Nine stools I keep returning to between espresso shifts and whatever's screening at the Roxie. Not the bars with the velvet rope and the Edison bulbs — the ones that let you sit in the corner nursing a Tecate while you workshop the screenplay you'll never finish. Some are tiki, some are dive, one's got a fireplace like the cabin scene in every horror movie right before things go bad. Rated on vibe, not Yelp stars.
TheLysts
