On a Saturday morning this winter, while my wife trained for a half-marathon, I was tasked with taking our eighteen-month-old daughter to the neighborhood synagogue for “Shabbat for Tots.”
Today the day-care wars no longer take the form of hallucinogenic news segments and sensationalized tabloid stories. They are quieter, mostly dignified and often subterranean.
Yes! I thought as I read U and I, feeling my mischievous, troll instincts emerge: I could do what Baker did with Updike, but with Baker.
Let’s say it while there’s still time: Jorie Graham is our most important living poet. “Our” being readers of American English; the time being late, inexorably approaching an end; “important” being as much a measure of the aim as the attainment.
I take a deep breath and press play on Season Three, Episode Thirteen of NBC’s Emmy Award-winning sitcom Frasier (1993-2004).
Is it twisted that her first name means “manhood”? Andrea Dworkin, the legendary feminist, said she believed in men’s “humanity, against all the evidence.” And I believe her.
Some time ago, I was in a hotel room, scrolling my phone, and enraged, as usual, at my body.
A while before I saw Joe Rogan do stand-up in Denver, I organized a bachelor party in nearby Boulder.
On the internet today, discussions about men’s fashion flourish in every digital corner about practically every imaginable aesthetic.
Some gay men come out twice. First as gay, then as bottoms.
This winter we surveyed hundreds of people—of all genders—about what they think men are for.
Not all the time, but sometimes, early in the morning, dawn just breaking, my car goes bling-blong and the passenger airbag indicator glows on the dashboard.
If somehow you were to wander into a screening of Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest (2023) without knowing what you were getting into, it might take about ten minutes to figure things out.
She has perfected a form of autobiographical and biographical writing that combines exposure and elision, rescue and renunciation.
