This originally appeared in my zine Love Notes and Other Disasters. If you like this poem please grab a copy. Amy Winehouse breaking my heart moaning dead tunes that crackle from the speakers of your cell phone while we fuck on your bed in your living space in your ex

The pencil shavings left over from your makeup are still here as is some hairspray and the champagne glass you stole for me. Your essence is strewn around my room like smoke stains from a fire but you’re not here nor will you probably ever be again. The cars and

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

In honor of National Poetry I figured I’d post something I wrote awhile back. Some of you might recognize it from Love Notes and Other Disasters (which you can get right here!) italian girl in dublin i love your tiny breasts and the way they come to rest on me

Love Notes and Other Disasters is a 60 page collection of some my most popular pieces (like Living in San Francisco Means, Why You Should Fuck a Writer, and Smelling the Things She Dreamed Of) mixed in with things that have never been published before. Some of it is poetry. Some of it is

I’m very excited to announce the release of Love Notes and Other Disasters. It’s been 10 years or so since I made my last zine. Back then I was doing Broke-Ass Stuart’s Guide to Living Cheaply and that fat little bastard was packed with all the best cheap stuff I