Dedicated to San Francisco's Booksmith, ensconced in the storied Haight-Ashbury

Too Long; Didn't Read

This chapter is dedicated to San Francisco's Booksmith, ensconced in the storied Haight-Ashbury neighborhood, just a few doors down from the Ben and Jerry's at the exact corner of Haight and Ashbury. The Booksmith folks really know how to run an author event -- when I lived in San Francisco, I used to go down all the time to hear incredible writers speak (William Gibson was unforgettable). They also produce little baseball-card-style trading cards for each author -- I have two from my own appearances there. Booksmith: 1644 Haight St. San Francisco CA 94117 USA +1 415 863 8688 At first Mom looked shocked, then outraged, and finally she gave up altogether and just let her jaw hang open as I took her through the interrogation, pissing myself, the bag over my head, Darryl. I showed her the note. "Why --?" In that single syllable, every recrimination I'd dealt myself in the night, every moment that I'd lacked the bravery to tell the world what it was really about, why I was really fighting, what had really inspired the Xnet. I sucked in a breath. "They told me I'd go to jail if I talked about it. Not just for a few days. Forever. I was -- I was scared."