How I Live Now: July 2026

Sometimes, as was the case with this July, you cannot properly predict the road that your month will go down from the early days. Summers especially are known for their spontaneity, forming memories out of the most random events. That is why it’s funny to look back now on the early days and see a person who was meditating on America 250 and how what should’ve been one of the most momentous occasions in my lifetime was feeling like disappointment and false promises. I think of the U.F.C. fights from June and how the morale wasn’t there. Sure, some people bought into the narrative presented by The White House, but I think on some level you need to do your own independent research to get things sometimes.

This isn’t a post about how I spent my Independence Day, and yet I feel the need to open with it because of how it felt like a perfect inverse of how I saw things going. Somebody posted on social media the comment that if you want to love America, drive through it. If you want to hate it, turn on the news. It’s an apt comment, even if this former journalism student ultimately thinks there’s a need for honest reporting. It’s been one of the saddest reflections of the past decade to watch the rise of distrust among reputable groups who only want what’s best for the average reader. Though, to be completely honest, the funniest part is that the thing that made me most likely to acknowledge patriotism in 2026 was, in fact, the news.

For 24 hours, the local ABC affiliate broadcast from around the United States of the various celebrations in different states. There was a concert in Tennessee where Sublime insisted on pointing out they were from Long Beach (I think we’re all contractually obligated to say so) and endless puff pieces on the people trying to make their communities better. If you want to know why I generally like stories where people come together to solve problems, it’s reasons like this. As much as I could get bogged down in political disarray, you sometimes forget that most people are downright decent.

All in all, this was one of my favorite July 4ths in many years… possibly even pre-2020s. It was not about turmoil or reflecting on the moral corruption. It was a chance to celebrate our way. While I still find the outfits and overzealous Sousa a bad fit for that day, I still respect those who get something out of it because that’s the crux of freedom. You can have your Blue Angels and sing the unnecessarily melismatic national anthems. Diversity is what makes us incredible. I even got to hear a saxophone rendition when The Los Angeles Sparks played The Indiana Fever, and I actually loved it (second only to St. Vincent). Shoutout J.B. Saxx.

As much as you can look at the president and feel shame, you look at everything else and pray it outlasts him because some of it is beautiful. It reminds me of my favorite quote from The Last Black Man in San Francisco (2019), which I think of every year: “You don’t get to hate it unless you love it.” There’s a reason I still mourn The East Wing and Reflecting Pool. To me, those are symbols that unite, reflecting ingenuity and endurance. I may come across as critical, but it’s because I find that these things matter more than their actual vulnerable tangibility would suggest. You don’t realize how easy it is to lose sometimes until it’s being removed by somebody not working in your best interest.

Which is all to say that this month has made me existential for a different reason. As much as I would love to laugh at the mystery around Mitch McConnell’s health and the demise of Lindsey Graham, I get caught up in what their symbolic power represents. I’m more fixated on the latter because I get the impression he’s going to be a Roy Cohn figure in an Angels in America-type play in the next 20 years. He’s a man who sought power at the expense of his own private identity, and it feels tragic as well as pathetic. I find no comfort in learning his private behavior because it’s only done to counteract his real-world maliciousness. Yes, he was a bad person who sought power over helping those he presumably could’ve felt unity with. I get that this is a larger systemic issue, but something feels wrong when you want to believe the collective is working to better itself yet nothing significant is happening. Not even being the “one gay friend” could’ve been enough to sway conversation. I don’t mourn Graham, yet I pity how incomplete his life seemed to be that he only ever thought to lash out at others because something worse would happen if he didn’t. With that said, I do hate how divided people are that the simple act of the president tapping the coffin at the funeral is a big offense. The speech is, but you need to do a better job of picking what you’re outraged about because that’s not it.

Of course, I think something is depressing about bigotry in the long run. I’m writing this shortly after The White House Correspondents Dinner: Part Deux went down, and everyone is roasting the president’s poor attempt at humor. I’m not going to comment on any of it save that there is so much animosity in that man’s heart that you could never believe it’s just a joke. He’s called you “fake news” for 10 years, said worse about your colleagues, and has never suggested that he wanted to redeem himself. He’s the living embodiment of autofill at this point, and it makes you sad to know the phrases, to know he’d mostly dedicate his America 250 speech to the blood and guts half of the history. It’s not not important, but it definitely lacked a nuanced sense of growth that destruction is the only way to read July 4th as meaningful. I could laugh at his social awkwardness or the candid deconstruction of his speech, but then I remember he’s making decisions that will probably worsen everyone’s careers in that room. Given my belief that America’s greatest asset in lawmaking (at least historically) is compromise and listening, it’s a pathetic time to be alive because dissonance suggests these people should know the damage they’re doing, yet don’t care. How can you not notice?

