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Hey there! My name is Jeremy, and I'm a freelance culture journalist for outlets like VICE, Vulture, Maxim, Westword, MEL, and The Take. I've been a regular contributor to Alternative Press Magazine, and I wrote their May 2022 print cover story on Dance Gavin Dance. As a copywriter, I've worked on everything from artificial intelligence explainers to official band bios for clients like Toptal and Rise Records. I also spent eight years writing about new books and interviewing nonfiction authors for the Next Big Idea Club.
As for my academic background, in June 2024 I graduated with a Master of Social Work degree from the University of Denver, where I received the Edith M. Davis writing award. In 2016, I graduated magna cum laude from Vanderbilt University, where I studied literature, math, and psychology. I'm also an alum of the Columbia Publishing Course, and I've been invited to speak at both Columbia University and Hampton University journalism schools. Feel free to get in touch!
Tricking is equal parts sport and art form, awe-inspiring athletic feat and sublime aesthetic experience. It’s also just really, really fun.
Denver's a place for hikers, skiers and craft beer lovers, but it's just as much a haven for techies, gamers, and anyone who thinks dragons are freaking cool.
With the untimely passing of their beloved bassist Tim Feerick, Dance Gavin Dance are in the midst of a sudden and profound crisis. But as they proceed with plans to commemorate their friend with the release of their 10th studio album, Jackpot Juicer, they seem headed for new heights of bittersweet success.
Considered the strangest and least arousing film of all time, its origins have remained a secret — until now.
What makes a person who they are? This question lies at the heart of The Prestige, Christopher Nolan’s 2006 movie about two warring magicians, played by Hugh Jackman and Christian Bale, who risk everything to become the master of their craft.
The first time I gripped a steering wheel, I was white-knuckling my way through a south Florida golf course at a blistering twelve miles an hour. I sat on my grandfather's lap, his right foot working the cart's gas and brake while I swerved us down the path.
Were we to travel back in time, the world of 1999 would be practically unrecognizable. No obsessive allure of social media, no traumatic memory of 9/11, no widespread fear of climate catastrophe—it seems like a different, simpler time.
Like high-school seniors just before graduation, superhero fans around the world have awaited the release of Avengers: Endgame with both eager anticipation and a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. The 182-minute movie signals the conclusion of a memorable chapter in American cinema, a time when Robert Downey Jr.'s Iron Man and Chris Evans's Captain America almost felt like real (super) people who'd aged along with us over the course of 11 years.
"The behavior manipulation machine makes you cranky, makes you irritable, makes you paranoid, makes you sad. Even Facebook's own researchers have published that."
A burst of explosive energy will send a tricker skyward, her body transforming into a strange new constellation, before she snaps out a kick with destructive, awe-inspiring force.
