Anodyne
Saturday, March 10, 2007
 
Constant rain. Little streams sluicing off the awning, off the cherry tree, off customers' hoods and jackets. A totally saturated Australian Blue Heeler casts a last despairing look inside as its owner leads it back out into the deluge.

What did I do today? Bought books, sold books, vainly tried to corral the piles of new stock that have grown like kudzu on the floor. Paid the natural gas bill. Started writing the lecture-cum-performance-cum-first chapter of the theoretical book on photography that I've been promising for many moons. Sang (By myself, first thing in the morning, lights on, door locked). Collected my VPL holds. Carried boxes of rejects to someone's car. Chatted, informally, with one of my favorite living artists. Read and re-read a paragraph of Lefebvre, which I still don't fully understand. Studied the list of new TSE lows printed in the Saturday Globe and Mail. Felt, momentarily, a sense of loosening, of lifting. Of "dailyness." Of something like life.

(Special thanks to poet and critic Nancy Shaw, for arriving with boxes of books to sell, including -- sweet Jesus! -- The Collected Books of Jack Spicer, and Rock My Religion: Dan Graham, Writings and Art Projects 1965-1990, which I purchased as if from another dealer, titles I had long ago given up any hope of ever seeing anywhere in my travels, let alone arriving across the counter)
- posted by cjb @ 6:17 PM


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