by Charles Irwell I see you there. You’re twirling your Hercule Poirot ‘stache, adjusting your pince-nez specs and drinking espresso from a cup so small you hold it with tweezers. Sitting there, in your Fort Greene café, keeping an eye on the Penny-Farthing you rode here on. Watching the world go

I drink a lot. Probably too much, but I don’t know where you draw the line when it comes to putting poison in your body, so I’ll just assume it’s in chalk somewhere around your dead body. Coming from a family with a history of addiction, I’m keenly aware of

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

We have all seen the pictures of green Tinkerbell-like fairies floating over the shoulder and various other portrayals of what happens when one drinks absinthe. In order to really show you what absinthe is all about, Drink Me Magazine is throwing a party. Drink me Magazine will be putting on