Want to hear what’s made my past week?

Phone calls with old friends. I know, right? Phones, used for calling? What sorcery is this??? I jest, but just barely.

Don’t get me wrong: I use my phone to make at least one call almost every day. As a former latchkey kid, it was a basic daily task to call my mom to let her know my siblings and I had survived the bus ride home. That simple task became a routine that followed me through life long after it was needed; I still call my mom pretty much daily.

The frequency of our calls is precisely what sets our calls apart from the feeling of “Oh, what is this new-fangled technology?” The daily nature of the calls is fulfilling a different function; it’s designed to fill each other in on the minutiae of our days. It’s basically every scene in Seinfeld when the crew is just talking about whatever random thing happened that day.

I hadn’t talked to these friends on the phone in forever, and wow, let me just tell you, catching up with people you love is fantastic. Who knew?

This isn’t actually me waxing poetic about the technology of the phone. It’s more about the friendships that it helps keep alive.

Each of the friends I spoke with were men from different eras of my life: one from Teach for America days in Mississippi, one from journalism school, and one from my Wild West adventures in Wyoming. I so loved catching up with them to find out how life was treating them. They all do interesting work that captivates my attention and makes for great stories. As we caught up though, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Why haven’t we done this before now? What’s stopping me from doing it more, not just with them but with other eras of my life: high-school besties, undergraduate pals, law school classmates who are probably judges by now, the list goes on.

I couldn’t separate the calls from the fact that we’re all men. I think a lot about this New York Times Magazine piece from last year entitled: “Where Have All My Deep Male Friendships Gone?” It’s this very earnest (and relatable) essay from a man who recognizes the number of fellow men he calls friends aren’t that indicative of the status or depth of the friendship. When pressed to think about how he actually interacts with his male friends, he finds it all to be lacking — superficial, unmotivated. What’s worse (for the men out there, at least) is that it seems to be common for our kind; his revelations resonated because they were universal.

I think about how environment and stage of life plays into this phenomenon. When I was in Wyoming, I was a million miles from home, didn’t know a soul except for the fellow reporters in this overwhelmingly male newsroom. And we hung out constantly: 8-plus hours a day in each others’ company inside the newsroom and then our entire social circles, for the most part, were each other. Drinks, meals, pick-up basketball games, rounds of golf, a night at the bowling alley, poker nights — it was all just us. But when I think back to those moments, I realize that the depth and serious talk happened in smaller pairings (or not at all, with some of them). We rarely got serious as we sat around a fire at the end of a long evening, talking about everything and nothing. If it got too serious, too heavy, too emotional, we had any number of self-defense mechanisms that would kick in and normalize things. Not quite at the level of fart jokes, but not all that far off either.

I think we all could admit that was the case, but the thing about modern masculinity is: I’m not sure we’re supposed to care. Which is a strange place to be, when a perfectly natural yearning — more substance, please! — feels coded as against the bro code. Many, if not most, of my closest friends are women, and that’s not really a recent development. They’re not hung up on machismo and whether a topic is too emotional, and I love them for that very reason. And so while it’s not like I’m lacking for this kind of friendship, I wonder, at times, why I long for it so much with other guys? What itch would that scratch, exactly?

I’m not entirely sure, other than, you know, the basics like “being yourself” and “feeling seen” and stuff like that. But within a very specific friendship. It’s honestly just sad that anyone would spend two seconds worrying about this kind of thing, but here I am.

What I can say is this: what a marvel the telephone is. It’s mostly been catapulted into this status of “very bad thing” or “stealer of time/peace/sanity,” but its simple intended use is a miracle of mood-enhancer. It’s made possible these meaningful connections with people dear to me, and it’s funny how easily I forget it. In short: Call your friends. They miss you. They want to hear your voice. They will be flattered (even if initially inconvenienced). They love you, and even they don’t know how badly they need a reminder of that fact.

