Word: amateurness
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Hamilton H. Hicks '01, a Currier House psychology concentrator, has recently augmented his Harvard education with a bold agenda of amateur strip-tease competition. His second-place win at Landsdowne Street's Axis Club, in addition to a short stint at drag-dressing, has earned Hicks quite a reputation for immodesty around campus as well as among the Boston area clubbing scene. Straight from the mouth of the boy who really "dares to bare," FM uncovers the true experience, inspiration and secret to successful stripping...
Hicks: Well, the competition has been held weekly for a few months now. First there is a drag show during which people can sign up for the amateur striptease. After the professionals finish their lip-sync routine, the hostess drag queen announces the seven to 10 audience members that will compete and calls them up one by one. (S) he puts on some thumpy music, usually fuzzy techno but it can be anything appropriate for hip shaking. The contestants begin to dance and disassemble their outfits. Afterwards the hostess dances an extravaganza finale...
Hicks: I saw some really cool Prada leather underwear in NY but didn't have sufficient funds at the time. Actually, I never have the sufficient funds! I do, however, own leopard-print underwear but I thought that animal skin would be going a little too far for an amateur so I settled on the black K-mart special...
This is by no means the work of an amateur. Jackson built the platform out of wood, covered it with lavender carpeting, and strung the room's circumference with black bulb Christmas lights. A black beanbag and an entertainment system populate one wall of the room, the other three surfaces are blanketed with angled mirrors arranged to create diamond panels. Flying in the face of the conventional leopard-print, Jackson opts for another pattern of the savannah: zebra stripe, on a pair of boxers--yes, that's right, underwear--hanging on a hook in the corner...
...civilizing nicety in this most civilized of narrations is that the two are passable amateur musicians. Maturin plays the cello, and as Aubrey admits, "I scrape a little, sir. I torment a fiddle from time to time." As chapters end--chapters of blood, crashing seas and weevily sea biscuit--the two are likely to take solace together, tormenting Locatelli or Boccherini. Friendship, lifelong and ramified, between these two and with recurring minor characters, is the bedrock theme of the novels...