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Continue reading →: I Don’t Care What You Think
Let me be more precise. I do not care if you think Beyoncé’s Cowboy Carter didn’t deserve the Grammy for Best Country Album or if Kendrick Lamar’s Super Bowl halftime show wasn’t to your liking. I think (it’s my turn now), as an upper-middle-class, Southern California-living Ashkenazi Jew, when it comes to these two groundbreaking artists, it’s not about personal preference—it’s about something deeper. The reactions that arose from Beyoncé’s win and Lamar’s performance aren’t just reflections of musical taste. They are a reflection of the internalized bias, racism, and misogyny that continues to plague this country. Never in my…
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Continue reading →: What Am I To Do?
I cannot write. As much as I physically, mentally, emotionally, desperately want to write, I can’t. A rolodex of ideas circulate my mind, but no action has been made. The countless, pathetic attempts at literature that have been tried on this page are shunned and exiled. All creative juices, stored even in the most hard to reach places, face a shortage. What at times is my greatest confidant, my greatest power I have to yield the skills I hold, has waged a war against me. It’s a mean and nasty war. But what am I to do? This enemy of…
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Continue reading → : 23
It’s the big birthday post. The article that I can rightfully force down all my friends and innocent strangers’ throats. This article (in my mind) is supposed to be some of my most innovative work. I’m going to my family’s home in Palm Desert, California with my friends, alongside copious amounts of marijuana, and a plan to use any resource necessary to write the most groundbreaking article the world has ever seen as the curtain closes on year 22. As the final night comes to an end, however, and my initial and never-ending Friday, 5:01 p.m. high is finally wearing…
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Twenty-Something Year Old Journalist 