Robert Ast

Misty: The End of History

I am (finally) graduating, which means: a) from now on I will be acting responsibly in bars in a different section of town; b) I am getting nostalgic for conversations I had yesterday; c) this is t

Still More 1968: Discipline and Rubbish

It is a source of never-ending consolation that whenever I need proof of my own vast ignorance and extremely finite powers of imagination, I can think back to Columbia and 1968—for example, I have

Viva La Revolution

Whatever knowledge I have of Columbia’s history stems from an attempt to piece together a history of the School of General Studies from scant sources and/or largely unhelpful official histories.

Up Against the Wall... or Let Them Throw Pies

I am so very bored with the 1968 unpleasantness, which people have been talking about more or less incessantly for the last 40 years—but dues have to be paid. This week: praise.

Love in the Time of Acid Flashbacks

It seems quaint from our debauched, instantly gratified vantage point of fast food, MTV, and Facebook mini-feeds, but once upon a time people believed in a biochemical anomaly called love.

Thank You, Sir—May I Have Another?

My undergraduate career is winding down, and as I look back I find a depressing lack of hijinks (or so my official story goes).

Girls, Girls, Girls

Anyone who has walked around Columbia in heels knows that women were not part of the equation when the Morningside campus was built. This is perhaps understandable.

Veterans of Columbia

It was thoughtfully suggested to me that my last column, which appeared on Veterans’ Day, should perhaps have had something to do with the on-again/off-again relationship between Columbia and the m

Coitus of the Stars

Since I am (probably) going to graduate in May, I have been forced to think about finding a job, having a future, etc.

Murder Somewhat Foul

As a willing victim of both fine, fine institutions, I can say that the University of Chicago is creepier than Columbia—creepier in the sense of both “What is on that guy’s computer?” and the dim,