fare thee well 2008

I am blinged out like Mr. T right now!! okay, not really. But I am wearing three necklaces and one of them is made out of a sea urchin. I'm thinking the sea urchin has got to count for like, 12 gold chains. The other two: one Wilma Flinstone fake pearl necklace in blue, one dog tag thingy with words on it -- all handmade, but none by me! Maybe I should resolve to make some necklaces in the new year. I used to like doing it, but fell out of the habit as is so often the case. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

2008, here's to you! You were obstreperous, infuriating, and straight up disappointing in a lot of regards, but in spite of this (or maybe because of this) I found my way to a more serene state of mind than I've had in years. I'm still working on a lot of the big questions (like "what do I want, anyway?"), but I feel more confident that I will find the answer. Actually, it's not a single answer! It's more of a rolling answer -- it has to be flexible. What I think I want and what I really do want are often divergent.

One of the biggest epiphanies I had all year (and I hesitate to call it an epiphany since it crept up on me rather than arriving via divine lightning bolt) was that I had to, HAD TO let go of a lot of expectations. Believe it or not, the most persistent ones were negative. If I was unsure about something (and I'm unsure about so many things), I figured in order to play it safe I should anticipate the worst... this is a bad policy. (for me, anyway.) Reminding myself that I DO NOT KNOW what the future holds and that it just as easily could turn out good as bad -- that was a game changer as they say in the world of presidential punditry. I guess what I'm saying is letting go of a lot of that stuff (which often had little to no relationship to reality -- if you've got a good imagination, worst case scenario can take you pretty far afield into the stealth stress zone before you know it) has made it easier for me to be in the present moment. There was a time when I'd have been embarrassed to say anything as new age hippie dippy as "the present moment" except it's true and that embarrassment is exactly the kind of mental gymnastics that keeps you out of the present moment. ANYWAY. it's getting late so I am going to go to bed. (after de-blinging. I don't want to sleep in sea urchin!)

I'm really looking forward to 2009, but in a "great things are possible" kind of way rather than an "I must achieve XYZ" way. But I still plan to work really hard! More on this tomorrow. For tonight -- happy new year to you! Oh! one last thing: I was working yesterday and the due date for books checked out on the 30th is January 20th. I told one woman they'd be due back on that day, and she said "I will be at the inauguration!" She was so happy and excited, which of course made me happy and excited. I do not expect that I will agree with everything President Obama does, but I know I won't want to throw my shoes at the television every time he speaks, which is an improvement already!

countdown to tiny pink boot

Exciting New Year's Eve News: I had a tremendously successful afternoon of running errands! (running errands sounds so domestic and housewifey or househusbandy, which is just weird. Housewifey/husbandy, or associate pastory. Why is that? it should sound more exciting, what with the RUNNING and the potential for ERROR built right in.)

I will try to get at least one more post in (after this one) before the new year arrives -- one that is a bit more reflective (COVERED WITH REFLECTORS) of the year now ending, but I was way bummed to notice I'd only managed ten posts all month, and thought this pink boot picture was worthy of ERRAND RUNNING REPORTAGE.

(while I am here and talking about rubber shoes, what is up with crocs on adults? They're fantastically ugly and they're DANGEROUS. I can, of course, due to my magnanimous nature, allow that everyone has their own footwear aesthetic. I like flip flops and chuck taylors, which is no doubt horrifying to some. Personally, I think crocs look cute on kids under 5, not ridiculous on kids under 12, and that's where it should end. At 13 you should turn in your crocs and get a certificate or something. BUT NO. Croc devotees will tell you that it's the only thing that fits their feet, that it's the only thing that gets them through their long shift at the hospital, that it's so great to have a shoe they can simply hose off (!), that it's none of my goddamned business what they wear below their ankles, etc. the usual, and so on. All of which is probably true, but they really are dangerous -- crocs broke my friend's shoulder! Beware the croc! and shoddy croc-alikes!)

