After countless months of unquantifiable turmoil, incomprehensible existential dread, and a level of abandonment I have never felt before (I am a child of divorce), the Popeyes original and spicy chicken sandwich was back. “You bastards,” I whispered when I saw the Twitter post announcing the sandwich would be back
Our trip was different, it was to be a classic affirmation of everything that was right and true in the national character. A gross physical salute to the fantastic possibilities of life in this country, but only for those with true grit. And we are chock-full of that man!
We were somewhere in between Phoenix Arizona and Houston Texas on an Amtrak train headed for New Orleans when three hard knocks rocked the bathroom door. “Who the fuck is that?” I whispered. Recently, I had been accepted to the masters program at SF State in creative fiction. I was
There she was, the one and only, the punk rock poet laureate of past, present, and future – Patti Smith. She was dressed in her quintessential baggy clothes – big brown jacket, loose black jeans, booming stringy gray hair – dragging her doc marten’s in a slow-moving gait maintaining the
Ah yes, that time of the year again, that time in the Fall musical season when the hordes from the outer lands of the Bay Area pour into the already bursting at the seams streets of San Francisco to enjoy some free music, shake their fragile hips to, fro, do-si-do,
It was our 2nd anniversary, Taco Bell was resting in our pickled stomachs, our President didn’t know the difference between a hyphen or an apostrophe with the waters of impeachment rising, and we were in love. My girlfriend and I were too busy to go far, so we decided to
There she was, just within reach, the famous punk rocker poet, the shamaness beaming raw mystic power, the one, and only Patti Smith. There she was, right on Haight Street hovering in the San Francisco sunshine her presence breaking through the fog, still amongst the ragged street kids all refusing
The SFFD training facility is used by firefighters and civilian volunteersSomewhere in between winter and spring of 2018, I was snooping around for a new job. My past was filled with low-brow, laughable, but wholly necessary jobs: hot dog cart guy for Stanley Steamers SF; bike delivery guy for Pita