Ottessa Moshfegh, the author of four books and her fifth Death in Her Hands coming in April 2020, winner of the Hemingway Foundation/PEN Award, shortlisted for the Booker Prize, and a fiction finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, spoke on Monday at City Arts and Lectures. The air
Resolutions, like wishes, like dreams, are ostensibly reachable, hopefully, feasible goals that many of us around the globe try desperately to hold ourselves to in the new year. Depending on your perspective of the whole thing, you may not even think about resolutions, maybe concerned solely about where you’re going
I am extremely excited to announce the release of The Delicious Card! Delicious cardholders get awesome deals at over 30 of your favorite SF eateries! Membership is a great way to explore new places, support local businesses, and support local journalism.
Bob Dylan once wrote, You’re gonna have to serve somebody, yes indeed you’re gonna have to serve somebody. As a long-time server and resident of San Francisco, that couldn’t be more true
and then the weird one-year stint with Jim Tomsula who used to sell doormats, food, and medical equipment, the Niners really know how to test their constituents
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