Emergency Pot Cookie (Or, the Nascence and Destruction of my First Real Writing Job)

Photo by Chris Goldberg If you are ever nineteen and living in San Francisco for the first time, working at your first writing job, getting paid, getting laid, carousing 24/7 with your utterly lovable just-coming-out-of-the-closet gay bestie, bathing in a seemingly endless shower of free weed, passing effortlessly into the VIP lounges of the city’s newest clubs, eating Chinese food that pitches all other Chinese food you’ve ever encountered into a cold, cornstarchy huddle in the co…