This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column for the SF Examiner. I’ve never quite understood why it’s called the “Walk of Shame.” I mean, I guess there’s some patriarchal bullshit involved, intimating that it’s shameful when a woman does it. But for as long as I can remember, the

There’s something I need to say. It’s a tough thing to do and takes bravery, but this has been weighing on my moral compass for far too long. It’s about time someone comes out with it and speaks up, so here I go:

IPAs are a lie.

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This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column for the SF Examiner.  I live at the corner of Needles and Diarrhea. OK, those aren’t the real names of the streets in my SoMa/Mission neighborhood, but if our thoroughfares were christened after the things most prevalent on them, there’d be a

This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column in the San Francisco Examiner.   I’m currently sitting in my parents’ kitchen. It’s hot in San Diego. Hell, it’s been hot all over the state this past week, and I’m so glad that places in SoCal have air conditioning. Visiting San

This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column in the San Francisco Examiner. It’s that time again. The call goes out on Facebook, comments are made, friends are tagged, emails come tumbling in. There’s even a post on Craigslist … My roommates and I are searching for a new person

When someone is terminally ill, dying from cancer or some other horrible disease, he or she often has a brief period right before the end, where they have a sort of bounce-back. In hospice care, it’s called “rallying.” The sick person has a few days in which they find new energy and optimism and feel like they might actually be getting better. And then, shortly after this rally, they die.

This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column for the SF Examiner. It was originally about 2016 but rings just as true for 2017.   If 2017 and I were Facebook friends, I would’ve blocked it months ago. If it could text me, I’d change my number. If we were

This piece is featured in my new limited edition zine Slouching Towards Neverland: 20 Years of Writing About San Francisco. Find out how to get a hand signed copy right here. This originally appeared in my Broke-Ass City column for the SF Examiner. As I look out my window, I