To be completely honest, July 2025 was a great month. Even if it was arguably less eventful, I was more engaged with the past few weeks in ways that I wasn’t last week. A big reason for that was something I called “cruel summer,” where several issues came to a head and left me distressed. Sure, I didn’t get to see Ben Platt last week, nor are there any Olympics to look forward to. However, the weather has been decent, and I have been filling my free time with a relaxing mix of hobbies and Bananaball. While I still struggle to love old-fashioned baseball as much as the next chum, there is something about allowing the moment to be more carefree and just take in the spectacle.
The fact of the matter is that July has been so great that even as I write this, there are things yet to come that would’ve made a nice few paragraphs. I am curious to know if Fantastic 4 (2025) can become the third great comic book movie of the summer. I want to know if Happy Gilmore 2 (2025) will take up the mantle that Love You (2024) propped up and remind me why Adam Sandler has aged like… fine wine is not the right term, but let’s just say something of equal adequate value. Also out today is new music by Quadeca, whose “Monday” has been one of my favorite songs of the year so far. Finally, the one I’m most anticipating is Indigo De Souza, who became one of my favorite lyricists of the recent generation with “All of This Will End” (her E.P. “Wholesome Evil Fantasy” also has fun tinges of hyperpop). I’m sure there will be more, but the fact is that in a month that brought us top-notch releases by Clipse, Kevin Abstract, Kesha, Wet Leg, and Open Mike Eagle, that there’s even more out there makes me elated.
More than anything, this is the social hour, and it’s been nice to be out seeing the world. With family out of school, there’s been motivation to escape the doldrums of housesitting and gaze upon nature and infrastructure and admire the many facets of being alive. Of course, this largely means that I have been at the movie theaters almost every weekend filling in my gaps. I’m still baffled how Eddington (2025) qualified as a summer release, but I’m glad to see general audiences show up for Joaquin Phoenix after they helped the superior Beau Is Afraid (2023) bomb at the box office. I was worried that it would be more of a confrontational and unpleasant film, but it connected as a dark comedy that hit on nerves that most of us were just now moving past. Ironically, I also think it makes for a perfect inverse of Superman (2025), which was about finding hope in a destructive landscape. Aster is ultimately a more dour filmmaker, but it amplifies why Superman as a character was always supposed to be a hero and not some crass Frank Miller parody. He was supposed to see past our egos and find the moral good that we should strive towards.
That may be why it’s resonating so much with contemporary audiences. The film’s sincerity is refreshing and reveals a desire for more honest discussions. Everyone is capable of saving the day in their own way. It’s their freedom of choice that ultimately guides whether they are saving the planet or burning it. James Gunn is so empathetic to the common man that even as he’s modernized the character, he’s still capturing feelings that I’ve felt about America in a way that hasn’t been easy to access for years now. For a long time, I’ve considered my comfort movie genre to be stories of people coming together to solve a problem. It’s become more prominent, likely because of contemporary events and the sense of a larger discourse being closer to Eddington. I still dream about this country returning to that civility, but as someone with only one semester of political science (and that was in 2016… before the big change), I can’t even begin to tell you what that is.
The best that can be said is that this is a group effort. We are stronger in numbers. For as much as I’m skeptical that The No Kings Protests from last month did much beyond serve as a networking event, there is a need to support people who are fighting for causes you believe in. There is a need to speak up when it feels like your voice could make a difference. I’m not sure that I could ever endorse everyone performing in all-out activism, especially in a country that illegally arrests people expressing freedom of peaceful protests, but there is a need to not let the fire die. It’s the one thing I do admire about certain people who have less awareness of history, who can look at the mid-season blue wave election and think that it’s the turning point. I long for that sense of passion that I had when Barack Obama became such an attractive candidate in 2008, and not disappointment that we somehow got a Millennial vice president before a Gen-X president. For now, I can only be grateful that others want to speak up and sway the course of history.