Ten Worth Your Time

1. I find myself going back and forth on the genre known as “true crime.” Sure, I’ve been seduced by numerous books and documentaries, and maybe I even loved the experience. But when it comes to podcasts — a medium for which non-podcast-listeners would be excused for thinking was synonymous with true crime — I’ve been fairly reluctant. Yes, Serial hooked me, because it was excellent. And I played along without protest when my friends back in Wyoming decided to start a podcast club (same as a book club — consume a series and then show up for meal and drinks at rotating local establishments) and inevitably it trended toward true crime. Despite the copious amounts of podcasts I consume a year, very few of them are true crime. But I’m toying with the idea of diving into a series after this piece by Elon Green in Defector. The podcast is called Killer in the Code and is made by none other than crime-novel superstar Michael Connelly. The appeal doesn’t stop there, for it’s no run-of-the-mill murder; it’s multiple murders. And not just any murders but some of the most famous unsolved cases ever: The Black Dahlia and the Zodiac Killer. So get this: The podcast posits that the same guy did them. And what’s more is Green raises the possibility that Connelly and crew very well may be full of shit. You mix all that together, and you’ve got my attention.
2. Speaking of true crime, I did love this podcast from The Ringer’s Press Box on Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood and the birth of true crime. It’s a great conversation about the book, the author, the ethics and more.
3. Did you know that Capote was guilty of fabricating the final encounter he depicts in the book? Just made it up. Journalistic shenanigans, is what that is. But of the sensationalist type. Today’s journalistic shenanigans are sneakier. Take, for example, McClatchy’s use of AI. It’s just remarkable that a newspaper has such a wishy-washy position on this technology, that it doesn’t seem to value the flesh-and-blood reporters who’ve made their product as long as it’s existed. I think the biggest feeling I experienced while reading this was one of profound disappointment.
4. This n+1 article on Walmart’s new techno-utopian dream of a campus in Arkansas is an interesting look at how the retail behemoth is pivoting to meet the moment of e-commerce and how its attempting to upgrade its footprint on its home state.
5. Here’s one of those joys of the internet: A rabbit hole you didn’t know you needed. I was not a fan of Dilbert in any meaningful way. I remember seeing it as I would take in the funnies, but it never resonated with me on a deep level. I was vaguely aware of its creator’s rightward slide and the resulting rantings. But I was not expecting to be so thoroughly engrossed in this hybrid obituary-essay from Astral Codex. It got its hooks in me quickly, and I devoured it.
6. Survivor has become a routine for me and Courtney — this fun, snarky, eye-rolling, prognosticating hour each week that makes me think I’d really missed on years of fun by turning my nose up at reality TV by and large. I don’t quite have the stamina (or desire) to go back and become a completist, even as we get ready to celebrate the 50th season week to week. I was taken by this short overview and Q&A with a former contestant Stephen Fishbeck on the occasion of the publication of his new novel that chronicles a protagonist’s trials and tribulations on a Survivor-like reality show.
7. I was feeling a lot of nostalgia for Wyoming when I was reading this short dispatch in the New York Times about a beginner’s attempt at ice climbing, a sport/undertaking that truly boggles my mind in the you-are-aware-the-thing-you’re-climbing-is impermanent-and-is-no-match-for-the-Coke-in-your-fast-food-cup-right? kind of way. There was just one photo in particular that felt so much like my time in Wyoming — it was like I could smell and taste and feel the scene — that I couldn’t not share it.
8. I have listened to an unholy amount of time listening to various interviews with the author of a new book on the former bow-tie-wearing thumb-with-a-frat-swoop known as Tucker Carlson. I thoroughly enjoyed this one just for the depth of the interview, the insights gleaned, and the hint of understanding it provided on this truly toxic force in American politics and culture. I find him endlessly interesting as I grapple with the idea of where the line exists between what he genuinely believes and what he says for the sake of his audience and the persona he’s crafted for himself. When viewed through the lens of the effects wrought, it couldn’t matter less where the line actually is or where Carlson stands in relation to it. But in the same way I wonder about Donald Trump’s beliefs in relationship to his policies, I can’t help but wonder: Would it make it better or worse if he actually believes what he’s saying?
9. I’m excited for 2026 as the 30th anniversary of Infinite Jest, which remains, to this day, for me at least, a book about which I simply say, “I should have read that by now.” I’ve started and stopped. I’ve worried about what it means to want to have read it, and what that want might say about me in the eyes of others. But I was heartened by this Wired piece that argues a simple premise: Maybe being seen as a lit-bro (the negative catch-all term that means “a goober who’d actually want to read this and think it was deep and/or meaningful) is actually better than a brain-dead illiterate.
10. True/False Film Fest is almost here, and I cannot wait. It’s the best weekend in Columbia. Here’s the program as first announced by Deadline.

More From Me

Over on my blog, I’ve been writing about various topics of interest to me.

Creators With a Conscience

The Rock-Bottom of Romance?

In Praise of the Book Section

A Winter Olympics Storyline for the Rest of Us

Culture Diary

Here’s a collection of what I’ve been consuming in the past week.

The legend for my list was stolen from Steven Soderbergh, where ALL CAPS represents a movie, Sentence Case is a TV show, ALL CAPS ITALICS is a short film, Italics is a book, and bold is a live performance or show. A number in parentheses after a TV show highlights how many episodes I watched. An asterisk after an entry means it’s a rewatch. The source of the movie or show, whether streaming service, physical media, or in theaters, is shown in parentheses as well.

1/26: Australian Open (ESPN Unlimited)
1/27: Hijack, S2 (AppleTV+); Australian Open (ESPN Unlimited)
1/28:
1/29: NO OTHER CHOICE (theater)
1/30: Australian Open (ESPN Unlimited)
1/31: Australian Open (ESPN Unlimited); HASAN MINHAJ: THE KING JESTER (Netflix); The Director, Daniel Kehlmann; SPRINGSTEEN: DELIVER ME FROM NOWHERE (Hulu)
2/1:
2/2:
2/3: The Pitt, S2 (HBO Max)
2/4:
2/5:
2/6:
2/7: 2026 Winter Olympics (Peacock); Heated Rivalry (HBO Max)
2/8: 2026 Winter Olympics (Peacock); Super Bowl LV (Peacock)
2/9: MIKE BIRBIGLIA: THE OLD MAN AND THE POOL* (Netflix)
2/10:
2/11: TREVOR NOAH: WHERE WAS I* (Netflix); Hijack, S2 (AppleTV+)
2/12:
2/13:
2/14: 2026 Winter Olympics (Peacock); “WUTHERING HEIGHTS” (theater); MOONLIGHT* (HBO Max)
2/15: 2026 Winter Olympics (Peacock); Hijack, S2 [2](AppleTV+); BATMAN BEGINS* (HBO Max)