Last Thursday, I skipped out of work early, hopped on the Air Train, and caught a plane to San Francisco to visit Lina and Bonnie. It was so fun, I briefly considered becoming a hippie and staying there forever. Fortunately, soon thereafter I was whisked to Amoeba records where I spent half of my monthly salary on indie rock records, thereby guaranteeing my place in the capitalist system for a while. Just now, I told my mother that I had taken a zillion pictures while I was out there. She cooed in reminiscence of her time in the Bay Area in the 1970s, when she roamed up and down the hills, sniffing flowers and whatnot. But rather than photograph the hills and vales and greenery, I opted for my usual: decrepit buildings, decaying storefronts, and abandoned lots. It’s likely that you’d enjoy these photos more than my mother.