Hot-weather days like this make me remember when we—The Kid, Mister Grumble and I—lived at one point of a triangle that made us not only two blocks away from the sunny Castro, but two more-or-less-equal blocks away from the first station of the cross of the obsessive lover’s screen via dolorosa, (fellow communicant) Alfred Hitchcock’s Vertigo—and by that I mean Mission Dolores, San Francisco. (After 248 years, it’s still beautiful.)
As for the other point, you can’t imagine what a randy yet romantic stretch of real estate that was before AIDS hit. I remember how colorful and musical it all was.
"I'll Be Dead Before You Break My Heart" 