Working from home may be a luxury, but perhaps the luxury ends there. Perhaps “home” is little more than a sunlight-starved hovel, crawling with roommates and other forms of vermin. Perhaps you, like me, are in need of some alternatives.  You might consider The Coffee Shop. San Francisco is littered

There’s nothing quite like a show in Grace Cathedral.  The sound, light, and vaulted halls create an atmosphere like no other venue in the city.  So when YBCA told us they were setting up an impressive sound system in the Cathedral, for an incredible, queer driven, requiem, written and performed

As 2024 winds down, we’re reflecting on another incredible year of sharing the stories, art, culture, and nightlife that make the Bay Area so unique. BrokeAssStuart.com wouldn’t be what it is without you—our community of readers, supporters, and believers in independent media. This year, instead of asking you to join Patreon

I like danger and anything I can’t have. But I am afraid of ghosts.  Historically, I’ve been able to evade the supernatural.  But sometimes, because of our circumstances, we can’t always avoid what we don’t want. I spent the weekend at a San Francisco hostel in lower Nob Hill.  My first

The San Bruno Owl winds its way through the mists South of Market as we head towards Van Ness. There aren’t many people on the northbound motor coach at this hour, with the exception of a few stragglers and a nattily dressed older woman who is harping on a teenager

It has been five-years since our super hunky co-editor, Stephen Torres, eloquently shared his no-doubt drunken experience at Bob’s. Oh, and four-years since Christy wrote about Bob’s. And of course, I started writing about donuts at 2am, and then realize all of this. So, fuck it…you’re getting the 2014 version of Bob’s. Because

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.

If you are ever searching for the perfect place to grab a drink on a mid-summer night’s eve – Summer Place Cocktail Lounge is the place to go. Not that there is anything summery about the joint – it has a fireplace, pasty patrons that you can barely see through

When I was invited to spend Friday evening at “The Jug Shop” two images came to my mind.  Either I was headed to a sweet backalley moonshine hoedown or some strip club owner decided on the least enticing name in the history of skin bars.  Much to my chagrin The