Conversation with the bookseller at Booklegger’s
Me: Are you buying now?
B@B’s: Oh [looking down aisles] I think we’ve got spaces for a few more books.
Me: Usually I bring to the Powell’s on Lincoln but did you see they closed?
B@B’s Where you been? Everything’s closing. Look around.
Book exchange with Billy
After dinner we decided to come back to our place. The girls danced in the living room while Billy and I listened to music in the quieter room and looked at my books. I would have given him David Hockney by David Hockney. When he saw Humboldt’s Gift he told me he loved Seize the Day and I offered to lend him Mr. Sammler’s Planet. We talked about dark blues. And Rosa Lee Hill. We talked about George Benson on Paraphernalia. Then the girls were tired out from dancing. He looked at the white books and remembered lending me a copy of the scroll the last time we were at his place. I said, take it back, take it back. Take back the scroll. He took it back. He left with Julie. He held the paperback scroll tight. It was great to see him.
Just as it is necessary to forget to keep living, it is necessary not to know the future to wait naively for time to pass. At the height of his career, the architect Adolf Loos burned all his drawings, letters, diaries, fetish objects. He burned everything. With fire, he built an archive made of smoke, a dense mass of forgetfulness from which it would be possible to begin to live again.
Beatriz Preciado, from the luminous, scintillating Testo Junkie, part biopolitics, part break-up story, all everything. Holding it up high on a crowded train and writing appointments down on its acknowledgements page is, and I know this is fleeting, bringing back the book as fetish object.
Artist Simon James Reimagines Bands’ Albums as Classic Paperbacks
Also brought this with me today, because I’ve never figured out where to put it in the bathroom.
Giving these to a Markson Virgin tomorrow. Top to bottom I think this is the right order, although as the Guardian of Forever says, many journeys are possible.
There’s now a hole in my M shelf to fill with something new.
If used book stores were a sign of success, Galsworthy would be Hemingway.
Sci-Fi section at Whole Foods Lincoln Park
In the wake of the NYPD’s destruction of the 5,000+ volumes compromising the OWS Library last night, it’s important to remember: Even burning books can’t stop ideas from catching fire.
Makes me think of Baghdad.
One of the first things Eugene gave to Laura was a small male canary whom they called Criminal after a dim, crapulous novel by some hack named William O’Rourke entitled Criminal Tendencies that they once found for a dime, stained and cellar-damp, in the bin of a Salvation Army thrift shop, the pages of which she used, two at a time, for shit- flooring.
Alexander Theroux, from Laura Warholic, pg. 214
Michel Foucault. An axe to the frozen sea.
One of the 120,000 titles available at the Newberry Library book fair this weekend, including a 2 volume OED with magnifying glass for $30.
If your name is Sylvia Whitman, the only career path possible is managing Shakespeare & Company.