Futility Now

We flew to San Francisco in incredibly cramped planes.

We went to a bunch of really cool places, including this phenomenon called The Albany Bulb, which I had never heard of back when I was living in SF.

As disaffected youth hurled parts of older artifacts into the bay, our guide, Gnarles M, said that the last time he had visited the area had been more whimsical and less apocalyptic. I suggested it was merely a sign of the times, and then stared across the bay, soaking up all the bleakness.

Then we got drinks.

On the west side of the West Side, we meandered around a bunch of places that I really miss about San Francisco. The highlight of these was probably San Francisco’s incredible Conservatory of Flowers, my ardor for which had been stoked to a feverish pitch by the fact that I hadn’t been there for fifteen years (it was closed for restoration the entire time that I actually lived near it.) It was totally worth the wait.

Truly one of my favorite places on the entire planet. After the conservatory we hit Golden Gate Park’s charming carousel (totally enhanced by it’s proximity to massive dumpsters) and the California Academy of Sciences, which was rebuilt recently with a very cool living roof.

(For you nerds: looks sort of like an ohmu, right?)

We also made it out the the Sutro Baths, the site of many disastrous mishaps in the life of my father. With us as his guardians he managed to visit without falling off of or into anything.

Eventually we came home to suffer the torments of our neglected kitten.