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After waiting a long while, I went into Quimby's Bookstore today and used
the awesome gift certificate I got, several months back. I had a blast
going on a spree, and got a few items I've been wanting (and a few things I wanted to check out).
The guy behind the counter was cool with me taking pictures inside. Though he didn't want me to take his photograph, he did
ask that I leave the URL.
Looks like Quimby's has updated their website. Definitely an improvement. And looks like
you can order online as well (in case you don't live right down the street, like me).
Here's all the stuff that I got. One of the first things I grabbed was Neil Gaiman's
Endless Nights, a continuation of his Sandman series that I really really dig. I got a few journals (Poetry
and Grand Street). Research I guess you'd call it, for the sending out of poems. Since I liked Watchmen, I got
Alan Moore David Lloyd's V for Vendetta. In the journal section, I came across something called Writers' Block Party, touting itself as an audio magazine. There
was a poem by Billy Collins on it, so I figured I'd give it a whirl. And finally, as I was perusing the
fiction shelves, My Life in Heavy Metal caught my interest. I've never heard of Steve Almond, but after reading the first page of his first story... he got me.
I decided I liked it the opening so much (see below), I'd take a chance.
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by Steve Almond
Josephine Byron chased me all through college. Nobody could figure this out, not her friends, not mine, nor the frat boys
who watched her wag across the wide lawns of our school. She was one of those women invariably refrred to as striking,
a great big get-a-load-of-that: gleaming black hair, curves like a tulip. Snow White refigured, made warmer, more voluptuous.
She was also utterly convinced of herself, her good taste in clothing and men, her beauty and intellect, which she unfurled in
earnest, vaguely Marxist jeremiads, while the rest of us gazed at her lips.
In the dim, yeasty haze of after parties and the stoned vistas of Hope Hill, on the cruddy avenues of our college town, Jo
came to me bearing gifts, a fresh-baked loaf of bread, a Mardi Gras necklace, bearing her sly smile and plump white breasts. She let
me have my way with her, though I was never quite sure, in the end, she wasn't having her way with me. At night, she kissed my body
all over and in the mornings made me omelets. It was like having “Happy Birthday” sung to me each day: ecstatic and
deeply disquieting.
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To celebrate, we all started off the night with dinner at Papajin. Funny thing, since I
had just eaten Papajin last night. But no matter - I couldn't help myself. I ended up getting miso soup and sushi. Again. There were a lot
more folks in attendance than show up in these pics (I felt a bit awkward breaking out the camera, as I had only met a few of Kent and
Christine's friends briefly before).
Heather and David. I sat next to them during dinner, and first met them at Kent and Christine's wedding. We
hit a lot of topics (80's movies like The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth,
Krull and Tron). I mentioned Tron 2.0, and
at some point there was a big talk about video games and arcades and Ataris.
Turns out, Heather owns a stand-up arcade version of Tempest she's thinking
about selling. Later on in the evening, I mentioned that I might be interested. Granted, I was a bit in the bag when I mentioned interest... but the idea of owning
it is pretty tempting.
Table view.
Christine's birthday cake. We had been sitting around after the meal for a while, talking and resting when this came out. Christine was a bit
surprised.
Danny's (this is on the doorstep to the bar). How long have I been coming here? There's an upstairs to the place. I had no fucking idea. Tonight, we showed up with the place starting to fill,
and our big group was scattered across the front room, half sitting at the bar, half standing. I'm not sure who it was who asked, but we were able to
go upstairs - which was an incredibly fantastic area, away from the crowds and the noise and everybody else.
The upstairs was dark (like the rest of the bar), and had cushy seats agains the walls, and a wide island/seat. I was worried we'd spend the night
splintered into small groups, but the upstairs area not only allowed everyone to stay together... it was a great spot to hang out.
Kent, hanging out on the windowsill talking with his sister, Valerie. Most of the upstairs was dark, the only light being the candles on the tables. You'll
probably see a lot more colors because... well, we've all been drinking, and people started to care less about the constant flashing. Actually, a lot
of these photographs were Justin's handiwork. The camera got passed around, so I'm not entirely sure who shot what.
Mary, who joined us at Danny's. We talked a while about art and process, and it seemed like we shared a similar aesthetic as far as how we felt about
the accessibility of art. She comes from an English background, is working on her MFA (video/painting), and has been considering pursuing psychology. I found
this a pretty interesting combination of fields. When she talked about her show in June (graduation), I insisted on an invite.
Kent, relaxing with some Red Stripes.
Dave. The boy plays a mean guitar.
Justin and Emma self-portrait (taken by Justin).
The Muffin Lady indulges me, and poses for a picture. Yet again.
Oh, look. How did that happen?
Chris, David and Heather. I'm not sure who's sitting between David and Heather, but I think I met him and his girlfriend at Rena's going-away party.
'
This is a cool moment. Dave seems to be mid-laugh, and Kent looks like he's plotting something evil.
Justin, goofing for the camera.
Kent, captivating the crowds with his wordsmithery and storytelling. Left to right, that's Chris, Mary, Dave, Kent, Christine, Emma
and Justin. |
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