Yesterday I took Strawberry to Fort Mason for the first time. Here you see us looking at the Golden Gate Bridge, and a seagull.
Word count: 1,160.
The sentence that was waiting for me from my last writing session: “Who knew Roscoe was such a film buff?”
I walked to the harbor to watch the yachts and saw a man climb right up to the top of a mast (not pictured).
Word count: 405.
I stopped writing when I finally figured a way out of my current plot difficulties. It may, indeed, prove to be the key to finishing this goddamn book.
Hallelujah:
Strawberry and I rode the #22 home. On the way, we watched a woman exfoliating her entire face using only her palms (not pictured).
I stopped at Tazza d’Amore, my new favorite coffee shop, for some well-deserved lemon-blueberry coffee cake and a fake fire.
Word count: 1,554.
A good day.
