Here's a totally San Francisco evening:

It's Friday night. First, my wife makes a shabbos chicken that can't be beat and we have a dinner that can't be beat. She has tofu, of course, since she doesn't eat meat. Then, I go to a dot com party, where some modelling agency is in a giant 10,000 sf space that some guy lives in. The party is dull, though it has contortionists, and acrobats. There are many men in black collar shirts who are standing around, looking stupid. There is also valet parking, which surprises me, because it is a private house. I meet a Jamaican guy who tells me that he has made 370 million dollars selling his dot com company. He tells me this within ten minutes of meeting him. His girlfriend is working on a book of Karma Sutra stuff, that is basically a diary, where you do the positions, then you write down what happened.

I leave that party and go to another, where people are nice. And stupid. I wind up talking to some guy for about ten minutes before I realize he can't understand anything I'm saying. He says he likes U2. It smells of sausages.

Then we head out to Yerba Buena, to something called Beautiful Loser, which is a multimedia event about skate culture. There are guys actually riding skateboards, films by Spike Jonze, bad art, bad music and tons of hipsters going wild.

Then it's off to a gas station, for gas.The gas costs 42 dollars. I look at a homeless lady/prostitute arguing with her man/some bum.

Then home.