About the author
Montmartre to The Moulin Rouge: Can an Art Scene be Fabricated?
“Modern discourse is not really comfortable with the word ‘soul,’ and in my opinion the loss of the word has been disabling, not only to religion, but to literature and political thought and to every humane pursuit.”[1] For what is man, if not a soul? With it we consider our world and ourselves, we assess life according to dimensions beyond food and safety. It is the soul that desires more than these. It is t...
Not Like Me
When I became a father, 19 years ago, I remember helping my wife into the car at the hospital. Next came my son in his carseat. It was heavy-- heavier than the seven or so pounds of baby boy. It seemed awkward, picking up a life by a handle. I slid behind the wheel of that car and my world changed. I can’t recall how many cars I crashed, but by the time I was 17 I had earned the badge “Car Killer.” I rolled ...
A Fantastico Heritage
Some people are cultured. So are bacteria. From this comes cheese, hundreds of varieties of cheese, some bitter and bold, others putrid and slimy. The nobility of any particular cheese is mostly a matter of personal taste, though serving a slice of American at a wine tasting would be unthinkable. American cheese doesn’t belong in high society. On the other hand, if you were to find yourself before a little silver t...
The Mass Effect of Gonzo Gaming
Great storytelling isn’t dead. It thrives in a new medium, a cross between story and game enabled by the fusion of technology, well-crafted stories, and game design. A story is no longer merely a story; it’s an experience. It’s an immersion. And that means it can affect people in a way that might surprise you. I work from home and often have to weave my way through a pack of kids playing Xbox in my living ro...
Gordon Gekko On My Mind
A scene from the 1987 movie Wall Street has haunted me. I have only watched it once, when I was 21 and new in my own career. Blue-collar aircraft machinist Bud Fox (Martin Sheen) lies in the hospital, gravely ill. His son, dark-suited Wall Street broker Carl (Charlie Sheen) stands at his bedside clutching his fat hers hand. Both shake with tears as the prodigal son returns to honor his father’s integrity and wi...
Of My America
As a six-year-old you generally swallow whatever grown-ups are serving. Cynicism and skepticism have yet to develop to protect your child-brain, so you take in what you’re told, then reach for a toy. I have fond memories of elementary school. In spite of the thin, high-collared women who towered disapprovingly over our desks, demanding conformity and encouraging uniformity, kindergarten through fifth grade were ...
