“I had been out of school for a year when the dread set in,” Lena Dunham writes, about a period of creative discovery and how it went sideways. Plus:

• Does Kanye West’s new record give fans what they want?
• The unreality of watching the war in Iran
• A World Cup where many fans aren’t welcome

I made my first short film during a summer break from college at Oberlin, right after I turned twenty. I called it a satire, although I’m not sure I even knew what that meant. It was about a high-powered teen-age art dealer who bossed around people several times her age, a scenario that seemed like a fairy tale but was, in retrospect, a rather prescient vision of my life to come. I cast my family members and used our home, a loft in Tribeca, as both a production office and a set. I haven’t watched the film in two decades—I’m sure I would be both charmed and alarmed by its amateurishness—but at the time it felt like one small step for me, one giant leap for womankind. It’s that kind of hubris that defines being a young artist, and it should never be beaten out of anyone.

I submitted the film to the Sundance Film Festival’s even more indie counterpart, Slamdance, and when it was accepted I felt as though my life was beginning. I booked tickets to Park City, Utah, and dragged along my best friends at the time, Audrey and Sara—two stunningly petite brunettes who made me feel both more and less worthwhile when they flanked me. There was a Facebook group for accepted filmmakers, where cheap house shares were posted, and we secured a single king-size bed in a rundown ski lodge, which we split with film bros in their thirties and their wanly supportive girlfriends. All we knew was that the festival promised celebrity sightings (I kept track on the back of an envelope: Jared Leto! Gary Coleman! Teri Hatcher! Scott fucking Speedman!) and, if we played our cards right, the chance to get very drunk using our fake I.D.s.

The majority of the tournament’s matches this summer will be held in the United States, which has banned tourist visas for some participating countries. Albert Samaha reports on what that means for the athletes, and their fans, from Haiti, Iran, and other nations. Read or listen to the story »

• Kanye West’s new album, “Bully,” is in some ways a conciliatory offering, our critic writes. But is that really Ye’s voice on it?

• “American people, alienated and addicted to their phones, are currently incapable of organizing themselves toward significant political action,” the columnist Jay Caspian Kang argues.

• How Pakistan became a major player in negotiations between the U.S. and Iran.

• The New Museum has reopened after an eighty-two-million-dollar renovation, with a show about the war between humanity and technology.

• A book: the tragic death of a prized student sets loose something wicked at an English all-girls’ school, in “Spoiled Milk,” by Avery Curran.

• An art show: the Thomas Gainsborough exhibition, at the Frick, reveals the artist to be a true maverick when it came to rendering clothing on canvas.

• A TV show: Dunham’s generation-defining “Girls,” Jia Tolentino writes, “provided a lens through which many rude, sexy, and inessential questions could be asked on TV.”

• Today’s Crossword Puzzle: Sister of Peppa and George Pig—four letters.

• Shuffalo: Can you make a longer word with each new letter?

• Laugh Lines: Test your knowledge of classic New Yorker cartoons.