Patrick Creadon’s Wordplay, written by Mr. Creadon and Christine O’Malley, and produced by Ms. O’Malley, cheerfully and winningly celebrates the passionate practitioners of crossword puzzles, of whom there are an estimated 50 million in the United States. The film’s main focus is Will Shortz, the crossword-puzzle editor of The New York Times and the “Puzzle Read More
The first time I saw The Break-Up, the woman next to me sighed and shifted and muttered under her breath at Vince Vaughn’s inability to perform basic household tasks: Oh. My. God …. Jesus Christ, I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll kill him. I will. The second time I saw the film, the woman next to Read More
I moved downtown, to East Ninth Street, something like 10 or 12 years ago. The building’s landlord, a crusty grouch named Gary, kept a cluttered office in the first-floor storefront. He was always there for tenants to see, not that he’d do much of anything for you if you stopped in—though to his dubious credit, Read More
Home Land, by Sam Lipsyte. Picador, 240 pages, $13.
What to call male, unmarried life between the age of 27 and 40? Sunset youth? Still-coming-of-age? These are years of rejiggered aspiration, metabolic slowdown, waning cool.
Boo-hoo. It ain’t prostate cancer. It ain’t Falluja. Does anyone want to read fiction about not-quite-still-young men contemplating Read More
budding cherry blossoms. The soft breeze fluttering the sails of the model
boats on Conservatory Pond. These aren’t the only signs of spring in Central
Park. There’s also the return on my 104-year-old grandmother and her cronies to
their respective benches at Strawberry Fields.
A lot of people stop making friends
by the time Read More
On a recent Thursday at the frat-tastic Murray Hill Bar 515, a group of young male investment bankers were decompressing after a long day of Bloomberg-staring and cold calling. A 23-year-old hedge-fund manager leaned back against the bar as a blond, large-breasted woman passed by.
“Hell- ooo, ” Hedge Fund Guy said under his breath. Read More
Once upon a time, not all that long ago, there was a pleasant little town beside a sparkling sea. The landscape back from the beach was largely rural and agricultural. It was a place that was uncomplicated, accessible and inexpensive-a place of simple restaurants serving grilled fish and fresh produce, an easy lifestyle and uncrowded Read More
I can be myself with her. If I’m not feeling cheerful, I don’t have to pretend for her. I can just act straight, no apologies, here I am. And her, too. She’s the same way with me.
Sometimes she’s warm with me. Her touch will linger–her fingertips rest longer than I would expect in the Read More
He’s Mr. Service
Gary Greco loves women, he’s mad for makeup, but most of all, he loves helping people. He’s the resident makeup artist at Face Stockholm on Madison Avenue and 62nd Street, one branch in an international chain of kind-of-fancy-but-hip makeup stores. It’s a makeup counter not unlike–in either size or content–the counters found Read More
To describe Michele Capozzi physically, imagine Martin Scorsese reborn as a scruffy Venetian gondolier. But to describe the role he plays in the city’s sex club ecology, a reference to Dante seems apt. “Think of me as Virgilio,” the 52-year-old Genoan told me in thickly accented English. “Your guide through the various circles of the Read More