(now I have to post again tonight because I cannot leave the year on a shoe screed.)

right on and okay

(from before Christmas)

The snow is almost totally gone! We're now looking forward to the more traditional pacific northwest winter weather of rain and driving winds. I don't mind, but I loved the snow! It was incredibly beautiful. I've been working the past two days and have heard more bellyaching about the weather than you would believe. (mostly, I think people are just happy to be out of the freaking house -- after we've covered that they won't be charged any fines for the days the library was closed due to weather, the next logical step (apparently) is to say "well, in Boston/Chicago/ Milwaukee they know how to handle the snow!" or "I have lived here for my whole life and have never seen it this bad" (although old timers have of course seen it worse, which they describe in loving elaborate detail) or "I put my weather machine in my top secret ice cave and you'll never see the sun again! Mwahahahaha!!" (All of these people are my favorite.)

ANYWAY, I'm getting ready to go to a postponed Christmas dinner. Yay!! It was delayed due to weather, and I'm glad I get to see my friends, eat a lot and open presents even though it is December 28. (I love the continuous celebration, although I think at this point I am fueled almost entirely by caffeine and cookies.)



But, the reason for this post is to show you some pictures I took at the park right before Christmas. Someone(s) had gone out in the middle of the night or early in the morning and made this crazy ice labyrinth type thing from the crunchy ice layer on top of the snow. (I love you, whoever you are! This is even better than the giant snowball, although I think the snowball will persist until summer.)



(these photos were all before Christmas. Now we're in the messy melting phase.)

A Christmas Carol

Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Festive Yule! If you observe it and it's around now, I wish you the very happiest of celebrations. If you do not, I wish you the very happiest of thursdays!

Thanks to the unusual (for portland) amount of snow, my whole week has been spent mostly indoors, reading and eating and whatnot. (Whatnot family: couch potato.) Since this is how I planned to spend Christmas Day, I decided I needed to do something to differentiate this day from all the rest. Solution: read A Christmas Carol. I'd never read it! I know, I know! It's a holiday classic. I'm familiar with the story, have seen countless ads, movie versions, comedy sketches, jokes, bah humbug, etc, but I'd never read it myself.

I remembered that I have a nice hand-sized copy, picked up at a used book sale a while back, so I went digging through my shelves and found it -- a lovely British edition (printed at the Aldine Press, Letchworth, Herts) that was first published in 1905. (mine was the 1960 printing.) It has wonderful illustrations that remind me of the style of drawing I love so much in the Oz books. Anyway, I really enjoyed this book! (Maybe I should note here that I had a falling out with Dickens somewhere in college. I can't remember why, but he was on my shit list for a long time for reasons that undoubtedly had very little to do with him and everything to do with whoever I was fighting with about it. I'm well over it, but have yet to have any kind of Dickens Emergency so it really hasn't come up.)

The story of A Christmas Carol reminded me a little of Nightmare Before Christmas, even though, of course, Dickens was first. Well, not the story so much as the fact that it's got your spooky element and your redemption element and your holiday element. It's got ghosts! It's got feasts! It's got guys who cheat a blind-man's-bluff for lascivious purposes! It's creepy (Marley's jaw in his lap?!), it's funny, it's sentimental but not as cloying as a million Tiny Tims would have us think; it's a reminder that living in the world of people is not always easy, but it's better than the alternative. Live while you're alive! ETCETERA! Plus, Dickens never met an alliteration he didn't like, he punctuates like a madman, anthropomorphizes everything in sight, and is really very funny as I've mentioned already. (he loves the exclamation point! a lot!) He also loves food. Or his readers loved descriptions of food and he happily obliged. This is from a section in "The Second of the Three Spirits" describing some shops on the way (via ghost transit) to Bob Cratchit's house. Keep in mind that this is just a small selection, and after he finished with this, he went on to describe the Grocer's and the Baker's. (caveat lector: I think I gained 15 pounds just reading it.)

