Like a needle thin trail of blood; or the first faint whiff of putrescence: there is that foreknowledge, a taint, a thin sheen of fear that smears the activities of those in College Town: born of the need to conform.
Ithaca is not a welcoming place. It’s a place where other thoughts are not welcome – where visitors need a reason. A place where your adherence to doctrine is casually checked within the first few sentences of a social meeting – and everything depends on it.
I first heard of “Cornell Paranoia” from a blogger expressing fear to write about, or even link to my work: she was afraid that her bosses would find out and she would lose her job. “Cornell Paranoia” was uttered with a fragile smile.
Cornell is not a beacon of enlightenment: it’s a centrality of power – and rural people bear the marks of its well-worn club.
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