Oh, Yeah. The Power of a Vision.

I have to ask myself: well, how did we get here? (Talking Heads: the days go by / water flowing under ground…) I think it had something to do with the broad brush strokes on that piece of paper on the fridge. We weren’t studying it, but it was at eye level, and it reminded us what we wanted. It was a vision, a loose outline with lots of positive intention.

Antidote to the Y.S.Y.D.S. game

If my book is never published and never read, I can keep torturing myself by playing out ridiculous fantasies where:
a) It’s praised as “the voice of our generation,” “a cunning retelling of a classic love story gone awry,” and “San Francisco’s best tale since Tales of the City.”
OR (still in my head, that glorious beast):
b) It’s assessed as “crappy white girl drivel. Its author should be water boarded for adding to the piles of typewritten trash in which the world is already drowning.”