"For, the people who were shovelling away on the house-tops were jovial and full of glee; calling out to one another from the parapets, and now and then exchanging a facetious snowball--better-natured missile far than many a wordy jest--laughing heartily if it went right and not less heartily if it went wrong. The poulterers' shops were still half open, and the fruitierers' were radiant in their glory. There were great, round, pot-bellied baskets of chestnuts, shaped like waistcoats of jolly old gentlemen, lolling at the doors, and tumbling out into the street in their apoplectic opulence. There were ruddy, brown-faced, broad-girthed Spanish Onions, shining in the fatness of their growth like Spanish Friars; and winking from their shelves in wanton slyness at the girls as they went by, and glanced demurely at the hung-up mistletoe. There were pears and apples, clustered high in blooming pyramids; there were bunches of grapes, made, in the shopkeepers' benevolence, to dangle from conspicuous hooks, that people's mouths might water gratis as they passed; there were piles of filberts, mossy and brown, recalling, in their fragrance, ancient walks among the woods, and pleasant shufflings ankle deep through withered leaves; there were Norfolk Biffins, squab and swarthy, setting off the yellow oranges and lemons, and, in the great compactness of their juicy persons, urgently entreating and beseeching to be carried home in paper bags and eaten after dinner."

And now, to prove that I'm not entirely unaware of the ridiculous excesses of this season, here is a photo of an insanely creepy/wrong yet somehow charming to me glass monkey ornament.

shortest day!

(woodpecker movie from saturday)

HOORAY for the winter solstice! It happened (according to the internet) at 4:04 AM pacific time. (I am intrigued by the double 4's. I keep noticing doubled up numbers lately.) Anyway -- I miss the sun and I'll be glad for the days to start getting longer.

It's still beautiful and snowy here, but the furnace stopped working some time last night. the good news: it's not the only source of heat, I have lots of layering items and it will be fixed tomorrow. Right now I'm sitting in front of the fire (v. nice!) with blankets, fingerless gloves, many layers, and a hat. I would try to work this up into some kind of tale of Dickensian winter suffering (with, like, COAL and socks that need to be darned only I can't because I have frostbite in 9 fingers from selling matches to victorian villains all day), but since my reality is considerably more comfortable, I will refrain.



These pictures are from earlier in the week -- it's snowed a lot more since then (although not nearly as much as at Maggie's house -- holy cow!) , but I haven't caught up on my flickring quite yet. I worked at my favorite library this week -- it's close enough that I was able to walk, which is when I took this picture and the following. I walked for two reasons: 1) it's down a pretty steep hill that is always causing problems when it's potentially icy. It's much easier to walk up than to drive up when the weather turns bad. 2) I really wanted to spend some time IN the weather, since it's so unusual for us here. It was lovely! (I should walk there all the time, but I never seem to leave soon enough.)


I love how sunny this yellow house looks against the snowy sky.


From Saturday. I think there are drunken elves who go to the park and cause mischief every night. This snowball was probably about four feet tall, and made of snow and leaves.

SOLSTICE BONUS: I love this Beatle video! I saw it on Fluxtumblr tonight -- so great! I haven't seen many Beatle performance videos that aren't the usual ones (from Ed Sullivan, Shea Stadium, their movies, etc.). I love that this was in a recording studio context, I love Ringo's tie, I love that George looks cool, that Paul is wearing a sweater vest (!!), that John looks like his transformation to werewolf is almost complete, and I've always liked Hey Bulldog anyway.

unrepentant sentimental jaywalker

It snowed like crazy today! All day! It's almost midnight, but still really bright out because of the white. (the sky is currently a beautiful pinky-mauve nighttime snow sky.) The novelty hasn't worn off for me yet -- it's all very winter wonderland-ish. I managed to get out and take a walk and some pictures earlier today, but flickr is not cooperating so none of those tonight. I expect I'll have plenty of time tomorrow as the less delightful freezing rain is supposed to start and I don't like being out in that unless absolutely necessary.

