Every week we feature a different person from the community shedding a little light on their life of brokeitude. Who knows, maybe you’ll learn something about the human spirit — probably not. Wanna be a Broke-Ass of the Week? Holler at us here and we’ll send you the questionnaire.   Ah,

Few nights have been as warm, gorgeous and amazing as the fundraiser that Hard French threw for the Galería de la Raza this past August 19th, ¡Miercoles Gigante!  Persia slayed as emcee and Executive Director Ani Rivera brought on a few teardrops with her heartfelt thanks and impassioned words on

I’ve got some awesome news! We received a grant from the Civic Joy Fund to put out a literary magazine celebrating SF and acting to counter the stupid “Doom Loop” narrative. It’s a gift to the people of San Francisco. And after months of working on this project it’s now available

Dear Stuart,   Camp’s been great! The last rays of languid orange light dapple a fright wig bobbing in the R3‘s pool like a gentle blood clot in a sea of Hypnotiq. Ay, Stuart, the last day of camp is always bittersweet, and indeed my heart feels as heavy as

The power of one image has defined this entire summer on 24th Street and likely will for many to come, temporal as it may be. When Manuel Paul’s Por Vida was unveiled on June 13th, not only did it provide the perfect bookend to Amy Martínez,  Vero Majano and Kari

Hello dear readers in broke-itude! Well, it’s been a busy week here at BAS and even more so for our esteemed Editor-In-Cheap, as he sallies forth on the campaign trail. Stuart’s article in last Wednesday’s Examiner, in particular, elicited an overwhelming response in regards to our city’s lack of urgency

We’ve had a lot of these nights as of late, where warm days unfold into breezy, not-quite cold nights, the familiar summertime fog scattering to the burning plains in the east. My button-down is wet down my back and under my arms with the usual accompanying fragrance as I hustle

Hey pervs!  Heralding the hotter days to come with hos, hard-ons and harnesses, the 30th Annual Up Your Alley Street Fair busted through SoMa like a well-lubed fist.  Perhaps because it was an milestone year, this year’s festivities felt more the raunch rodeos of yore than Dore’s of recent memory.

It’s been a fairly cold summer inside and out this year, but in  the past weeks things have warmed up slightly, albeit encased in drizzle.  I’m riding the 38-Geary out of the Tenderloin and away from Bus Station John’s frisky disc-y, the Tubesteak Connection where a gaggle of fuzzy men