Last nights dream: Walking through San Francisco, I come down the hill to 18th and Castro, where I eagerly slip into “Brooks Hardware” to shop for some art materials. Once inside I see that the place has undergone a massive transformation into a gleaming emporium for drag queens, sort of a cross between Patricia Fields and Harvey Nichols: there is a row of retro male mannequin heads with various wigs on them, white illuminated stairs sweep upwards and I start up them thinking that this is just a special display on the first floor and that the rest of the store must be as I remember it. A few steps convince me that that can’t be the case. Avid transvestites chat as they slip up and down the staircase. I know it’s gone, and with a sigh I think that at least Cliff’s is still there and I head for the big glass doors. Just as I’m stepping outside, One sly young queen steps up to me kittenish and says “hey lust magnet”. A contrast, since all the others had acted completely oblivious. I realize he’s flirted with me before. He’s based his look on a certain cartoon bird (Woody Woodpecker?) I’m flattered by his sympathetic interest, but it’s not clear where things might go.