For now I'll say that I have been having a surprisingly peaceful week. Things have been upside down, compressed and nerve-jangly (weather, work, deadlines, etc.); I've fretted over a lot of dumb stuff, but almost everything I worried about turned out better than fine AND I rediscovered the joy of jaywalking. I vow to never cross at the corner again! (unless I feel like it.) Take that, johnny law! I will or I won't and you can't make me say otherwise.

Plus, and I know this sounds hopelessly sentimental (blame it on the season, the snow, the bossa nova), but sometimes people are just wonderful. Not even fancy stuff (although sometimes!), but more an accumulation of everyday kindnesses. It makes my heart feel stretchy like gumby instead of sharp like a wind-up robot. (plastic dinosaur? matchbox car?)

okay -- more soon and I mean it for real. I still plan to write up something on wordstock -- I loved it this year! and now that it's been over a month, I feel free to fabricate wildly to fill in what I cannot recall.

Now I'm going to go get under a lot of covers and read a book I've been wanting to read for a long time. (I love this snow!)

baby, it's cold outside

I think I title a blog post this every time it is cold, but I don't care because baby, it IS cold outside. It's true!! It's not just wah wah temperate winter town two snowflakes whining like usual, it's really freakin' cold!

Winter here is not about snow shovels and sustained cold temperatures, it's about the occasional freak ice storm and a large variety of winter raindrops: small, sharp and sideways, fat and cold, and the invisible frozen mist (this is the kind where you don't think it's raining but get wet nevertheless). Large scale sustained cold is not the norm. (sustained damp? yes.) This is the coldest stretch we've had (or will have, when it's done) in over thirty years. For now it's a novelty -- anyone I saw out wandering around this afternoon of closed schools and telecommuting was clearly on An Adventure. Next phase is probably Brave Little Toaster, followed by Complete Epic Cabin Fever Breakdown which will spread like zombies from neighborhood to neighborhood. Good times!

But now I must hurry up and go to sleep. I had a wicked migraine most of Sunday and was fighting off residuals today with a lot (a lot!) of caffeine. I got a lot done, but only to the messy disaster stage that every one of my projects gets to before the it may not be finished, but I'm done with it stage. I have one hundred million things to do, but I'm actually looking forward to most of them! Woo hoo! But sleep first.


(I love how the green looks in this light! the snow changes everything.)

paper stories

I've been doing some Christmas shopping on Etsy, and I must report that it's very satisfying. If I'm spending money on gifts, I'd rather it go more or less directly into the hands of people who make things. This is probably not a sound theory as far as large scale Economics go, but it certainly makes me a lot happier than plonking down my credit card for mass produced whatever. Not that I haven't enjoyed plenty of mass produced whatever in my lifetime! But this holiday season with money tight all around, I decided I'd rather do it this way -- it's like small scale patronage! and I can do it in my pajamas! (Although I'm still buying books, which I can also do in my pajamas.)

Here are some items and sellers that've caught my eye recently. I've been reading a lot of fairytale/fable type stories lately and have thinking about paper, so these items fall into this theme. It may be too late to get something by Christmas, but maybe not! (Most sellers will tell you in their announcement section.)



I've seen Elsita featured in various craft/design blogs, and for good reason -- she's fabulous! She does a lot of different paper-themed art, but my favorites are the silhouettes. She offers reasonably priced prints of her amazing papercuts. (and occasionally original papercuts -- not cheap, but so wonderful!) This one is called "The Secret Anatomy of a Young Girl." She has a lot of fairy tale themed papercuts -- amazingly detailed work. She also offers some pieces in small 4" x 6" prints which are even more affordable!


I love the idea of shadow puppets and toys of the imagination in general. Orange Moon Toys have several different themed sets: (dinosaurs, thai legends, whales, Barack Obama, giant squid, castle, zombies, etc.) I like the pirate possibilities of this Battle of Trafalgar set. If you think you're too old to stage puppet shows (whatever!), these would be great party decor.



