Rainy Sundays in San Francisco are always lonely. No one is out and about. Normally I would relish such times, but the older I get, the more my feelings are tied to the weather. The fog and drizzle can cover the whole city and my mood like a wet wool blanket. Even the Folsom Street Fair people seemed despondent, and I couldn't help but notice that the ass cheeks that normally press up against one's face on a packed Muni car were, this year, attached to leather daddies who seemed like they were just going... More >>>