I suppose another reason that this has been on my mind is that I feel like censorship is becoming more of an issue. I don’t want to go all First Reformed (2017) with this, but there is a clear throughline between the “fake news” push of 2015 and the rise of generative A.I., dead internet theory, and the losing fight of freedom of the press. It’s been depressing to watch unfold in real time. These are all methods to disconnect and, ultimately, not question the larger system. It puts more power in the hands of unvetted independent voices, which, yes, could be good but also can make persuasive grifters into heroes. There could be information that is “incomplete” and thus misrepresents serious matters. Even good intentions can get lost in the recreation of a social hierarchy that is now designed for quick reactions over deep thought.
This may also be because of news regarding the cancellation of The Late Show. As someone who once romanticized late-night TV, I think the slow death was inevitable but also came with complications to appease a master that I disagreed with. In my heart, late night was not about making viral videos that you could watch at three in the afternoon. It was about unwinding after a long day and having these small conversations about current events before promoting whatever the guests were there for. I’m aware that, as a big fan of Letterman, my antipathy to Fallon or Corden is partially irrational (he was doing skits after all). I’m also aware that most of us have moved to entertainment indebted to more time fluctuation. I’m not mad, but openly acknowledge that late night has sort of been “not for me” for a while… though Seth Meyers is still charming.
Which is all to say I am not someone who loves Colbert. I can acknowledge that he has his audience, but my opinions of current events are more tied to the ethics than my fear of losing an icon. To summarize, The Late Show is rumored to be canceled in part because of a Paramount-Skydance merger that is trying to stay on the federal government’s good side to maintain funding. PBS has recently lost certain fields of support, so having an entire network go under seems daunting.
Even then, kowtowing to the idea of state-sanctioned media is upsetting for many reasons. The most noteworthy is that in an age where most journalistic outlets aren’t reaching the market they once did, where it’s doubtful we’ll have anything on par with Woodward & Bernstein, that efforts to hold onto free speech have become an issue of comedy. To be transparent, I stopped watching Colbert years ago because I found his topical humor a bit too tedious. I didn’t disagree with his point, but I was tired of mudslinging. However, I would never take away his right to make those jokes because they’re expressing ideas and reflecting a larger dialogue. A comedian, like journalists in a different sense, is supposed to point out the intricacies of the world. There is a need to exchange ideas and consider, within reason, what is being said.
Do we have to agree? No. Do we need to listen? No. But freedom of speech is something we all should have. Provided nobody’s freedoms are being harmed because of your actions, there should be recognition of Colbert’s right to make jokes. I’m not interested in hearing his side of this because it’ll probably be petty doubling down. I think he has every right to. I’m sure it would feel great, but it also speaks to this bitter name-calling that has become more socially acceptable. In a game of distracting from more serious issues, the idea of removing the opposition only works to stop anyone from questioning the truly heinous behaviors. I’m not going to say what, but it comes with things like erasing transgender and bisexual individuals from Stonewall. It’s the willingness to rewrite American history into something more Anglocentric. It’s not truthful and only hurts a larger conversation on how we move forward as a country.
I’m sure there have been more diplomatic approaches to The Late Show story. There are those more invested in this story than I am. If you’re really curious, I encourage you to read those instead. I’m just afraid that the world has spiraled too far into madness, that if we lose the guiding posts, we lose our larger identity altogether. Again, it’s okay to disagree… but please recognize that what makes America great is the diversity of culture and opinions. The way it’s been removed over the past seven months has bothered me greatly, and I think it speaks to why we need to hold onto what we can in hopes of rebuilding.
Despite the conflicting discourse, July was still a great time to be alive. If one pushes past the larger narrative and notices what matters in one’s life, I was able to appreciate those smaller moments. I went to the beach for the first time in years and got to appreciate the sand beneath my feet and the way that time changes its metric. You just sit there watching boats pass by as waves hit the shore and realize that, for everything wrong with the world, the beach is still a great place. It doesn’t ask much from you. If you want to dive in, go ahead. If you’re just going to sit under an umbrella, that is fine too. Feel the breeze blow against your skin and take in the sun.
For as much as this isn’t my natural habitat, I do live in Long Beach next to the ocean. I’ve driven by it hundreds of times. There hasn’t been much reason to gaze into the current and wonder what’s beneath. In a time where everything else is moving way too fast, stopping to appreciate the simple things in life does have value.
