Of pipes and books

I’m feeling nervous and jittery.

My crazy landlord is taking down a portion of one of the walls at the bookstore.

Another damn pipe needs to be changed, he says this is the last one.

 It was inevitable old building ,old walls, old pipes.

I suppose the changing is better than leaks, I’ve dealt with that before, as well.

He just called me to give me an update,

says everything is under control.

That kind of statement always makes me nervous.

 I’m trying to deal with it!

There is still a whole bunch of shit I’m trying to deal with.

I don’t think I’ve felt this low and angry since my ex moved out all those years ago.

I wasn’t angry at her. I was angry at me and my failure.

Even when things are done with respect, friendship and civility.

Break ups, parting of the ways, taking things to their inevitable and rightful conclusions,

are still bloody hard.

I’ve been lucky to have books to take things off my mind and business has been decent,

although now, with the severed wall who knows.

Yeah, Yeah I’m thinking positive.

So, I tried to read this book The Blindfold by Siri Hustedt on recommendation of a customer.

He described it as early Paul Auster.

I used to really like Paul Auster Moon Palace and The Master Of Illusions were amongst my favourites,

 the last 3 I have read I have been bitterly disappointed in,

 I think I’m going to give him up.

 That’s just me,

 the man has legions of fans.

Back to The Blindfold, I don’t think so, this author happens to be Auster’s wife,

 it seems too polished, to purposely deep for my taste,

 maybe I’m just being negative.

I did give it a chance, I read more than a third.

I can’t get into the Muriel Spark I got from the library last week, either.

Yesterday, this freaky local poet type came into the store to sell me books.

I don’t need any books I have tons, everywhere.

 Of course, no matter what you have you never seem to have enough as a bookseller,

 or a reader.

Anyway, this Hippie type, he’s nice and he always has interesting books,

 happened to have a nice copy of  On Beauty

by Zadie Smith, which I have been wanting to read for a while,

 I loved  White Teeth.

Among his books he had a copy of Mr. Muo’s Travelling Couch  by Dai Sijie.

That really got my blood pumping.

 I read Sijie’s Balzac and the Little Chinese Seamstress, last year.

I loved it.

 It is funny and deep and about difficult, trying times,

The Chinese cultural revolution.

It is about how books can keep you going even in the most terrible, dark times.

A philosophy I agree with. If Mr Muo is half as funny or touching, I feel I will be a happy camper.

well girls,

have a good one,

 keep your fingers crossed about the pipe and the wall.

BB