sunday september 9 2001 | 1:39 a.m.
so this afternoon my mother and i went to the downtown library and got books. i got a whole stack, because i figure i can just keep renewing them online, and this way i won't be running the risk of someone else checking them out and keeping them forever. i'm selfish, i know.
i like lists. all kinds of lists. and half the fun of going to the library to get books is making up and later sharing the list of books you've drawn up. maybe it's part exhibitionism, of course there is that, but also something about lingering over the book titles and authors like they're secret code words, or like relishing the anticipation of a pile of yet-unopened presents. now that my list is justified and disclaimed, here it is:
• the crying of lot 49, thomas pynchon
• the rachel papers, martin amis
• dead souls, nikolai vasilievich gogol
• buddha's little finger, victor pelevin
• hawaii, james michener
• the shipping news, annie proulx
• faust, johann wolfgang von goethe
if i'd been born a man in germany in the eighteenth century, i hope my parents would've had the good sense to name me johann wolfgang von goethe. now there is a name.
fritzel, i wanted to get the life of insects by pelevin, but the only copy had been checked out from the recesses of the west kendall branch (waaaay out there), i think. this is an earlier book set during the 1919 russian civil war. looks good. ya te diré.
the library's only copy of the shipping news reeks of patchouli. oh my god does it reek. i hope it doesn't end up ruining the book from bad associations...
so that's what i did. libraried, chilled with the 'rents, attempted with denise (unsuccessfully) to get patrick to take me to her house for her dad's birthday (complete with partying church friends, 150+ beers, and KICKASS homemade cuban food), watched emeril and the naked chef, whose show is now inexplicably titled pukka tukka instead. maybe you can tell me why?
nice laid-back weekend i suppose. in any case i'm gearing up for the faint show on the 21st. no stressing about being home until then.
