The Wild, Wild West Side
Located in the basement of 20 W. 20th Street since 1965, West Side advertises itself as the “friendliest range in town.” It’s also the only range in town.
Essays
Creative nonfiction essays
Life on Earth Deserves to be Lived in Vegas
I was sinning in the shower this morning, thinking about the six Tony nominations this past season for Arthur Miller's revival of The Crucible on Broadway. What is there about America that craves witch-hunts? Damned if I know. And I was wishing I was in Las Vegas, "the city that has re-discovered Sin," according to
Undecorated Dad
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars, And say "These wounds I had on Crispin's day." --Henry V, iv, iii He considered going over to kill Hitler or Hirohito or somebody, but Uncle Sam had no boots or uniforms anywhere near his size. So they put him in Military Intelligence and sent
Søren Kierkegaard’s Fear and Trembling and The Sickness unto Death
Kierkegaard, the father of existentialism, says that we realize not peace but only anguish.
Jean-Paul Sartre’s Existentialism and Human Emotions and Literature & Existentialism
Unlike many writers who oozed existential philosophy from every drop of ink that bled on their manuscripts, Jean-Paul Sartre does not shy from submitting a definition of existentialism.
New Wave Knitters
Until recently, knitting only sparked my interest once before. I was six years old, stuffed on whole milk and liverwurst sandwiches, and waiting on my grandmother's couch for my mother to come pick me up. The room was shadowed with nightfall, blue with television (the evening news), and oppressively boring — the violent clicking of
Marching Towards Nelson
When I was running away from the army in Swaziland I came across Nelson Mandela's book, No Easy Walk to Freedom. It was a time when I had difficulty with any literature except pornography and Doris Lessing. All the devils of the military were on my tail and it was hard to concentrate. But I
Groping Marlon Brando’s Face: A Long-Overdue Confession
I can't recall exactly what triggered the incident, but it started like this: I was sitting on a sofa in a dimly lit room...gazing down at the face of a sleeping Marlon Brando...unable to resist the urge to do the unthinkable. Now, let me make one thing perfectly clear—none of what happened that night was
Corporations Possess; Public Access Is Torn: Télévision Vérité. Liebography.
Although it's tempting to disregard television as plebian entertainment, something I often do, the fact remains that there are near-limitless possibilities for challenging and fascinating television "programming," ...