6.29.2013

book titles. also, what happened to this planet?

Listed below are books purchased today from Aladdin Book Shoppe, which is closing, tragically. After 83 years, they are closing. The owner of the place said she had planned to simply move locations, since it was their rent being oddly and crazily increased that was the original motivation for change, but there are SEVENTY THOUSAND BOOKS. And it would cost around $20k just to move them, which is just insurmountable. Thus, they are closing for good. This world is pretty screwed up not to allow bookstores to live in peace with the rest of humanity. I am angry.

Just a couple of months ago, I had called them to see if they had a copy of Tremendous Trifles, since their website said they had a substantial G.K.C. collection. When the owner said they didn't have it and referred me to Barnes & Noble or Amazon, I told her that I wanted to search high and low for a locally-owned shop to purchase from, because I believe in bookstores and want them to stay alive as long as they possibly can. She understatedly said, "Me too, honey."

And now this. A sign of our times. No one cares about books anymore. I am angry.

//

The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran

A Treasury of Kahlil Gibran: The Arabic Writings by the author of The Prophet

Antarctic Traveller, Poems by Katha Pollitt

Mrs. Dalloway, by Virginia Woolf

To the Lighthouse, by Virginia Woolf

The Ides of March, by Thornton Wilder

The Scapegoat, by Daphne du Maurier

The Flight of the Falcon, by Daphne du Maurier

Complete Poetry and Selected Prose of Walt Whitman

Complete Poems, by E.E. Cummings

Tales of Ancient Egypt, by Charles Mozley (children's book)

The Nick Adams Stories, by Ernest Hemingway

The Ginger Man, by J.P. Donleavy

The Picture of Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde

The Hadj: An American's Pilgrimage to Mecca, by Michael Wolfe

Jungle down the Street, by Jack and Avril Grant White "...is a book by a husband and wife who left their home in south London, to find out for themselves what it is like to live on the banks of the Amazon, the greatest and perhaps the most mysterious river in the world. They traveled some 18,000 miles by plane, riverboat and canoe, making a color-film of the many fascinating aspects of life on the river and in the fabulous jungle cities where money flowed like water during the great rubber boom. Their expedition took them through Brazil, Colombia and Peru, where they met with wild Indian tribes. One of their most enthralling chapters deals with their investigation of Macumba, the strange white and black magic cult which has powerful roots beneath the surface of the everyday life of the Amazon dwellers. They also spent some time on the little known island of Marajó, where they filmed wild buffalo, giant storks and cannibal fish." [This title might be the most exciting.]

The Paradoxes of Mr. Pond, by G. K. Chesterton

Varied Types, by G. K. Chesterton

Stevenson, by G. K. Chesterton



6.26.2013

opera for lunch

I'm having opera for lunch, at the art museum. That is amazing and has me excited.

But all I can think about is the cliffs at Land's End, in Cornwall. Sunrises and cream teas and legends and Merlin's Cave and enough grass to cover my entire city. Cold Atlantic winds laden with salted spray. Woolen plaid. Painting with real greens and apricot blushes.
Bedruthan, Cornwall, U.K. (via)

Today is my day for quiet thought, though. Big-picture-contemplation. Sometimes you have to let go of something to find out how much it really means to you, to find your center, to find your footing. So there's no research today. Today, there is silence. And opera.

6.23.2013

silent story | 06.23.2013









6.20.2013

an invitation

I woke up Monday morning and found myself invited to the following event:

McNellie's
3$ Burgers + Beer(s) + Pipes / Cigars
Wednesday
6pm
Third Floor

It sounded celebratory, so I went, and it was lovely. My hair still smells of several newly-tried pipe tobacco blends. And I left a lavender stem in the giant table drawer. Maybe someone will find it.

This is my post-Knappogue Castle view. That happened on another pub night.

6.12.2013

that place between dreaming and waking up

i feel my body move
the haze start to lift
like waking from a crash
my instincts primitive
so full of gratefulness
in disbelief
at the connectedness
my eyes finally see

i cannot believe my eyes
i am alive
i survived
the accidental pioneer
oh, i can explain how i got to the ledge
the mystery is
how
i
got
here

~

soft light

a right mind
things you can become nostalgic for
full lungs
emotions
things i feel i've never felt before

a soft touch
a deep cut
things that can restore your sanity

now all my questions have found their answer

i closed my eyes
i felt no pain
i wished i could
be born again
to my surprise i woke to find it done


thank you, derek webb, for the precious elocution. today i know the glory of being awake, and tomorrow i will wake up again.

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