And it seems like hell to see the world this way. I did my best to avoid any controversy around The Odyssey (2026) because there’s no basis. When the only argument you can come up with is to make your own A.I. version (which is, by definition, less “historically” accurate), you know you’ve lost. I skipped the transphobia and racism because I don’t believe it matters. This is a story from the oral tradition which, as such, reflects differing perspectives and is ultimately a work of fantasy.

I also didn’t care because the movie, in a word, was dope. To be clear, I am in the pocket for Christopher Nolan so that’s not surprising. However, the scale and craft are phenomenal, telling a story that feels like it’s genuinely taking risks and playing with his style in such a way that it elevates the material into something more personal. It’s a study on the impacts of time through many lenses. Can I also say that Elliot Page being central to the emotional core of the film was not on my bingo card, and did plenty to elevate. I admittedly hadn’t seen him in a theater since 2014, so it was like being reunited with an old friend. Everyone else is great, and I am especially in awe of the Circe segment, but having that level of intimacy buried quite expertly in a sprawling epic is the work of a master. This film deserves any love it gets and, if I’m being honest, I am going to try and sail back out there sometime in August.

I would also like to give a quick shoutout to Sophy Romvari’s feature debut Blue Heron (2026), which I just caught up with thanks to Criterion Channel. I’ve long been a fan of her short film Still Processing, and this works as an extension of her style. It feels deeply personal and dwells on difficult topics with a sincerity that I’m not sure many have shown in recent years. I get that we’re throwing love onto Backrooms (2026) and Obsession (2026) this summer, but I am relieved that there are more conventional stories like Blue Heron and Eephus (2025) out there to give voice to potential future greats. I need more like those two for sure.

While I’ve already written at length about Eephus, I might as well provide some insight into how much this summer has been about baseball for me. In the week of my birthday, I went to see my first game for the new local team The Long Beach Coast (LBC for short). The venue has long been a staple for CSULB’s Dirtbags, but this was a chance to see it in a new light. Given that they also have had a very successful inaugural run, I would say that this investment is well worth celebrating.

One of the things I was nervous about this early in their run was the sense of culture. Would the crowd be there? On multiple occasions, they have sold out. While that was in part the promise of an additional Warren G concert and $2 Tuesdays, it is because the team puts on a good game. They’re competitive in the right ways, and I want to give credit to the P.R. team who is running around finding people to interview in-between bats. All things about baseball considered, it’s never a dull moment, and I do feel like it’s helping to boost interest in local sports.

Speaking of “local”-ish, I want to highlight the WPBL briefly. While not necessarily a Long Beach staple by any stretch, I do have some favorites lined up for the big upcoming premiere weekend. Cal State Fullerton Alumni Kelsie Whitmore was drafted number one by San Francisco Fire Belles. Given that my sister also graduated from there and we regularly attend games in their vicinity, it means a lot to see this potentially thrive. I’m sure the other players are going to rock it just as well, but I have my heart in SF at the moment. I also want to shout out the AUSL on another fantastic season, even if I feel bad that they played the championship game in 90°+ degree Texas heat. As someone who experienced that on a Big West championship level (a doubleheader where we bailed due to exhaustion), I can’t imagine anyone left without feeling somewhat relieved for it to be over.

Also, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge one of the best surprises of July. In the week before my birthday, I got my wish when BOTH Los Angeles NBA teams traded the one player who bothered me the most. I have been vocally annoyed at The Clippers banking on Kawhi Leonard for nearly a decade, and I will take this sloppy rebuild over watching him sit on the bench for another year when he feels like it. Similarly, it’s nice to have LeBron James off The Lakers. Given how long I’ve rooted against our homebred powerhouse, it’s going to be weird to have passion for the team again, even if it’s just that they’re a mediocre team. With that said, nobody compares to the enthusiasm I have for Giannis Antetokounmpo moving to The Miami Heat. I am beyond thrilled to see if that works out.

