book lust

Yesterday I took a walk to Hennepin in search of my book clubs next book Leviathan by Paul Auster. We meet this Thursday, don’t worry, I not only bought the book yesterday, but also managed to read it in its entirety and even take some notes. Maria and I stopped in at Majors and Quinn first as that is where she had found her copy. She must have bought the last one. Borders was next, it isn’t my favorite, but the title is relatively new and chains tend to be more reliable. While in line to purchase the book I asked Maria if she minded if we stopped in at Book Smart next (which really should have been our first stop if we are going on favorites) because I “don’t make it to Hennepin that often.” Regardless of the truth of the statement it was an incredibly lame thing to say. This is one reason why I stay away from the hipness arguments over at mnspeak.com. The guy behind the register evidently overheard my comment and when trying to hawk the Borders email sign up (like I need another piece of junk email) said that the coupons would probably ensure that I “make it to Hennepin more often. ” Not likely buddy.

At Book Smart I got three more books. Only one of them used, Gary Benchly Rockstar by Paul Ford, which I had checked out from the library back in November and had renewed until they told me I couldn’t renew it anymore (not because I hadn’t read it, but because I really like it and also I’m lazy.) The other was Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie, which I’ve nominated for a book club book and the Delta of Venus by Anais Nin (which would make very curious book club reading and discussion indeed.)

Maybe I should open up a used book store on Lyndale or in Stevens so I can be amongst the books more often. Well that’s not going to happen for quite a while – if ever. But I should make more of a point to take winter walks (especially since the weather has been so crazily spring-like here lately) towards the bookstore.

There is something exciting about buying new books, way more exciting than getting them at the library, because I get to put my post it notes and pencil marks in them, reread, and lend them out as I please. Plus as far as purchases go books tend to go into the same category as food for me. They’re a necessity. Therefore I should do it more often.

Maria and I spent the rest of the afternoon walking and traveling back and forth between the Bad Waitress (which is excellent for general hanging out coffee shop activities after the morning to midday rush of people have dissipated) and the Spy House (which is generally packed and sometimes really worth it). We read and paused to share a good line, phrase, or paragraph and sipped our coffee. It was an excellent way to not only spend an afternoon, but also to read a book. Hopefully this and the notes we took will only add to the conversation on Thursday.

Dang. Maybe I should go back to school.

I’ve been mailing things lately. Actual letters, cards, and packages have been making their ways through my hands and have been deposited either on top of the mailboxes in my apartment building or more recently handed over to the friendly mailmen working at the US Post Office on University Avenue on my way home from work. I’ve stopped in their twice this week. The purpose was to buy some two cent stamps, some of the newer higher priced stamps and mail a couple of packages, one to Illinois (Illinoise as the postman pronounced it) and Germany. The first time I was in there this week however I had forgotten to get the address for my little brother in Germany and regardless of the blessed technology of the cell phone my dad was not able to locate Marty’s address either. Did you notice that I mentioned “friendly mailmen” earlier? I’m not kidding – these guys are the complete opposite of those people hating, job loathing mailmen that I remember hearing about when I was growing up (the people from whom the term “going postal” was coined. I think I might have discovered the key to their happiness however, both times that I stopped in there this week I noticed the tv that hanging overhead and facing the counter where they worked. Not only was the tv on, but both times it was playing the Gene Wilder classic Young Frankenstein. Hilarious.