Clancy Martin reflects on his seven times behind bars, from Dallas to Kansas City.
'The Air Marshal,' by Clancy Martin
I'm 47 years old now, and lately I've been waking to an urge that was a daily part of my psychological life in my teens and 20s: the desire to improve myself.
I should make it clear that I have a lot of experience with ghosts. I have been seeing them since I was a child, when a small yellow gnome crawled up my leg and told me the year I would die. He said I'd die of a heart attack in 2019. When I told my...
For years I owned a chain of luxury jewelry stores in one of the wildest, most flamboyant, most duplicitous jewelry markets of them all: Dallas, Texas. With Valentine's Day coming up, I will tell you what sort of jewelry scams are popular throughout...
There’s a fire pit the men sit by at night in the Red Iguana, a restaurant on the edge of town in Copán, Honduras. They roast meat, smoke their cigars, and drink beer and Nicaraguan rum while the stars intensify and their wives put the...
I had lost my shoes; I had to leave immediately, my students were waiting; my assistant already had the exams in their hands; class started at 9:00 and, I saw on my alarm clock, it was 9:15, now 9:16.
"Come on,” Teryn whispered. She had opened my window from the outside, and was on her hands and knees. I had fallen asleep with a book on my chest. “Hurry. If Mom and Dad catch you we’re both dead.”
Clancy Martin used to make a living as a jewelry salesman. Now he is a translator of Nietzsche and Kierkegaard and an associate professor of philosophy at the University of Missouri.