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I’m hoping to get your insight into something that I’ve been struggling with for a few months.  For context, I’m a woman, and I’ve been dating my current boyfriend for seven months. We’re both in our mid-twenties, and this is the first long-term relationship that either of us has been in. I wouldn’t call our relationship long-distance, but we live in different cities so we only see each other on the weekends.

Hey friends! This post is the first in a series called Psalms of Unknowing, where I explore overtly spiritual & religious subjects. If that’s not your thing, no worries! You can unsubscribe to this series and still receive my very occasional author newsletter, The Slow Take. First, a little background: As a kid, I was raised conservative Baptist. The form of Christianity I learned about smelled like stale carpet. It looked like women in calf-length skirts standing supportively beside suited men.

This week I’m recommending a woodsy low-budget horror film, a bittersweet a golden age Swiss dramedy, a hypnotic Canadian coming-of-age film, a film about some Y2k lesbians on a roadtrip, and of course a grab bag of streaming hidden gems. ncG1vNJzZminnJmzqrjMrJ2loZOgsrN60q6ZrKyRmLhvr86mZqlnmWK7psLEq2StoJ%2BqtKnAjJqZqK2kYsSprdNmoK1llJ6x

Episode 10 of “Bad” Books of the Bible is live! Please take a moment to rate, review, and share it with a friend. Share ‘Bad’ Books of the Bible As we’ve mentioned before, Jerome had mixed feelings about Tobit. He regarded the book as apocryphal, and was among the first to apply that designation. (See episode guide 1 and 6.) But he still translated it when requested to do so by a pair of bishops, and in his preface to the book—a letter to those bishops—he describes Tobit with another, less derogatory term: hagiographa, “holy writing.

Adi Korndörfer/Flickr It starts with a pain so sharp and slight, it might not even be real. Then the pain builds, as if it has its own personal volume knob, until it’s screaming at me: aching, throbbing, begging to be soothed. My muscles tighten. I resist. I know if I ease this particular pain, I’ll pay for it. I blame my neurons. Apparently, those are the cells responsible for the rapid-fire signals in the brain that result in body movements so thoughtless you could call them involuntary.

LOVE IS AN ARCHITECTURAL DIGEST OPEN DOOR I love love love to watch virtual tours of rich people’s homes. Some of the most relaxing, restorative nights of my life are when I order a medium pizza and garlic cheesy bread from Dominos, smoke a little w*eed, and bliss out to an episode of Netflix’s The World’s Most Extraordinary Homes. Please don’t mistake what I’m saying as simply “David loves HGTV.” I have no interest in shows about purchasing or renovating houses, where I am subjected to a stilted narrative, a sob story, a Big Decision.

Marvel’s First Family — the Fantastic Four — ushered in the “Marvel Age” of comics. They had ties all the way back to the publisher’s first superpowered beings, the android Jim Hammond (AKA the Human Torch) and Namor the Submariner, bridging a gap of over 20 years. But they were also new in so many ways. Unlike the idyllic Justice League, they were constantly bickering. They were the first superhero team to seem entirely human in their interactions.

Every few months or so I revisit my favorite bits of Ezra Miller’s… six? 12? 18?-month-long international crime spree and find a new favorite tidbit every time, like a shifting favorite song on a much-loved album. On my most recent re-read, the one that stuck out was this bit from Vulture’s overly detailed Ezra Miller life timeline: According to the neighbor, the evening went sideways after the mother called her friends “her tribe,” causing Miller — whom they believed to be “under the influence” — to accuse her of cultural appropriation.

Screenshot: WWE Network. Enjoy? Want to support this work and get other exclusive content? Then please subscribe for just $5/month or $50/year. Even if you’re not able to pay right now, please at least consider signing up for the free version, which will deliver all of the free posts directly to your email inbox, as well free preview excerpts of the paid subscriber-exclusive articles. As many of you reading probably know, almost two and a half years ago, I wrote an article for Deadspin where I attempted to do as well-researched a job as possible of getting to the bottom of the actual attendance figure for WrestleMania III at the Pontiac Silverdome in 1987.