The Short, Alienated Life of a Suburbanite

In this work of fiction by Pitchaya Sudbanthad, feral hogs invade a suburban town, where one man feels like an interloper. [Image] [Image]( Good Neighbors Aran looked up from watering the petunias to see a stranger with a pistol. The man stood halfway down the creek bed, where the poplars parted to reveal the lake beyond. His silhouette, with hunched shoulders and the pistol pointed down, reminded Aran of tiny green soldiers that, as a kid, he had melted with a lighter. How odd that a hunter should wander into a residential neighborhood. He always had a secret fear that some vet prone to flashbacks would mistake him for Vietnamese or North Korean—an unfortunate incident that leaves a neighborhood in shock, as an anchor might report on the evening news. He stepped into the curve of a tree’s hollowed trunk and wondered if the dripping hose in his hand would serve as adequate defense. If he ran, maybe he could make it as far as the koi pond, but what then? Would Caitlin find him there in the afternoon—his legs sticking out of water by then hued like a full-bodied Syrah and the neighbor’s coifed poodle sniffling his toes? He then heard a gun’s report, followed by a long sharp squeal. “You can come out now, mister,” the man shouted. The man tucked the pistol under his armpit and began walking up the banks. “No worries. I won't let this dang thing stink up this fine place of yours.” This fine place. The man waved his hand towards Aran’s house as if he were showing off his own. Aran and Caitlin moved to the lake two years ago, after Caitlin finished her radiology fellowship and he became director at a digital imaging research center. Theirs was the cedar-planked contemporary on a triangular lot that adjoined the Fosters and the Stevensons—all part of the circle of backyards that cinched the whole the lake and the nature reserve around it. Aran gained the nerve to ask the man what the hell he was doing out here armed with a pistol. The man squinted, raising his gray cap to wipe off sweat. [Read the Full Story]( [Image] [Image]( Denzel Washington Was, Is, and Always Will Be Ahead of the Game. Here’s How to Get His Look Today. Halfway through 1993, Denzel Washington was snapped exiting LAX in a fit for the ages, one that'll go down in the record books as his piece de resistance, a visual testament to how effortlessly cool the man always was and always will be. And right now, there's no one else you should strive to emulate more. Here’s how to get his iconic look (and why). [Read the Full Story](  [Image]( Every Man Should Be Watching I May Destroy You. Here’s Why. If you can accept that truth—that men who see themselves as "good," "well-intentioned," "nice" people can violate consent and do serious physical and emotional damage to others—then you might be ready for the hard lessons that I May Destroy You serves up, argues Brooke Obie. The breakout HBO hit has been lauded for its commentary on rape and sexual assault, and while the series depicts explicit examples of rape, the power of the show is in creator and star Michaela Coel’s expert dissection of the more insidious areas of rape, the people who commit the act, and its long-term effects on survivors. The men who are willing to listen and learn from the complex situations Coel lays out in I May Destroy You can be directly involved in the prevention of more harm. That’s why every man should be watching. [Read the Full Story]( [Image]( A Truly Wild Conversation with Sebastian Bach Sebastian Bach, 52, is the former lead singer of Skid Row, which ranks as one of the peak hair metal bands of the late '80s and early '90s. Esquire’s Justin Kirkland called Bach because, on the evening of July 15, he channeled his rage onto Twitter, firing off a tweet aimed at Trump and his supporters. Standing with Trump, he argued, is standing against rock and roll. Not cool, man. The tweet blew up. And ol' Bas was on fire. Detractors were saying "stay out of politics," to which he responded: "Fuck you. I believe in rock and roll." The next day, he was trending nationally. There are several moments in Kirkland’s phone conversation with Sebastian Bach that are inaudible, because Bach begins the interview at a full scream and never relents. Who can blame him? Rock and roll is dead! America is over! The president doesn't believe in science! The red wine isn't hitting the same as it does on the tour bus! This is their conversation. [Read the Full Story](  [Image]( The $60 Bag That Will Save Your Ass Time and Again It's about time you get on board with bags. Specifically, this one: Snow Peak's sleek, tactical shoulder bags, in which you can store all your shit in one easily searchable place. Snow Peak was founded by Yukio Yamai in the late '50s in the mountainous Niigata Prefecture of Japan. Yamai was a dedicated outdoorsman, who started out designing hardcore climbing gear made by nearby craftspeople for fellow enthusiasts. By the late '90s, Tohru Yamai, the elder Yamai's son, had brought the brand stateside, gradually building a devoted following across the country in the process. Typically, you pay through the teeth for this guide of craftsmanship. But this is just $60. So get one before everyone else does. [Read the Full Story]( [Image]( Waterworld Is Known as a Massive Failure. But It’s Pretty Good. Like a pack of ghoulish spectators craning their necks at a five-car pile-up, the press had already started calling it Fishtar…and Kevin’s Gate…and "the most expensive gamble in movie history." This was long before anyone had even seen a single frame of the finished film, mind you. Still, the collective sense of Tinseltown schadenfreude was off the charts. And when it did finally hit theaters, the reactions of both the critics and the audience were brutal. The movie: Kevin Costner’s 1995 post-apocalyptic turkey Waterworld, of course. And it opened 25 years ago this week. Tanked by drama and bad press in the '90s, Chris Nashawaty explains why the post-apocalyptic fever dream about global warming was way ahead of its time—and why it’s deserving of praise more than two decades later. [Read the Full Story](  Follow Us       [Unsubscribe](  [Privacy Notice](  esquire.com ©2020 Hearst Communications Inc. All Rights Reserved. Hearst Email Privacy, 300 W 57th St., Fl. 19 (sta 1-1), New York, NY 10019   Â