i'll follow you into the dark

I pursued my weekend mission today, embarking on effort to replenish my well of creativity on what ended up being a gorgeous, sunny September Saturday. I woke up around seven, promptly went back to sleep, and ultimately didn't get out of bed until 9:30. I didn't laze around after that, however; instead, I showered, dressed myself in my ridiculous 'palazzo pants' (with legs so wide that, when I'm standing still, the pants look like a skirt), a grey top, and a grey sweater (yes, unusually boring for my clothing tastes, but the laundry situation is critical), and walked over to Samovar in Hayes Valley. There are three Samovars in the city of sin -- one in Yerba Buena Gardens (the one I frequent, near Union Square); one in the Castro at 18th and Sanchez; and the newest one in Hayes Valley (what they're calling 'Zen Valley', since they try to be vaguely Buddhist). I'm about equidistant between the Castro and Hayes Valley Samovars, so I decided to give the new one a try.

It's really not any different -- they play the same vaguely mystical Eastern music, they use the same strange, handmade cups that have indentations for your fingers instead of handles, and their menus are identical. I think I prefer the interior of the Hayes Valley one to the Castro one, although neither can beat Yerba Buena's floor-to-ceiling windows and gorgeous views. However, I made the mistake of allowing my nostalgia for Tammy influence my ordering; instead of my usual quiche-and-scone, I ordered the jook, which is a bowl of rice porridge with salmon, seaweed, scallions, peanuts, celery, lemongrass, and soy sauce/sriracha. Unfortunately, the bowl was huge, so I was sick of jook long before it was gone; while it was more comforting than, say, dirt, it wasn't quite as delicious as what I had in mind. And then, to top it off, I was the only person in the restaurant at one point -- and when I asked the waitress if she could bring me a chai, she still managed to forget. Forgetting to serve your only customer is a rather serious lapse, in my opinion.

However, it was nice nonetheless; I read most of this book called "Bird by Bird" by Anne Lamott. It's the book on creative writing that I started reading at Cafe Borrone on Wednesday, and I finished it this afternoon. She is very adamant about getting words on paper, and trying to be as truthful and true to the characters as you can be, and offers a variety of other words of wisdom about pursuing the writing life. The book was quite good and I'm feeling inspired -- unfortunately, reading books on writing by "serious" writers always makes me feel like the worst sort of hack for writing romance, like I'm the scum on the underbelly of the publishing world that is enabling more trash to flood the marketplace at the expense of "real" literature, and like I am wasting my talent by writing formulaic drivel. I will get over this in the next couple of days, of course -- I'm not writing drivel, I do try to stay true to my characters, and while I may be scum on the underbelly of the publishing world, I would rather be scum with the ability to eat than a cloud floating above it all living off of dreams and a family trust fund. Not that I have a trust fund to live off of; this unfairness is something I must bring up in my weekly call with my parents...

After Samovar, I found heaven -- in the form of Flax, a stationery/art supply store just a few blocks away on Market Street. "Store" is so inadequate -- it's more like a temple to paper. Samovar couldn't give me a spiritual experience despite their attempts through the generic Eastern soundtrack, but Flax was incredible enough that I would have happily taken off my shoes, walked barefoot across the hot pavement, and genuflected to the gods of paper. The inside is cavernous, with so many aisles that it feels easy to get lost; but it still retains the feel of an independent retailer. I browsed for an inordinate amount of time, and ended up walking out with four large sheets of decorative paper and five sheets each of five different colors of cardstock. I brought this home and started on a new project; I had bought two big corkboard-type things from CB2 on my birthday, and I hung them over my desk so that I can start displaying inspirations on my wall (anything from photos to quotes to magazine articles to cards). The four sheets of decorative paper were to cover a few small 12x12 pieces of corkboard to use as auxiliaries (although on second thought, I may just buy a third corkboard from CB2, since it would fit perfectly in the remaining space). The cardstock is for writing notes and putting on the bulletin board; I think white index cards are too boring, and other index cards are either pastels or neons, so I thought I would buy a few colors I actually like and use the paper cutter at work to make my own notecards. We'll see how this all goes, but for now I'm happy.

FInally, I picked up some takeout sushi at Sushi Time (delicious!), came home, wrote in my journal for a bit, and then picked up "Sunshine" by Robin McKinley -- as longtime readers know, it's one of my favorite books of all time, and the fact that it has vampires (none of McKinley's other books do, fyi) is just an added bonus. Her writing may again make me feel like the biggest waste of space, but I do enjoy it so much. But, I read too late (as usually happens if I start reading), and so I really desperately need to get some sleep so that I can continue the recovery/replenishment tomorrow. Goodnight!