Roadside offers flat prints of dimensional paper sculpture. I love these a lot! She's fond of the circus, various acts of flying through the air (hot air balloon, umbrella, parachute, kite, carried by birds, cloud climbing), and also has some more straightforward portrait-style images (the letter, the camera, the road ahead). In the Woods print available here.

Speaking of paper, design, and setting your imagination on fire, Design*Sponge has collaborated with the New York Public Library on a series of Design By The Book video podcasts about inspiration. I'm enjoying it very much! The project is this: Artists of various disciplines were invited to participate in a challenge -- they must come up with a design based on inspiration gleaned at the NYPL. The idea is that most people do not realize the VAST RESOURCES available to anyone with access to a library. (although it must be noted that some libraries are going to have a deeper collection than others. The NYPL is especially rich.) It's like a detective story, except the clues they are searching for are not about Professor Plum in the Kitchen with a Candlestick, but regarding the elusive and amorphous subject of inspiration. (with a chorus of "I didn't even know such books existed!") There have only been two episodes so far. The first one was an introduction to the project and the artists. The second featured a (gratuitous! but I liked it anyway) cameo by Isaac Mizrahi and introduction to librarian Jessica Pigza, who is working with the artists to bring them items of interest from the collection. Good stuff! You can view the series a number of ways (including free iTunes download), all of which are enumerated on the NYPL page for the project.

nice hat!

I have been having the wiggiest week I've had in a while. Everything is harder than it should be -- not that I expect to fly through the air with the greatest of ease, but I should, for example, be able to charge my camera battery with minimal drama. [epic examples of camera drama and existential purpose of life drama redacted. I'm going to write instead about pink hats and my paranoid suspicions about the abnormally full moon.]

I think this general unease is probably because of the GIANT FULL MOON which I saw last night (lookin' good, moon!) but can't see tonight due to the weather. (There's a massive bank of clouds that wants to snow, but since it's not cold enough it's just raining that heavy, fat-bottomed rain where every drop looks like a cartoon tear -- SO COLD but not quite cold enough to be the giant fluffy snowflake it wishes to be. I feel your pain, rain! let's write poems together.) But I digress... what's with the attitude, giant space rock? Is it because I happened to mention in passing that 23% waxing crescent is currently my favorite moonphase? (I leave room for a change of mind or change of heart or change of whichever spirit or organ determines these things). My theory is that the giant, MENACING THE EARTH WITH ITS NEARNESS 100% full moon was close enough to hear me (don't be fooled by the daylight people -- you can't see it, but it can see you) and decided that in place of my usual spoon-shaped temperament (rounded and practical), it would put a serrated paring knife-shaped temperament (short and sharp). (Does the moon often get involved in temperament replacement? I was going to say no, but I think it slots in under "lunatic tendencies" and is therefore a reasonable guess.) Fortunately, that jagged draggy feeling is starting to go away.

Now about that hat. Thursday night I went to IKEA with my sister to get the part for the thing. (can you crack my holiday code?) As I was leaving the fabric department* a little girl sang out across the aisle "I like your hat!" (hot pink wool cloche, awesome if I do say so myself.) I spotted her and saw that she was ALSO wearing a pink hat -- hers was knit with a rolled brim. I told her I liked her hat, too. She said "thanks. they're almost the same!" At first I thought she was making some kind of "ha ha! I like your hat which is identical to mine -- good taste, total stranger" joke, but she was only about six or seven and it seems that she really did like my hat and was pleased that I liked hers too. (and I did. don't lie to kids -- they can smell bullshit from 1000 miles and will make you pay.)

*(foiled once again! why did I have to fall in love with the one fabric they are always out of? WHY? or is this why I love it? If a bolt of it unexpectedly arrived on my doorstep would I be unspeakably happy or somewhat disappointed? "I thought you'd be bluer.")

(I promise, PROMISE, that I will have some posts soon that do not relate to me either talking to myself or receiving insults or instruction from inanimate objects. It has been a weird couple of months.)

sanctioned unicorn wagering

This picture was taken a week ago. I thought it looked sort of like an ice cream sandwich, if you substitute blue sky for ice cream. (the trees are not any part of my atmospheric ice cream dessert -- they're just trees, which is enough.)

