Ben Mezrich owns a magic radio. Itâs an antique, the stand-up kind families used to gather round, stare at, and listen to, with a large dial that resembles a marine compass. He bought it for $50 in the late â90s, back when he was a mid-list author deep in debt and contemplating giving up writing for an M.B.A., after wandering into a yard sale. For years, he kept the radio at his high-rise apartment in Boston before transporting it to his country home in the village of Quechee, Vermont, where it now lives in an extra bedroom he uses as a writerâs studio. One day in August, padding around in pink shorts and white socks, Mezrich, a bespectacled 55-year-old with spiked hair, leads me upstairs to behold it. The studio is sparse: Besides the radio, there is a desk, an unmade bed, a âSpongeBob SquarePantsâ puzzle, and the rudimentary word-processing device he uses, called a Neo2.
At some point after he bought the radio, Mezrich decided it possessed the genielike ability to grant him three wishes, so long as he kissed it when the lights were turned off and âThe Crystal Ship,â by the Doors, was playing. The first thing he wished for was to meet his future wife: âI asked the radio for Tonya. I just described her exactly. Well, not exactly, but, like, I wished for a beautiful, model-y, smart girl.â That very night, at a Boston nightclub, he met Tonya Chen, a dental student who would go on to become a local TV personality and charity-circuit fixture. (They married in 2006.) Mezrichâs buddies started coming over to try to kiss the radio, but he wouldnât let them.
ãã®èšäºã¯ New York magazine ã® November 04-17, 2024 çã«æ²èŒãããŠããŸãã
7 æ¥éã® Magzter GOLD ç¡æãã©ã€ã¢ã«ãéå§ããŠãäœåãã®å³éžããããã¬ãã¢ã ã¹ããŒãªãŒã9,000 以äžã®éèªãæ°èã«ã¢ã¯ã»ã¹ããŠãã ããã
ãã§ã«è³Œèªè ã§ã ?  ãµã€ã³ã€ã³
ãã®èšäºã¯ New York magazine ã® November 04-17, 2024 çã«æ²èŒãããŠããŸãã
7 æ¥éã® Magzter GOLD ç¡æãã©ã€ã¢ã«ãéå§ããŠãäœåãã®å³éžããããã¬ãã¢ã ã¹ããŒãªãŒã9,000 以äžã®éèªãæ°èã«ã¢ã¯ã»ã¹ããŠãã ããã
ãã§ã«è³Œèªè ã§ã? ãµã€ã³ã€ã³
Trapped in Time
A woman relives the same day in a stunning Danish novel.
Polyphonic City
A SOFT, SHIMMERING beauty permeates the images of Mumbai that open Payal Kapadia's All We Imagine As Light. For all the nighttime bustle on display-the heave of people, the constant activity and chaos-Kapadia shoots with a flair for the illusory.
Lear at the Fountain of Youth
Kenneth Branagh's production is nipped, tucked, and facile.
A Belfast Lad Goes Home
After playing some iconic Americans, Anthony Boyle is a beloved IRA commander in a riveting new series about the Troubles.
The Pluck of the Irish
Artists from the Indiana-size island continue to dominate popular culture. Online, they've gained a rep as the \"good Europeans.\"
Houston's on Houston
The Corner Store is like an upscale chain for downtown scene-chasers.
A Brownstone That's Pink Inside
Artist Vivian Reiss's Murray Hill house of whimsy.
These Jeans Made Me Gay
The Citizens of Humanity Horseshoe pants complete my queer style.
Manic, STONED, Throttle, No Brakes
Less than six months after her Gagosian sölu show, the artist JAMIAN JULIANO-VILLAND lost her gallery and all her money and was preparing for an exhibition with two the biggest living American artists.
WHO EVER THOUGHT THAT BRIGHT PINK MEAT THAT LASTS FOR WEEKS WAS A GOOD IDEA?
Deli Meat Is Rotten