Archive for July, 2011

We’re living in a Mormon moment

#6!

“Boys”

I’ve been spending a lot of time in the past year with people a decade or so younger than me. This turns out to be one of the consequences of going back to school in your mid-thirties, and it’s made me more conscious of age. The other day at my summer internship*, I went with […]

Christmas in July

Pro sports are so, so boring. They make me want to go take a nap. And the games take so long! I would rather spend those four hours sitting in my dentist’s waiting room browsing through weeks-old Us magazines. I would rather get an oil change. I would rather steam-clean my carpets in August than […]

An obituary of sorts, with apologies for length and nostalgia

The drive along I-35 between Austin and Dallas is among the more tedious stretches of road I know, and I had to see it over and over because I was in school in Austin and my mother’s family is in Dallas.  It was only three and a half hours, but I would get there weary, […]

Keeping it real

Recently, a friend who’s also from Jersey asked me what travel plans I have this summer.  I told him that Swells and I are going to the Jersey Shore.  He paused; his face pained. “The Jersey Shore?” he asked. “Uh, yeah,” I said, not knowing that I made a linguistic foible. “Dude, seriously: the Jersey […]

Spoiler alert: the boy lives . . . again.

Letter from Louisiana

Flyer posted outside a club in New Orleans: As if Katrina weren’t bad enough?

Are we forgetting art?

Obviously, some among us are getting that art made all the time, doing the painting and the playing and the poeming for the rest of us. Making art might be your job, your hobby, or something you end up doing because your kid needs a story, a song, or a drawing buddy. Some of us […]

My new favorite game

I have a new favorite game. It’s called “cornhole.” It’s really simple: you throw beanbags at a slightly slanted piece of plywood, trying to make them land on the wood (1 point) or go through a single hole that’s been drilled into it (3 points). It’s like horseshoes, but without the shoulder strain. Here is […]

Selves: before and during turbulence