After countless months of unquantifiable turmoil, incomprehensible existential dread, and a level of abandonment I have never felt before (I am a child of divorce), the Popeyes original and spicy chicken sandwich was back. “You bastards,” I whispered when I saw the Twitter post announcing the sandwich would be back

Your alarm goes off. “Fuck…” you mumble to yourself. Your mouth tastes like bad decisions and your tongue feels like sandpaper. You’re not sure if you’re hungover or still drunk but you know you’re in such bad shape that you’re even creating new swearwords, “Oh Jesus fuckhammer” you groan. Then

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

Your alarm goes off. “Fuck…” you mumble to yourself. Your mouth tastes like bad decisions and your tongue feels like sandpaper. You’re not sure if you’re hungover or still drunk but you know you’re in such bad shape that you’re even creating new swearwords, “Oh Jesus fuckhammer” you groan. Then