“You heard about that, right? Back in the ’60s, a Reedie invented bromo-mescaline right over there in the Chem building.”

If you know any older alumni, especially from before the Internet era, you might’ve had that sentence thrown at you in casual conversation. They’re trying to pass on a legend that hasn’t had currency around these parts for a long time. Don’t believe them — but listen anyway. Legends are lessons, and the story of “bromo-mescaline” is a perfect primer in Reedies’ self-image through the ages.

Exile by Nastaran Ahmadi, directed by professor Catherine Ming T'ien Duffly opened for a five-performance run through November 6th–7th, and 12th–14th. It is the world premiere of the play and Duffly's third production at Reed.

Crimson flags adorned the third floor of Eliot on Tuesday, November 10. From noon to five, students from various activist groups gathered in President Kroger’s office to demonstrate, converse, and workshop activism. A coalition of student activists representing the Reed Socialist Alternative, Blue Heron, DiversIfY, Fossil Free Reed, and Students for Sensible Drug Policy gathered in the office to workshop.

“Mostly void, partially stars,” read the T-shirt of the Welcome to Night Vale fan sitting beside me. More than four hundred of us filled the event space in the Beaverton branch of Powell’s Books, anxiously awaiting the appearance of the popular and deeply strange podcast’s writers.

Your girls here at DeSastre have taken to the style of Alejandro Chavez ’16 since way back. Since the dawn of O Week, ’Dro has exhibited a taste in style that although subdued, is adventurous in its subtlety. To this day we still talk about a fuzzy, beige, sheep-like sweater that he wore back in the day (RIP) Alejandro’s style has evolved since then, favoring more outfits that challenge the “rules” of men’s style by employing pattern and texture within the context of a neutral color palette. Drawing inspiration from his roommate Josh Cox ’17, with remixes from his thrift store finds; ’Dro is a stellar example of well cultivated men’s style.

In a recent episode of NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast that I was listening to, one of the co-hosts remarked on how, as far as the cultural output calendar goes, October and November are relatively calm months. For them, that means that the fall months are a time for ruminating  on the year and catching up on things that they may have missed in the preceding seasons. This all leads up to the wintertime take-no-prisoners mêlée of year-end best-of list season, in which every columnist, blogger, and critic finally publishes their highly curated index of 2015’s best offerings and scours their rivals’ lists and furiously downloads whatever they’ve been foolish enough to ignore. Of course, this is coming from people inside the industry, who get albums, books, and screeners about three months early. For us normies, the months of October and November can feel just as packed with content as the summer and spring seasons that came before. The fall TV season is in full swing, meaning that the best new shows have finally pulled ahead of the pack and we can begin whittling down our interest from the insurmountable mound of programming that the networks and streaming companies have dumped upon us. O veritable mount of fine hour-long dramas and ten-episode sitcoms! How would I ever conquer thee? New vital albums are coming out every week, some that you can’t get enough of (hello, Arca) and some that you can’t help hearing about all the time (oh hey Grimes). That pile of library books that you put on hold in August isn’t getting any smaller. All those movies you heard about when they were getting rave reviews on the festival circuit are coming out.