The Folsom Stret Fair, probably the world's largest gathering of leather people (for want of a better term), was taking place just three blocks from my apartment. So I walked over with my camera to be a voyeur.

You should know that San Francisco feels as if it's been in one continuous California winter since January. There have been few warm periods. Yet it never fails to be hot for that one weekend where hundreds of thousands of mostly gay and lesbian people dress up like Daisy (i.e. Daisy the cow - leather - get it? jeez, I have to explain my own jokes or what? :), and yesterday was no exception. So bare nipples from both major sex groups were plenty in evidence, pointing at me accusingly wherever I wandered, and manly body odors mingled in the hot air.

The Folsom Street Fair unfolds before the eye of the camera

The event attracts a very large cross-section, including, since this is San Francisco, a large share of kooks and crazies, including a gentleman who was screaming at the top of his lungs to an oblivious crowd his theories on how drinking your own urine cures all diseases.

Drink urine to cure disease - no kidding?

And many, many under dress, though few to the same effect as this guy.

I find it less easy to be jokey about another side of the fair you see. You come across sado-masochism in varying degrees of severity. This woman had red welts on her back. I've seen other people being branded or scarrified. It's hard for me to relate to it (though one persistent visitor to my site tried his hardest to bring me over to "the dark side" by sending me photos of him engaged in all kinds of stuff).

I suppose I enjoyed the spectacle of it all, but it felt great to escape the heat after that and go running in the Marina. The red, rosy band around the horizon seemed to recede for ever into a sad, autumnal haze, but maybe it only looked autumnal because I knew it was Autumn. I'd like to think that if I went outside of time for a while and was suddenly plonked back into that run I'd have been able to instantly sense it was Autumn, but I doubt that's the case. As it cooled down though, the fresh breeze felt delicious licking my bare skin.

One of the things I hate most about where I live in the city is that there is no Pasta Pomodoro, my favorite cheap restaurant, nearby. But there's one in the Marina, so I stopped by there after my run for my chicken caesar salad. It's on Union Street, a peculiar combination of straight pick-up joints and nail parlors.

Picking up a chicken caesar at Pasta Pomodoro in the Marina

And today it was back to work. My first whole week at work in quite a while. I'm getting into the swing of it now, and after work, I was quite stressed out from working so hard. I'm not sure whether that is good or bad...