The previous 17 hours should read as:
The drive was more than worth it as I immediately [XXXX-REDACTED-XXXXX]. Holy shit, I [XXXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] flipped her [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX]!!! It was [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX], but the judo-like [XXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX]. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] balls. Fingers [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX]. Fuck yes! [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX]?!?!?!? [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX]. Dripping [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] and the makeshift catapult-like device [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX].
The sneak-attack [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] Grant’s Pass [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] rendezvous. Endless hours of [XXXXXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] spraying Y’s all over the place. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] having crossed state lines with [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] nefarious intent.
[XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] perhaps illegal in some states [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] a dangerous move for a novice, but for a pro, [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] limber and oiled-up [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] figure-four leg lock [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] python. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] shocker [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX]. It was not a [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX]!!!
Round Seven: [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] marathon [XXXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] got rough. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] choke [XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] drained. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] slew of options [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX].
One for the books, I [XXXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX] never forget. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXX]!!! Partly excited and nervous [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX], thrust and parry and jab [XXXXXXXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX]. [XXXXXX-REDACTED-XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX] and balls.
Late in the afternoon, I got back to S.F.
More weed. More hash. We have encountered a dog shit sized hunk of hash. It is our new best friend. We are now walking around high as fuck.
Walked to Fisherman’s Wharf:
More walking around:
We’re gonna walk to pretty bridge-looking thing they have here.
It’s right over there.
Saw a broken horse:
And some houses that have the faces of robots:
We saw some boats:
Hey! There’s the Explode-atorium:
Here it comes that bridge.
Not far now.
Right around the corner.
Got high in this “forest.”
Almost to that fucking bridge…
Here it comes:
It’s close now:
Here it is. Check it out:
Cliff caught up with us. Apparently he chased us for miles and miles.
We probably walked about 15 miles today. Some of the team (ahem) had enough, so we decided to get lost in a neighborhood and get a cop to call us a cab. Fun! The cop wouldn’t give us a ride, so Cliff nearly had a heart attack. Still, the cop wouldn’t help.
So, I woke up today fully intending on taking a long walk. I wanted to walk from The Tenderloin to The Golden Gate Bridge, and then across the bridge, itself. It’s a long walk, but I have been going on long walks in all of these cities and it has been quite enjoyable. Well, this one turned out to be really fucking long, and I brought people with me. By the end of it, we were so lost in a “neighborhood” somewhere between the bridge and Chrissy Fields that we had to get a fucking cop to call a taxi to come out and pick us up. No, seriously we were sitting there waiting for a cab, thinking no cab would ever fucking be out here, when a cab pulls up, rolls down the window, and asks us how to get out of there. There was literally a fucking cab driver with people in the back lost out there, ok? It was hopeless. By far, the highlight of the night was when I was negotiating some help from the policeman, and Cliff just regressed back to his days on the street and ran up clutching his heart and shit, acting like he was having a heart attack and needed a ride to the hospital. The cop wasn’t buying the shit at all. Afterwards, I told Cliff he was supposed to wait until he was getting arrested to feign a heart attack. (Insert old black landlord joke here.) Anyway, we made it home that night eventually, and went out for one last night of partying in San Francisco.
We met up w/ Allen at his graduation party. He goes to some college that teaches you all about freaking your brain out on drugs. So we freaked out a bunch of college kids and ate their awesome food and drank their beer.
Also, while on stroll and influenced by the gay/weed/artiness of S.F., I took some art-faggy pics:
Help us spread the word!!! We have more screenings coming up and could use your help w/ promo: