So here’s what nobody tells you about escaping Palo Alto: you can’t. Not really. You can put continents between yourself and those manicured lawns where old men in white execute shots with the precision of surgeons, but the Ghetto, yeah that’s what they call it, the Faculty Ghetto, like living in five million dollar Craftsman […]
Continue Reading →Franconia Performance Salon #3
It’s a hot summer night in San Francisco, the kind that feels like a mistake, like the city forgot what it’s supposed to be, and I’m at Michael’s house for salon number three. I don’t want to be here. I should be literally anywhere else. And for some reason as I’m thinking about this night […]
Continue Reading →
