In the margins of page 163: “Different types of women. Different definitions of womanhood.” A bit further down: “Different ideals. Different proximities to survival.” So I guess all I know how to say is that this book is about…that.

Or maybe it’s about proximity in general: proximity to your exclusive experience; how each moment shapes what follows. Proximity to sensitivity, to mortal harm, to devastation — a sense of swaying as you’re unmoored from everything you thought you were. Identity, learning, growing, surpassing (in certain respects) the people who raised you and thought they were so smart. Being checked. Balance…

What I Almost Did: post this photo with a caption a la “End of Decade Cheer: Good Photo of Good Night, I’m Doing Well, Wish You the Best, I’m Happy After All”, and I am, so cheers to that (bit iffy there for a while), Happy New Year, happy End of Decade, all of that, genuinely, Happy — but the full story, which I’ve enjoyed kind of sadistically digging out of myself, is that this current peaceful decadal exit is hard-fought, so cheers to that fight: to every pounded steering wheel, every gas pedal put straight to the metal, every…

I remember when Skyrim first came out. It was the winter of 2011 and my best friend was on the other end of Xbox Live. I was amazed that you could summit any mountain peak that you saw in the game. You could point to a peak in the distance, say, “There!” and run toward it. And I did. Over and over I picked a peak to climb, reaching the pinnacle like some quest achieved. It’s not even a major part of the game. You don’t win anything for it.

I’m not as ambitious in real life, but I love…

I was eleven the last time I fought with water. Coolers stood guard filled with slick balloons ready to snap on someone’s summer skin, our water guns pumped and dripping relief from the dry Utah heat. Something about being eleven was like that, too.

Headquartered on my family’s porch, I tracked my eyes up and down the road. The Eyre twins could be sneaking through the bushes, probably were.

Wind and water and water and wind. Heat that drained and heat that filled. Coldness on the hands. A balloon would go where you threw it, and pop.

The trampoline frayed…

The Shape of Water, Thelma, Call Me By Your Name, I, Tonya, and sure, even Star Wars, why the heck not, let’s do it.

How does a love story transpire when neither party can speak? Why, with glances and dances and hard-boiled eggs, of course!

I didn’t realize that there were untapped love stories out there, still (straight ones, at least (assuming fish man is indeed a fish man, which, we’re all pretty sure he is)). But besides all the newness of this film, besides the jarring inventiveness of it all, it’s believable and vivid. My goodness, VIVID. You believe…

Snow Soldiers and a Waste of Time

Bentley was an apathetic lump, lying on an expensive couch freshly reupholstered. I lifted his tiny body — standard Shih Tzu model, squished nose sniffing — from his blanket, where he spent hours waiting for Mom to get home from meetings, and work sites, and her daily eating of “literally nothing but a handful of cashews.” One thing about Mom was that she always came home sighing. …

It’s a blur, and I’m not entirely sure it was me, but someone definitely cried watching Game 2 of the Western Conference Finals this week. Though I’ve recently announced that I’m a lifelong Blazers fan (and I’m sticking to it), my tears weren’t the product of any particular team’s — I don’t know — allure.

I mean, I only sort of rooted for Golden State to get the better of Houston, because [insert Houston Rockets/James Harden/Chris Paul /Travis Scott/NASA criticism here] ultimately outpaced my boredom with seeing “The Town” in “The Finals” once again. And because I accepted that GSW…

As anyone within earshot of me in the last few months knows, the 2017–2018 season was something of a breakout for the Utah Jazz. We had Gordon Hayward, we lost Gordon Hayward, jerseys were burned, and Donovan Mitchell & Co. rose from the ashes.

We felt saved. It was beautiful.

But a lesser known fact, lying just barely in the shadow of Donovan Mitchell and DPoY Rudy Gobert’s rising dominance, is that the Utah Jazz may be the most lovable team in the NBA right now. …