Sacha Baumann is an artist and designer living and working in Los Angeles.

Alive with pleasure

My weekend in San Francisco also yielded this horoscope in The Chronicle...


1994. Hmmm...I dug through the crates because I really could not remember the year. Samples from three letters I found:


From my aunt, 'I keep hearing about you from Dad [my Gramps] so things sound like they're going great for you, but Dad is not exactly good at details. So I want details.Rumor has it you've been promoted at your job and now work with the owner? Dad also said you were working a few nights a week at a hotel in Beverly Hills? Your life sounds very busy and quite glamorous.'


A sweet bit from an old boyfriend, 'Oh, hey, I ran into Ben [another old boyfriend] at the show and we had a small but interesting talk...he said he had talked to you. The rest of the conversation was about how wonderful you are but you already know that. We seem to have a lot in common. I didn't think so in the beginning. ..What's the latest on the "man" situation? Anyone worthy of your specialness? I wonder what theratio of idiots to decent men is in L.A.? I wonder if it is any different from S.F.? I've thought about it and I don't think I would like to be a woman. It's too hard.'


And finally, from my best friend who had just moved to Rhode Island, 'This morning was so beautiful as I walked through the East Side, I thought that you must come to Providence to share my city...Sacha, there are so many cute boys here, you would die for them. I do. There is a clan of six brothers with no sisters. I love three of them...I'm popular with the boys, unfortunately seem to have regained my old shyness with them, which seems to be a regional trait because the boys are shy too. And are we so very catutious now in our twenties already with broken hearts and failedmarriages and babies in our past present and future. Only thing missing here is you. But you have found home in your birthplace too. The irony of this life, of which we can't make sense is the sense of it.'

Que reste-t-il de nos amours

Ain't no mountain high enough