I took a little break from my San Francisco slumming by spending the weekend in the Berkeley area, sleeping over at Rica and Paul's house. They have a fluffy cat named Dougal, whom I petted so much that he tried to scratch the shit out of me and he actually drew blood. On my night stand, they placed English toffee and a bottle of bacon salt. And they have in their bathroom a container of Lush Charity Pot Hand and Body Lotion—the description on the container reads (I'm not kidding): "smooth, creamy, skin-softening cocoa butter and almond oil lotion with a scent that makes life worth living." Thank god that lotion was there because all week I was thinking to myself, "You know what? Life is not worth living. I wish there existed a hand lotion that would make me feel differently." Then, wah-la! Lush Charity Pot! (But seriously, folks, the lotion wasn't that good. It's just lotion, for Christ's sake.)
I had a crapload of work to do this weekend, so I spent a lot of time at the People's Cafe and Long Life Vegi House. And I ended up spending four nights in a row at Au Coquelet: with Brandon and his friends one night, where they all convinced me to attend an all-night, lock-in rave next week (yes, I'm actually going); with just Brandon one night, where he wanted to play a depressing game of "worst-case scenario" in regard to his life; with Marisela, Nakissa, and Michael one night, where we talked about horror movies and Space Truckers; and with Read and some high school kids one night, where I discovered that I am unable to corrupt them because they are already corrupted.
I'm going to go rub some lotion into my skin now.