Friday night Brian and I took the train down to Ocean Beach for a bonfire some friends were having. The night was warm and clear, windless. It was ten o’clock and the sky was studded with stars, the red planet winking to the southeast.

We took off our shoes and walked into the heavy sand. It was like walking through snow. The tide was drifting out, and we could see ribbons of surf glowing in the distance, the lights of ships. Along the beach, dozen of small fires were spread. We had to find the right one. At first we walked the wrong way, and then backtracked to the south, finally finding our group. I left my jacket and bag there and went down to the part of the beach where the sand was flat and damp. Looked up at all the stars and the Milky Way. Brian came down too and we ran away from the creeping water’s edge.

We sat by the fire and just relaxed. Roasted marshmallows, evaded sparks from the popping wood. Sometimes there would be dark figures walking past, voices without form from up on the sand dune. I loved the darkness and the way the sky gave off just enough light to give form to breaking waves. It was definitely the calmest and most hospitable Ocean Beach has even been at night that I’ve experienced. I could have stayed longer, but we got a ride back in a car, and had we counted on the train, it might have meant a long wait out on Judah, not down by the water.

Yesterday we spent too much money on restaurants, probably, but why not; it was a lovely Saturday. Poached eggs for breakfast, ice cream for lunch, a cheeseburger and diet coke for dinner. Mmmm.

And finally, today is again eighty degrees and clear, and I’m just laying around the house, about to vacuum the rug and stuff like that. I almost don’t want to go outside to be battered by the sun again, but I feel like I should grocery shop. Why is it sometimes so hard for me to do nothing? Isn’t that what Sundays are for?

Political corner: Howard Dean for President. Matt Gonzalez for San Francisco Mayor.