What better way to spend a Monday night than examining race and multiculturalism in the “politically correct” atmosphere of the 90s with a goldmine of cultural thinkers. Described as “part symposium, part late night talk show, part Youtube nostalgia-fest,” After 1989: Race After Multiculturalism is a five-part project brought to

Gimme the ol’ razzle dazzle– the lights, the glamor, the glitter of show business. Then take it down about 50 notches, put it in a tiny theatre in suburbia or in a high school multipurpose room, and make the actor playing the leading man double as my neighbor’s dad who

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

One of my good friends used to have Native American braids and dropped out of high school to work in a comic book warehouse for 8 years.  He’s since cut the braids, gotten his GED, and went to Berkeley– but my joy for his eccentric comic-obsessed lifestyle is eternal.  Another

Chelsea: a magical chunk of New York City known for its strapping gay men, glorious art galleries, the High Line, and only being accessible by the shitty ACE (consider it a fun little adventure).  This weekend, you have a chance to experience all of Chelsea’s allure at the High Line

Every now and again, one feels the need to step away from the Pretty Little Liars marathon they’ve been watching on Hulu, put on some clothes that aren’t a bathrobe, and do something enriching for their minds and bodies.  Well, this Wednesday, September 7th would be an excellent time to

Rick Moranis. A man’s man. A woman’s man. A jack of all trades. The man. The myth. The dad from Honey I Shrunk the Kids. Rick Moranis has played a large part in my life through his various groundbreaking roles in cinematic history. Plus I have a HUGE crush on

Bender’s got its name on a chilly Sunday night in May, when a certain writer found herself going beer-for-beer with a friend of high tolerance. Six hours later, the bartender asked them to leave, but not before providing her with an answer to the question, “Where can we get more

If you ever want to place a name to the that irrational fear you have of those pasty-faced, rosy-nosed people that prance around and get paid to be laughed at, it’s coulrophobia. Just for the record. Also for the record is this: The Clown Theatre Festival, which has existed in