United States
I'm a 33 year old writer/editor who has worked for and published by The New York Times, Forbes, The Washington Post, QZ, and the Guardian, among other places. I am also a black Navy veteran, and I bring that same diversity, discipline, and regimented work ethic to every job I pursue.
Share to email Share to facebook Share to twitter Share to linkedin Share to google Guest commentary curated by Forbes Opinion. Avik Roy, Opinion Editor. Opinions expressed by Forbes Contributors are their own. Guest post written by Alex Miller Alex Miller is a veteran and a freelance writer who lives in New York City.
On my first day in Florida, I got a Slurpee tossed at me from a moving car while the occupants made gorilla grunts. I screamed and chased after the vehicle, which sped off, a Rebel flag fluttering like Superman's "S" after a triumph.
Townies is a series about life in New York, and occasionally other cities. A native of Chicago's South Side, I was raised in poverty. Several times my mother and I had to take refuge in other people's homes, and sometimes in shelters.
I'd always wanted to stand in a police lineup. Ever since I was as a kid, television made it seem so macho to be on the other side of the glass-dangerous-looking enough to be chosen to stand against the height line, mild-mannered enough to not be picked.
"Why are you screaming? Nightmare?" My then girlfriend was worried. But it wasn't a nightmare that was keeping me awake - it was the night, itself. I'd foolishly fallen asleep before her and woken into a terrifying darkness. "Turn the lights on!" I panicked. I'd become a child, afraid the Boogie Man entered his room unannounced.
"Let's go out and get some girls," my friend said, one day after a girl I'd been dating for six monthsbroke up with me. "Stop playing that game, bro!" No, I wouldn't stop. I needed to play something. Anything to get my mind off the hurt.
By Alex Miller Freddie Prinze, Sr. shot himself in the head in 1977. But tonight, he's alive. Kurler Warner's set design is simple: a blue light casts an ominous glow over a TV tray table. A bottle of wine, a cigarette and an ashtray, tabloids, and a water glass stand on the table.
"Are you Elliott Miller's son?" Said the message from the pretty brunette, who'd just randomly contacted me on Facebook. "I have something really important to tell you." I waited a couple days to reply to this person for fear she was a scammer trying to hack my account, because I've been fooled before.
If I catch heat for this, that's just fine by me: We shouldn't be banning any guns. Ronald Reagan supported the sentiment that semi-automatics were only necessary for military use, with an impassioned essay published in The New York Times , he mentioned the attempt on his life by one John Hinckley, Jr.: "I was lucky.
"Did you ever kill someone?" she asked, well before the bread sticks arrived. It's a fair question, I suppose. But on a first date? I prefer to wait several dates before mentioning my veteran status - in case I accidentally give the impression that I was an American sniper.