The other day, I received a plain envelope in the mail.  I wasn’t expecting it, and was perplexed as to what it could possibly be.  The return address was from one “Crystal Skull” in Chicago.  “Crystal?  Who the hell is Crystal?  I don’t know any ‘Crystal’ in Chicago,” I thought

Expensive things are wasted on me. If I own something that can break or stain or develop holes, it invariably does. So my relationship with sunglasses has always been a problematic one. Thankfully I became a member of Stunner of the Month about a year ago and now my sunglasses issues

I was roaming the diversified streets of Williamsburg, Brooklyn as I waited for some friends to arrive. I decided to kill some time by stepping into the unknown abyss that is The Gibson. It was a slow Thursday night as I walked into this dimly lit establishment with two projectors

                  Ye Olde Diner sign in the Inner Sunset Everything about Art’s Cafe is like the legs of a competitive swimmer: streamlined, muscular, each sinew working in harmony towards one goal, and shaved of every superfluity that might get in the way

Pretty, lush, green spaces can be hard to come by in New York City, so we might as well try to maintain the ones that we’ve got.  Besides environmental interests, us urban-dwellers might suffer from something that I like to call “feudalism withdrawals,” in which we experience intense desires to

It’s Labor Day. I’ve tried to track down almost every one of SF’s beloved new generation food truck to no avail. They’ve all taken the holiday off, which grants me an epiphany, are those trucks really here for us locals? However, I know where I can go. I can go

  It’s been some dark days for city history as of late. With the latest casualties being the likes of Tosca and The Purple Onion, one might wonder who’s next on the venerable hit list. Probably some deadbeat tenant like Swan’s Oyster Depot or the Buena Vista, more than likely.