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Geraldine Coleshares said to tell you hi.
Feb. 24th, 2005 09:28 pmThere's a nice interview with Dave Eggers in this week's Onion A/V Club, and I read the article with interest, because I have an ongoing grudging fascination for the man and his oeuvre. (And by this I mean that as much as he may annoy me, I frequently think, I as read about his latest undertakings, Man, I wish I'd thought of that first.)
Where was I? Reading, with interest. Yeah, I read with interest, but I am a little ashamed to say that this was my prevailing mood throughout the reading: hahahahaa Dave Eggers looks older than me.
:::
Book sale today! I haven't been to one in a few years, and today, in manner of Fred Flintstone, I was out the office door as soon as the shift whistle rang, racing across town in my stone-wheeled car to make the last hour of the first day. Man, it all came back to me as soon as I pulled into the park: the musty old Agricultural warehouses, bare lights and concrete floors and elderly volunteers who can barely tote the fresh boxes out onto the floor, the long lines of people scuffing boxes of books across the floor in front of them, endless rows of tables of utter crap (the 1967 chemistry textbook, seventeen copies of The Bridges of Madison County), interspersed with stuff that I have to have and it only costs seventy-five cents OMG! My friend L. and I whipped through in half an hour or so and still managed hefty hauls, and so I count it a good day's work.
In the interests of accurate accounting, I present a list of purchases for your edification, under a cut because I hear that not everyone considers staring at other people's bookshelves to be a vocation of sorts.
( enbalmed and treasured up )
Where was I? Reading, with interest. Yeah, I read with interest, but I am a little ashamed to say that this was my prevailing mood throughout the reading: hahahahaa Dave Eggers looks older than me.
:::
Book sale today! I haven't been to one in a few years, and today, in manner of Fred Flintstone, I was out the office door as soon as the shift whistle rang, racing across town in my stone-wheeled car to make the last hour of the first day. Man, it all came back to me as soon as I pulled into the park: the musty old Agricultural warehouses, bare lights and concrete floors and elderly volunteers who can barely tote the fresh boxes out onto the floor, the long lines of people scuffing boxes of books across the floor in front of them, endless rows of tables of utter crap (the 1967 chemistry textbook, seventeen copies of The Bridges of Madison County), interspersed with stuff that I have to have and it only costs seventy-five cents OMG! My friend L. and I whipped through in half an hour or so and still managed hefty hauls, and so I count it a good day's work.
In the interests of accurate accounting, I present a list of purchases for your edification, under a cut because I hear that not everyone considers staring at other people's bookshelves to be a vocation of sorts.
( enbalmed and treasured up )
