Fast forward to now, and same-sex marriage is the law in 16 states and LGB people are openly serving in the military and that drumbeat of assimilation bangs steadily on. Sycamore is still writing against this tide, but this time by writing about her own life and past in her new memoir, The End of San Francisco (City Lights).The book opens by recounting her visit with her father as he approaches death. Sycamore is asking for something from him that will help her live-she's the one who's going to keep living, after all-but he won't give it to her. As readers, we are right there in the moment. And then the memoir skips and jumps, taking us from place to place, party to party, need to need to need. There is an intimacy to Sycamore's writing that makes reading it feel like getting right next to her skin, sniffing, touching, feeling, and opening up ourselves. The book is all about cultivating precisely this vulnerability, hers and ours, together. For Sycamore, this shared vulnerability might be what we need to survive, to cope, together, holding on to queer dreams in a world that wants queers to disappear.