When I went in to Simple Pleasures yesterday morning to get my frothy au lait, Dae was doling out horoscopes, compliments of Christopher Renstrom at the Chron. This was mine:
The planets urge you to pursue your heart’s desire. There will be hell to pay, but it doesn’t matter because getting what you want will feel heavenly.
Well, I put all my worst Scorpio traits aside, batted nary an eyelash, even eschewed the chocolate–no heavenly delights, but no hellish consequences either. Caitlin, if you’re reading this: The dangerous day has passed, and I’m happy to report that the only desire I pursued was finishing this novel.
The exercise: Write about someone who takes his/her horoscope a bit too seriously.
[...] A significant part of the novel takes place in my own neighborhood, the Outer Richmond. It’s purely coincidence that my last name happens to coincide with the name of the neighborhood. My father-in-law grew up in this part of town, which is known for its proximity to Golden Gate Park (the neighborhood skirts the northern edge of the park), its dense fog, and its Russian heritage. The park ends at the Pacific Ocean, and many of the homes in the Richmond have views of the sea. It’s a pleasure unique to San Francisco to watch the fog rolling in from the ocean, advancing up the avenues. One of the things I love about the neighborhood is that the air smells better out here, and when the fog burns off in the late afternoons we have brilliant sun. At nighttime, one can often hear a symphony of fog horns wailing out in the Bay, which sounds a bit like prehistoric creatures marching upon the city. The Outer Richmond is also home to my favorite independent movie house in the city, the Balboa. For more about the Outer Richmond, visit my other blog, Sans Serif, where I do a series called Richmond in the Richmond. [...]
There is only one thing I wish to say There is only one day left for Valentine day