I think it’s moments like this where I tend to get existentialist and wonder why I’m not more in touch with nature. Part of it is accessibility, but it’s also just that it requires a patience that isn’t always in me. I’m not Idina Menzel in Redwood trying to escape a lousy relationship. All I do is take care of what I can. Still, when I go for walks, I tend to see the urban landscape. It’s compelling in its own way, but it makes you turn on nature documentaries and realize how much you don’t know. You try to feel attached to the beauty, and it’s incredibly hard because sometimes you just want to pull out your phone or deal with something more immersive, more quick-hit dopamine. The animals look cute. Their behavior is astonishing. And yet… I mostly observe in spurts.
Part of this could be that Long Beach is notorious for paid parking. There have been a lot of reasons not to go places because the options always cost something. Even when I visited the beach, there was self-awareness of time limits before the car would be ticketed. There’s an odd sense of accessibility not being always… accessible. It’s one of the many reasons that certain passion has been hard to come by. The world that should be free to the public just has too many barriers nowadays. While we still have parks near us that provide great alternatives, the beach remains anomalous.
Which is all to say that for as many afternoons as I passed in movie theaters and various shops, there is something for detaching on a greater level. I’ve been at a bit of an odd point with social media because while I have managed to not relapse into bad behavior, there is a recognizable codependency on checking more often than I used to, and maybe updating real quick. There’s even this push to try and build a base again, even as I question whether social media can just be used for fun. It was back when I was in my 20s, but I think my approach to the “Art and Commerce Correlation” and everyone else’s is very different if just because you’re reading this for free. I guess it continues to remain a conflict because Bluesky ended up being more of a cratering of my following than I had expected, and I am committed to not returning to Twitter. It’s really making me ask what it is I want to do with my creative direction, and it’s maybe causing me to write more spontaneously… though I wonder how much of that is an attempt to hit those highs.
So yes, I still feel more ecstatic when I’m forced to engage with a larger world. As I turn 36 and once again become self-aware about the act of aging, I have to accept that I’m not always going to be in the know. I’ll get my evening news and be satisfied. I am not in the mood for dealing with controversies that are ephemeral. I’d rather recall the spontaneity of life, of things not fully going how you wanted. There is something to being bored and forcing yourself to imagine your own entertainment. I discovered that there’s a women’s league of flag football while eating at a Sizzler. I had my first Pizookie at B.J.’s just last week. For as trivial as some of it is, you become amazed at what human innovation can do when enough people agree to take risks.
Most of all, I am in that spring-loaded mentality right now where I want to make the most of this year. Even if I’m sure that’s mostly the high of having a good birthday in my recent past, there is something to working with that drive and trying to find your way forward. I am in the back half of my 30s. 40 will be here before I know it, and soon I’ll be older than characters I’ll have considered “old” when I was starting college. It’s still surreal to know that I’m quickly approaching the age of the characters on Togetherness, in part because I’m not living that life. Then again, was I living the Lena Dunham special in 2012? Probably not. But hey, Too Much is a pretty good return to form.
Even then, I think of how invisible certain accomplishments are. In my impulsive post-birthday head space, I went out and bought new shorts so that I could survive the So Cal weather. What surprised me is that I’m two sizes smaller than the last pair that I bought. Even if I’m still not the conventional attractiveness that I have long struggled to be, something is reassuring about putting on clothes and realizing that, yes, you are losing weight. You are in better shape than you were a few years ago. I want to believe I’ve shrunk over 10 sizes since I was 25, and that makes me hopeful that things will get better. There’s arguably no better feeling than looking at your closet and noticing that what used to be your norm now appears like clown pants. It's a reminder that not all change is evident right away. Sometimes, like nature, it takes time, and by then it requires a more trained eye to notice what’s different.
Before I start wrapping up this overlong and scattershot entry, I wanted to highlight one movie that has resonated with me. On my birthday, Criterion Channel premiered David Cronenberg’s latest The Shrouds (2025). In the months leading up to its release, I was compelled by interviews in which Cronenberg discussed the passing of his wife and how it had an impact on how he made art. As someone who suffered a depressive state around 2021, I related to the notion and wanted to believe that his newfound relationship to body horror would produce something provocative.
