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Warhol,

and Pollock, among many others.

There was also a recreation of Duchamp's infamous “Fountain” on display.

There was also a collection of works that were deemed “degenerate art” by the Nazis, including pieces by Max Ernst and Paul Klee.

And of course, there were some pieces that were mostly or completely composed of one color of paint.

The surreal sculpture exhibit was also pretty interesting as there were a variety of different pieces ranging from what I could only describe as a giant Katamari made of metal, to a electronic reader board with scrolling messages apparently from the mind of a dying person. There was one work that took up an entire room and was comprised of bottles of wine hung upside down from the ceiling with wire. Each bottle was plugged with a stopper, which allowed a single drop to fall every few minutes or so. The floor below each bottle was splattered with the remains of each drop, and the hardwood was beginning to warp and decay from the moisture and acidity of the wine.

There were two media exhibitions that were entrancing. One consisted of a white cube with several video projectors playing on it so that it appeared that there were two naked people inside of a glass box. Meanwhile, a recording of a woman with a French accent whispering played in the background. It was kind of creepy. Another work had three screens on the wall, each showing video simultaneously shot from the inside of a rolling oil drum on a New York sidewalk.

The museum also had a great collection of photography, including several photographs from the aftermath of the earthquake of 1906. It was the first natural disaster to be extensively documented of film. There were some amazing panoramas of the devastation, and it's incredible that the city was rebuilt.

After I had my fill of the museum I took the BART to Berkeley. I called Anna and left a message, and then I wandered up and down Shattuck Avenue for a while looking for a bite to eat and settled on a burger joint. Afterwards I explored Comic Relief, which is the biggest comic book store I've seen, and wandered through their shelves of countless comic books and graphic novels. I really wish there was a place like this in Portland. I made a mental note to buy some books by Adrian Tomine soon.

Anna called me back and soon came to pick me up with her friend Angela. We went to the Albatross Pub, which is definitely my kind of place; you can have a good microbrew, good conversation, and free popcorn. We just sat and chatted for a couple of hours about school and work and all those things that 20-somethings worry about. Anna said that she and her friend Cory, the bartender from the Black Horse, would be coming up to Portland at the end of April to visit friends, so I'm looking forward to seeing them in a few weeks.

Anna drove me to the Amtrak station in Emeryville, which was a pretty quick drive from Berkeley, and we said our farewells. The train was 40 minutes late and I left the station at around 11 pm. Slept through most of the night, although I vaguely remember a long stop in Sacramento. I learned later that the train staff had to call the police on a drunk passenger. Apparently he had a baby with him and had dropped the child once already. Concerned passengers alerted the staff and the guy was taken by the police and presumably the baby was now with child services.

The kid sitting behind me noticed that I was playing Animal Crossing and, as he also owned the game and a Nintendo DS, asked if we could play together. He ran around my village dressed as a police officer wearing a hockey mask. I'm sure my villagers were traumatized. It was kind of weird playing Nintendo with a kid who was half my age, but seeing how most people my age grew up playing games, it sort of seems to be a connecting bond for younger people of different ages. It was pretty cool, although he did trample over a few of my flower beds on accident.

So, after 22 hours on the train, I arrived in Portland weary but happy. It was good to get back home but I would have stayed in San Francisco if I was given the chance. It's unfortunate that it would cost most of my healthy body organs to live there, but maybe I'll have the opportunity someday (to live there, not sell my kidneys). I could make a pun here about having left my heart in San Francisco, but I won't. Or maybe I just did. Oops.