Phantasmagoria
At 10:33 this morning, half a mile past the Marsh Road/Atherton exit on US 101 northbound, my odometer rolled through 99999.9 and added a digit. Such things carry special meaning for me—primarily because I stop to reflect on any such milestones in life, motoring, or whatever—so I took a couple of pictures, having pulled over to watch the official rollaround to 100000.0. My car is now, officially, old.
I was considering going to Liquid, but while I was at work, Momerath hooked me up with inforama regarding a private party going on tonight, under the name of Phantasmagoria (I haven’t lived around San Francisco long enough for that to carry any significant meaning, if any is implied in the “Phantasmagoria lives!” e-mail). I decided to check it out and party down with some Spacebarians in a true underground shindig. It was located in the SOMA district of San Francisco.
Gigi and Patrick were supposed to show, but they didn’t. Momerath and Creggg did, though. It was cool to see them. Downstairs in the main area, the DJs were playing a pretty standard set of goa at 150+ beats per minute and upstairs, the music was a little more ambient, a little slower, and a little more manageable.
I danced for a while with myself and various delectable treats, but by about 2:30, the vibe—as well as the ever-present aroma of pot—was starting to wear on my nerves, so it was time to go. I finally ended up leaving at about 3:30, going to Mel’s, and wandering home.