To shift the topics a little bit while keeping it in the ballpark of Long Beach, I want to briefly address Vans Warped Tour. It’s maybe one of the biggest signifiers that Millennials share with Gen-X as this formative festival concert that so many legendary punk bands have played. Admittedly, it’s easy to break down the metrics for why it’s not the same, down to the fact I watched it on an Amazon livestream hosted by some mediocre talents, but that’s beside the point of my big takeaway.

I ended up watching much more than I had expected because the bands were those cusp groups I heard of in middle-to-high school but never got around to. I’m talking The Starting Line and Motion City Soundtrack, who had their hits on Fuse TV that were good but never enough for me to buy their albums. Seeing them in their current state was a trip because they are still passionate and put on good shows, but they’re also punks that grew old and clearly have the bodies worn out by time. The MCS singer had a cane and used a breathalyzer. As someone who spent time in concert venues, I can forgive scratchy vocals if the energy is right, and it’s amazing to see that many people just know every line while jumping. 

I suppose I emphasized age less because it’s pejorative (it’s not), but more because it made me reflect on why we create art in the first place. I’m bound to have a smaller circle than most bands I saw, but there is something about making a single work that still speaks to somebody years and decades later. I also appreciate that putting yourself out there can still make people discover your work. Like, I didn’t know about Bayside, Set Your Goals, or Hot Mulligan before Saturday, and I leave with a slightly bigger playlist. 

Admittedly, as a writer, my expectations are different. I am more insecure about the idea of being stuck in one moment for too long. Even if I only ever have that one book, I want to believe I will always be moving forward onto new ideas. Even so, will the crowd be there? Watching Warped Tour, it’s easy to label people as has-beens, but I ended up admiring the effort of showing up, doing it like it was the only thing you could. Sometimes, in the case of a lot of tattooed gentlemen, it seems like you have extremely limited Plan B’s. Still, you can have a bad day and believe your art stands for so little, then you watch a packed parking lot sing Third Eye Blind’s “Jumper” and you understand why it matters. There’s something implicit in expression that will never go away. I hope to have something like that outlive me, though that’s up for you to decide.

I also want to shout out The Used, who made me feel old. Not because they were loud or anything, but because they shifted from the more appropriate kumbaya version of “The Taste of Ink” where family and friends came out into the screamtastic “A Box Full of Sharp Objects.” I guess I am a fogey because I thought that Bert McCracken was going soft. Also, and I’m sure this means nothing to anybody, but the singer for Bowling For Soup reminds me of my friend who has become an eternal teenager and is renowned at U.K. parties… or so he tells me. Not sure which ones. It’s wild because I first discovered BFS when meeting him for the first time and we’d just watch Kerrang all afternoon, so we’d see “Girl All the Bad Guys Want” all the time. It’s also trippy that they broke big over there first, but I’m going long.

I guess it’s also weird to be this inundated with punk because I do think I’ve become more mellowed out and prefer more complex rock and pop. Of course, I prefer storytelling (the new Steve Lacey is worth a listen) so that may explain where biases lie. During a time when I’m struggling to care enough to even press play on the Charli XCX record after being obsessed with “How I Live Now” and A.G. Cook’s producer work, it’s nice to know my heart still beats with that youthful buoyancy. Not sure what it was about “Brat” that turned her into burnt toast for me, but it’s been hard to care despite stuff like The Moment (2026) seeming very much like “my shit,” especially given that Alexander Skarsgaard was great in Pillion (2025). Also, for the sake of being transparent, Jack White and Mary in the Junkyard’s records were also home runs this month as well for VERY different reasons. Also, The Lost Boys musical has finally released their OBCR, and it’s pretty good. Not in love with it, but it does pluck the heartstrings correctly for something that big and operatic.

To give a shoutout to TV real quick, I want to highlight three things that are very much my speed right now. Even if I’m dragging my feet to finish them, The Bear, X-Men ’97, and King of the Hill all have been welcomed respites from the heat on different days. There’s not much to say other than they are all comfort watches, with King of the Hill being the most preferable. It’s amusing to see them do an episode on phone scammers because something similar happened to my grandfather a few years ago, where he got a call from me. He was cogent enough to mess with the guy, but it did make me recognize the severity of targeting such vulnerable people. Even if this season feels a little softer than I remember prior seasons being, I love the humanity and care everybody has for each other. 

