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Tumult back.

And the shouting, again

A year ago I felt hopeless. I was a few months out of journalism school, patching together freelance gigs and sending out resumes. I clicked through days, alternating digging myself into an Internet hole and blankly staring at the Golf Channel. I watched a lot

A derrick at dusk around Williston. (Photo by mike Murphy)

Living in the shadow of the boom

*Note: This is a posting of Tim’s longform journalism project about oil boomtown Williston, ND, completed at Northwestern’s Medill School of Journalism–in other words, this story is a lot longer and more in depth than your usual Tumult post.       THE LONG SHADOW OF

lighter at a show

What we listened to this year

2014 was a weird year. We traveled to North Dakota (I tweeted a lot), ran half a marathon, played a lot of ping pong, then graduated from Medill. Mike moved to New York, and Tim moved home. Through it all, one thing was constant—music. I saw

Stephen Colbert is done forever, and that is sad.

Goodbye Stephen: The brilliance of the breaks

This isn’t a think piece about the Colbert Report’s final episode. Not another one. Not another summary of Stephen Colbert’s impact because we get it. He meant a lot, and, man, looking back, he did a lot. There was nothing like him, like that character.

My crusted-over keyboard. Seriously, the thing is filthy.

Writing for nobody in particular

It takes a lot to get words out, when nobody is telling you what to do. It’s a long process. While you’re doing it, it’s damn hard. Let’s get a bit meta here about that last sentence. I decided “damn” would do when an f-bomb

A par 3 at Chester River Yacht and Country Club in Chestertown, Maryland.

Control, golf and big money championships

I stood at the 17th tee Monday, squinting at the fairway of the 417-yard par 4. A left miss is preferred, with more space before going out of bounds, and just a light dotting of trees. The right side is tight. Three long bunkers line