Anodyne
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
 
You Are The Weather

Risk of wet flurries at higher levels. Risk of a thundershower with small hail. Down below, in the city, rain stipples the concrete pad by the driveway, where my building manager is slowly and laboriously dismantling the homeless squeegee kids' makeshift camp: syringes, condoms, Lucky Lager empties, and styrofoam takeaways half-full of last night's curry chicken and sweet-and-sour pork. A wet stack of wrecked cardboard boxes by the back door, and a bedbug advisory in the elevator. It's as if Jack Womack and J.G. Ballard are lurking in the wings, planning the next plot development. Suitcase nuke in the stairwell? Cholera? A giggling Gage Creed, all yellow eyes and mossy white face? Meanwhile, the Lower Mainland continues to arrive with books, overflowing the New Arrivals cases by the desk. Tottery Dr. Seuss towers of interesting stuff all up and down the aisles, with more piling in the door hourly. I sit on the bus with Marya Hornbacher's memoir, Lefebvre, and Plato, trying to puzzle out the answers to some fundamentally simple questions. But the origin of the concept of the organically unified, self-contained work of art is going to have to wait until after 8pm Pacific time, because the book-unloading public is already rattling the front door like Romero zombies.
- posted by cjb @ 9:35 AM


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