Decom

Meh almost won. Decom ran noon to midnight, way down in San Francisco, and motivation was lacking on a sunny but windy Sunday. But we kicked each other in the ass and hit the freeway about two. Rolled into Dogpatch about four thirty. Interesting neighborhood. Found parking next to a warehouse turned art gallery. Walked down the street observing the wind drifts of garbage and the homeless trails leading like deer trails into abandoned lots. Went a few blocks and rounded a corner and went another block and suddenly felt like home.

 
Other sights while in line:

 
Inside we went immediately to the bar and looking down at the crowd over drinks I told a guy from Santa Cruz my sudden insight: how much easier it is to relax and enjoy yourself if you are dressed like a total idiot. He laughed and agreed. Of the hundreds of people there, the only ones who didn’t look like they were having fun were the ones not dressed like idiots.


Or at least not having a chocolate syrup fight. I would never say “idiot” to these guys anyway.


It figures that I have no problem asking guys if I can take their picture but just can’t go there with the ladies. My inner creep is in self-denial. But I tried once, sort of, from far away.


Let your imagination perform the extrapolation of erotic exultation in a youthful population.

Speaking of youth, our kids want to move away from us, can’t imagine why.


More random scenery follows.

 
Just imagine a heavy techno soundtrack, people dancing all over.





You should a gone, you'd a loved it.