Saturday: … Thanks to a timely heads-up from Mr. Anderson, (and I don’t think I’ll ever speak or hear the name “Mr. Anderson” again without thinking of Keanu Reeves in “The Matrix”: “My … name … is … Neo!”)

I wound up dragging my poor, tolerant, understanding wife into The City through midday thickets of cars at the toll plaza, off the Bay Bridge at Fifth Street, up up up and across Market, hanging a left on Ellis and threading into the Tenderloin, up some street to the heights of California, down down down past the Masonic Center and then left, and somehow (finally) at the foot of Columbus.

We left the car there, wandering down Montgomery to the appointed building, went in past the security guard and took an eerily silent elevator up nine floors to a room in Christie’s S.F. office to lay eyes on The Scroll (soon to sell for millions).

A $15 acupuncture appointment at an ACTCM facility on Fillmore (just above Ellis) appears to have substantially alleviated my back pain — a few needles at the base of my spine, and three or four in my ears. Oh: I took many pictures at a Mr. and Ms. UTOPIA beauty pageant. They’ll be up in a day or so.

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