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All Kinds Of Time
“Do you remember Allie Kershner?” Samantha asked. I looked skyward, struggling to remember. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You didn’t date her.” I met my friend Samantha in August of 1989 — the very first day of our freshman year at Syracuse University. Our dorm, Lehman Hall, was a ratty, seven-story walk up on the northern…
Read MoreThe Finest Worksong
I called Abbi as I stepped from the fluorescent hum of the office into the neon buzz of Times Square. It was nearly nine o’clock. “I just don’t think I can make it over tonight. I’m plum exhausted. Plus, the guys are delivering a new fridge at eight tomorrow morning.” The MTV was a blur.…
Read MoreGiving Up The Ghost
My father recently asked me how The Nadas were doing. “You don’t write about them so much anymore,” he said. True enough. Six months ago, a friend emailed me, “If you blog one more time about The Nadas, I’m never visiting your site again.” She was kidding, I assume. But it’s true; six months ago…
Read MoreChasing The Moon
“Daddy! Daddy! Uncle Benjamin found the moon!” It was Family Weekend here at Benjamin Wagner Dot Com. Abbi and I hopped an an early Amtrak out of the city Friday. One frosty cold Sam Adams and a bag of pretzels later, we pulled into Wilmington, where we were greeted by her parents, and whisked away…
Read MoreChasing Ghosts
“Don’t feel guilty,” he said. “Feel motivated.” It’s January. I’m in Park City, Utah, covering the Sundance Film Festival for MTV News. I interview three Iraq War veterans on a snowy rooftop in the center of town. One, Paul Rieckhoff, is clearly more of a media-savvy sound bite generator than the others. This becomes especially…
Read MoreFavorite Things, Volume II
I grew up outdoors. As a kid, we played kick the can, whiffle ball, and tag with the neighborhood kids. We drafted touch football teams — complete with uniforms crafted from t-shirts and magic markers — and faced off against rival blocks (“Woodbine Street vs. Forest Avenue!”). For vacation, mom and dad took us fishing…
Read MoreTribeca Talks
“I don’t know of any great secret films, do you?” That’s Steven Soderbergh speaking. He looks exactly as I suspected: bald, bespectacled, black t-shirt and jeans; a hip Freddy Krueger sans burn scars. And he’s speaks as I’d suspected: clever, dry, smart. I like him immediately. But I always have. “Sex, Lies and Video Tape”…
Read MoreThe Groomsmen
Ed Burns’ film, “The Groomsmen,” was a constant punchline over the course of three or four pre-Tribeca planning meetings at work last week. I wasn’t making the jokes, though, or even laughing; I pre-ordered my tickets the moment they went on sale. Apparently, Burns’ brand of heart-felt, New York-centric talkie isn’t in my colleagues’ wheelhouse.…
Read MoreTell Me Do You Miss Me
In the fall of 1996, in a fluorescent-lit cubicle deep within Rolling Stone’s Sixth Avenue offices, my editor, Matt Hendrickson, asked me, “Do you know Luna?” I lied. Three nights later, Chris and I were stage right at the band’s downtown show, bobbing, swaying, and smiling to its “full-tilt, cosmic radio clamor.” “Though frontman Dean…
Read MoreKettle Of Fish
I’ll admit it (though it probably won’t come as much of a surprise): I’m a sucker for romantic comedies. Given the right mood on the right rainy Saturday, I’ll pause (for the three hundred and twenty-sixth time) to watch Harry run through the streets of New York to find Sally (“I came here tonight because…
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