Tonight, for reasons I can't explain, I read my journal from January of this year. I'm pleased to say that I feel 32% less crazy right now than I did then! (probably more than that, but let's not get carried away.) I'm less sad and more ... I don't know. Hopeful, maybe. I feel less stuck somehow, which is huge. Of course journal entries only tell part of a story (usually the crazy part), but I was glad to discover that I could read them and not get caught up in being embarrassed or upset or whatever all over again. Mostly I thought that if Right Now Me could tell January Me anything, it would be to keep it up, things will get better, ditch that mopey playlist, maybe write about something good that happens every now and again, and p.s. don't start slacking off on your walking or you will be regretting it in December.

I wonder what November of Next Year me would tell Right Now Me? I hope it's something like: you'd better rest up and take your vitamins because 2009 is full of good things and you won't want to miss them.

(Hey! Imagined NoNY Me is totally boring with the generic grandma platitudes. What's next? Don't forget to floss?? How about: don't forget to take a fencing class because you're really going to need it during the CowboyRobotZombiePirate crisis of early May! yeah! how about some more specific advice, INoNY Me?? Beware the following: thermostats, laudanum, purple flip-flops, traveling monorail salesmen, novels about shopping, clove gum AND MUCH, MUCH MORE. )

RN Me: umm. oookay.

INoNY Me: embrace the following: spontaneous travel, invitations, red shoes and pink socks, the spirit of generosity and forgiveness, reading more, writing more, the enigma of everyday life.

RN Me: no lottery numbers?

INoNY Me: No. The lottery has been replaced by a form of Obama-sanctioned unicorn wagering that you cannot possibly understand until after June of 09.

I made it from paper

I am almost done designing my christmas cards! Although designing sounds a little arty farty for what is mostly a trial and error mixture of grim panic (this will never work!) and gleeful relief (I will glue something over it!). I only have a couple more days to get it all figured out so I can get them in the mail for reasonably timely arrival (i.e. before 2009), but I think it's within the realm of the possible. Hooray!

Speaking of paper, a few weeks ago at work I was checking in returned materials from the book drop and came across these two paper-centric CD covers within 5 minutes of each other. Different patrons, too!


first up is T.I.'s Paper Trail. This is so well done! I LOVE how this collage portrait is made up of manilla envelopes, graph paper, security envelopes, ledger paper -- all humble materials available to anyone who recycles their junk mail or knows someone who works in an office that recycles paper.


Next is the Caesars' Paper Tiger. Paper guitars! paper drums! paper bow ties! I love how this looks like someone had it all planned out, maybe on a little paper bandstand, and then the cat walked on the table and mixed it all up. Sometimes mixed up is better.


SPEAKING OF TIGERS... I now bring you a moment of "wait? the hungry WHAT? he wants to eat WHAT? in a CHILDREN'S BOOK???" I'm speaking, of course, of the Hungry Tiger of Oz. He doesn't actually eat any babies, but he's always at war with himself. He's a slave to his appetite and manages to keep it in check, but unlike some fictional would-be villains, it's a real struggle. Hungry Tiger quote of the day: "I don't believe fat babies taste like gumdrops. I'm quite sure they have the flavor of raspberry tarts. My, how hungry I am for fat babies!"

meanwhile, back at the ranch

Fun times were had in the book quarter of the pearl district Wednesday night!

* I really wanted to say something here about how the neighborhood has changed so much from the olden days when I used to work nearby and I really wanted to use the word UNCTUOUS, since it popped into my head unbidden and immediately cleaved to UNGUENT, even though that is so wrong! Get apart, you words! You don't mean what I mean! (I am going to start a line of lifestyle cosmetics made from photographs of trees called Not Your Mother's Unctuous Unguents which will become one of Oprah's favorite things and will sell like hot cakes (which no one buys anymore), despite the fact that it will be naught but a beautifully packaged jar of AIR. Know that I bottled each one myself!)

