people to fi ll out the census

GET...OUTSIDE?

WESLEY LAPOINTE

Lost Cause LOST BUT NOT FORGOTTEN: Daniyel (center, in red) on the set of the “Lost Ones” video. Eight months ago, Portland rapper Daniyel recorded a song for and about his family. Now it’s getting a video by one of hip-hop’s buzziest directors.

A year ago, Portland rapper Daniyel tweeted about his ambition to have a music video directed by buzzy videographer Cole Bennett. That only made it more surprising when, out of the blue, Bennett recently reached out to Daniyel on Instagram asking the Portland artist to collaborate. “Honestly, I was just starstruck,” says Daniyel. “When he DM’d me, I was pinching myself, like, ‘Is this real?’” Last week, Bennett shot a video for Daniyel’s “Lost Ones,” a song in honor of Daniyel’s aunt, who died of cancer, and his uncle, who drowned. The video will star other Portlanders who have been a† ected by loss, including the family of Aja Raquell Rhone-Spears, a Black transgender woman who was recently murdered at a vigil for another homicide victim, Tyrell Penney, who was killed in a shooting last month. Daniyel recorded “Lost Ones” eight months ago and thought the track hit its peak when he played it for his mom, who cried when she heard the tribute to her late sister. But unbeknownst to Daniyel, a mutual friend sent the track to Bennett, who’s fresh o† directing a video for Eminem. Enamored with Daniyel’s song, the Chicago director reached out on social media and o† ered to make the video for “Lost Ones.” Working with a director like Bennett—who’s also made videos for Juice WRLD and Lil Xan—is a career-defi ning moment for an artist who’s just getting his start. But for the 18-year-old rapper, the achievement is mostly personal. “I really hope we can create something that the families in this video can cherish forever,” says Daniyel. “This song is already very special for me and my family.” SHANNON GORMLEY.

Can I Get Your Numbers?

A Portland woman is using dating apps to spread awareness about the 2020 census.

MACKENZIE ROSS

MACKENZIE ROSS

A few days ago, MacKenzie Ross got kicked o† Tinder. Most of the time, if someone gets banned from a dating app, it’s probably not for something they’d readily admit to in public. But Ross, 33, insists she didn’t do anything skeezy. “All they said was I violated their terms of service,” she says. “It might be because of ‘political activity.’” Even then, though, Ross would dispute the characterization: She wasn’t canvassing for a partisan cause, or leading a “get out the vote” campaign. She was just reminding people to fi ll out the census. Ross, who works as a librarian in Washington County, recently read that the response rate for the 2020 census in Oregon was 67%—not nearly high enough for a statistics nerd such as herself. And as a single woman, she fi gured the most e¤ - cient way for her to get the word out would be through online dating. So she reinstalled Bumble, Hinge and other popular apps, and set up profi les for the sole purpose of getting the link for the 2020 census form in front of as many strangers as possible, answering prompts like “A Shower Thought I recently had” with “Creating dating profi les with the census link: www.2020census.gov. Shockingly, still single and way too bored.” It’s only been two weeks, but other than getting fl agged by Tinder, responses have mostly been positive, with many respondents thanking her for the reminder. Ross says the project is purely about upping the state’s response rate. That said, she is single. And if she gets to chatting with someone who feels as strongly about stats, school funding and the other benefi ts of an accurate census, that’s a bonus. “With COVID, dating is not a high priority for me right now,” she says. “But if I meet someone who is amazing and gets me, I’m not going to pass them up.” MATTHEW SINGER.

Bust a Bubble

How the Blazers won by losing.

After a nail-wrecking set of qualifying games, three playo† rows, one unlikely win, a Damian Lillard knee sprain, a whole heap of bizarre Mario Hezonja plays, a brief wildcat strike, and a Dameless contest where they left it all on the court, the Portland Trail Blazers’ season is over. In a way, it was a metaphor for the whole season: They came, they tried, they threw out all the gambits they had—including signing Carmelo Anthony—but they just didn’t have the players they needed to make the magic happen. The Blazers’ brief playo† berth is probably the strangest in history, earned only because of the colossal failure of the modern American state coming to a head when a once-every-100-years global health crisis left the entire country reeling and gave them time to get Jusuf Nurkic back and reduce Hassan Whiteside’s minutes in the qualifi ers. The Blazers might have lost, but it’s hard to be too sad. First o† , they were playing with house money. Every extra game they managed in the bubble was bonus content, freebies. All emotional upside. Proof of concept, showing the world that, yes, they actually would have been good if they were giving Nurk’s minutes to Nurk. Through the whims of fate, they achieved way more than could have been expected in, like, February.

STAY MERLOT: The Blazers’ Carmelo Anthony returns to Portland.

The Blazers failed to win at basketball, but in a much larger way, they have won, because they get to leave the bubble, see their families again, and order takeout from somewhere that isn’t owned by all-time rent-seeking douche Houston Rockets owner Tilman Fertitta. Sure, their names won’t be cast in gold in the history of the game. They won’t be remembered as heroes who brought joy to Portland in dark times. But they get to leave, and fi nally opt out of the nightmare they’ve been shoved into. And so, I come here not to bury the Blazers but to celebrate their exit from their own personal dystopia. Hopefully, someday, we can all follow their example and lose the games in our lives and leave the bubble we are all trapped in—day after day, horror after horror. CORBIN SMITH.