A SECT OF enlightened individuals lives among us. Their beliefs encompass shamanism, a 2012 doomsday scenario, obscure psychedelic drugs, mysticism, yoga, UFOs, crop circles, occasional communication with Mayan deities and the lingering suspicion that Obama is part of a robot conspiracy. Writer Daniel Pinchbeck headlines the movement, known as Next Age. He sells hundreds of thousands of books and travels around the world, lecturing at festivals and countercultural conferences. I met him a few months ago at his favorite East Village hang, a pirate-themed espresso bar on East Ninth Street and Avenue C to discuss the movement, drug use and what it will be like when the “end of the world” approaches. more

I knew it was weird when my invitation to the “no boys allowed” office party was sent via text message and followed by a grainy picture of a shirtless guy with a banana sticking out of his fly. I had just started interning at a PR firm for school credit, trying to make my way through the swirl of city life in my second year of college. Despite my better judgment and the strictly female invitation, I went to the party and brought a friend, as well as a male intern at the firm who was finally allowed to come. After about seven shots of leftover-from-someparty Svedka, I was beginning to get as drunk as my co-workers. Seeing as how my first conversation with the boss, let’s call him Alan, was about how coincidental it was that I was from the same small California town that he and his wife were just recently married in, I wasn’t expecting him to try to fuck an employee about half his age. But then he started going on about how fond he was of the interns. more