Martina and I headed down to Powell's for a reading and for a little christmas shopping. (I cannot even wrap my head around the fact that it is December. Are we sure about this? I think it's still late October. Have you been fooling with the space/time continuum again? I can always tell.) Here are some photos.

(I have a bunch of other stuff that I keep thinking I'll have done to post, but I keep not having it done so here's another PHOTO POST. But it's bookstore photos for once and not suspicious squirrels or a day in the life of a leaf, so that's something.)



...except I have to post this one tree picture! The sunset was really pretty -- the clouds were leaving (it was sunny today) so we got enough light to get some color. Some PINK color.



Philip Gourevitch, post-George Plimpton editor of The Paris Review, was reading at Powell's. The Paris Review has a new collection of interviews -- the 3rd of an eventual 4 volumes. It was so interesting! We were a little bit late and had to stand (which seems to be the way of things anymore), but it was okay. I have a preferred to lean against shelf in the architecture aisle which affords a decent view. Gourevitch did read some from the book, but mostly he talked about the philosophy of the Review interviews and how honored he was to be a part of that legacy. (I always appreciate when someone embraces being the steward of something larger than themselves -- be it the earth, public libraries, or in this case a literary treasure trove.) It was interesting to hear the balance between making the interviewer as invisible as possible and getting a great interview. They have to make themselves invisible and give the writer being interviewed enough space to say what they want to say, but be assertive enough to get the good stuff. He noted how odd it was for him, coming from a primarily journalistic background, to EDIT an interview to the degree they are edited for TPR. Not only are they edited, but the subject has an opportunity to review before it goes to press! He did note that writers, unlike most politicians, are working toward some kind of truth all the time, so if anything they may sharpen up something rather than water it down. (He gave the example of Kurt Vonnegut, who "chewed through" five (5!) interviewers and in a sense ended up interviewing himself.)

It made me really want to read the interviews, which wasn't an attitude I necessarily had when I went to the reading. He talked a lot about the writer's struggle to stay free -- even free from themselves (their egos, etc.). He quoted the oft repeated Hemmingway saying (originally in a Paris Review interview): "the most essential gift for a good writer is a built- in, shock-proof shit detector, " but perceptively noted that this shit detector is often needed to keep a writer out of their own way -- to detect their own shit, to stay free and say the true thing that needs to be said.

Now, on to the rest of the store! The readings are held upstairs in the Pearl (like the district!) Room gallery. This page has a map and a great little 50 second video tour of the store. If you've never been to Powell's before, it gives you a good sense of what it's like. (ENORMOUSLY WONDERFUL.)



We snuck out during the Q&A through the M aisle of the art books. New and used books are shelved side by side. Looking at this picture, I can tell you that I have always liked Modigliani (his name, his paintings), and that a lot of the Taschen art books are on a really good sale right now.



A-Ha! In the gold room there is MURDER and INTRIGUE and fantasy, sci-fi, and manga. (I do love that the rooms are named by color. I feel like I'm either in an Andrew Lang Fairy Book (Rose Room) OR in a locked house English Mystery (Gold Room).)



Hee. There are remaindered books along the window wall in the blue room (which I think may be my favorite room) -- they also have a collection of old fancy hardcovers. These were just like this, in this order: The Runaway, Secret Marriage, You Can't Have Everything. I think it tells a pretty evocative story! The Late Miss Hollingford was actually to the left -- I was all "ho ho! it would be funny if it was on the end!" so Martina picked it up and made it happen! Poor Miss Hollingford. There was a copy of Lavender and Old Lace two books down that I kept thinking was ARSENIC and old lace, which would be one way to deal with the bounder who forced her into her secret can't have everything marriage.



This was hanging in the blue room, advertising posters for sale in the orange room. I want the poster of the posters, but, as Miss Hollingford would no doubt quickly tell me if only she could, you can't have everything.