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The House Above Hobson's

About me

Location	San Francisco, CA
Introduction	After college, I visited San Francisco and didn't leave. I moved into a house above a bar in the Haight-Ashbury with 25 people and became a part of the city. We worked our way in and out of each others’ lives- taking pieces of one another through struggles, moments of truth, intimacy and compassion, sharing, mourning, frustration, sex, longing and bitterness, as we awkwardly climbed, spiraled and crashed into or away from whatever we thought adulthood was supposed to be. I lived with four guys in their 20s: A comedian from LA; an environmentalist from South San Francisco; a Vietnamese-Parisian with a think French accent; and a posh, English gent. Roommates came and went for many reasons: fights, pregnancy, heartbreak, desire. Five apartments shared our building and a central stairwell linked our back doors together and to the roof we partied, sunbathed and fooled around on. Each apartment equally represented aspects of San Francisco culture while encouraging each other’s dreams, however foolish and delusional they were. We left our back doors unlocked to share kitchen utensils and booze, clothes and hot sauce. And we all shared the same, drunk landlord.

Location

San Francisco, CA

Introduction

After college, I visited San Francisco and didn't leave. I moved into a house above a bar in the Haight-Ashbury with 25 people and became a part of the city. We worked our way in and out of each others’ lives- taking pieces of one another through struggles, moments of truth, intimacy and compassion, sharing, mourning, frustration, sex, longing and bitterness, as we awkwardly climbed, spiraled and crashed into or away from whatever we thought adulthood was supposed to be. I lived with four guys in their 20s: A comedian from LA; an environmentalist from South San Francisco; a Vietnamese-Parisian with a think French accent; and a posh, English gent. Roommates came and went for many reasons: fights, pregnancy, heartbreak, desire. Five apartments shared our building and a central stairwell linked our back doors together and to the roof we partied, sunbathed and fooled around on. Each apartment equally represented aspects of San Francisco culture while encouraging each other’s dreams, however foolish and delusional they were. We left our back doors unlocked to share kitchen utensils and booze, clothes and hot sauce. And we all shared the same, drunk landlord.