Is there a sillier "holiday" than Halloween? Knocking on strangers doors for candy? Or a trick? (What exactly constitutes a "trick," anyway?) Makes the belated celebration of the birth of "the son of God" by going into debt look sensible! Does anyone actually go trick-or-treating anymore? Here in the City, at least? Rumors - urban legends? - of gang initiations and other craziness taking place tonight have changed our plans so now we're hitting the Museum of Natural History for "loads of Halloween fun, including trick-or-treating, live performances, craft activities, roaming characters, and more!" Sounds like fun, if disturbingly suburban.…

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National Novel Writing Month

Opportunity knocking...? National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over talent and craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved. Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write…

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Pumpkin Seeds: 10/29/2003

1. Last night at Acentos was one of those rare transcendent moments that puts a smile on your face and a spring in your step. I was so jazzed, I played Jordan Knight's Give it to You all the way home, complete with in-your-seat choreography! Mahina Movement, with a new-to-me lineup, was simply amazing. A female Rage Against the Machine, they brought tight collaborations with raw verse and absolutely smoked the mic. The open preceding them was an exciting mix of old and new voices, too, with Fish filling in as host like it was second-nature. Nine months in and…

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In the end, Breath, Eyes, Memory turns out to be one of those disappointing books that is much less than the sum of its parts. I suspect much of the praise it received stemmed more from American fascination with youth and "exotic" cultures than from its modest artistic merits. Danticat is talented, without a doubt, but this book is a short story clumsily stretched into novel-length, barely, full of archetypes and allegories but not nearly enough character development. In the end, you don't really know or care about anybody or anything; what should be an intense and emotionally harrowing story…

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