Sunday, August 05, 2012

Dolores and Joys of San Francisco

This blog has become not much more than a travel recap this season. I haven't had the right moment, headspace or situation to sit down and write anything thoughtful, but since I stopped keeping journals (and since I feel like if I don't write it down it might not have actually happened)... here is my trip to San Francisco!
This robot (above) was a dancing stereospeaker... definitely a highlight of a perfect day with pals at Dolores Park.
Here's the thing about San Francisco - not only is it beautiful, you will NEVER be the most disturbed, degenerate or delinquent person around no matter how hard you try. That alone makes it an uplifting place to visit. Then there are the random conversations, like this overheard at Dolores Park: "I can't tell if those hot guys are guys I've already slept with or guys I plan to sleep with." Pause. Someone else answers: "Do you think option 2 could insinuate option 1?"

My friend Ross lives next to Dolores Park, in the "Beachhouse". We made many trips to his beachhouse for refills on the mobile margarita bar he brought to the grass and shared with everyone.
On one of these trips, I was accompanied by a friend of his I'd just met. As we walked, the friend says "I know I just met you but I've got a confession..." and he tells me that the night before, returning home at 4am, he encountered a homeless guy. The homeless guy was his same age - and reminded him of his brother - and they got to talking and he ended up inviting the guy home.. to take a shower, eat something and sleep in his bed. It wasn't sexual overture in the least, and as he fell asleep he thought maybe he'd be killed. Then decided, "If the universe punishes me for doing the right thing... I don't want to be here anyway." Sooooo San Francisco!

The reason he confessed all this? The homeless guy was still with him - back on his blanket at the park. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't get rid of him. He followed around like a puppy, absorbing any and all kindness offered. How do you extricate yourself from the situation without sounding like an asshole, and thus nulling and voiding all the previous generosity?
I don't like the name DOLORES at all. It sounds old and frumpy and should come with a girdle, but then recall it means "hurts" in Spanish and I like it better, especially after this day at Dolores Park.

Lightening up any situation, Lia joined the picnic. I met Lia in an island off Honduras with CoolDan years ago and we spent a magical night on a deserted island I will never forget. On another memorable SCUBA diving adventure, Lia couldn't be hauled from the ocean back into the boat, no matter how hard the instructor pulled her arms her chest kept ramming into the side of the boat so finally he said, "Lia - there are two big reasons you aren't getting into this boat. Your tits!" 

I was really in San Francisco to celebrate the birthday of my pal Neighbor Dan who now lives there. I was able to pry Crazy Dan into joining the celebration from New York - he's a flight attendant and got us 1st class all the way across the continent. This meant keeping him up all night to ensure we made the early morning flight. No easy feat!
Neighbor Dan, Crazy Dan, Harrison and Corey... posse complete! We hit up an incredible Tina Turner tribute at Trannyshack.
We don't need another hero!
Later, we went to a fundraising party for a Burning Man theme camp, and I tried out the torture device. Dolores? The party was called Comfort & Joy! Obviously.

Buena Vista Park. Indeed!
Dan rented a car and took us up to the Napa Valley for some wine tasting.
And totally passed out on the ride home!! HA!!




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