I have been squeamish when it comes to his more visceral works. Unlike a lot of cinephiles, I don’t have this fascination with how he depicts humans’ rejection of their own bodies. I can recognize the artistry, but there isn’t this impulsive desire to lean in and better understand the world he’s exploring. With The Shrouds, it is sort of a similar idea, but presented in a way that’s morbid but also borderline camp. To me, the whole idea of trying to create technology that helps you access the memories of your deceased loved one and potentially reach into the afterlife is an absurd premise, though not one that’s without some spiritual curiosity.
For as much as I want to live extra moments with certain people, I am someone who thinks practically. We think about life largely in hindsight and romanticize the grand “What if” scenarios. To me, there is still the reality that recreation doesn’t change the fact that it’s artificial, where you’re also approaching the potential doom of tragedy striking again. I do think there are hundreds, if not thousands, of moments that I would play out differently in my life and hope things end differently, but I accept that this is wishful thinking. Maybe I understand The Shrouds more as an effort to understand what was unspoken, but even then, maybe that mystery is what keeps us alive, guessing and looking for answers to an unanswerable question.
Cronenberg’s fascination with commodifying death is the masterstroke, as it forces one to question what vulnerability exists when we apply paywalls to every facet of our lives. What should’ve always been free and uncomplicated now is at risk of hackers and the potential bastardization of what was pure. This is a beguiling film, and one that intentionally frustrates with characters who have differing levels of delusion. Still, the passion of trying to cope (or lack of) with death is an idea that Cronenberg does powerfully. He redefines body horror by making us realize that what we’re attracted to may not be real at all, but something shallow or manipulated. Thankfully, he’s got an appropriate level of camp to balance out the premise.
This is easily one of my favorites for the year, and I’m curious to see how it holds up on rewatch. I’ll admit it’s an odd metaphor to ponder on one’s birthday, but it’s still a story that I haven’t stopped thinking about. Part of it is just that I had a small fascination with mortality for a few years, and this feels like one of the few genuine takes that is saying something greater. Even if I’d argue films like Beetlejuice Beetlejuice (2024) are fun, The Shrouds takes genre ideas and actually plays with them in ways that elevate the material into something worthy of a greater conversation.
My apologies to those who find that a lousy note to end on. In all honesty, July has been a great month to just get out and appreciate the simple things. Even on days when your back is layered in sweat, there is something to just going with the flow and appreciating what happens next. It’s all we can do in a time where politicians are trying to throw irrelevant curveballs to avoid having larger, more crucial discussions. As much as it’s important to stay on top of what’s going on, it’s important to never forget who matters most in your life.
The crazy thing is that August looks to close out Summer 2025 on a fantastic note. Hulu will be releasing the King of the Hill revival very soon, and I can’t wait to see if that show holds up. I am a big fan of the original run and argue it’s deserving of more praise. There’s also the reality that we’re quickly approaching the second Ethel Cain release of 2025, and her first conventional record. I was a casual fan of “Perverts,” but am really hoping that the singles “Nettles” and “Fuck Me Eyes” are a good sign of what’s to come. “Preacher’s Daughter” changed my life, and I am still in awe of how she builds sonic worlds every time she puts something out. Only time will tell, but I promise you’ll hear about it not too long after release. I don’t promise to know how to break down the narrative, but I’ll find any excuse to write about Ethel Cain.
More than anything, I’m hoping that the heat won’t overpower the remainder of summer. Hopefully, I’ll get out and see even more of the world and appreciate its many wonders. If I do, there’s a small chance you might see a quick, witty essay over on my new website SCRAPS!, which I have been soft launching for the past month. I feel like this is a more ambiguous and sometimes less satisfying period of the summer, but nothing says we can’t end this season on a high note. Just because Cancer season is over (R.I.P.) doesn’t mean the good times are. Fingers crossed that the back half of 2025 is even better than the front. I’m nervous that we’re that much closer to the end, but at least it hasn’t been a total waste. It could be better, but it all depends on how you look at everything.
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