To address one final media event from the past month, let’s just say that I had my FIFA moment. It helped that teams I rooted for more objectively (USA, Mexico, England, and France) built up narratives that got me invested. I watched at least five games and realized that you could make me like your sport with the right persuasion. I’m ultimately not going to invest in football long-term, but I loved the drama and the Norwegian rowers. To tie it back to an earlier conversation, I loved that it brought tourism to this country and allowed outsiders to remind everybody of what’s great or unique about this place. Sure, there were some upsets (for example, a photobomber), but symbolically it felt like the type of world gathering you’d want to see more of, where people were in it for love of the sport. My only hope is that LA28 compares at all, albeit with less racism.

To start shifting into more personal circles, I want to highlight a great deed that I experienced. I went to a Home Depot to buy something for the house. A fairly routine operation that usually gets me back to my place in under 15 minutes. However, as I’m walking out, this guy offers me food. I am initially skeptical because I seem to be easy prey for bible thumpers who won’t shut up (ironically, they’re the only people I tend to lie to). However, the more that this man talked, the more I sensed he was a genuinely nice guy. 

So he invited me to his vehicle, where his friend was serving shrimp salad bowls to combat the heat. While I may have been a bit too evasive with him up to this point, I decided to hear him out and, thanks to a good rapport with both men, I bought their food. It was filling and did the trick.

It’s gestures like this that catch me off guard because while I think this is desirable behavior, I think there’s this sense in So Cal that people will grift you. I do believe I’m an easy target because I believe the best in people until proven otherwise. I’ve had other customers at gas stations get upset that I gave a homeless man some money because they believed they would only use it for drugs. These backseat cooks were a little above that, but again, I am glad to have a trustworthy mindset because sometimes it takes me places surprisingly… especially in a location that in the past year was raided by I.C.E. because of racial profiling. I’ve had the opposite experience, which again makes me wonder where the listening to each other is hanging out in D.C., because it needs to come back. Also, fuck The Los Angeles Dodgers for selling out their community for a White House visit. You know what they did to you, so quit having him piss on your leg and tell you it’s rain.

It’s also been a good time to go outside and enjoy life. Because I have family who have summer break, we regularly do projects in the backyard and force ourselves to not be on our phones all day. We aren’t always successful, but we try. Still, we made mosaic coasters, tie-dye shirts, Tennille wire sculptures, and forced ourselves to think outside the box. During our downtime, we’ve even taken to sharing music, which is how I’ve gotten them into Al Hirt, Herb Alpert, and the one they most enjoy, Harry Belafonte (“Jump in the Line” goes over very well). It’s not a terribly complex way to pass the time, but you don’t realize the joys of being productive until you’re getting your hands dirty and making mistakes. To me, the small lessons are as important as the triumphs. Which, speaking of, I’m also very fond of making resin molds, especially after getting a set for my birthday. I’m hoping to figure out how to make some really neat designs that will become permanent fixtures in my everyday use. Also, I now know where to buy cheap colored undershirts. It’s been a great summer.

Other than that, I guess life’s been good to me. I’ve made it a habit of reading outside (current book: Thomas Pynchon’s trippy “Against the Day”) at night, which contrasts perfectly with the hot afternoons. It’s also nice just to look up into the sky and get lost in thought. I like to lie on the grass with a blanket for a few hours and act like nothing else is going on in the world. I highly recommend that experience, if just because it makes getting to sleep easier on the worst nights.

I’m not sure what to say about the month ahead. As Neil Diamond pointed out a few times, August has some hot nights. I think it’s also that awkward time when everybody is transitioning back into school and Fall mode. I don’t know what that means for me, but fingers crossed that the end of the year (can’t believe it’s quickly approaching) delivers something special. I know that we got a Jane Schoenbrun movie on the way as well. Given how much I Saw the TV Glow (2024) means to me, I am sure this will be another masterpiece. Other than that, I don’t know. I doubt it could be as memorable as where we just came from, but then again, that’s what I thought in June. At least there won’t be an unnecessarily overdone fireworks show that doesn’t know when to quit this time. Hopefully it’ll be something more significant. I don’t know what, but surely August has to have a few surprises up its sleeve, right?