
Newsletter
Newsletter
Newsletter
A few weeks ago my friends and I came up with an inspired idea. What if we just threw a huge party for no reason? Within the span of an hour, Heather, Dan and I had come up with a hook for the gathering, designed an invite page, and invited
Newsletter
On Saturday mornings, my friend wakes up to the sound of a crying baby and pushes him in his meticulously researched stroller to the farmer’s market and into the children’s section of the public library. The baby looks like his dad, according to her and everyone else. When
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What’s the hardest thing about being raised by an alcoholic? Arranging square folding chairs in the shape of a circle. My friends don’t like when I tell that joke, but I do. It really is difficult to get the geometry right. Usually though, it doesn’t matter how
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It’s one of the simplest — and most important — questions in the art of human connection, but my whole body tenses every time I am asked where I grew up. For me, the answer to this perfectly innocuous question is logistically complicated and emotionally treacherous. Whenever I can, I try
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There’s no social media user whose work my friends send me more regularly than the genius known as ArtButMakeItSports. It combines two things I like: sports and art. It’s so nice to be known. So, I had some questions for LJ Rader, who runs the account. He had
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There is a cabal of creepy little freaks roaming the hallways of our political system right now with the single-minded goal of eradicating transgender, intersex, and non-binary people from the fabric of our society. It won’t work, as trans people — and LGBTQ people as a whole — have a long
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I have a story up today at Defector about spending a weekend at an academic and artistic symposium on Yoko Ono’s art. It was a fascinating but exhausting multidimensional examination of the most reviled artists of our time. This time last week, I had what I assume to be
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Let’s (it) be honest here: Who wants to see Paul McCartney play another football stadium? His most important bandmates (John, George, Linda) are all dead. He’s 82 years old and participates in the constant beating of a dead horse around the legacy of the Beatles. He’s a
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My dog, Fisher, is the world’s foremost expert on how I am feeling. Frequently, his actions predate my own recognition that I am sick or sad. It is strange to cohabitate with a member of another species. It’s even more humiliating that he knows me better than I
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My stupid friends told me I need to write about Jeremy Strong, an actor I enjoy watching and love analyzing. After we all read his interview with Variety about his development process for a Super Bowl advertisement, they began encouraging me to publicize my appreciation for Strong. There was a
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In Havana, I discovered a new way in which I am an idiot. An indoctrinated idiot. The worst type of idiot: One who thinks she has educated herself out of idiocy. A few hours after landing in Havana1, I began to realize that despite all of my knowledge of political