San Francisco

Dance the Pain Away: Petnation 5

If you’re like me, your favorite pet is somehow the basis for all of your computer passwords. Without giving too much away (and I just now changed all my passwords anyway, suckers!), my safeguard was named for a wild-eyed, red-haired, toothy guinea pig whose short existence provided young me with some formative experiences, mostly the kind that result in phobias.
Let’s call him Pinda. Yep, he was male, and bestowed with a vaguely feminine name, which may have been the reason he was a little eager with his teeth. I used to love thinking about brushing Pinda, thinking about holding him against my chest and cuddling him against my ear, thinking about handfeeding him carrots.
When Pinda died it was awful. I was a pretty stoic kid, but seeing his tiny form shrouded in a pink towel and buried in a raised garden bed, of all places, struck me to my core. Which is why I’m taking my grief – 15 years later, but it’s never too late – to the Petnation party this Sunday at Public Works.
A pet-centered arm of SF’s Day of the Dead celebrations, Petnation holds an altar for deceased pets at which you can rest Fido’s half-chewed biscuits or Tabitha’s favorite feathered cat toy. Also on the docket: DJs Mark Instinct and DCarls, guaranteed to lessen the pain with their sweet beats.
Petnation 5
Sunday, Oct. 30
9 PM – 2 AM
Public Works
161 Erie St.
[Mission]

$5 before 10 PM, $10 after 10 PM.

Photo Credit: www.mexicansugarskull.com

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Lucy Schiller - Destitute Dispatcher

Lucy Schiller - Destitute Dispatcher

Lucy's been able to live lots of places but holds her cornfed/pie-fueled Midwestern roots most dear, maintaining too loudly and too often that the Outer Richmond is the Midwest of SF: driven through to get elsewhere and knocked around for no reason (but what other neighborhood has bison?!). You can find Lucy letting things languish in her fridge, purposefully (limoncello!) or not (yogurt...), mouthbreathing, scouring Golden Gate Park for apartment-worthy items, sleepily serving up double nonfat half-caf-half-non-caf lattes at a certain cafe, skulking in various other ones, and yelling under cover of night and costume at SF Bike Party.