Weekend in SF did not happen until 6pm Saturday night, when I decided to make the 6 hour drive right after the phone call with the mates. I figured, the idea will seem less impulsive and less stupid the closer I get to SF.

The party rocked. Evan was right when he said that it seemed like everyone came determined to get wasted. I showed up and so many people were already so slushed I couldn't really carry on conversation of any sort with anybody...until I caught up. Talked with Mimi briefly, more on that later when Parth returns my email.

Tried to pass out in Kayvon's room when he stumbled in with that girl whom I met at Bohemia last time in SF. They probably didn't realize that Ryan and I were there...and I just pounced on top of the sheets with them underneath (as a joke, but in retrospect, probably not so funny). Can't remember a thing after that. Remember vaguely of walking down 16th Ave barefooted lamenting (perhaps even tearing) about something or other (probably about not hooking up, as usual). Apparently I jumped onto the couch with Chris (O'steen's roommate in Austin) and kicked him out of the couch sometime in the AM... Apparently Jon tucked me in at around 8am. I blacked out for that long!?

Had a funny feeling that I blacked out solely as a self-defense mechanism, defending myself from unpleasant self-loathing. I suppose it's better this way?