly a-passing by. MELVIN LAKE 29
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Page 33 text:
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DOOMED I'r coU1.nN r happen to me. That sort of thing happened to other people but not to me. Thus I sought to convince myself that I wouldn't meet the same fate suffered by my friends, though a small insistent voice constantly reiterated, There is no escape. For days I had been in a state of nervous anticipation. I started when spoken to and found myself mumbling to myself like a rich miser with hoards of gold in the bank. But the anxiety suffered during the days of waiting Was as nothing compared to the wave of terror that surged over me as I woke up one morning and realized that at last the dreaded day had arrived! I walked out of the subway into a veritable downpour of sunshine, birds trilled sweetly and to the casual observer all seemed right with the world. But not to Jean Fishkin. I was in no mood to enjoy the beauties of nature. My feet turned reluctantly toward the hitherto friendly building which now seemed like a grim torture chamber sardonically smirking at my discom- fiture. As my dragging feet brought me nearer to its malevolently grinning jaws a preliminary Butter of fear ran lightly up and down my spine as though a musician were practicing his scales. Hesitantly I opened the door, took a few tremulous steps, then, with a sudden exultant burst of courage I dashed wildly up the stairs only to subside weakly against the wall as my courage ebbed away. Terror clutched at my heart strings, and at the same time I felt as though an agitated swarm of butterflies were exploring my lower abdominal region . As I walked down the all-too-short corridor, fear wrapped itself around me in a vise-like grip, and a clammy sweat broke out over my body. The pounding of my heart roared in my ears as though someone were bang- ing on a sheet of tin with a sledge hammer. All too soon I reached my destination. A cowardly feeling overcame me, and I felt an almost uncontrollable urge to run to the safety of my home. But no, this cowardice was intolerable. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and marched resolutely into the room, determined not to let a mere Regents exam frighten me any longer. JEAN FISHKIN 31
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